Chapter 14
Bartol
Bucharest was a vibrant city filled with both the old and the new. Though Bartol needed to get on with his mission, he let himself wander the streets for a couple of hours to clear his head. He desperately needed to put away distant memories of the past. There was a reason he’d forsaken being a warrior to become a lover, except now neither of those descriptions fit him. What sort of person did he hope to become next, and how would his relationship with Cori affect that?
She was already influencing him by causing him to go on this demon hunt. Would he really leave it to the archangels to handle, or would he help them? Bartol had asked himself this question over and over during his walk and still didn’t know the answer. Though he hated to admit it, there was some small part of him that had grown tired of sitting on the sidelines while others lived, fought, and loved. The people who passed by him reminded him of all he’d forsaken.
But was he prepared for what he might be forced to do if he found Haagenti?
Bartol continued his walk past apartment buildings, shops, and parks. Life appeared so normal here, and yet it was different from the city he remembered visiting centuries ago. He found very little he could recognize. Perhaps part of the reason he chose to stay in Alaska despite the inhospitable weather was that he’d never been there before and did not have to compare it to anything he knew from his previous life.
He felt old, ancient even. His zest for living was a distant memory he could hardly recall or recognize in himself anymore—except when he was with his mate. She was the only person who gave him a reason for being, though he was only beginning to realize that.
If he’d been smart, he would have gone into “The Sleep” soon after getting out of Purgatory. A few decades of rest would have helped him recover from his ordeal and prepared him for facing a changed world. That was why most immortals used it. Except that it also made one vulnerable to the fae who watched over his kind while they lay in a deep state of unconsciousness. No one had ever been harmed, especially since they paid for the service. Bartol had even taken advantage of it a few times himself, but he just couldn’t stand the idea of giving the fae that kind of trust while memories of Purgatory still plagued him.
He would have also missed meeting his mate. She might have died if he’d not been around to save her from her former husband, and he’d have never known there was a woman out there who fit him so completely—even if she did give him no end of grief.
Bartol recalled the phone call from the night before when he’d checked in with Cori for the second time on his trip. He’d kept it brief once again, but he’d heard the pain in her voice in response to his remoteness. It wasn’t easy to keep his distance when all he really wanted to do was return to her, take her into his arms, and hold her forever.
Cori was his. Somehow, someway, she’d been made for him. The only problem was he’d found her after he’d been damaged beyond repair, and he had no idea how to handle her or make it work between them. For all that he wanted to take their relationship to the next level, he knew his tortured memories were getting in the way. He was hurting her every time he refused her touch. Perhaps that was why she’d betrayed him to his friends and pushed for him to go on this trip. She claimed at the end she didn’t want him to go, but did she really? Deep down in her heart, did she want him by her side, or did she hope the distance would break their bond while it was still fragile?
Bartol didn’t know what to think, which bothered him to no end.
Street lights lit up nearby. It occurred to him that it was starting to get dark, and he checked his watch—just after four thirty in the afternoon. He’d been walking for longer than he’d realized. Knowing he could not waste any more time, he hurried toward the hotel he’d reserved in the old city center, a little over a mile away. It was tempting to flash straight there, but it was best not to use even that much power. Bartol needed to conserve every bit of energy for the coming days. He had no idea when they might catch up to the demon and where, but this was the last confirmed location. They couldn’t risk any unnecessary power drains, especially since he’d also have to compel anyone nearby that he hadn’t just appeared out of thin air. Supernaturals might be out in the world, but many people still didn’t welcome them, and it was best not to draw attention.
Bartol reached the hotel. It was an older building that had been modernized at some point, offering accommodations to sleep as well as a café. When Caius suggested it, he’d agreed it was a good choice since it would make it easier to acquire food while he was in the city. There were a number of restaurants along the same row to give him plenty of choices in addition to the hotel offerings.
The tall glass doors and front windows of the building were framed in brass, giving the place an almost jazzy appearance. He could see through the glass to the second-floor café and down below where a spiral set of stairs ended near the reception area. The upper five floors of the hotel had a cream façade with chocolate-colored frames around the windows. The design appeared to be a cross between a Neo-Romanian style and art deco, though he was relying entirely on Caius’ expertise in modern architecture for that assessment. The nephilim had mentioned something about it when they’d looked the hotel up online.
