Remy slipped the loaded clip into his gun.
Madach helped himself to some of the special bullets, doing as he’d watched Remy do. “Who knows,” he said with the hint of a sad smile, “if I do some good maybe I’ll get time off for good behavior, and I’ll be able to go back home all the sooner.”
Remy scowled, not even wanting to think of Heaven. If what he suspected was going on, he was disturbed to see its lack of involvement. It just proved to him again how dramatically things had changed, and not for the better.
“So what now?” the fallen asked, carefully loading his weapon.
“I had some dealings with the Nomads a few days ago,” Remy said. “Only thing I can think of right now is to check out where I found them last and hope they’ve left clues as to where we go next.”
Madach stared at him blankly.
“I know, the plan sucks, but it’s all I’ve got right now.”
His phone started to ring and he reached inside his coat pocket to retrieve it.
“Hello,” he said, placing it to his ear.
There was a long pause, and Remy was about to hang up on the call when he heard the unmistakable sound of labored breathing. He almost laughed, an obscene phone call at a time like this, but then the caller managed to speak.
“Mr. Chandler,” it gasped, and he recognized the voice.
“Karnighan?”
“Come to Lexington, Mr. Chandler,” the old man wheezed, sounding as though he was teetering at death’s door.
“Karnighan, I certainly will be coming to Lexington. You’ve got a lot of questions to answer, but right now…”
“Come to Lexington, Remiel,” Karnighan interrupted, using Remy’s angelic name as if he’d known it all along. “It’s time you knew what is going on.”
Mulvehill wasn’t picking up, so Remy left a message.
“Hey, it’s me,” he started, leaning back against his parked car. He wanted to be sure to phrase what he had to say right. He didn’t want to frighten his friend, but how else could he explain that he might not survive the next few hours? “Listen, I’ve got a favor to ask.”
Remy glanced back up the street toward Mass Avenue. Things looked as though they’d returned somewhat to normalcy. He was sure the multiple fire trucks and police cars and hazmat teams were still milling about upper Newbury Street. As he’d left the brownstone, he’d heard murmurings about some sort of weird gas leak.
Whatever helps them make it through the night, he thought.
“Things have gotten a bit intense,” he started to explain into the phone. “Not sure how much deeper I’m going to be sucked into this and I was wondering if you could… if need be… take care of stuff for me.”
He felt a raw, painful surge of emotion that he was more than willing to blame on the residuals of the Hell leakage, but deep down Remy knew that it wasn’t the case. These were the emotions he’d suppressed—pushed down deep—since Madeline’s death. They bubbled to the surface now, hot… burning.
Infuriating.
It was a product of that damn humanity he’d worked so hard to achieve. All part of being human.
“I know you’ve said you’re not good with dogs, but… if something should happen to me… would you take care of him… of Marlowe?”
He thought about his animal friend, feeling guilty about how much the simple creature had had to endure over the past few months.
“I’d really appreciate it if you would do that for me.” Remy paused, not knowing how to go on. He really didn’t have anything more to say.
“Thanks, buddy,” he finally added. “Take care of yourself and… well, I hope to see you later.”
He thought about telling Mulvehill how much his friendship had meant to him over the years, but decided that in the long run it wouldn’t have been worth the punishment. If he managed to survive what was ahead, and had left a message pretty much professing his love for the man, any moment spent afterward with the homicide cop would be unbearable, the teasing that he would have to endure more painful than the tortures of Hell.
Why take a chance?
He pocketed his phone and got into the car.
“Everything all right?” Madach asked, staring straight ahead with unblinking eyes.
“Had to put some stuff in order, just in case.”
Remy slipped the key into the ignition and turned the engine over. Pulling out of the parking space, he drove down Comm Avenue, trying to get as far from the commotion surrounding Newbury Street as possible. He swung around the Public Garden, then past the Common and the State House, tempted to stop and see Marlowe one more time. But as usual, time was wasting. He picked up 93 by Haymarket and headed north out of the city. It was a roundabout route but it would eventually get them to Lexington and Karnighan’s mansion.
They drove in silence, Remy lost in his thoughts, trying to recall every minute detail of the case, carefully picking through the information in search of something he might have overlooked.
“What did you see back there?” Madach asked, his voice startling in the quiet of the car.
Remy glanced briefly at the fallen angel, both hands upon the wheel as he drove up Route—in light traffic. “What do you mean, what did I see?”
“Back when we were walking to Francis’ place,” Madach explained. “When Hell was leaking out onto the street. What did you experience?”
Remy thought about how to answer the question. He finally just shrugged. “A lot of things I regret,” Remy stated, eyes fixed to the road. “Things I wish I could have done differently, but at the same time I know there really wasn’t much of a choice.”
“Choice,” Madach repeated, laughing a bit sadly. “It was all about choice… and so many of us making the wrong one, y’know?”
“But you had to have believed that what you were doing was right,” Remy added. “No matter how misguided, you were fighting for something you believed in.”
The fallen angel laughed all the harder. “I don’t even remember anymore,” he said. “I was just overwhelmed with this sense of utter desperation.”
Remy felt his stare, so intense that it was hot upon his cheek.
“I was filled with hatred and sadness over what I had done,” Madach finished. “I still am. I should never have been released from Tartarus.”
“But you were,” Remy said, taking note of the exit signs. “I can’t see many mistakes being made there.”
“Yeah, I guess. And look how I repaid that faith,” he said, shaking his head in disgust.
“Not the best of moves,” Remy added, flipping on his signal as he moved over to the right-hand lane to exit. “But maybe you’ll have a chance to redeem yourself tonight.”
“Or maybe I’ll just make the wrong choice again.”
They rode the remainder of the way in silence, a knot of apprehension forming solidly in the center of Remy’s belly as he drove through the gate of Karnighan’s home, and up to the house.
Remy opened the car door, reaching down to release the latch that would open the trunk. Going around to the back of the car, he removed the duffel bag stuffed with weapons that they had taken from Francis’ home.
“What are you bringing those for?” Madach asked.
“Just in case.” Remy slammed the trunk closed and waited, looking around the property.
“What’s wrong?” Madach asked, standing beside him.
“Karnighan has dogs, but they don’t seem to be around.”
“I let Dougie deal with them,” Madach said. “Guess he ground up some sleeping pills and put it in hamburger. I wanted them asleep before I even got out of the car.”
Remy walked toward the front door, slipping the strap of the heavy bag over his shoulder. “I doubt they’re asleep now,” he said as he reached out to ring the doorbell, but then he noticed that the door was ajar.
“Shit,” he hissed.