Becky kept her distance, but she never let me out of her sight, even though Judy was officially accompanying me. “She must really not like dogs,” I said under my breath.
Judy shrugged. “I don’t know what’s up with her. Boyfriend trouble, maybe. Becky’s only been here a month, but she’s the type that lets everyone know her business. She started seeing this guy – good looking, but kinda stuck on himself.” Judy rolled her eyes. “My bet is that he’s a player, and she’s just caught him at it.”
I glanced at Becky, and saw her glowering at us from the far side of the room. “Maybe they’ll kiss and make up,” I replied. “I hope she’s not that grumpy with the patients.”
“She used to be fantastic with them. Now she’s moody as all get out, snaps at the other nurses, and there’s no pleasing her.” Judy sighed. “Well, never mind. You didn’t come here for the gossip!” We kept moving around the room, and I resolved to ignore Becky, focusing on all of Baxter’s fans.
“We try hard to keep the patients happy,” Judy said, “but we just can’t do everything. I feel so bad about letting them down. I mean, we try, we really do, but it’s never good enough. I wish we could do more.”
Judy’s uncharacteristic guilt-trip made me realize my own thoughts had begun to spiral. And that meant trouble. Once I shook off the guilt attack, I could tell that something was wrong. Baxter growled, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.
“Can you hold Baxter for a moment?” I asked Judy. I briefly touched her skin in the process, and felt the static shock of magic meeting magic. A guilty look in her eyes told me she knew exactly what the shock meant.
“Judy – I know this is a strange question, but Becky’s new boyfriend, you said he was good looking?”
She nodded. “Like he walked off the cover of a romance novel.”
Uh oh. “I want to check something out. I’ll be right back.” I headed for the big windows that looked out on the walled garden.
“He’s rather handsome, isn’t he?” Miss Peterson said. It was the kind of comment that, coming from a prim lady in her nineties, might have made me smile. But I wheeled around, and looked out the plate glass windows, following where she pointed out a newcomer to her friends. A GQ-worthy Nephilim stared back at me with a dead, soulless gaze from the walled garden.
“Oh my God,” I murmured under my breath. I hurried back to the activities room. The smell of smoke made my heart beat faster. I rounded the corner, and saw orderlies helping residents toward the exits.
Chuck Pettis was standing near the television, taking charge of the situation. “Don’t worry! Everything will be all right. We’ll clear the air,” Chuck said in a voice both comforting and authoritative. The nurses looked grateful for his help as they pushed wheelchairs and assisted residents with walkers and quad canes.
“Chuck, we’ve got problems!” I said.
Coffee Guy stared back at me through the glass from the garden, as if he were not only looking right at me, but for me.
“Wards are breached,” Chuck hissed under his breath. “We’re under attack.” I noticed that he was holding his umbrella and had grabbed his backpack.
“Mr. Thompson, it would be a good idea to go outside until the smoke clears,” Nurse Judy suggested. I took Baxter back from her, and held him close against me.
“I’m staying right here,” Mr. Thompson said, raising his chin. There wasn’t a hint of confusion in his blue eyes now, and the set of his jaw said he had no intention of hiding from a fight.
I turned in a slow circle. Two of the walls had nice, big windows that looked out on the garden surrounding the building. Lush grass, trees, and flowers filled the space between the activity room’s windows and the high brick wall that surrounded the Alzheimer’s wing. Outside of the windows, standing on the grassy ‘moat’, were four model-gorgeous Nephilim already in the courtyard. My heart sank as I recognized them as fallen angels we had already fought—and thought we had destroyed. One of them was definitely Coffee Guy, back to cause more trouble. With him were Baldy, Blondie, and Ginger, the ones who jumped us in Dueler’s Alley.
“We’ve got to get everyone out now,” I said to Judy, going to help push Miss Henderson’s wheelchair to the door. I looked toward where I had last seen Helen Butler. She and another patient were still in the garden off to one side. They were talking with a nurse and didn’t seem to notice the intruders. But I knew that the Nephilim were bound to notice them soon.
