“I have a few supplies to pick up before our train leaves,” Calli said as we returned to the street.
We’d decided to go home and think up a plan to save Zane. Well, actually, Calli had decided, and I just hadn’t said anything. I already had a plan, but if I shared it, Calli would try to stop me. My plan was the only way, even though it meant going back on my promise to take over more of the family business. Zane was family too. I couldn’t just let the demons have him.
“You go along,” I told Calli and my sisters. “I want to check out the Armory.” I tapped the glass window of the shop in front of me, one of many in a chain that had locations all over the world. “The New York Armory is supposed to be the largest one in all of North America. They’ve got to have a great selection. After my run-in with the vampire last night, I want to take a look at their latest in anti-vampire weaponry.”
I thought my lie was convincing enough, but Calli gave me a funny look.
“What’s my budget?” I asked her hastily, hoping that would make my story more plausible.
Calli continued to watch me for a moment before she said, “Try to stay below five hundred dollars.”
“Will do,” I replied, then turned to pretend to look at the weapons featured in the display window.
I waited until Calli and the girls turned the corner, then I hurried off toward the Promenade. Gods, I felt like a teenager again playing out a deception.
The Promenade was a street full of towering office buildings that housed branches of many of the world’s major organizations. The League, the worldwide bounty hunting company, occupied a slate—nearly black—building next to the blue glass skyscraper that was home to the paranormal soldiers. And past that, smack dab in the middle of the Promenade, was a sparkling white obelisk, the east coast headquarters of the Legion of Angels.
I took a deep breath and walked toward the front door with a confident gait, as though I were not completely scared out of my mind.
The obelisk’s interior did not live up to the outside’s foreboding architecture. It wasn’t as sparse as the paranormal soldiers’ buildings either. The lobby was opulent, drowning in heavenly tones of gold and white with occasional accents from all across the color spectrum. Like in the long hall of the train station, paintings of grand and powerful gods covered the ceiling. Painted angels stood at the edge between ceiling and wall, guarding the border. Vampires, shifters, fairies, and many other supernaturals came next, filling the walls.
Two Legion soldiers in brown khakis, tank tops, and heavy boots cut across my path, pulling a struggling, shackled, shrieking vampire toward the back. The people working behind the large, curved reception desk didn’t even look up. This must have been a regular occurrence around here. The twin doors leading to a back area swooshed open. The soldiers and their vampire passed through, and then the doors closed, swallowing the vampire’s screams.
Two Legion soldiers, both dressed in black leather, walked side-by-side toward the doors—each one with a sword on his back, each one donning a small metallic insignia of a fire symbol on his chest.
I returned my attention to the reception desk. There, another Legion soldier was getting a chocolate chip cookie from the plate on the counter while she made smalltalk with the secretary about dragon sightings. I walked up to the desk, my steps faltering as I crossed the icy marble expanse. I waited at the desk until the secretary was done chatting with the cookie-loving Legion soldier.
“Yes?” the secretary asked, locking her stern eyes on me.
“I’d like to join the Legion.” I tried to sound strong as I said it, but my voice just came out so weak and pathetic.
The secretary and the cookie soldier looked me over, as though assessing me, then they exchanged amused looks. It appeared they weren’t impressed with what they saw.
“Sit over there and fill this out.” The secretary passed me a clipboard over the desk. “Bring it back when you’re done.” Then she turned away from me and started up a conversation with the cookie soldier about recent vampire attacks.
Thus dismissed, I headed over to the seating area. There were five other people sitting here, each of them busily filling out their own forms. Except my forms were yellow and theirs green. I seemed to remember green was the color for those petitioning the Legion for aid. Yellow was…I don’t know, a warning. But I guess it was better than red. Or putting a skull and crossbones on the cover sheet.
The people with the green sheets looked even more nervous than I felt, if that were even possible. The thing was anyone could petition the Legion of Angels for aid, but very few received it. The Legion was more selective about which petitions they took than which initiates they welcomed into their doors. They knew the weak initiates wouldn’t survive the first month anyway.
Stop thinking like that! I chided myself as I began filling out my application.
Ten pages and one hundred questions later, I handed the clipboard back to the secretary, then went back to sit and wait on my really uncomfortable but very pretty chair. I shook out my hand. It was sore from all the writing. These weren’t multiple choice questions. Each one was like an essay, an exposé into a corner of my life. They wanted to know everything: health, history, education, magic. I didn’t know why they bothered. The Legion had never rejected any application to join their army. But they were a government agency, and the one thing government agencies were united in was their love of bureaucracy. It must have made them feel good to file away another big stack of papers.