by Alex Gates
I jolted awake, springing forward and gasping. The seatbelt locked, pinning me tight against the backrest. I panted, cold sweat running over my body, sticking my clothes to my skin. We were stopped, parked on the edge of the street. Outside, the forest had morphed back into cityscape—lights from the street and the buildings and the traffic illuminated the wet night.
“Hold on,” Gladas said, covering his phone with a hand. “We’re back in Sacramento. You had a nightmare?”
I shook my head and wiped drool from my mouth. “No. Just a wet dream.” I yawned and stretched out my arms, my heart hammering in my chest.
Gladas lifted the phone back to his ear. “He’s fine.”
“Is that Xander?” I asked. “Let me talk to that skid mark.” I reached out my hand and wriggled my fingers for the phone.
After a second of hesitation, Gladas said, “He wants to speak to you.” He handed me his cell.
“I miss you, beautiful,” I said.
“What do you want?” Xander demanded.
“Wow. Someone is sour tonight. Did Annie not butter your biscuit the right way? I know how peculiar you are about that.”
Gladas glared at me, and I offered him a patient finger, turning my back to him. “Do you have any weapons I could have… not borrow, but have. Victor’s Secret informed me that I can use Nephilim runes with my”—I almost said demonic, but speaking to the celestial-lover Xander, I decided against it—“new ability. The runes will only carry the full power of the Nephilim language, which apparently is just the tip of what I’m capable of. Either way, it’d be easier to fight Circe with a focus than rely on raw power I haven’t even begun to understand. You dig?”
“Put me on speakerphone,” Xander said.
“Okay.” I moved the phone from my ear and tapped the screen. “You’re loud and clear.”
“Gladas, how will that work? Will we be able to sneak weapons into the warehouse?”
The big guy beside me kept his eyes glued to the road, even though we were parked. “No,” he said after half a minute. “Annie and I would have disarmed you two after defeating you.”
I scoffed. “See,” I said, “that’s the most unbelievable part of your plan. How does a schizophrenic lady and a middle-aged man defeat my boy and me? Imagine if a Jedi paired with a Sith and they worked together. And don’t even mention Rey and Kylo, or I’ll smack you. We’re more like Anakin and Obi Wan if they had stayed BFFs when Anakin decided to go off the deep end. In other words, ain’t no Cursed human and Demi about to defeat us.”
“Unless they had set a trap,” Xander said. “And our bullets had bounced right off the Demi’s body, and they had weapons trained on us. Then maybe they could have defeated us and delivered us to Circe.”
“You know,” I said, “just because it seemed like that’s what happened, didn’t mean that’s what actually happened.”
Gladas tapped on the steering wheel. “I can bring weapons in, though I don’t usually carry. I don’t believe guns should be accessible—”
“I’m going to stop you right there, broseph. No one wants to hear your political ramblings about my right to bear arms. You can have an opinion, and that’s valid. But don’t tell me about it, because I would rather clean my ears out with powdered glass.”
“I liked him better when he slept,” Gladas said, trying to make a funny.
I obliged his humor and laughed with as much forced sarcasm as I could muster.
“Can you get away with carrying a knife into the room with Circe?” Xander asked.
Gladas pondered that for a moment. “Probably not. Remember, Circe hates me. She gave me the power of a Demi so that we could be together, and I rejected her for Annabel, who she also hates. And Circe knows that feeling of disdain is mutual.”
“And she won’t suspect that we’re working together to defeat her?” Xander asked. “That you two switched sides?”
Xander didn’t see the way the Demi responded to that question, but I did. His body went completely rigid, and he lowered his gaze to the side, hesitating for a split second. To anyone else, especially someone on the other end of a phone call, that behavior may have gone unnoticed. But it sent goosebumps across my body and twisted my stomach—as if Xander’s Seraphim, Gabriel, had spoken to me, saying not to trust this man.