Shit. I had my athame up my sleeve, Bo’s collar on my left wrist and my chakram was in the small backpack I used instead of a purse, along with Josiah’s pistol. I had hoped to speak privately to Mr. Thompson about the gun, since he was a descendent of Winfield’s. I’d taken a hell of a chance bringing a weapon into the nursing home, but now I was glad. Sorren had gone to ground, and he’d be no help in the bright sunlight. I could speed dial Teag or Father Anne, but it might all be over by the time they got here.
Something big exploded nearby. I wheeled, and realized that the kitchen was on fire. Another explosion rocked the building, and the alarms shrilled. Sprinklers clicked, but no water sprayed from them.
Trapped. In the distance, I could hear the nurses cajoling the patients to stay calm as they moved them into the hallway and away from the kitchen and common room. I felt sick. Everything in me wanted to get the elderly residents out to the parking lot and away from the fire, but I knew that with Nephilim around, it was more dangerous out there than it was in here.
The smoke was getting thicker. Two of the orderlies were trying to put out the kitchen fire with extinguishers, but it was too much for them. The alarms were ringing loud enough to be heard even for residents who had turned off their hearing aids, and strobe lights flashed to warn the deaf.
“Three of us, four of them,” Chuck said tightly, coming up to stand next to me. He released a hidden clasp, and his umbrella became a short sword. Mr. Thompson sat in his chair facing one of the windows. He held his cane like a lance, steadied on the arm of his walker. I tucked Baxter into my backpack and I took out Josiah’s pistol and the chakram, fastening the pack closed. The pistol went into my waistband at the small of my back, and the chakram snapped into a leather strap on my belt I had worn, just in case.
“Four of us.” I looked behind me and saw Nurse Judy. I had not noticed the silver pentacle she wore on a chain around her neck. Maybe she had kept it hidden before, but now it lay outside the neckline of her scrubs. I remembered the jolt I had felt when our skin touched.
“What are they, and what do they want?” she asked.
“They’re fallen angels, and they want to kill us to settle an old score,” I said.
“Then screw them,” Judy said, as if it was the kind of thing she heard every day. “Nobody messes with my patients.”
We stood facing the broken windows. I searched the garden for Helen Butler and her companions, unsure whether they had managed to come inside or whether they were still outside. Either way, they were in danger. Commotion filled the hallways as orderlies and nurses tried to move confused residents along the escape route.
“I’ve got to find Mrs. Butler and the people who were in the garden,” I said. “We can’t leave them out there.”
The alarms blared and I heard voices raised in confusion. “Is it the Germans again?” I heard a frail voice ask. “Do we have to go to the bomb shelter? I’ve forgotten where it is.”
“Quit burning the roast!” a man shouted. “How many times do I have to tell you to turn down the oven!”
“Everyone stay next to the wall and move toward the door!” one of the nurses ordered, a calm, confident voice in the midst of chaos. The smoke was getting worse, and without the sprinklers, the fire would spread fast.
“Chuck – distract the Nephilim!” I yelled. “I’ve got to get people out of the garden.”
“What’s wrong with the doors?” I heard the question repeated over and over. Outside the windows, the Nephilim smiled. My heart thudded. Coffee Guy wasn’
t with the other three anymore.
No sprinklers, and the doors to the outside don’t work. Nephilim in the garden, and probably more at each exit. They aren’t here to fight us. They’re here to make sure we burn.
Chuck headed toward the windows, drawing the three Nephilim toward him. I slipped out the side door, heading toward where I had last seen Mrs. Butler. We were locked in, on fire and under attack, so I had no idea how I was going to protect her, but I knew for Sorren’s sake – and for my own conscience – I had to try.
I went around the corner toward the small seating area where Mrs. Butler had shown me her photo album. Two dead orderlies lay like broken dolls next to the garden bench, and pages ripped from the album fluttered on the wind.
Coffee Guy held Mrs. Butler against his chest like a shield. Her eyes were wide and she still held her knitting in one hand. Mrs. Butler struggled harder than I would have expected for a woman her age, kicking at her attacker’s shins, but I knew she would be no match for the fallen angel’s strength.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” Coffee Guy asked.
“Let her go!” I said, as Bo’s ghost materialized next to me. I had my athame in my right hand, but I couldn’t get a clear shot at Coffee Guy with Mrs. Butler in front of him.