Bartol entered the warm lobby and took his cap off. As his eyes adjusted to the interior, his gaze froze on a woman standing a few paces away.
“It’s good to see you again,” she said, her voice every bit as sultry as he remembered.
The door clicked shut behind him. “What are you doing here?”
She sashayed toward him. Female nephilim were often more seductive than any other supernatural race, but the irony was this particular one didn’t intend to be that way. It was simply a part of her nature. They’d once been good friends until they’d allowed their relationship to become physical. Soon after that, they’d broken ties.
“Is that any way to greet a woman you haven’t seen in a very long time?” she asked, cocking her head.
“You’re looking well, Sofia.”
And he meant it. Her straight, chestnut hair was cut in a shoulder-length style that framed her heart-shaped face and highlighted her high cheekbones. Her skin was light olive, but it also had the slight golden tone that tinted all nephilim skin. She’d dressed simply in skinny jeans and a red knit sweater as well as a black jacket with a fur hood. Sofia’s eyes were her most stunning feature. Burnished gold like his, except her long lashes made her gaze far more seductive.
“I wish I could say the same of you,” she replied, wincing briefly at the burned side of his face. “I heard what happened.”
For the past couple of hours, Bartol had forgotten about his scars. During his walk, he’d taken advantage of his light beard, cap, and long hair to cover the worst of the burns. He’d also avoided meeting anyone’s gazes so as to not draw attention to himself. It had worked better than expected, allowing him to move about in peace. For a little while, he’d been incognito in a city full of diverse people.
But Sofia knew him, and the man he’d once been.
“I need to check into the hotel,” he said, gazing past her.
She held up a room key. “I took the liberty of doing that for you. You and your friends will have the best rooms in the place.”
Bartol ground his jaw. “While I appreciate that, I still don’t know why you’re here.”
“Lucas sent me. He told me what you’re doing and asked that I provide any assistance you may need.” She paused as a few tourists entered the building and waited for them to pass. “But perhaps we should discuss this upstairs.”
He glanced at the group of young men and women as they made their way toward the café. She was right that this wasn’t the place to talk, but he didn’t like the idea of being alone with her, either. Lucas no doubt had the best of intentions and couldn’t have known Bartol had a rocky past with Sofia. He’d have preferred to deal with the master of the region. But it was too late for that now, and he wasn’t about to turn her away when it would only reveal how weak and reclusive he’d become.
“Very well.” He nodded. “Lead the way.”
They took a small elevator up to the room, which was larger than his last accommodations in Belarus. It had a sitting area next to a large bay window with two leather chairs and a plush red rug. There was also a king size bed, a desk, and a refreshment stand. Sofia’s high heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she moved to take a seat by the window.
“See? I told you the room was good.”
The female nephilim had been born in the region now known as Spain, but she’d traveled the world for the past two thousand years or so until her accent was hardly recognizable. Bartol would have described it as cultured with a hint of seductiveness. There was a time when he had found Sofia to be one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, but now all he could think of was Cori. His mate didn’t have the bold good looks of the female before him, but she had a saucy edge he’d come to appreciate.
“The room is more than adequate,” he said, pretending to show interest in his surroundings. “But why are you here and not Benjamin?”
“The master has been busy, and I thought it would be better if I handled this myself.”
Nephilim tended to avoid leadership positions, which was the reason they rarely ruled a region. They preferred to live their lives without being tethered down to one place. Instead, they made agreements with the local masters so that they could live within their territory without causing conflict or trouble. One of the typical stipulations was not to interfere in the politics or issues of that region unless specifically requested to do so.
Bartol moved to the bay window and stared down at the pedestrians below. “We agreed it was over between us.”
“I’m not here for that,” she said dismissively. “I heard you have a mate now, but it doesn’t mean I can’t help you as a friend. These are dangerous times.”
Well, if she wanted to handle it that way, he’d play along. He could be all business. “Tell me about the demon that came here and the things he did.”
“You break my heart, Bartol.” Sofia pressed a hand to her generous chest. “Lucas warned me you’d be quiet and withdrawn, but I could not imagine such a thing. Even with your friends, you were a charmer before. Now they say you cannot even stand to be touched.”
“The man you knew is gone.”
A brief flash of hurt crossed her expression. “Then how did you manage to mate?”
