Chapter 26

New Eden Asylum stank of sadness and creepiness. This was the first Coalition facility they built in the United States. The attic was where they stuck all the extra creepy shit they didn’t want to throw away. I was a massive Doctor Who fan. The angel statues up here were just nasty even if you hadn’t seen Angels Take Manhattan. And I was still mad about that episode.

There were some saints up here, but none of them held a candle to my girl Saint Olga of Kyiv. This Russian tribe killed her husband, so she wiped them all out and used birds to do it. She got baptized, and they made her the patron saint of widows. She was just a human woman and didn’t have the same kinds of mate bond a supernatural would have, but I could appreciate she killed that many people for murdering her husband.

It was morally reprehensible that they had all these saint statues up here and Olga wasn’t represented.

But score one for the good guys because they had everything we needed to disable the angel tears up here. Thank the fucking goddess on a blessed Tuesday that shit wasn’t in the basement. The chances of us getting down there were pretty slim and even if we managed, we’d probably blow our cover if we got that close to our mate in her half-starved state.

I mean, I’d personally kill anyone down there and Pax and Cas were probably ‘Girl, same’ about that.

Some little helper gremlin had cleared a path among the dusty statues and boxes all the way to the giant diffuser. Those things were terrible for pets and not all that great for shifters even when they weren’t shooting aerosol angel tears into the atmosphere.

I was grateful we weren’t going to have to move any giant statues, but I was still killing the helper gremlins because only shitty people worked here.

“I hope we don’t need power tools to get into that fucking thing,” I said. “They’ll hear it and Cas with a drill gives me a boner.”

“Doubtful,” Pax said. “I’m not sure how often they have to add them, but I can already tell you Hannibal doesn’t do it himself. The rest of these people get out of breath walking up the stairs and the ones who don’t wouldn’t be trusted with this because they haven’t taken the same vows. If we can find it, it’s not going to need brute force or tools to get into.”

“He’s right,” Cas said. “I’ve got my network helping Coalition victims and trying to bring these people down, but I’m not the only one in the States. I’ve been chatting with similar groups across the globe since AOL chat was a thing.

“We’ve long known about the silver in the walls, but we’ve never been able to figure out what else they were using. They had to have been using a different delivery method before electricity and these devices could be purchased.

“I’m guessing they were adding it to the water supply, but then they’d have to drink it, too. I’m guessing they started out thinking it was blessing them, but angels are supernatural creatures like us. A little vampire blood will heal a human, but too much will drive them insane. Same with Sirens, succubae, and the incubi. A little is enjoyable, but too much breaks their minds. They probably figured out exactly how much would affect us, but not fuck them up, too.”

That was the part I didn’t get. Supernaturals were mostly copacetic. The things about us that hurt humans didn’t harm other supernaturals. If we mated to a vampire, they could take more of our blood without killing us and use more of theirs to heal us. The Sirens, succubae, and incubuses didn’t have to hold back.

Why were angel tears like someone mistook me for a dog and took me to the vet to get neutered? It didn’t make sense.

Cas was fiddling with the giant diffuser. I hadn’t been on computer duty thus far. All I really knew was that they found out that Hannibal was the head of the United States Coalition. These people were serious about lights out and locked us in our rooms at night.

We knew our mate was here and while we could talk to her, we couldn’t talk to each other telepathically yet until we’d all sealed our bond together. And she’d better be okay. We were so close, but it sucked that we couldn’t all be on the same page to get her out.

“Hey, how are they getting the angel tears? Like, do they have to milk an angel’s tear ducts? They’d have to have a constant supply and something tells me none of these fake nuns and priests have ever met one,” I said.

I mean, I hadn’t either. There were a bunch of different kinds with various jobs and a whole host of horrifying appearances. Some of them had six wings. The feathers alone must be a fucking nightmare.

“Here,” Cas said, holding up a box. “A bunch of two ounce unlabeled bottles in a cardboard box with no return address. Bastards have probably been mailing their tears.”

I opened a bottle and sniffled it, careful not to get it on me. I didn’t know what angel tears were supposed to smell like, but I knew what a Coalition facility stank like.

“This is it,” I said, screwing the cap back on.

“Do you have enough black salt to put in these, too?” Cas asked.

Pax chewed on his lower lip. He was always so beautiful when he did that.

“Pink salt would be better, but I stole a salt shaker from our break room. I’ve been burning incense like crazy in my room and stealing the ashes from their altars. And all of you owe me. I’m not sure where they are getting it, but it smells like the eighties when Benji was obsessed with the Chuck E. Cheese the next town over and ruined some kid’s birthday by exploding grape drink everywhere in a cloud of second-hand cigarette smoke because his mom didn’t think a grown man belonged in the ball pit. It took three washes to get that smell out of my hair and clothes.”

Ah, shit, I forgot about that. Chuck E. Cheese was this lawless place with fun games, a ball pit, prizes, and pizza served by a giant rat. It was morally reprehensible that they sided with her, kicked me out of the ball pit, and fucking banned me from rat pizza. I would have happily dived my ass in a ball pit for adults, but they didn’t offer one. I was a big believer that naps and play time as adults kept you regular and well adjusted.

“That shit stunk even worse if you’re a shifter, but she kinda had it coming. Benji wasn’t hurting anyone, and it made him happy,” Cas said. “They didn’t tell us how much black salt to use. Do we have enough for this giant diffuser and their supply?”

Cas would always defend me and eventually online shopping became a thing. I had my own fucking ball pit now and sometimes, I could convince Cas and Pax to oil themselves up and wrestle with me in it. Which was just so much better than trying to avoid Sumo slamming some kid.

Maybe our mate would play in my ball pit with us. We just needed Pax to tell us how much of the witchy salt to use.

“Black salt is insanely powerful for protection. This incense smells terrible and cheap, but technically, they were doing the same ritual witches and warlocks do when we burn it, even if they’d never admit it. It should just take a little.”

At least these people were useful for something. Cas started giggling and he only ever got like that when he got down on my level.

“I figured out how to get into this thing and it doesn’t involve a drill. Sorry, Benji.”

“It’ll be worth it to get our mate out of here. Because I’ll bet she’ll get horny when she sees you with a drill, too.”

I loved it when a plan started coming together.