“Did you come to rescue Sorren’s pretty girl?” Coffee Guy taunted, tightening his grip on Mrs. Butler. “I’m glad you’re here. You can tell him how she died – before we kill him, too.”
“Leave Sorren alone!” Mrs. Butler yelled, and drove her knitting needles into Coffee Guy’s shoulder with desperate strength. The Nephilim howled in pain and threw her to one side with brutal force. I winced as she hit a concrete planter and lay still, her neck bent at an unnatural angle.
I had a clear shot and I took it, blasting Coffee Guy with the white-cold force from my athame, sending him slamming against the brick wall. Too angry to think about my own safety, I struck him again and again, pounding him against the bricks until his head was a bloody mess. Bo lunged at the Nephilim and his sharp teeth snapped shut on the fallen angel’s throat, bringing my attacker to his knees.
Eyes blurred with tears of loss and rage, I grabbed the nearest weapon, a heavy cast-iron lawn chair, and slammed it down onto Coffee Guy’s head, putting one of the legs down through his skull. The fallen angel’s corpse crumbled and vanished.
I ran to where Mrs. Butler lay, hoping against all odds. The truth was clear as soon as I knelt next to her. Her eyes were open and staring. I felt a surge of guilt and failure that had nothing to do with the Watchers, wondering how I would ever face Sorren when I had let him down so completely.
“Cassidy! Get out of there!” Chuck shouted. I ran back inside, and an instant later, the windows shattered, sending shards of glass everywhere; they lodged in the tables and the upholstered chairs, sliced through my skin and embedded themselves in the walls.
Chuck emptied the clip of magically-enhanced bullets from his gun into Blondie’s head and chest. From the recoil and the effect, I figured he was packing something larger than Detective Monroe had used. Silver-obsidian-iron-blessed bullets made a big difference, too. The fallen angel crumpled to the ground and vanished, but Baldy stepped from the shadows to take his place.
“Oh, that is so unfair,” I muttered.
“Bastards,” Mr. Thompson growled. His cane was made of gnarled ash, a yard-long athame. Blue light burst from its tip, enveloping Baldy in a cocoon of ice. Maybe Nephilim didn’t have hearts to freeze, or maybe they were just tougher than Old Man Thompson’s mortal victims. The ice held for a moment, but before either Chuck or I could attack, Baldy broke free with a savage growl. And Ginger was right behind him, and they’d added Painting Creep, plus Crow, the dark-haired fallen angel from Dueler’s Alley and Asian Dude, one of the bad boys we had fought at the Briggs Society. Damn.
“Take this!’ Nurse Judy muttered. She had no wand. Instead, she extended her right arm palm out, turning the gem in her ring toward the window. Green fire arced from her ring and hit Baldy full in the chest, holding him in place. Mr. Thompson’s eyes narrowed and this time when he sent a blast of magic from his cane, a dagger of solid ice lodged deep in Baldy’s chest like a frozen lance. Blood bubbled from the wound and the fallen angel collapsed as his body gave a final shudder, then disappeared.
Four Nephilim sauntered toward us, seemingly undeterred by the fact that we’d already dispatched three of their buddies. It didn’t help that Nephilim could fly, and landing in the walled garden was a lot easier than scaling the walls to get out. They didn’t need to hurry. We were the ones inside a burning building.
The ghosts of Palmetto Meadows had begun to gather. Maybe they wanted to watch us fight the monsters, or perhaps they sensed that some of the residents might soon be among them, if we couldn’t tame the fire and smoke soon. But I glimpsed their presence near the memorial tree, silent witnesses to our skirmish with the forces of Hell.
The smoke was getting thicker despite the broken windows. In the hallway, I heard screams and sobbing, shouts and prayers. I wanted to help the staff get the patients to safety. But nowhere was safe until we dealt with the Nephilim. Then the fire doors triggered, and we were cut off from the hallway, locked in the activity room with three fallen angels, and fenced in all around with a brick wall too high to climb.
I pushed my athame back up my sleeve and snapped the chakram free, leaving Josiah’s pistol jammed into my belt. Ginger stepped through the shattered glass coming straight at me, while two others advanced on Chuck and Mr. Thompson. I sent the chakram flying.