Oh, quick thing about tailbones and evolving and now-useless body parts. Like the tailbone, goosebumps are a completely redundant survival instinct for humans. Back in the day, our ancestors had a shit-ton more hair than us, and the goosebumps activated under duress of fear, shooting the hair on end and making our super-great grandparents appear bigger and more threatening.
Fun fact for the day. Hope you enjoyed it, tell a friend, spread the knowledge around.
Gladas meant to lie. I couldn’t prove it, but I knew it.
“Like most Nephil, Circe’s greatest weakness is her pride. She believes we’ll do whatever she says, as she’s the only one who can reverse the curse placed on Annabel.”
“Xander,” I said, reeling to think of a way to share my instincts without Gladas knowing what I suspected, “this just popped into my head.” I chuckled. “Listen to this.” I nudged Gladas’s arm and grinned. “Remember the time we hunted that skin-walker in France, and we didn’t have any weapons? Well, guess what? We lived and it didn’t, and everyone was happier because of it. The end.” Please don’t judge the story. It actually never happened, and I made that up on the spot under very extreme circumstances.
Xander snickered. “I do remember,” he said, “though you still had a pact with Hephaestus then and were able to use your magic quite effectively. Do you think that’ll be the case tonight?” That son of a bitch understood my veiled meaning… I think. Either that, or I’d told a fictional story that wasn’t so fictional, after all. Had we fought a skin-walker in France? I feel like I would’ve remembered that. I bit my lip and searched the ceiling, but couldn’t recall.
“With our help, Joseph should be able to contribute to the battle,” Gladas said, sealing the deal and twisting that pickle cap on tight. No spilled pickled juice around here. You know what I mean? Don’t give me that cockeyed look.
“Well, I don’t know about you guys,” I said, “but as much as I love foreplay, I feel like we’ve diddled around enough. Gladas, don’t get any ideas in that perverted head of yours. By the way, while we’re on the subject, I’m going to need your address, so I can warn your neighbors that you prefer the womenfolk as girlfolk. It’s my civic duty.”
“When is she expecting us?” Xander asked.
“Any minute. I called her when Joseph was sleeping and informed her we were headed her way.”
I didn’t like that one bit. But, then again, if he planned something nefarious with her, why do it with me right beside him? I could have faked being asleep while he spoke to her. I hadn’t faked it, though. I never do… wink, wink. Was I being too paranoid about Gladas? Had the nightmare shaken me that badly?
I turned around and checked the rear window. Xander had his vehicle parked behind us, headlights turned off. “See you on other side,” I said, flipping him off in the dark.
Gladas pressed the ignition, and the Tesla whispered to life. We rolled back onto the street and headed toward our destination.
We parked across the street from a private lot wrapped in chain-link fence topped with spiraling razor wire. The property was dark, with no exterior lights. A few vans were backed up to an open hangar door. Fluorescent lights exposed the interior of a warehouse—rows of shelving units were stocked with objects that I couldn’t quite make out, and ambiguous figures paced around, occasionally stopping to speak with one another. They carried assault rifles across their chests. Also, they weren’t Empousa—at least not in their Raven form.
Ne the back passenger doors opened, and Xander and Annie loaded into the vehicle. Even though our destination was across the street, Xander took the time to strap his seat belt across his body. Annie murmured nonsense under her breath, pluckin
g single strands of white hair from her head and dropping them onto the floor.
“Hi,” I said, turning over my shoulder and grinning at them. “Annie, I’m glad to see you’re crazy wasn’t just an act put on for us. Tell me, did Andrew come along on this little outing?”
“Joey, not now,” Xander said. He cleared his throat.
I didn’t really care about his advice. Even though I didn’t have a celestial pact with Gabriel, I trusted my spider-senses, and Gladas had triggered them. My earlier coded conversation with Xander made it seem like he understood my concerns, but I had to make them a little more clear now that we were all in the same vicinity. “Here’s the thing, big boy,” I said, looking at the Demi. “I have to take a shit—I’ve had to all day. Not only that, but my stomach is cramping with hunger. It’s a weird feeling to have to shit and want to eat at the same exact time, and I don’t like it one bit. So, if there’s a chance we’re going to die tonight, I’d prefer to die on a shit-empty stomach full of cheeseburger. Does that make sense?”
