Eden House had always said it was God’s plan, giving humans those powers—to fight the demons on even ground. More and more it was clear they didn’t have a clue what God’s plan was and never had. This was the most prime of examples. An Eden House rogue board president, Trinity, meets Above’s middle management while the CEOs are on vacation, and a merger is born. Any big corporation could tell you how that worked—it didn’t.
Zeke had moved to stand at Griffin’s shoulder, but his gaze wasn’t on demons. It was on Trinity and the other three Eden Housers. “How was Florida?” he said without emotion. “Bring us a postcard?” Griffin might have come to see what Trinity was . . . not a good man, no matter that was the side he claimed. But there had been good people in the Vegas House, and he had liked them, felt as if he’d belonged. Griffin was a social creature and he hated Trinity now. Trinity had tried to use him while planning on rejecting him and didn’t seem to give a damn his own House had burned.
Zeke had considered those in the House comrades, but he couldn’t go further than that. His bonding emotions extended to Griffin and to a lesser degree to Leo and me. He missed his comrades, but he had never had emotions for Trinity one way or the other—until now. He didn’t care if Trinity and all the Houses of the world rejected him—as long as he had Griffin. He did care, however, how it made his partner feel. He cared a great deal. As Griffin looked after him, he looked after Griffin . . . although in a slightly more homicidal way. “We missed you at the battle,” he went on, and his Colt Anaconda was in his hand. I had a feeling Zeke didn’t plan on missing Trinity now . . . or a good chunk of the wall behind him.
If he killed Trinity, Goodman and the two others would be at his throat in an instant. Truthfully, I wouldn’t put my money on them. Shotguns against the Anaconda, that didn’t really matter. Them against Zeke, that was the meat of the matter. And meat was what Zeke would make of them. But there were the angels—at least one a high-level angel—and whether they could take Zeke or not, I didn’t know.
Nor was there any need to find out. When I found the Light, I wanted a virtual crowd around me. Demons, angels, humans. Whatever it took to muddy the waters. If they were preoccupied with one another, they wouldn’t be concentrating on me. If Eli showed up with the price I was charging for the Light, if Solomon showed up to demonstrate what side he was really on—angels, demons, humans—it was going to be one massive brawl.
Finally, after all these years, Kimano could rest. I could rest.
As for Heaven, Hell, and Earth . . . let the pieces fall where they may.
My way.
I looked at Griffin and he wrapped his fingers around Zeke’s wrist. He didn’t say “Safety on” to halt Zeke, but I imagine he thought it loudly enough that Zeke heard it in his mind. He had to have because he growled and moved away from them all, not showing them his vulnerable back once. Lenore had flown back to his shoulder with a shred of anchovy in his beak and was eyeing the angels with suspicious, beady eyes. He swallowed the bit of fish and squawked at the angels, “Whom the angels named Lenore.” But these angels hadn’t named Lenore. He had more or less named himself, and he definitely didn’t consider himself birds of a feather with them. “Nevermore. Nevermore,” he hissed with dark emphasis. That the angels didn’t give him a second glance was their mistake, a huge one. Forgive me if I didn’t bring it to their attention.
We waited a few more hours. What I had to do might be better done in the dark with no tourists around. Better safe than sorry. It gave me a chance to get the rest of the plaster dust out of my hair and pull it up in a twist with loose curls springing everywhere. It also let me brush my teeth free of garlic, because offending Trinity wasn’t worth offending myself and half the city to boot. I didn’t bother with makeup this time. If I was going to wear war paint at the end of this day, it would be made of blood. But hopefully we’d get past this last bread crumb without a fight. Don’t get me wrong. There would be a fight, but I wanted it at the end . . . when I claimed the Light. When everyone tried to buy it from me or take it from me.
Then there would be blood.
Finally we left, and “finally” truly was the word for it. Except for Griffin, Zeke, and Lenore, the company wasn’t entertaining. The angels and their servants didn’t play pool or darts. Or talk. Or do much other than blink balefully at us (that would be Goodman), coldly (Trinity), and not at all (the angels). It made my eyes water to watch the latter; unmoving, unblinking, they were like silver and marble statues, nothing like Malibu Angel from Wilbur ’s place. I don’t think they even breathed—although in human form they would have to. At least, I thought they would.
Zeke spent his time gathering up weapons, some of his that he kept here and some of mine. Since he seemed to have enough for Griffin and me as well as him, including three shotguns, I stuck with my Smith. I did make sure to slip several speed loaders in my messenger bag just in case. I expected Trinity or at least Goodman to protest, but they didn’t. I guess having three shining warriors of Heaven on your side evened the odds and then some from their point of view.
Rhyolite was about two and a half to three hours north of Vegas, taking U.S. 95. There were ten of us. We took three cars—mine, held together by once-shiny red paint and sheer hope, and two of the Eden House cars, big, black, and official looking. “Why aren’t they white?” I asked Griffin, who sat beside me in the passenger seat. “Isn’t white all that is holy and good? Pearly gates? Fluffy-white-cloud cities?”
“Too hard to keep clean with all the dust and sand,” he grunted, sliding down and pushing the seat back to close his eyes. “And demon blood.”
“So cleanliness is better than godliness, not just next to it? The things you learn.” I looked at the brown-gold skin of my hands on the steering wheel and grinned. “And pure white isn’t all that. I could’ve told you.”
“I was born pasty. It’s not my fault,” Zeke grumbled from the backseat.
I reached back with one hand and smoothed his copper hair. “No, sugar, none of this has ever been your fault.”
He looked confused for a moment, then did what Zeke did best with confusion—he ignored it. “What are you going to do with the Light when you get it?”
“More to the point, do you think either side will let you keep it or choose whom to give it to?” Griffin murmured, his eyes still shut, obviously still wiped from the night before. Emotionally and physically. The death of so many comrades. That was triply hard on an empath as it was on the rest of us. “It’s going to be a massacre.”
“Yes, indeed it is.” My grin tightened to something with very little humor. I put my sunglasses on and ramped the speed up to ninety.
“Sounds fun,” Zeke said seriously. “Can I kill Trinity then?”
“Kit, when the time comes, you can kill anyone you want,” I promised. Griffin opened his eyes and shot me a questioning glance, but I didn’t answer. When it was time, he’d see—see if he’d still serve Heaven or serve anyone but Zeke and himself. I wasn’t the only one whose life was going to change. He and Zeke were going to have to make a choice, and I had to say I was really curious to know the way they were going to go. Maybe even worried. You try and raise them right, but in the end, they have to make their own way. Make their own decisions. I shook my head.
Kids.
Chapter 14
Rhyolite was a few miles from a tiny town called Beatty. I stopped there at a little gas station. I didn’t need gas, but I was thirsty and a candy bar wouldn’t kill me. Mainly, though, it was to irk the rest of the wagon train behind us. There was a bigger place, the Death Valley Nut and Candy Company on the north end of town, but they were so big, bright, and shiny that I figured they had all the business they needed. I liked giving my business to someone who actually could use it, and this ramshackle place looked like it could use all the help it could get.