Ginger flinched an instant too late. The chakram hit him in the chest, slicing bone-deep, right through to the ribs. A large flap of flesh hung from the bones, splattering blood across the broken glass that still clung to the window frame. The Nephilim staggered forward, howling in anger and pain. Bo’s ghost lunged, chest high, and sank his teeth into Ginger’s right shoulder. As the Nephilim struggled, Chuck flicked his wrist and sent a silver dagger into the fallen angel’s left eye. Bo released his jaws, and Ginger fell to the ground, convulsing, before disappearing in the next instant.
“Got another one of them,” Chuck muttered.
“Watch out!” Judy shouted, and shot her green fire over my shoulder so close it singed my hair. She caught Painting Creep full in the face, and while he was trapped by her magic, I grabbed Josiah’s pistol, took aim and shot that son of a bitch right through the heart with Winfield’s special bullet. He dropped like a rock.
Baxter whined quietly from the backpack, and much as I hated to admit it, I was as scared as he was.
Two Nephilim left. I prayed that they didn’t get more reinforcements. Crow ran toward Mr. Thompson, who brought his ash wood cane up like a rifle. He shouted a command, and ice formed on the Nephilim’s skin and clothing, frosting his hair white. The fallen angel slowed, and I wondered whether Old Man Thompson was trying to freeze his blood or stop his heart.
But in the next breath, Crow shook off the ice and came at Thompson with a roar, lifting him out of his wheelchair and throwing him across the room. Thompson twisted as he flew through the air, and managed to hang onto his cane. He fell hard, but he was tough enough to roll into a ball, a move that told me he had long practice and plenty of experience with fights.
Judy ran over to him, and I put myself between Crow and them, hoping to buy time. I got in a shot with my athame that sent the Nephilim halfway across the room, but I knew it wasn’t putting him down for good. Then I realized I had made a big mistake.
I had forgotten about Becky.
Becky charged out of the activity room’s side parlor armed with a kitchen knife in each hand. I don’t know what hold her fallen angel boyfriend had on her, but her eyes were glazed and her lips pulled back over her teeth in a snarl. Meanwhile, the Nephilim I’d just hit with my magic got to his feet and looked ready to rumble.
I couldn’t fight off both Becky and Crow at the same time. As Becky ran at me, the last fallen angel, Asian Dude, star
ted to transform into his nightmare beast form. This just kept going from bad to worse.
Becky was closer than the Nephilim, and if I didn’t stop those knives, I’d be mincemeat before the fallen angel got to me. Baxter barked angrily from my backpack.
Bo’s ghost snapped and harried Crow while I went after Becky. Josiah’s gun only held one shot, so I grabbed it by the barrel and swung it like a club. I slammed the butt against her right hand, and she lost her grip on one of the knives, which I kicked to the far corner of the room. She got me good with the other knife, opening a deep cut on my left forearm that hurt like hell. I brought the dueling pistol back for a second blow and this time, I nailed Becky right in the temple. She sagged like a sack of potatoes, and while she was on her way down, I kicked the bloody knife from her left hand, just in case. I hoped she was down for the count, because Crow was closing fast.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Chuck was losing ground against Asian Dude. It was in its monster form, a purplish-black, fanged and clawed creature from a nightmare, and it stood at least eight feet tall with muscles all the steroids in the world couldn’t give a mortal.
Chuck hit the monster with his sword and two of his silver throwing knives, but the creature just bellowed in rage and kept coming. He zapped it with the ray gun look-alike he had used at the Old Jail, but that only slowed the Nephilim down. I hoped Chuck had more surprises in his pack, because I couldn’t help him and still protect Judy and Mr. Thompson.
The room was growing smokier by the minute. We would probably have been dead already if the Nephilim hadn’t broken all the floor-to-ceiling windows on their way in. I heard sirens in the distance, but I wasn’t counting on them getting here in time for a rescue.
More ghosts lurked around the edge of the room. I would have expected them all to appear as frail old people, but maybe they got to choose, because many of them looked as they had in their prime. Most of the men wore military uniforms from the World Wars. Some of the women wore ball gowns while others sported cocktail dresses or shirtwaists with matching hats and white gloves. They watched the fight with interest, staying well back out of the way.
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