“I guess,” Gladas said, curling his upper lip.
Xander loosened the seat belt from his chest and leaned forward. “Joey, what are you doing?”
“Two,” I said, ignoring Xander, “what are we walking into? We’ve created a plan, yes, and you told us a little about Circe, but for the most part, you’ve been extremely vague. You see, I might look like a ton of bricks, good for nothing but clobbering some fools in the head, but there’s a few areas in my brain not littered with cobwebs.”
“There are no surprises,” Gladas said. “Circe will be in there, expecting both you and Xander. She will be accompanied by some of Hecate’s Empousa, most likely. I don’t know specifics on how many or if there are any other types of Cursed in there. If so, they aren’t hers. Though a Demi has the power to curse a human, they don’t have the strength to maintain control of them.”
“That’s not what I mean, Gladas. See, it’s fairly common knowledge amongst us magical types that a Nephil can’t harm another Nephil. Now, they’re also not allowed to directly interfere in human lives, unless provoked or approached directly—say if someone is attacking them or requesting a pact.”
Xander sat back in the seat.
“Honestly,” I said, “I lost my train of thought halfway through that little speech, so I’ll just kept talking until it comes back to me. Which it has! Since you have free access to Nephil power, you are under the same set of laws preventing you from directly interfering with humans. You needed Xander and me to decide to tag along. You needed us to put our own handcuffs on, right?”
Gladas bit his lip. “You are technically right. A Nephil can’t interfere with another human unless through a pact.” Sweat formed on his brow. “But you’re not human, demon. Like any other Sorcerer, you are open game for any Nephil to take out, be it through their Acolytes, their Cursed, or their own means. The same goes for Xander. He is not protected under the laws of the Nephilim Council, as his pact comes from a celestial host.” He scowled and pushed his head back into the headrest.
I cracked my neck, making sure I still had an intimidating edge after his solid point. “Don’t you dare think I forgot about that burger. And we’re taking our talents inside that greasy joint so I can use the big boy’s powder room.”
As we ate at a sticky table with soda stains all over it, two uniformed officers entered the establishment and ordered their meals at the front counter. One had a military haircut, a massive chew wadded into his lower lip, and he had to turn his shoulders sideways to fit through the double doors. The second officer was built more or less like a twelve-year-old girl who would rather dress up as a princess and ride a horse than scuff her knuckles on some nerd’s face. They found an empty table two places over from ours and set their triangular order number down.
I pulled my hood further over my head, hunched my shoulders forward, and kept my hands over my face. Xander stiffened, nudging my thigh with his knee, as if I hadn’t noticed.
“Hey, Gladas,” I said, swallowing my bite and clearing my throat, keeping a fist over my mouth. “I say we head back to the warehouse and scout the area a little more.” Despite his stirring words back in the car, I still didn’t trust him or his crazy girlfriend, and I didn’t want them knowing about my recent troubles with law enforcement if I didn’t have to. “We can finish eating in the car.”
“I think Joey makes a good point,” Xander said. “We only saw the place from that one side. It would be good to take a look at the perimeter and check for any inconsistencies. Maybe there’s a broken window we can sneak through, or armed soldiers moving around the lot we should know about.”
Gladas set his burger down—a turkey burger with avocado, no cheese, mayonnaise, or ketchup. I’d never been more disappointed in anyone in my whole life. Dabbing his lips with a paper napkin, he glanced at his watch. “I think that’s a good idea.” Sliding his chair back, the Demi stood and straightened his suit.
Xander stood next, followed by Annie, who was murmuring nonsense to herself—making us very conspicuous to the police officers. I remained seated, not wanting to do anything that Gladas agreed with. Why had he been so willing to go back? Why had he glanced at his watch before concurring with our proposal? What did he know, what did he plan? I didn’t know, but at some point, we would have to head back to the warehouse and see this idiotic plan through.
