“Amusing,” Solomon said dryly before dismissing the bird to take me in. “Long day at the office, I see.”
“Less amusing.” I sifted through a dresser drawer for pajamas of my own. They happened to be silk as well. I didn’t know if that meant Solomon and I had similar tastes or he copied mine . . . seeking any advantage that he could. That was the mind of a demon or a manipulative man. I treated Solomon as if he were either—or both—and confronted him. “Eli says you were responsible for the fall of Eden House and you work for Beleth. That you want the Light for him. Any comments?”
I changed in front of him, leaving my underwear on this time. It was no more revealing than a skimpy bathing suit and I made it a short show. He watched silently, but it didn’t distract him enough to catch him in a lie. I wasn’t stupid enough to think it would. I was just tired. Too tired to leave my bedroom to change. Too tired to care. Too tired to play his games. Tomorrow was the end. It should have invigorated me, that thought, but it didn’t. It exhausted me, as if all those years of searching and mourning had caught up with me in one crushing moment.
“I do work for Beleth,” he admitted after I slipped the top on. “In Hell, everyone bows to someone else—all except the Morning Star. And he does want the Light. But I wouldn’t hurt you for it and I did not take out Eden House. Why would I?”
“Because they are after the Light as well, with backup from the Heavenly Host with the Most—Oriphiel. Getting rid of the competition makes all the sense in the world.” I pulled the clip from my hair and let it spring free.
“That holds true for Eli as well as me,” he pointed out, then exhaled. “I fell, Trixa, but we all make mistakes. Murderers serve life or die for their crimes. I was merely a rebel. I would repent, given the chance. Being made into a monster for all eternity, forced to make deals with greedy, stupid humans to be able to survive, how can that be just? I don’t kill. I don’t murder, and if I didn’t need the souls to survive, I’d never make another deal again or consume the souls who find Hell on their own wicked path.”
“Would you give the Light to Beleth?” I folded my arms tightly, hugging myself, exhaustion chilling me.
“I would give the Light to Heaven if they would take me back, but I know they would not,” he said. “So, yes, I would give it to Beleth. I wouldn’t have much choice.” He slid under the covers and held them back for me. “But I would never harm you for it. I would only take it if you gave it of your own free will.” His lips twisted at the last two words. “Odd, how the blessed and cursed of God share that one thing. Free will.” His eyes were regretful, colored with what he’d lost. I didn’t look any further. We all made our choices. We all lived with them.
I climbed into bed, turned on my side away from him, and pulled the covers over my shoulder. He moved up behind me and wrapped his arm around my waist. He was warmth all along my length and that warmth soothed my aches from a week filled with battles. I felt the nuzzle in my hair and the even warmer kiss on the nape of my neck as that hair was pushed aside. I closed my eyes at the sensation. It had been a while since I’d felt the touch of lips there. “I’ve watched you, played with you, wished for you for three years now. I’ve never hurt you. I don’t think I could, even if Lucifer himself ordered it. And I didn’t mean to hurt your friends. A game gone wrong.” He exhaled. “The only way you noticed me. Trixa, I want very much to be noticed by you.” He rested a large hand against my stomach. “Sleep,” he said softly. “Tomorrow it’ll be done. One way or the other. Then you can truly rest.”
“Tomorrow when I tell you which demon I want for the Light?” I murmured, my fingers interlocking with his.
“I said I can give you anything or anyone. I will. Now sleep.”
I did sleep, with Lenore and Solomon watching. Circling outside the bar there were probably more angels and demons than Elvises in Vegas, but I didn’t care. Tonight was my last night as this Trixa: vengeance seeking, mourning, looking for a light . . . not the Light, but any light. Tomorrow I could be myself again. Kimano would rest. Mama would rest. I would rest.
The world would be the world again. My life again, not the one I’d faked for so long. I would be free.
I woke up with lips on mine, clever and so very practiced; yet they seemed meant only for me. I opened my eyes to see gray ones fade away along with Solomon himself. But the “Be mine” hung in the air. “When this is done, be mine.”