“The woman was rather persistent.”
“Ah, so she seduced you.” Sofia let out a light laugh. “Now that is ironic. I will have to come to Fairbanks someday and meet this woman who could penetrate the strong barriers you’ve put up between yourself and the rest of the world. She sounds delightful.”
He was growing impatient. “Tell me about the demon.”
Sofia let out a loud sigh and collected herself.
“He compelled thirty men and women to eat each other to death inside a church,” she said, shuddering. This was a woman who took eating delicately—and only the finest foods—to another level. No doubt she’d been horrified by such a massacre.
“Were they members of the congregation?” he asked.
“No.” She shook her head. “It was a mockery, really. All of them were self-proclaimed atheists from a variety of backgrounds including thieves, whores, pimps, and gamblers.”
Zoe hadn’t mentioned that detail. “I take it the church and authorities noticed this as well.”
“Of course, though they didn’t release that information right away.”
Bartol paced the room. “The demon has been attacking religious people, but in this case, it was the institution itself.”
Sofia shrugged. “You know they get bored and like to vary their methods.”
“Do the humans have any idea who did it?”
She curled her fingers into her palms. “They haven’t determined it was a demon, which might have been better for us. Instead, they suspect the supernatural community. A hunt has begun for anyone they think capable of such an act. More than a dozen witches and young vampires have died already.”
This was exactly why he would have been against supernaturals coming out if anyone had consulted him. He’d always known they’d never be accepted by most humans, and now many members of their community were vulnerable. Revealing themselves had allowed the nerou to become free, but Bartol often wondered if another way couldn’t have been found. It wasn’t as if anyone had truly tried talking to the angels about it in some time, and with the world having changed so much, they might have been more amenable.
“Is that what is keeping Benjamin busy? Protecting his people?”
“It’s been difficult for him.” Sofia’s voice softened. “Playing nice with the humans is not easy now that we’re out to the world, and he’s had to make some difficult choices in an effort to make things work.”
“You’re close to him,” Bartol surmised.
She gave him a wistful smile. “Yes. We’ve been lovers for several decades now.”
“Does he make you happy?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he said, meaning it.
Bartol and Sofia may have ruined their friendship by sleeping together, which resulted in unreasonable expectations arising from it—mainly that she wanted exclusivity and he didn’t—but he still wished her well. It also helped that he now understood her yearning for companionship in a way he never had before.
“You should visit Benjamin later tonight when he is free,” she suggested.
“No.” Bartol gave her an apologetic look. Even if he could spare the time, he wasn’t up for socializing with old acquaintances. This trip was already surpassing his quota. “There is too much to do.”
“Such as…”
“I need a list from you of the places the demon visited while he was here.” He resumed pacing. “I’ll need to visit each of them, but especially the church.”
Sofia stood, tugging her sweater down so that it sat more neatly against her chest. “I’ll see what I can do, but for the church, it’s best if I take you to see it myself.”
“Why?”
“Your investigation will go faster with my help.” She paused. “And there is a certain time of day that is best for viewing the site if you wish to see all the evidence.”
He paused and looked over at her. “What do you mean?”
Sofia’s expression turned grim. “You’ll have to trust me on this. I will bring the list to you in a few hours, but for the church, I’ll meet you downstairs in the lobby a quarter till two tomorrow afternoon.”
Bartol didn’t want to wait that long. “Why not tonight?”
“It’s difficult to explain, but you’ll see.”
Before he could ask any more questions, she flashed away, disappearing from the hotel room. Now he understood the frustration Cori always felt when he ended their conversations the same way.
***
Bartol spent most of the night and the next morning going through the list of places Haagenti had visited. The same as in Lapel, werewolves had tracked most of the locations, but witches had also been involved where scents in the large city would have been lost. Most were the homes and businesses of the victims, which Bartol viewed invisibly when necessary to prevent upsetting anyone with his presence. It burned through some of his power, but he hadn’t had a choice with tensions so high in the city against supernaturals.
Along the way, Bartol discovered the demon had once again stayed in a quaint hotel that didn’t stand out in any particular way, and he’d eaten regularly in restaurants. None of the places offered much in the way of usable evidence, which was disappointing but not surprising. And anyway, his primary purpose was to learn Haagenti’s habits—which places he preferred to visit, and how he chose his targets. If Bartol could compare notes with what Caius and Tormod came up with, then perhaps it would help them track the demon more easily once they located his current whereabouts.