I stood, dropping my napkin onto the tray and leading our ragtag group out of the restaurant. I didn’t look back to see if anyone followed, including the cops. My attention was fixed forward on what lie ahead. Tired of looking back, tired of chasing leads every which way, tired of being scared and running further from my goal, I decided it was time to end this shit. If that meant trusting Gladas’s word and walking blind into a trap without mastery of my new powers, then I would bury my feelings and do that. To have a chance at defeating her, I would have to control my abilities, though—and I knew of only one way to make that happen.
“We’re making one more stop,” I said without looking back.
15
Xander handed me his set of keys to the MIS office building, and more discreetly, his cell phone. Near the front door, a new pair of agents disguised as bums rested against the wall. I didn’t have the energy or the humor to banter with them. I unlocked the door and shot through to Xander’s office.
Gladas and Annabel waited in the car with Xander, holding him as collateral in case I decided to try something sporadic. At first, Gladas had insisted that Annabel attend me while I prepared my weapons. But he backtracked, thinking I might kill her, and probably believing she didn’t have the mental capacity to defend herself. For a moment, I know he considered leaving her with Xander while he accompanied me into the building—but that left him with the same dilemma, with Xander and Annabel. In the end, the Demi settled on killing Xander if I took longer than one hour or attempted any surprises. Threatening to kill Xander if I failed to return bolstered my belief that Gladas was still working with Circe. Call me paranoid if you must—I know the man was desperate to cure his childhood crush, but still. That’s some suspicious-ass behavior.
I glanced at Xander’s phone, which I held in my throbbing right hand. Why sneak this to me, unless he meant for me to use it? Use it for what, though? To call the police? No. That was dumb.
Except, maybe it wasn’t.
The key disengaged the lock to Xander’s office door, and I stepped into the room. My duffle bag was still beside the sofa, where I’d left it. I sat and opened the bag, deciding which gun to grab. I didn’t have time to charge both Glocks with magic, so I had to choose one.
“I’m not playing favorites,” I said to them, grabbing Henrietta, “I promise.” I carried her across the room to Xander’s bulky desk and set her on the surface. Charging all the runes would take too long, so I had to be strategic. I also had to find some ammunition, carve a sigil into each round, and charge those runes, as well. Maybe that’s why Xander had handed me his phone—so I could keep
in contact with the vehicle and provide updates on my progress. But I had my phone for that. So why his?
Sometimes, the most obvious solution to a puzzling problem is solved through a simple question. Why sneak his phone to me? My initial thought was correct—to call the police. Not just any police, though, because I could have called from my phone. But I didn’t have Dakota’s number stored in my contacts. Xander wanted me to call her. Why?
I opened his desk drawer in search of ammunition, making a mess of his organized office supplies. The top drawer yielded nothing but a pocketknife, and the middle drawer offered even less. I pulled out the bottom drawer and froze for a second. I grabbed Xander’s phone and dialed Dakota’s number.
“Come on,” I muttered. “Answer the phone.”
After the fourth ring, Dakota’s chirpy voice said, “Hello?”
“Dakota,” I said, “shit. I thought you—”
“Just kidding. Leave a message and I’ll call you back.”
The line beeped. “What the fuck is wrong with you and your voicemail?” I took a deep breath, refocusing on the call. We hadn’t exchanged numbers since I was suspected of multiple counts of murder and she was a homicide detective, so I had to make this call vague, yet specific. “Hey, it’s me. I’m drunk at the office and need a ride home.” I sighed again, silently cursing that I couldn’t make the message more clear, but as I figured out what to say next, the phone beeped in my ear. She was calling me back. I answered. “Hey, you ever try changing your goddamn voicemail message?”
“Did it get you?” Dakota asked, giggling.
“Get to Xander’s office immediately. Park a block away on the east side. Bring 9mm rounds, too. I’ll be out there waiting for you.”
“Wait, Joey—what the hell’s going on?”
“I’ll explain when you’re here. Don’t forget the ammunition.” To emphasize my duress and the need for expediency, I hung up the phone.