I rolled onto my back and pushed my hair away from my face. Shiny eyes looked down on me, but for once Lenore said nothing. “He makes you want to believe him, doesn’t he?” I said as the sun striped across the bed. Lenny remained silent.
I touched my lips. “He really does,” I murmured, staring past Lenore at the ceiling.
Chapter 15
I gave up on my red that morning and went with Kimano’s colors, the black of the lava sand beach, the black of his hair, the black of a shark’s eyes. This was his day. A snug, black long-sleeved, thin sweater; black pants; and black climbing boots. When I went downstairs, Griffin and Zeke were dressed much the same, only with more weapons. I shook my head. “Trinity won’t let you take the guns.” Zeke scowled as heavily as a toddler whose security blanket had been cruelly yanked away. “We’ll see,” he said stubbornly.
“He’s your partner,” I pointed out to Griffin. “Prod a few of his brain cells if you can. I’m calling for breakfast. What do you guys want?”
Griffin sat on a stool, lowering his head enough that the long sides of his blond hair fell into his eyes. He looked annoyed and he looked dangerous. Truthfully, he was probably both. Being dangerous was the only way he might survive the day. As for annoyance, I guessed he slept on the floor instead of spooning on the couch. His loss. “I don’t think breakfast is that important right now.”
“Then you think wrong.” I called the diner—I didn’t want to walk even a block with what winged things might be hovering out there. I ordered three breakfasts and when they arrived a half hour later, I ate all three of them. Omelet, hash browns, toast, two fried eggs, three slices of ham, scrambled eggs, bacon, three donuts, and about half a gallon of milk. Lenny clucked disapprovingly and disappeared for a while. Scrounging up his own breakfast.
“What are you doing? Do you have a hidden conjoined twin you’re feeding too?” Griffin watched in disbelief as I ate bite after bite.
“This is the endgame, Griff. I’m going to need my energy. You might want to rethink it yourself.”
But it was too late for that. Trinity was at the door with Goodman, two other men, and Oriphiel, who was back in one piece after whatever Eligos had done to him last night. His human form didn’t have a scratch. It worked that way when you could remake yourself from angel or demon to human and back. If you could reform yourself, you could banish any wounds—provided you’d survived those wounds. There wasn’t much reforming after the death of your scaly body, and I still wasn’t sure angels could die. I’d never tried to kill one . . . not that hard, anyway. “It’s time to go. Would you care to fill us in as to where that would be, as we have a helicopter in a parking lot two blocks down.”
“Leviathan Cave.” No research needed. It had come to me crystal clear as the Bottle House exploded around me. “Leviathan, a devil’s name . . . appropriate, don’t you think? That can’t be a coincidence.” I finished a last swallow of a bottle of orange juice. “Seems to tip the scales more toward your downstairs brothers.”
Trinity seemed less than pleased at the news, but asked blandly, “You are sure?”
“Oh, I’m sure.” I pushed away from the table. “I couldn’t be more sure.”
Leviathan Cave is north of Rachel, Nevada, about three hours from Vegas. A gigantic sinkhole, one entrance, was on the flank of Meeker Peak in the Worthington Mountain Range, and was big enough for a helicopter to set down in. Convenient, as I didn’t have any desire to make a strenuous four-mile climb up the side. As the cave itself wasn’t even one-fourth of a mile long, I didn’t think the Light would be hard to find when we arrived. Hard to hold on to?
We’d see.
I didn’t see any more angels on the walk to the helicopter or Eligos or Solomon, but I knew that at least the latter two would show up even if they didn’t ride along with us. Oriphiel did ride, surprisingly enough. He didn’t disappear into a ray of the morning sun or a flash of bright glory, but I expected he wanted to keep an eye on my friends and me. Try to run one angel down with a car and they become distrustful. Where was the spirit of forgiveness, I ask you? As for cranky Zeke, it was as I said it was. Trinity, Goodman, and the others wouldn’t allow any of their weapons aboard, at least not until they were secured in a locked strongbox. “Traitors have no weapon rights,” Goodman said as he held out his hand for Zeke’s beloved Colt Anaconda. If Zeke hadn’t respected his gun so much, I thought Goodman might have a colonoscopy without the benefit of hospital equipment and anesthesia and instead the use of something that vented muzzle fire. Not too pleasant, but Zeke certainly seemed to think he deserved it.