For the moment, though, he was standing in front of the Saint Joseph Cathedral where the last known human sacrifice—or more aptly, massacre—had occurred. The façade was primarily red brick with a Romanesque architectural style. It had been built nearly a century and a half ago but had been damaged by earthquakes and war since then, requiring extensive renovations. Sofia filled him in on the general details in case any of it might be useful for his investigation. One never knew what might be pertinent, so he took notes on everything to go over later.
“The place is still in use?” Bartol asked, pen poised over a notepad.
“Oh, yes,” Sofia said, nodding. “They have regular masses every day.”
“Is there anything particularly special about this place compared to all the other cathedrals and churches in the city?” That was the thing that bothered Bartol the most. Why one place over another, or was it entirely random?
She shook her head. “Nothing I can think of or that I’ve heard.”
“Let’s go inside.”
They moved from the sidewalk to the two heavy and intricately designed doors. Sofia opened them and gestured for Bartol to go first. As with most Catholic churches he’d visited, this one had high ceilings and numerous stained glass windows. There were two long rows of pews with room to walk on either side. He followed the middle aisle toward the front dais and altar, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.
“They’ve cleaned all the evidence,” he said, glancing back at Sofia.
She was right behind him. “That was what we thought at first, but…” She glanced at her watch. “Wait three more minutes.”
“What will happen then?”
“You’ll see. Let’s just say one almost has to stumble across it to find it, but I was concerned by the lack of blood and evidence as well. There should have at least been a scent left behind, so I kept returning to investigate until I happened to show up at just the right time. Then I realized what the demon had done.”
He shifted on his feet, impatient. “Very well.”
“Come.” She beckoned. “This is the best place to see it.”
Bartol followed her to the side of the cathedral where a narrow spiral staircase was located. They followed it up to a small dais. It was an excellent vantage point where one could see almost all of the room from above but not so high that one might miss the small details. He studied the scene below, wondering what Sofia expected him to see when the lighting in the room suddenly changed. It was as if his blinders had been removed.
His gut clenched. “It appears like everything is still here.”
“Yes.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and used it to cover her nose and mouth. “I came in here so many times thinking the demon must have cleaned up after himself—the same as the authorities—but then a few days ago I found this.”
“Even the smell…” Bartol could handle a lot, but he feared this might be the first time since his youth that he might lose his lunch.
“It’s dreadful.”
He ran his gaze around at all the blood and decaying pieces of flesh. They were on the floor, the altar, the front pews. He could hardly believe what he was seeing.
“What did the authorities find exactly?” he asked, wondering how they’d known there was a slaughter with most of the evidence hidden.
“Only the carcasses of the human bodies and the bones. They were in pairs.” Sofia began pointing to various points of the cathedral with her free hand. “There, there, and there.”
“The humans can’t see this—even at this time of day?”
She shook her head. “No—only those with angelic blood and only for an hour each day. He is mocking God and us.”
Haagenti was cleverer and even more demented than Bartol expected.
“Caius and Tormod will be here tonight.” His jaw hardened. “We will return together tomorrow to clean this up.”
Sofia’s shoulders sagged in relief. “I was hoping you’d offer to help. In this city, I’m the only one who can see the mess, but I just couldn’t do it alone. It’s too much.”
“We should acquire masks and gloves to wear as well.”
“That would be wise,” she agreed, eyes glistening as she stared at the carnage.
Sofia was strong, but she had her delicate moments. One thing she could never stand was the suffering of others and had often made a point of rescuing those who were weaker and unable to help themselves. Having empathic abilities like a sensor, she was more sensitive to tragedy than most. Cleaning this up was going to take a heavy toll on her.
Though Bartol would have preferred to limit his time around her, he could not leave her to do this kind of work alone. This wasn’t only a horrible way to die; it was also a terrible way for one’s remains to be left. If they didn’t clean it up, these people—or at least parts of them—would go on rotting in the church forever, unbeknownst to the parishioners. Bartol might not be religious himself, but he would not leave a holy site in such a horrible state. No matter how long it took, they’d remove every trace of the evidence in the hope it would give the victims some sort of peace.