A Dark Kiss of Rapture by Sylvia Day Page B

wasn’t one of the Fallen who wouldn’t give their
life for their leader. From the heights of grace as Watchers to the
fall that cursed them with vampirism, Syre led them forward with a
confidence that inspired them all.
    Vash’s pacing came to an abrupt halt. “Do we
have any idea how many minions we’re talking about here? How many
have you taken out so far, Raze?”
    “A dozen pairs, give or take a few. Adrian
was on it, too,” he said, referring to the angel who’d severed
Syre’s wings. Raze had a lot of reasons to resent Adrian, as well
as the Sentinel angels who served under him—the Fallen’s vampiric
punishment being the least of it—but there was no denying that when
they were aligned and hunting the same prey, Adrian’s involvement
was a benefit.
    Syre crossed his arms and looked at Vashti,
his second-in-command. “Remind me: how long did Grimm evade our
attention?”
    “Too fucking long. He was in our faces, but
I didn’t look deep enough. On the surface, his theory had merit.
Still does. Or maybe it’s wishful thinking. With the number of
minions we lose to madness during the Change from fledgling to
vampire, I’d like to think there’s some way to cut the waste. He
wrapped his dogma up with pseudoscience and I bought it.”
    “He was the one pairing fledglings into
couples to ease the transition? I remember discussing it with you.
He had enough success in the beginning to justify allowing him to
proceed, if I recall.”
    Raze shot her a chastising glance for being
hard on herself. “If you were looking for a ball and chain, and
vampirism was one of your requirements in a perfect mate, Grimm was
the man to see. He had personality profiles, compatibility charts,
etc. All of which he used to weed out the whack jobs so he could
pair them with nutcases. I knew his doctrine was dangerous, so when
I took him out I hunted down all his disciples, too. Whoever is
responsible for this, Grimm didn’t document them the way he did the
others.”
    “Disciples,” Syre murmured. “Interesting
word choice.”
    “It’s the right word, trust me. What else
would you call the followers of an idiot playacting as a messiah
preaching revolt against you?”
    Syre ran a hand through his thick black
hair, the only sign he gave of any disquiet. “Whoever is
responsible, they came directly to you. This is personal.”
    “You’re goddamned right it’s personal.” He
looked at the body again, knowing it wasn’t merely a taunt but a
message. “Help me turn this guy over.”
    Syre stepped forward, waving Vash back.
    It was a gruesome task. The smell emanating
from the open body cavity would torture a human; for a vampire, it
was pure hell. They got as far as getting the corpse onto its side.
Then the loosened entrails slid out with a soft sucking sound, and
they both leaped back and away. Raze had eviscerated his own share
of enemies, but this man was a victim, and that made all the
difference.
    “Do you guys need a hand?” Vash asked,
stepping up to them.
    “No.” Raze had seen the tattoo on the
corpse’s shoulder blade. Unlike Grimm’s brand, the ink was a mark
the man had voluntarily applied as a show of loyalty, affection,
and team spirit.
    “The Cubs,” he muttered. “Guess I’m heading
to Chicago.”

CHAPTER 2
     
    Raze hit the ground running in the Windy
City. Within an hour of his plane landing, he’d swept through the
building that had once housed Grimm’s operation (presently a
printing shop) and checked his way through a quarter of the list of
Grimm’s known haunts. Then, impatient, he took a chance and headed
to Wrigley Field.
    Although the ballpark was dark and quiet for
the night, Raze knew wrong when he came across it and he damn well
felt it as he drove by. Parking a few streets away, he slid out
from behind the wheel and opened the back door of his rental to
grab his blades. He strapped them on with the efficiency of long
practice: daggers on each thigh and two katanas crisscrossing