But with my encouragement, the partners grudgingly turned over their guns and knives. Big trust in me, huge. I’d do everything I could to make sure I came through for them. Trinity and his men kept their weapons and didn’t bother to hide the fact. The helicopter was big . . . not military big, but larger than your average traffic copter. We all fit. Even Lenore, who had returned to ride on my shoulder.
“And that is?” Goodman sniped.
“Moral support.” I climbed into the middle row of seats with Zeke and Griffin. Goodman flew with Trinity beside him. Oriphiel and the other two House members sat in the last row behind us. Sandwiched between the holy and the holier-than-thou. As the helicopter took off, I looked out of the right window in the side door. I thought I saw a flicker of wings. Copper or gray-silver, I couldn’t be sure—it was too quick. I smiled. It didn’t matter which. They would both show. Greed—humans hadn’t cornered the market on that. My demons would be there. And at least one of them was as murderous as they came.
I continued to look at the pink and blue sky as I sang lightly under my breath. My voice wasn’t the best, but that was all right. As long as it was sung, that’s what counted. Lenore crooned lightly on my shoulder. His voice was worse than mine, and that made it even better. Kimano would’ve laughed himself sick that his
mele kani kau
, his mourning song, was sung by his tone-deaf sister and a croaking raven.
“What are you singing?” Griffin asked. That he could hear me was testament to the luxury and soundproof ing of the helicopter. The president wished he had one so nice.
“A song for my
kaikunane
.”
Kaikunane
—my brother. I finished up the Hawaiian good-bye and watched as Vegas passed beneath us. I might have stayed in Las Vegas ten years and considered that the longest any of my family stuck around a place, but Kimano had returned to Hawaii so many times, he may as well have lived there. Mama probably wondered how she’d gone so wrong with the both of us.
“It was . . . nice,” Zeke said, making the effort, as uncomfortable as it was for him. He meant it too. No mocking of my lack of singing talent.
“Thanks, Kit.” I reached over Griffin and patted the denim over Zeke’s knee.
“Would your brother have liked us, you think?” Griffin folded his arms and slanted his gaze at me. “I mean, you treat us like younger brothers,” he snorted, not all that appreciative of the younger part, apparently. “Do you think your brother would’ve liked us?”
An interesting question. “Once he got to know you,” I mused—once he had genuinely, deeply got to know them—“then, yes, he would’ve liked you. He liked almost everyone.”
There was a long moment of silence except for the muted whirring of the rotor blades. Zeke kicked the back of the seat in front of him. “I want my gun,” he growled flatly.
“Make that little brothers, not younger ones,” I said dryly. “And me with no PayDays this time.”
“It’s all right. It’s time for a tutor session. That’ll distract him. Zeke loves tutoring.” Griffin gave a faint, mocking smile.
Zeke just snarled and slouched further down in the seat. “You suck. We could die today and you want to tutor me?”
Griffin smiled blissfully, and with that blond hair and blue eyes, his expression was as blissful as on Michelangelo’s
David
and then some. He crossed his arms, reciting, “A grandmother with a stroller carrying twin babies and a cocker spaniel puppy are crossing the road. They’re about to be hit by a bus. About two blocks down the street, a low-level demon is eating breakfast at an outdoor café and reading the paper. Do you save Granny, kiddies, and pup, or go kill the demon?”
The scowl on Zeke’s face deepened as he thought, and from the furrowing of his brow, he thought hard. After nearly three minutes, long ones, he asked, “There’s a puppy in the stroller?”
“Yes.” Griffin said in an aside to me, “This is why we have the tutoring.”
“Is it cute?” Zeke asked.
Patiently, his partner answered, “It’s a spaniel puppy. On a scale of one to ten, it’s a ten in cute, and, yes, ten is the highest level of cute you can get.”
“Damn.” He couldn’t slouch any further, although he gave it his best try. “The demon’s two blocks away. Do I have a clear shot?”