“How do you know it was an insult? Perhaps heshuka is a term of endearment.”
She laughed.
He shrugged. “It was the sphericanum—the blessed realm—that christened you ‘talyan,’ from the Aramaic for ‘sacrificial lamb.’ ”
“See? That’s how I knew it was an insult. It came from your mouth.”
He crossed his arms in an Old Testament sort of way. “So, you’re not going to ask?”
“Most of what I ask for, I don’t get. And most of what I get, I didn’t ask for.” For a heartbeat, she wondered if that mind-set might just be why she was fucking up with Jonah.
But Fane interrupted. “I won’t come in because my presence will overwhelm the energy sinks you talyan put in place to swallow your pain and anger and hatred.”
“I can only imagine,” she mused.
He glowered at her, all pretense of amusement fled. “Really, you can’t.”
She sighed. “Fine, Angel Boy. What do you want?”
“I want you to come with me.”
“After I called you Angel Boy?”
“No worse than me calling you the ‘unknown darkness.’ ”
At least she knew what heshuka meant. Swell. Her knowledge of Aramaic had just doubled. “I might not know much, but I’m fairly sure going anywhere with you is a terrible idea.”
“Undoubtedly, but it can’t be helped.”
“Sure it can. By me not going.”
His glower deepened. “Elaine, I discover I am finding it less delightful to spar with you.”
“Ha, made you lie. Is that going to look bad on your record?” That he had bothered to learn her real name didn’t seem like a good sign. Bad enough the devil knew it.
“I know where your anklet is.”
A jolt went through her. “So do we. It’s with Blackbird.”
“And I know how to find Corvus Valerius.”
She hesitated and cursed under her breath when Fane smiled, clearly knowing he’d caught her. “I’ll go get Jonah.” And Liam and Archer and Ecco and, oh, a dozen other snarly, sleepy talyan. They’d want her to tell them. They wouldn’t care about the risk, about the fact that it was all her fault. They lived for opportunities like this.
For moments like this, they died.
Liam and Archer and Ecco and the others had their own sins with their demons to match, but this should be her fight. A little voice twisted in her head—too weak and wistful to be a demon’s voice; just her voice—and said if she found Corvus and the anklet, that would be good. She would be good.
“No league,” Fane said. “Only you.”
Damn it. This was so obviously the sort of temptation she was supposed to resist. Running off with an angel must look really bad on a talya’s record, even if righting her own wrongs was exactly what the preacher man had ordered. So she said, with as much resolve as she could muster, “No.”
This time, he laughed.
In her defense, she thought, as the Lotus peeled out of the warehouse district . . . Okay, there was no defense for sneaking out of the league compound without authorization or even leaving a note. Except that she was possessed by a demon, which, by definition, meant she could be unfailingly relied upon to do all sorts of bad things, even when—especially when—she was trying to do good.
“I’m so fucked,” she muttered.
“There are certain advantages to the symballein bond,” Fane agreed.
“The angelic possessed aren’t the same? You’re not celibate, are you? With a car like this? What a shame.”
A smile flickered over his lips, but faded. “As a highersphere warden, I am most assuredly not going to share sphericanum secrets with an outcast heshuka.”
Nim leaned back against the silky leather. “Yeah. You’re celibate.”
“Can you keep your serpent off the upholstery?”
She frowned at his sharp tone. “I offered to put Mobi back.”
“I couldn’t trust you not to wake your mate.”
“I said I wouldn’t.”
Fane gave her a look. “Even if you kept your word”—the vanishing space between his furrowed brows calculated the chances of that as slim to none—“your presence, and your withdrawal, could have given you away.”
She had to admit he was right. She had already noticed that Jonah in a bed had a gravitational pull she found hard to resist.
“You could just set the serpent loose,” Fane suggested.
She gave him a look as disbelieving as the one he’d given her. “God, I hope you’re not in charge of any paradises.”
His expression turned thunderous again. “Do you even comprehend,” he burst out, “how your attachment to the serpent represents your stubborn clinging to the darkness that made you vulnerable to demonic possession?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I had Mobi long before the demon.”
“But you permitted the resonance in your soul that matched the teshuva.”
“I didn’t know that at the time.”
“Didn’t you?” His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
“Um, no.” She rolled her eyes.
“Emotionally, you must have. Spiritually . . .”
“Like I said before, no. Any particular reason you’re looking for validation? Can’t you just be holier than me and be happy?”
She was being snide, but at least he shut up.
He’d already told her they were going to the Shimmy Shack, although he wouldn’t say why and offered only an annoyingly mysterious “That is why you must come with me. To see.”
At the sight of the bright yellow crime-scene tape across the garish red paint, her pulse plummeted and then rocketed with her breath. She got out of the Lotus and wrapped Mobi so tight around her neck he squirmed in protest.
Heat waves shimmered over the asphalt of the empty parking lot, and the crime-scene tape seemed to ripple despite the still, heavy air. Did she just imagine the drifting scent of putrefaction?
Fane yanked aside the tape.
Nim hesitated. The loose yellow plastic licked her ankle like a tongue. “We have to go inside?”
“That’s where the people were killed. That’s where the souls will be waiting.”
He didn’t look back, and she hurried to catch up. “You said you’d tell me where Corvus was.”
“I will. Right after you find out from the lingering souls.” He paused at the front door. After a moment, it yielded to his touch.
For a second, she was impressed at his B&E skills, which seemed inappropriate for an angel. Then she realized he had a key. An angel with a key to a strip club. Even more inappropriate.
She followed him into the stuffy darkness. The newly shortened hairs at the back of her neck would have stood up straight if not for Mobi’s comforting presence. Her demon sight flickered into hunting mode as her teshuva caught her mood.
“There are no demons here,” Fane said. “Besides yours.”
She resisted the urge to sniff, but she was definitely catching a whiff of rot. “How can you be sure?”
He scowled. “Because I am host to an upper-sphere angel that—”
“Okay, no need to preach. You should’ve let me bring Jonah. You’d like him.” Who was she kidding? She was the one who wanted Jonah beside her. But Fane was right; the etheric etchings left by the invading tenebrae had faded until even her teshuva caught the sickening glimmers only from the corners of her eyes. “So what am I supposed to do here?”
“Many who die violently and unexpectedly and brimming with treacherous passions”—he gave her a meaningful look—“are prone to linger at the site of their demise. Bring me their souls.”
She squinted at him. “Isn’t that what you do?”
His scowl blanked to a mask somehow more unnerving. “If so, would you be here?”
She shifted in her flip-flops, wishing—once again—that she’d worn more substantial footgear. But Jonah had said they looked perfect for some lazy summer afternoon on the boat, and the image had appealed to her, and so here she was, breaking into a demonic murder scene in flip-flops, which were going to sound ridiculous if she had to make a quick getaway.