And that was now. I’d waited until now. I felt the fierce satisfaction. It warmed me more than the winter sun, but it would never warm me as much as my brother ’s presence would have. Revenge had kept me moving when I’d wanted to lie down on the bloody sand beside Kimano and die with him; revenge had kept me sane when it would’ve been so much easier to drop off a cliff into a mental chaos that would swallow me for all my life. Revenge was good for those things, but it wasn’t his warm laughter, his rose-colored-glasses view of the world, his incredibly warped sense of humor, and it wasn’t anywhere close to replacing how he’d loved me best.
You should love your family all the same, but of course you don’t. Just as Mama had loved her black sheep, squeaky-wheel boy best, Kimano and I had loved each other best. I would give up anything, give up the rest of my life to have him sit beside me on that bench for just five minutes. To hold my hand, to tell me his last silly prank, laugh at himself about how it had all gone wrong and he’d been the one to end up with egg on his face. To call me sister and say he loved me anyway, despite my workaholic ways.
He’d actually thought I was a workaholic. He was laziness incarnate, my baby brother, and gone so long. . . .
No more. Time to concentrate. That’s why I was here. The open sky, nature, peace—it would help me go where I needed to be. I closed my eyes and let Vegas disappear. I let the Light come into my consciousness, the tiny speck of the stuff—buzzing around my brain like a meadow bee sleepy with sun and pollen. Where did the trail point to next? Where had that musician passed off the gatepost to something more amazing that he could’ve ever understood, no matter how many drugged-up dimensions he passed through? The buzzing was slightly annoyed. I thought the shark had probably been easier for the Light to work with than that guy had been.
The buzzing went on and on, spinning in circles, trying to find in my brain what it needed to show me . . . to draw a mental picture for me. To lead . . .
And there it was. Sort of. Now I knew why there was a “Just say no to drugs” slogan. This was going to be more work than the others. It was going to require research. I really needed to look into getting an intern. Being caught in a battle between angels and demons had to be worth at least three college credits.
As I stood, I took in a last breath of spring-scented air, listened to the birdsong, and then saw a member of wildlife the conservationists hadn’t planned on reviving in this place.
A perv in a white shirt and polyester pants. A standard hide-in-the-bushes-and-whack-it perv. Fat and balding, it was as appealing as watching a giant marshmallow go at it. That would put any teen who saw it off sex a thousand times more efficiently than any school’s abstinence campaign. And from the school buses in the parking lot I’d seen on the way in, he was waiting for a happy-go-lucky line of kiddies to come skipping by to see what he was selling. I sighed. I didn’t have the time to do anything truly interesting about it. Too bad. I had to settle for walking over and pointing the muzzle of my gun at his chest. It kept my eyes away from far most nauseating sights as I said, “You’ve ruined my sex life for the foreseeable future. Now take that thing that’s catastrophically failing at masquerading as a penis and go away.”
He did. Smart marshmallow. Then I went shopping for supplies as I’d told Zeke and followed it up with a trip to the library.
I didn’t get home by dark. I was still at the library when my cell phone rang. It was on vibrate to escape the wrath of the library police. Flipping it open, I didn’t get a chance to say hello before Griffin’s urgent voice was telling me Eden House was under attack and he and Zeke were on their way. I told him I’d meet them there, jammed the book I’d been looking through into my bag, and ran for my car. I ignored the ringing alarm as the library doors slammed shut behind me. Some things didn’t allow time for proper procedure, such as checking out books. Eden House’s coming under attack was one of them. The only other time I’d heard of that happening to one of their chapters had been the House in NYC. The demons had brought down a five-story building. To this day, there was no Eden House in New York. For that matter, there were no demons there any longer either. Certain creatures didn’t like that sort of attention brought to their city, as my fellow info source, Robin, had pointed out while wallowing in epic party memories. Demons weren’t the only thing to fear in the dark, and a good majority of those night dwellers lived in New York. Enough to make it uncomfortable enough for demons that they chose to hunt and seduce in easier locations.
Las Vegas wasn’t New York. Demons and angels had a balance here. As far as I knew, they had for as long as there were enough souls to bother fighting over. It was hard to believe the demons would suddenly try to shift that balance, especially as I didn’t think Eli or Solomon had clued any of their kin in on the Light—the only reason I could think of for them to instigate an out-and-out war.
Eden House was located in Spanish Trails, one of the oldest gated communities in Vegas . . . fifteen minutes from the Strip, which was hard to believe. There may have been a more expensive neighborhood in the city, but Spanish Trails was still an architect’s wet dream. It was one of the very few places in Vegas you could have a lot of privacy, the eight-million-dollar-compound type of privacy. The main house itself was three stories high and set on five acres. Hell, they even had grass. The governor wished he had it so good. An eight-foot-high white wall surrounded the property with an iron gate painted the same color to keep out the unworthy, the disreputable, and the uninvited. I fit all those categories, but I had never let that sort of thing stop me before, and with the gate wide open, I didn’t have to let it stop me now.
I careened the car through the thick posts that supported the gate, slid into the curve hidden by tall oleander bushes, and ran over a demon crouched in the driveway. It had been distracted by the arm it had cradled to its chest as it gnawed—a human arm with only half its flesh still clinging to the bone. I’d thought the battle would be over by the time I arrived from the twenty-minute drive, but if it was, it hadn’t gone the way I’d wanted it to. Zeke and Griffin might be persona non grata in pretense and reality, but that wouldn’t stop them from going to the aid of the people they’d worked with for several years. Trinity and Goodman might be dicks for the greater good, but all of the House weren’t like them. Some had the hearts of my boys. Some had compassion, imagination, and that spark that I would call a soul. Those were the ones I didn’t want to see fall. Trinity and Goodman might keep their souls in freezers, but not all of Eden Housers did. I’d fight for them.
And I’d kill for Griffin and Zeke.
I slammed on the brakes and vaulted out of the car to pull my HK from the trunk. It was a beauty—an MP5, fully suppressed and illegal as they came—not available at your local 7-Eleven. And, better than being pretty, it was able to take out a shitload of demons without waking the neighbors. It was just in time to nail the demon that snarled and clawed its way out from beneath the undercarriage. I put six sound-muted slugs in its skull, turning its brain and then its entire body into instant pudding. I stepped over it and started running toward the house.
Most, like Griffin and Zeke, had their own houses, condos, or apartments, but the House kept a minimum of twenty members on-site at all times with five guards watching the building and grounds from nightfall until morning. But those were details I’d heard from the guys. My first official look I’d gotten at the place was when I’d been kidnapped the other night.
The look I was getting now was far different.
From opulence, armories, and medical facilities to blood and death. It was a war zone and Eden House had lost this battle. Once I ran through the gaping, double front doors, I could see that. They were still fighting it, trying to stand their ground, but it was over. If the demons had a flag, they would’ve been minutes from planting it. And there wasn’t a single angel in sight. Maybe that didn’t shake the faith of those still alive and fighting, but it pissed me off. Do our dirty work, fight our earthly battles, die for us, but consider our number unlisted. Work miracles for us, but don’t expect the same in return. Those days are over. Our convenience, not yours. But still stick us on top of your Christmas trees. We like that.