Chapter Seventeen
(Nia) Darius thinks I’m nuts
(Nia) how did you act sane for so many years while seeing shit?
(Nia) Kirbs, are you home?
(Kirby) Umm… I can’t really talk right now. I’m…hang on.
(Nia) Explain yourself!
(Marlow) lol. Let me guess. Ella?
(Kirby) omfg how will I make it out alive.
(Marlow) honestly, I’m not sure you will. Good luck.
(Nia) Explanation??? I’m here with an invisible threatening warrior queen trying to act normal and it is NOT going well. You know how hard it is to go about your business when a valkyrie is staring you down?
(Marlow) Ella—Hnoss—is the goddess of desire and treasure and shit like that. She’s hot af and pretty damn charming
(Nia) Ha! Good luck breathing, Kirbs
(Kirby) impossible. Bury me with my favorite things. Remember me fondly.
“Everything okay, Marmar?”
I smiled down at the text thread on my computer, then up at Azrames. “Thanks for getting ahold of Ella and Estrid. I knew we couldn’t exactly hold the witches hostage for their warding forever. Did the handoff go smoothly?”
I wanted to ask him where he was getting his clothes, but I figured he’d give me a vague non-answer, just as Fauna had.
Today, he was in a long-sleeved white Henley with the sleeves pushed up to the middle of his forearms. His jeans were black once more, matching his disheveled hair and obsidian horns.
“How’s your venom supply?” he asked.
“It’ll get us through the show,” I said. “I’ll do another in a minute. But my friends? The Valkyrie versus the goddess of pleasure and treasure or whatever?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Nia has to stay put so she doesn’t lose her job, which is why she got Estrid. Kirby has a lot more time off.”
My smile wavered.
Az leaned forward. “Ella still has a few meetings to hold, and she’s bringing Kirby with her.”
I heard the loud, smacking swallow before I realized my jaw had been hanging on its hinges. I slammed it shut. “You can’t be serious.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Kirby can see beyond the veil now. They’re on board. And they sure don’t seem to mind Ella’s company. Plus, they know you and can vouch for your character as your human witness. It’s not the worst outcome.”
“Kirby gets tongue-tied around beautiful women!” I wanted to throw something at him. “You saw how Nia held her own against Silas—”
Silas raised a finger to interject. He idled against the counter while the tea kettle heated.
I waved him away. “Sending Kirby was a terrible idea.”
As if on cue, my replacement phone dinged. It went off in rapid fire as Kirby’s anxiety spilled onto the screen.
(Kirby) What have you done to me
(Kirby) She’s so hot, help.
(Kirby) she says shit like “why don’t we go meet this terrifying god of the underworld” and I’m like, sure, I will jump off a cliff if you say so, let’s visit the Egyptians
(Kirby) is that why you did it? Because I’m agreeable around hot women?
(Kirby) evil
(Kirby) you really are the antichrist
I held out my phone. “See what I’m saying? Pairing them with Ella was irresponsible.”
“They seem like they’re having a grand old time,” he said.
“Who’s the Egyptian underworld deity?” My fingers twitched, aching to shake Azrames by the biceps. I held it together to the best of my abilities. “Taweret ferries people to the underworld, right? Could they be meeting the hippo goddess? Please say yes.”
Azrames considered the pantheon. “I wonder if they’re meeting with Osiris. Maybe Anubis? I wouldn’t put either past Ella. She can be very persuasive.”
“I hate it,” I said, shuddering at the thought of my oldest friend around such important immortals. “I hate that Kirby’s there when we don’t even know what end-of-the-world prophecies we’re setting into motion. They shouldn’t be in the middle of this.”
Azrames gave me a long-suffering look. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could cherry-pick our soldiers, their qualities, their availabilities?
Next time you start an inter-realm war, manufacture your army ahead of time.
But for this battle, we’ll make do with what we have.
Speaking of: You have two troops at your disposal. What’s the word, general?”
I looked between him and Silas for a hint of comedy, but there was none.
“I’m still invisible, and we should still be able to execute our plans, unless the angels hunting us are more punctual than I care to imagine. We don’t have a ton of time to spare, but as long as we don’t fuck up, we should be okay.”
Neither man appeared thrilled with my hems and haws.
