The warden hesitated, and Bella wondered how he didn’t recognize temptation when it was right in front of him.
Of course, he didn’t recognize an imp when it was right in front of him either. But Bella wasn’t going to blame him for that; which made her more virtuous than a warden, apparently.
However, the female warden was shifting uncomfortably. Or maybe one of the glowing gold arrows in the quiver on her back was poking her in the ass. “We cannot consort with an exile.”
Bella took another step up. “He doesn’t need a consort, thanks anyway, but maybe you can work with me.”
Again she quavered under the weight of those stares, but if they were going to make this happen… She dragged out the little glass ball she’d carried up in her pocket and balanced it in the center of her palm. “We need to capture and confine tenebrae emanations, and reversing the charge of the wards the sphericanum uses, we think we can—”
With the curve of his crook, the male warden slapped her hand.
The glass ball flew from her grasp and bounced once on the carpet but did not break. Bella gasped and reached down, but the warden smashed his bare foot down on the bauble.
Red glass and blood flared in the imp’s vision.
“Whatever sphere secrets the traitor has revealed must go with you to your grave, woman,” the warden said harshly. “Which will be sooner rather than later if you speak of this.”
“Sooner even than that, probably,” Bella muttered. She knelt to retrieve the broken ornament.
“In that case—” The warden raised his crook.
Fane punched him. One shot, right past the crook and straight to the stern, square jaw.
The warden went over backward, white robe flapping.
The female warden jumped to one side, an arrow instantly cocked in her bow, and the other wardens were bristling with their weapons a half-second later.
Fane shook out his hand. “We don’t use our abraxas against the innocent.”
“There are no innocents in the war between good and evil,” the female warden reminded him. “Everyone takes a side.”
“Not everyone,” Fane said. He did not look over his shoulder, but Bella felt the intent aimed at her anyway.
The female warden rumbled angrily in her throat. “The ambivalent should be the first to die.”
Bella picked the bloody shards of the ornament out of the carpet. “No doubt you’ll get your wish.” She rose as the male warden sat up, groaning. “Let’s get out of here.”
Fane nodded brusquely and recalled the elevator.
The female warden cocked her bow another notch tighter. “Don’t come back here again, Fane. Once was stupid. Twice will be suicide. And you wouldn’t want that stain on your soul, would you?”
He didn’t reply, just faced the elevator doors until they opened and strode in.
Bella kept a wary eye on the golden glow of the enraged angels, but they made no further moves.
She and Fane descended in silence. She wondered if the descent felt more metaphorical to him, once again kicked out of his celestial standing. She cleared her throat. “That went well.”
He stared at the dropping numbers. “We still have our heads.”
“And angelic blood spoor. The divine essence can be used to bless artifacts used against the tenebrae. The reliquary I have at my apartment supposedly has a saint’s knucklebone, but I’m pretty sure it’s a pig’s tail bone. Unless the saint cracked his knuckles a lot.”
“You’re babbling.”
“I do that when I’m grateful to be alive.”
The elevator door opened and they marched across the lobby, which was filled with wardens in white who parted slower than the Red Sea to let them pass.
Bella shivered at the threat of those golden glares—some mere sparks, some bright enough to scorch—and moved closer to Fane, but no one tried to stop them. Too bad, in a way. Certainly she’d be safe from the tenebrae here in sphericanum central.
Fane reached for the front door, but it opened before he touched it. An angelic possessed dressed in white overalls waved them out, grumbling, “They told me I have to replace the entire keypad.”
“Sucks to be you,” Bella said.
The lesser ward jerked his thumb toward Fane. “Not as much as it sucks to be him.”
Fane ignored the other angelic possessed as he stalked past. He held his flattened palm out to Bella.
She put the broken ornament in his hand. “You’re upset. I’ll drive.”
He glowered, first at the glass, then at her. “I’ll be upset if you drive.”
“Which will be a nice distraction for you. I’m so thoughtful that way.” She pointed the fob at the Porsche and the headlights flashed a silvery halogen welcome through spits of icy rain.
She shivered again. Already the night threatened. Shadows seemed to decant from the low clouds, dripping down the sides of the tall buildings and spreading across the pavement toward her boots.
She opened the passenger door and then whisked around the front of the car.
Fane slapped his palms down on the roof. “I’m serious.”
“So I’ve noticed. And I’m driving.” She slid into the driver’s seat and ran her hands over the controls, familiarizing herself with the touch of fine leather and chrome. Still, Fane didn’t plunk himself down into the passenger seat until she actually started up the engine with a somewhat unnecessary roar.
He dumped the bloody glass shards into the center console coin holder. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter if I die.”
“That’s the spirit.” She peeled smoothly away from the curb.
His fingers clenched the arm rest. “You didn’t even check your blindspot.”
She looked at him. “Do you hear how silly you just sounded? I’m blind-ish, remember?”
He slumped lower yet. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
“Were you mighty?”
His hand spasmed again on the arm rest between them. For him, she realized, talking about his loss was more terrifying than handing over his keys.
“Not almighty,” he said at last. “But mighty enough.”
“And now?”
“Mighty pissed. They want to banish me, fine, but to refuse a chance to confront Thorne? Why else are we here?”
“I think their problem was not the confrontation but the company.”
He snorted. “Shouldn’t matter.”
“Because the company you keep doesn’t matter to you?” She kept her eyes forward, not sure what she wanted him to say. Did she want him to care about the company he kept? But then, if an angel-man had any sort of judgment, he wouldn’t be with a demon…
He drummed his fingers restlessly, as if ticking through the various answers he might give. “I’m trying to do something here, for everyone’s good.” He sounded aggrieved.
Maybe because she was an entity of lesser evil, somehow that was not the response she wanted. She turned off at the next exit, jumping a couple lanes of traffic.
He shifted in his seat. “I thought we were going back to the house.”
“Why would you think that when I’m driving?”
“Because my home is the best place for you to be.”
She contemplated all her potential responses and decided two could play at his game of non-answers. “I can’t see anything in your house. It’s like living in a white bubble.”
He scowled. “In a bubble, nothing can get to you, which I thought was what you wanted.”
“Not nothing,” she said. “Just not the tenebrae.”
He waved one hand as if the distinction was of no interest to him. It should be, she thought grimly; without the protection of his abraxas and the sphericanum, he was almost as vulnerable as she was.