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And under her breath, nearly lost beneath the echoing screams, she said, "That's for my family, you evil son of a bitch."

18

Finally all was silent, and the mewling creatures gone. Anders was lying on the concrete floor, his eyes clenched shut, his face twisted in pain. He held his hands to his ears, a useless gesture. The sound he sought to keep out was in his mind: the anguished cries of those nameless, scurrying things that were once Merihem as they faded from existence. I knew, because I'd heard it twice now. Just two more things I wished I could unremember. Two among thousands.

I shambled over to where Anders lay, my borrowed body trembling, my knees threatening to buckle. I told myself that it was just a natural response to what I'd just been witness to, but I knew that wasn't completely true. Merihem's death had rattled me in a way Beleth's had not. Merihem wasn't a friend — not exactly — but we had a history, he and I, and that's not something you can easily forget. Now he was dead. Dead because of me. And it was a senseless death, at that — no honor, no dignity, no reason at all it had to happen. Demon or not, I couldn't help but think Merihem deserved better than that.

"Anders — are you all right?" He looked up at me and nodded. Anders was lying, of course, but that he was well enough to lie was a good sign. "We've got to get moving. Half of Staten Island must've heard those windows blow — we haven't got a lot of time."

I felt terrible for the kid — lacking whatever filter prevented normal people from seeing the world as it really was, only to be branded a nutcase, by them and me at first as well. Of course, if any of those so-called normal people could see the things that Anders had seen, they'd be a little twitchy, too.

I helped him to his feet, and nodded toward Pinch, who had retreated to a far corner of the room. Pinch sat with his back to the wall, rocking back and forth with his knees hugged tight to his chest. "Go help him," I said, "I'll take care of Kate."

Kate, for her part, was nowhere to be seen. Not that that meant much — most of the candles were extinguished during Merihem's exit, and the few that remained did little to push back the encroaching darkness. I noticed a thin rectangle of paler darkness along the far wall — a door, standing slightly ajar and leading to the night beyond. No doubt that's where she'd gone. I gave chase, and prayed she hadn't gone too far.

She hadn't. I found Kate standing with her back to me in the center of the abandoned, weed-strewn parking lot. She was shaking, I noticed, and she held her arms tight across her chest, hugging herself. It wasn't entirely from the cold, I thought. Demon or not, you couldn't just take a life and not have it rattle you a little. I once heard that it gets easier. I think they had it backwards. After a while, you just get harder.

"You wanna tell me what the hell just happened back there?" I asked.

She turned and looked at me, her eyes flashing with angry rebellion. "I ought to ask you the same thing. Did you think I was going to stand idly by as you let that bastard walk out of here?"

"You're damn right that's what I thought! Letting Merihem go was the smart play. I don't know if you've noticed, Kate, but we're kinda short on allies right about now, and thanks to you, we've got one less."

"You think he was an ally? I've got a newsflash for you, Sam — Merihem was a demon. As in evil. I did the world a favor, killing him."

"The hell you did. You wanna do the world a favor? Try dropping this bullshit vengeance trip and get on board with the whole keeping-you-alive thing."

"Bullshit?" Kate spat. "You think that this is bullshit? You said yourself they killed my family, Sam. This was just my way of trying to even the score."

"I said that one of them killed your family. I never said that it was Merihem."

"Does it matter? They're all the same."

"No," I said, "they're not."

"They're demons. End of story."

"You know what separates a demon from an angel? Choice. Angels are beholden to the will of God. Not a bad gig if you can get it, I guess. No doubt. No pain. No fear. No free will, either, but most don't seem to mind. There were some, though, who did — some who thought free will was worth losing everything for. They turned their backs on who they were, which meant turning their back on God. They were cast out for their impudence, forced to live a twisted, perverted existence, forever obscured from the light of God's grace."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you need to understand that whoever killed your family made a choice to do so. Because back there, you just did the same. Demons aren't the only ones with free will, Kate. Be sure you use yours wisely."

"You think that Merihem was innocent," she said.

"Of this, yes."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Merihem was a corrupter of souls, a bringer of pestilence. For his line of work, this world of yours is fertile ground. He had no more interest in seeing it end than you do."

"That doesn't exactly make him sound like one of the good guys."

"I never said he was. But this is bigger than you, Kate. Bigger than what happened to your family. If they succeed in collecting you, we're talking about the end of the world. I'll take my help wherever I can get it."

Kate gazed in silence at the pavement for a moment. When she spoke, it was barely a whisper, and her eyes never left the ground. "The last time I spoke to them, it was in anger."

"What? Who?"

"My mom. My dad. My brother. I'd been planning a road trip with some friends for the summer. There's this music festival out in Washington — three days of bands and camping and whatever. It just seems so fucking silly now. Anyways, Dad said I could go, but Mom thought I was too young to go traipsing across the country by myself. I tried to tell her I wouldn't be by myself — that we'd be fine — but she wouldn't hear any of it. We ended up shouting at each other over the breakfast table, and I said some things…"

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she was suddenly racked with sobs. "Kate," I said, "you don't have to tell me — "

"Yes, I do. I can't just keep carrying it around. It's too much." I nodded, and she continued. "I told her that I hated her. That my real mother would've let me go. That I wished that she was dead instead."

I was taken aback. "Your real mother?"

Kate nodded. "She died when I was very young. Complications from childbirth. And Dad… I mean, I know he missed her, but he never took it out on me. When I was three, he met Patricia. She's the only mother I've ever known. I just can't believe I said those things — and all over a stupid fucking trip!"

"I'm sure she knew you didn't mean it."

"Did she? Did she know I didn't mean it when I killed her husband right in front of her? When I killed her son? Did she know it while I tortured her?"

"Kate, that wasn't you. You have to understand that."

"How can you be sure? How can you know I didn't, I don't know, invite something in when I said what I said? That I didn't open the door for this to happen?"

"It doesn't work that way, Kate. If a moment of anger was enough to invite a possession, there wouldn't be demons enough for the demand."

"You say that, sure, but you aren't certain — I can see it in your eyes. You've seen what I'm capable of," she said, nodding toward the factory door. "You've seen what I can do when I get angry."