My feet chilled against the marble as I stepped away from them, further triangulating our positions. My hair tickled my shoulders as I shook my head. “I can’t give promises, so don’t put them on me. You both do war and murder for a living.”
“Okay.” Silas planted a heavy hand on my island. “That’s not an accurate representation of either of our job descriptions. But we’re not asking you how to fight, or how to plot. You want us to act out some elaborate scheme? Give us the script. You’re the writer.”
I sucked in a breath.
Az extended his hand over the back of the sofa. “You have a few hours to work on it, and then we need whatever’s left to learn our lines. And some time to discuss choreography.”
“I’m not a playwright!”
“You’re going to have to be,” Silas said.
He turned his back on me as he fetched three mugs from my cabinet.
I hadn’t seen him grab one of the last remaining whiskey bottles, but he poured a generous shot into the glasses before plopping a stick of cinnamon into each of them.
I hadn’t even realized my pantry contained cinnamon.
In lieu of a lemon slice, he frowned down at my bottled lemon juice, then shrugged.
It was a lot before lunchtime, but then again, this was the end of the world.
I accepted the hot toddy, as did Azrames. “To making our final hours count,” I said grimly.
Silas raised his mug. “To the most important play in the history of gods and men.”
“Here, here,” Azrames toasted.
***
The entire state of Nevada was built on the surface of the sun.
“I hate Las Vegas,” I muttered.
“Be quiet, or we’ll make you be quiet,” Silas hissed.
“You make her.” Azrames shoved his hands into his pockets as we rounded the corner from an alley off the strip and I lifted my hand for a cab. “I’m fine walking around with a crazy woman. I’ll kill anyone who gives her a hard time.”
“Team Demon.” I flashed a cheeky, close-eyed grin, tossing my hair over my shoulder.
“Awesome,” Silas said. “Can’t wait to further your agenda and turn the world against angels.” He sank into the shade around the corner.
The final six hours ticked over our heads.
The time change gave us longer to prepare, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
I reached unconsciously for the bag of venom in my pocket, knowing my supplies were running thin.
I hoped they would outlast Silas’s countdown, or else we’d both be in serious trouble.
Given that I was the only mortal, it was easy for Azrames and I to jump with the s?lje.
I learned what an inexact science jumping was when Silas struggled to join us.
He hit a few different spots before he found us loitering just around the corner from Circus Circus.
I’d pushed us to show up on the far end of the strip, away from the crowds.
I’d almost given Silas a hard time at his inability to spot us, but I knew enough from making a career of reading people to understand that Silas was ready to be pushed over the edge.
It would not serve me to antagonize him further in his dark hour.
That said, I hoped some gentle ribbing might drag him back into camaraderie.
A cab threw on its hazards as it pulled up to the curb. The driver jumped out of the car to stick my bag in the trunk as the three of us slid into the back.
“Where to, ma’am?”
“The Fontainebleau,” I said with a smile.
It was the newest hotel on the strip; I needed a little distance from the action.
I understood his frown as he looked in the rearview mirror.
I was a long way from the airport and not dressed like a tourist. I’d had my entire closet of gorgeous things to pluck from as I’d packed my bag and dressed myself.
I had gone for a black, silk tie-off shirt that left my cleavage and midriff exposed, both for the breathability and glam.
I’d paired it with flowy, high-waisted silk pants.
It may be early autumn in the Midwest, but the desert was still baking, and I wasn’t about to sweat through my curls and makeup.
“Business or pleasure?” he asked.
“Business,” I responded reflexively, then added, “though I might try to get into the Vexa concert.”
“Good luck.” He laughed. “I’ve seen scalpers up and down the strip all week. I hear even standing room is going for over a grand.”
If I weren’t trying to lay low, I would have pushed back on his use of the problematic word. It was in my nature to make a scene. I forced myself to respond with, “I have a contact who might be able to get me in,” and I wasn’t sure if it was Marlow or Maribelle speaking.
Azrames chuckled while Silas frowned.
Hell emboldened my subversion at every turn, but I recognized so much of myself in Silas and his reactions.
I’d been trained to make myself smaller.
I’d spent my life putting others first, considering their opinions, and waiting for approval before I was vocal, or open, or proud.
I’d dipped my toes into blasphemy, idling in the shallow end of the pool for about a year before I’d taken the plunge.
By the time I had gotten on the plane to go to Colombia, I’d left the church in the jets of a Boeing 747.