Chapter 24
Bartol
Bartol and Caius flashed to London, arriving on Richmond Road. They stood in front of a semi-detached, double fronted Victorian house. It had a low beige brick wall surrounding the front garden with a wrought iron gate and sidewalk leading up to the front steps. The house itself was several stories tall, built of the same material as the wall. At mid-afternoon, there weren’t many people milling about, but they waited to become visible until they entered the home.
“Is this where you lived with Willa?” Bartol asked.
Caius led him to the front reception room. It had original wood panel floors and old-style Victorian furniture with dark blue drapes covering the windows. His friend gazed about with a pained expression on his face, agonizing memories reflecting there. “It was one of our homes, but we entertained here most often.”
“We can stay somewhere else if you wish.” Bartol didn’t want his old friend to suffer unnecessarily. They’d wrapped up their investigation in Germany since arriving there two days before and had decided the best course of action was to move on to London. They knew if the demon wasn’t in the city yet, he would be soon.
“This is the best place, and Willa would have wanted us to use the house for something good,” Caius replied. He took a deep breath and collected himself. “I use the ground floor suite, but there are two other guest rooms on this level and five more upstairs you can choose from if you want to get settled. There are two separate kitchens as well that I had fully stocked in anticipation of our arrival if you’re hungry.”
Bartol recognized his friend needed a moment alone. “Thank you. I’ll look into that.”
He found the stairs and headed up to the next level. He found the kitchen, another reception room, and a dining area—all with modern furnishings. The next level up, he located the bedrooms, selecting the one with an en suite bathroom and balcony to the back garden. A part of him wished Cori were there to keep him company. It was a rather large house for only a couple of men, but they had a third person coming soon. The extra space would come in handy while the home acted as their headquarters while on the hunt to search and destroy Haagenti.
Bartol set his bag on the bed, pulling his newest sets of clothes out to put in a nearby wardrobe. They’d done some shopping yesterday after acquiring more funds, so at least he had a few spare changes of clothing to help him get by for the time being.
He’d barely finished unpacking when the doorbell rang downstairs. They were only expecting one person this soon, so he hurried down to meet him. Caius was already there, letting Yerik inside. When the daimoun—a man who was half angel and half demon—had found out they’d be in London, he’d insisted on joining the hunt. It was his son, Tormod, who was missing and since the nerou compound in Ireland where he worked was within the UK and his boundary limits, he was able to meet them without having his mystical ankle bracelet removed. The archangels had approved his temporarily joining the hunt anyway since he could prove particularly useful with his half-demon blood.
“Have you heard anything yet?” Yerik asked, staring hard at them with his vermilion eyes.
This was a man who was old and powerful enough that he’d once managed to kill an archangel—in self-defense. Yerik was usually a light-hearted man with a penchant for mockery and antics much like his son, but today he was all business and his posture dominant to the extreme.
He stood nearly six and a half feet tall, had a large, muscular body, shoulder-length brown hair, and light gold skin. Wild fierceness was one way to describe him, which was aided by the kilt Yerik wore. The man hated shoes and often walked around barefoot. Few dared to question his attire, but his sensor mate was Scottish, so some of his choices likely came from her influence. Word had it, though, that she had tried to push him about wearing boots. The daimoun just didn’t like anything restricting his feet unless a particular occasion called for it.
Caius gave the daimoun a grim look. “We just arrived twenty minutes ago.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Yerik gave them both an incredulous look. “Get off your arses and help me search for my son.”
Bartol couldn’t blame the man for his impatience, though he didn’t care for the reprimand when he wanted to find Tormod as well. “We have a list of potential places where the demon might be hiding out based on his past choices for hotels, but in a city the size of London, there are a lot of options, and it could take a while.”
“Show me the list,” the daimoun growled.
Caius led them to the front reception room where he’d laid out all their research notes on a side table. He grabbed several sheets of printouts and handed them over to Yerik. “These are the top fifty most likely.”
“He tends to like small, quaint places over modern ones,” Bartol explained.
“Demons can be odd creatures,” Yerik said, scanning the sheets. “I’ll take the first twenty, and you two can take the rest.”
He divided the sheets up between them.
Bartol gave the daimoun a stern look. “Save your strength and avoid using too much power during your search. You may need it later. Also, be warned if you get too close, he can drain you of all strength with the Gregorian stones.”
“I’m half demon myself.” Yerik bristled. “They shouldn’t affect me.”
“You’re also half angel, and they most certainly affected your son.”
The daimoun ground his jaw. “Surely you can fight through it if you’re strong enough.”
“No.” Caius shook his head. “Once you’re within fifty feet or so, you’re rendered weaker than a human, and it’s like moving through mud to do anything.”
“Power counts for nothing against the stones,” Bartol added.
“Well, that explains how you two idiots let my son get taken,” Yerik said, and before they could form a reply, he flashed away.
Bartol sighed. “That went well.”
“I’m surprised he wasn’t worse,” Cauis said, shaking his head. “I’d be upset too if my son had been captured by a powerful demon.”
They each studied their lists and started coordinating which places to cover first.
Just as they were about to leave, Remiel flashed into the room. “I saw you had a visitor.”
Caius snorted. “You should have joined us for the flaying.”
“I preferred not to slow him down—he’s more useful as he is now.”
“Any news?” Bartol asked.
“All the signs are strong that the demon is here and active but pinpointing his location is another matter.” The archangel’s lips turned downward. “It appears he has already gained a few followers.”
Caius cursed. “What have they done this time?”
“As of yet, nothing extreme, but the number of suicides in the city has increased in the last few days—all with a familiar symbol carved into their skin somewhere on their bodies.” The archangel moved toward the front window, staring out. “The local authorities are already working with Interpol on the matter due to the similarities with other deaths across Europe. We’ve got someone at Scotland Yard watching closely in case they discover anything useful.”
“That’s not going to make our job any easier with the human authorities involved,” Bartol said.
“Perhaps, but perhaps not.”
He frowned at Remiel. “How do you mean?”
“It could be turned to your advantage, but I will have to get back to you on that.” The archangel gestured toward the lists Bartol and Caius were holding. “For now, follow Yerik’s lead and look into those locations—but take care and do not get captured again.”
“We are taking precautions.” Bartol wasn’t about to let himself get taken a second time if he could help it. “But what news is there about my father?”
“The council finally approved my suggestion this morning. Raguel is in the process of being awakened now, but he’ll need a little time to orient himself and regain a measure of his strength.”
Bartol’s father would have missed a lot in the last eighteen-hundred and six years. He supposed he could understand that, though he was curious to meet the man who’d sired him. Yet he also feared their first meeting. What if his father judged him and found him wanting? Raguel had been the head of a legion, after all, and likely had high standards. There was no telling how seeing him might go and if it could be as unpleasant as what Lucas and Micah faced with their own sire.
Remiel stared at Bartol, a knowing expression in his gaze that said the archangel might have been listening to his thoughts. “Do not worry. Raguel is mighty and powerful, but he was also born with compassion. It kept him motivated to protect humans and is likely why he felt so strongly toward your mother that he sacrificed his standing for her.”
That only gave Bartol a measure of relief since things could change over the centuries. “Let us know when to expect him.”
The archangel nodded. “I will return soon.”