“Tell me about it,” Holly muttered. “Who do I have to sleep with to make that happen?”
Her question had been facetious, but Venom smiled slowly. “Let me get back to you on that.”
She gave him the finger.
His smile deepened, and suddenly, she was back to being herself, Uram’s memories held at bay. “Ready?”
A nod.
They flowed down the slight slope, then back up toward the stronghold. When Venom veered left, she didn’t disagree. He was attempting to get them behind the stronghold, which made a lot of sense. The area directly in front of the stunning structure was clear lawn interrupted only by a fountain that created a delicate fall of sound.
Hopefully, the back would be better in terms of hiding places.
Holly hugged the ground when two angels passed by within seconds of each other. The only reason the angels hadn’t spotted her and Venom was that they were in the narrow band of shade thrown by a foliage fence. Her heart drumming inside her chest, Holly padded along behind Venom, and when the green overlay appeared on her vision, she didn’t fight it.
She listened.
And stopped Venom as he was about to go around a corner. Instead, the two of them pressed their backs against the same foliage fence and blended into the night. The guard passed by within a few feet. There was no way he wasn’t going to see them when he turned left to continue his sentry duties.
Shit, shit, shit.
The guard turned.
Holly didn’t realize she’d thrown out her hand until it slammed quietly against Venom’s chest, halting his nascent movement to take care of the threat. His muscles quivered under her touch, his body held at taut readiness.
The guard looked straight at them.
His mouth began to open, but it was too late. Holly had caught his eyes. Caught him. He was an old vampire, but she was something other. And she was far, far stronger than she’d been before Daisy’s energy joined her own.
“We’re not here,” she whispered. “You thought you spotted something, but it was only an animal.” The latter was a deliberate choice of word. She didn’t know if Michaela kept cats or dogs or peacocks for that matter. The guard’s mind would fill in the blanks with the most appropriate image. “You’re on high alert, miss nothing, but there’s nothing here to see.”
The guard yawned before absently scratching his shoulder. She thought for a moment that she’d failed, but then he muttered, “Damn cats,” and moved on.
Holly sagged.
Venom tugged her around the corner before the guard got too far away. He knew as well as she did that the mesmerism had limits. The guard would remember exactly what she’d told him to remember—but once he was far enough away, he might decide to turn, double check.
“That was clever, kitty.”
“Why didn’t you think of it?” He was stronger than her, could control people far longer. “You were going to get physical.” She’d felt it in the violent tension of his body.
“I’m not used to not needing to leave a trace. It’s usually Jason or Naasir or Janvier who do any necessary sneaking around.”
They went silent again, crouch-walking for a distance that was long enough to make Holly’s back ache like she’d been twisting herself into a pretzel. Michaela’s stronghold might be an astonishingly beautiful edifice, but it was also fricking huge. They didn’t hit the turn for the very back of the property until what felt like an hour later.
Thankfully, it was worth the pretzel torture.
Trees filled the backyard—though those trees were controlled and noticeably shorter than the ones on the mountainside. Peaches and apricots hung from the branches of the ones nearest Holly and Venom. “An orchard.”
The night air was a crisp bite as they crept under the trees, sneaking their way to the back of the stronghold itself. The wings inside Holly’s chest, they pulsed, the sharp edges shoving brutally hard against her skin.
Holly had touched angelic wings—Elena’s mostly.
The Guild Hunter had offered the contact so that Holly could overcome her traumatic fear of wings. It was probably only Elena who could’ve helped her conquer her throat-choking fear—because it was Elena who’d found her, rescued her. Holly’s brain was imprinted with that knowledge. As a result of her deliberate tactile experience, she knew that while angelic wings were powerful, they weren’t sharp. Ellie’s feathers had been silky soft under Holly’s fingertips.
Whatever it was that lived in Holly, it wasn’t natural.
Something brushed her leg.
She couldn’t help her jump.
Yowling, the black cat ran off.
“Damn it.” Hoping the sentries were accustomed to the feline sounds and wouldn’t pay them much mind, she carried on, Venom a dark silhouette in front of her. He took them not to the center of the back of the house, but to the right side. She saw why once they got closer—the back door was heavily guarded, but there were high windows on the side.
Not all of those windows were closed.
The structure of the stronghold also meant the guards on the door couldn’t see the windows from their position. It was only the angels doing security sweeps in the sky that could prove tricky.
She and Venom made it to the wall without problems. Holly crouched down beside him, their bodies brushing. Heat emanated from him, his flesh very much warm-blooded despite the mark of the viper that defined him. “How are we going to reach the window?” she whispered, as the first accessible one was at least two floors above ground level. “Unless . . . I heard you can slither up walls.”
His grin told her he’d caught her own and knew she’d meant no insult. His snakelike tendencies were a part of him and Holly had no intention of ignoring them—that would be like accepting one aspect of his nature and not the rest. And Holly was fascinated and compelled by the whole.
“Depends on the wall.” He ran his hand over it. “This one is extremely smooth from age. Even the seams in the stone have been worn away, leaving nothing in terms of a gripping surface. If we were at home, I’d try it, but as we’re not . . .” Opening his pack, he took out a coil of rope with a four-pronged hook on one end. “Here’s where we need some luck, kitty.”
Acid green filmed her vision as Holly listened to the night. “Wait.” His arm was rigid muscle under her touch, his skin warm. “Now,” she said the instant the wings in the air were at an optimum distance.
He threw.
The hook caught on the ledge of the open window, and when he tugged, it held. “Go.”
Grabbing the rope, Holly tried to remember the lessons she’d had. She was no expert, but one of the hunters who was friends with Ashwini liked climbing and Holly went with him sometimes. He didn’t know what she was, of course, just thought she was a badly Made vampire, but that didn’t matter. Demarco was fun and uncomplicated, their relationship centered on climbing.
The problem was, with this wall being so slippery, she had to rely on her upper-body strength and her thighs to get herself up. She could do it—thanks to her training schedule over the past four years—but she felt like she’d gone through the wars by the time she managed to crawl over the window ledge and into a well-lit passageway.
Pressing her back to the wall the instant she was inside, to avoid being silhouetted against the light, she made sure the hooks were holding tight. The rope went taut a second later. Venom made it up at ruthless speed and was rolling up the rope and putting it back into his pack before her heartbeat eased from its frantic tattoo.
Agony speared Holly’s chest without warning.
She could see that this place was as beautiful as she’d imagined—a chandelier up ahead fractured light into raindrops that cascaded over the deep blue carpet patterned in cream and jewel red. But the beauty was lost on her, her mind a clawing obsession painted in acid green.
She couldn’t stop her head from snapping to the left. “That way.”
28
Holly’s body wanted to go through the wall that stood between her and her destiny.
Taking her hand, Venom squeezed. “Stealth, kitty.” A murmur against her ear. “We have to go down the hall and find a way to get to that wing of the house. We can’t afford to crash about and get caught—the angels and vampires on guard within will be dangerous powers.”