Chapter 24
“W here’s Mercy?”
“Your friend is safe,” he said, “but we have business.”
“Business demands an abandoned pier in the middle of the night?”
“We might have met in the warmth of my home if you hadn’t been so stubborn.”
“How are the repairs going?”
Reiter’s lip curled. So he was still mad about his precious nest. Good. But the anger was gone in a flash, replaced by pure detachment.
“This was a place of great pleasures once,” he said. “It was called the White City. My friends and I came here to shoot the chutes and eat frozen custard.”
“That wasn’t you,” Alex said. “That was a stupid boy named Lionel Reiter who thought it would be fun to take a trip to hell. Lionel, Ludwig, Linus. None of you ate frozen custard.”
“His memories are my memories. His form my form.”
“And yet you’re a mass murderer. Spare me the Ship of Theseus bullshit.”
Reiter smiled at that. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. “Are you a student of philosophy, Galaxy Stern?”
“Sure. And if you go slow, I can pick up a few dance steps too. Why are we out here?”
He bobbed his head toward the sand. “Your friend is waiting for you to make wise choices.”
Alex had seen nothing on the beach, but now that she was on the pier, she could make out a shape propped against the stairs that led to the bike path. It might be Mercy. It might be a heap of laundry.
Alex leapt forward, but Reiter was in front of her before she could blink.
“She is unharmed.”
Alex summoned all the strength of the child ghost inside her and shoved Reiter hard.
He didn’t budge.
“Your borrowed power is of no interest to me. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. I brought your pious friend here because I need your attention. She prayed, and she wept, and now she is resting comfortably.”
“Did you feed on her?”
“Why does that matter? I fed on you and you survived it.”
Barely. But she wasn’t going to admit that.
“You love drama, don’t you? The nighttime rendezvous, the flowers left on the couch.”
“I can’t claim credit for everything that blooms in my garden,” he said. “I want to be of use to you.”
“That seems highly fucking unlikely.”
“I know you went to see Rudy.”
Now Alex paused. “You had us followed?”
“I did. And I suspect you acquired the Heart of Gold from Wolf’s Head.”
“Just how many familiars do you have in the societies?”
A new kind of smile spread over Reiter’s smooth face, one that showed his sharp teeth. “As many as I need. Humans fear death so much they’ll grasp for any chance at immortality, never knowing death is already holding them close. What did you do to Rudolph Kittscher?”
“To his demon, you mean?” Now it was Alex’s turn to smile. “The same thing I’m going to do to you.”
“Is that so?” He seemed genuinely entertained. “Novelty is hard to come by after a hundred years.”
“Glad to amuse. Why are we here, Reiter?”
“It may surprise you, but I do not want Golgarot to enter this realm.”
“Why wouldn’t you want the doors to hell open?”
“My master asked something of me before I pursued Lionel out of hell, something I have failed to accomplish.”
Alex stared at him. She couldn’t help it; she started to laugh. “Are you telling me you pissed off your boss?”
“He is not my boss. He is a prince of hell.”
“Liege lord, master, upper management. Potato, po-tah-to.” She studied him.
Every minute they were talking was another chance at life, another possible moment for her to find a way out of this.
She was standing here chatting, her voice steady, her mind functioning as it was meant to.
But her body was slick with sweat. Her fists were clenched in her pockets.
He must know. He could probably hear her heart.
“You were supposed to make sure the Gauntlet was used again, weren’t you?
That a Wheelwalker made the descent so that Golgarot would have the chance to open the gates. ”
Reiter looked uneasy. Like an employee caught taking a long lunch.
“But you never brought Daisy through the Gauntlet. And you let her eat the other Wheelwalkers drawn here by it. Why?”
“Let’s just say it would be best if the door to hell was sealed for good.”
“And you want to help me do that?”
“I understand your skepticism.”
“You did murder my friend.”
Reiter’s pale brows rose. “Her death was a gift.”
“And to think I didn’t send a thank-you note.”
“I showed you the traitor in your midst. I returned your friend’s lovely car.”
He actually sounded affronted. Alex felt another nervous laugh burbling up in her chest, or maybe it was a scream. Could he mean it? Did he really expect her to be grateful that he had murdered Michelle? Was he that divorced from his humanity?
“And was she really your friend?” Reiter went on, his voice cajoling. “Someone who spied on you, reported on you?”
“Tough call. But she didn’t bite me or bury me in an unmarked grave. My bar is pretty low and you still missed it.”
“Well. One rarely has one’s choice of allies.”
Alex squared her shoulders. “Tell me your terms and let me take Mercy home.”
“You need me. You cannot win this fight without me.”
“God, I hope that’s not true. If you want to help, then help. Why kidnap my friend? Why drag me out here?”
He looked almost abashed. “A trade is in order, no?”
“Tell me what you want, and I’ll see what we can do about making sure you don’t get it.”
“You really are the gnat of gnats. Very well. You’ve found the Heart of Gold. I can offer you the Feet of Clay.”
“That part of the golem wasn’t hidden with one of the societies?”
“The golem … Yes. A pair of boots. Very finely made. And true, they were originally stored at my old society.”
“You stole them from Skull and Bones.”
Reiter again looked bemused. “Lionel hid the boots safely behind the wards. Once I had devoured him I couldn’t enter, and for many years I had no reason to. But I had one of my servants retrieve the Feet of Clay from the Bonesmen when I began to understand what the future might hold.”
It took a moment for Alex to understand. “When you realized a new Wheelwalker was here in New Haven.”
Reiter dipped his chin in a brief nod. “Marguerite Belbalm had no interest in the activities of the societies. But once I understood what you were…”
“You knew you might need leverage.”
“Women,” he said. “So unpredictable.”
More than you know, Alex thought and forced herself not to glance back at the road that led to campus.
“And what do you want in return for the Feet of Clay?”
“Once the golem has defeated Golgarot, I want you to give him to me.”
“The golem? You want me to give you a powerful automaton to command?”
“During the day, away from my nest, I am vulnerable.”
“You need a bodyguard?”
“One without human frailties or passions.” He glanced contemptuously at Nell sitting in her car, sheltered from the cold, the tinny sound of the radio audible through the steamed-up windows, Alex’s phone still tucked into her pocket. “One I won’t eventually have to drain when it gets restless.”
“That’s it?” She didn’t trust that this was all Reiter wanted and she didn’t like the idea of leaving a golem in his hands. But they could only solve one problem at a time. She swallowed the spider to catch the fly. They could find a cat to swallow this spider later.
“That’s some of it. You could leave here tonight that much closer to a victory. I can offer you that.”
“This doesn’t add up,” she said. “Why not just have your team of spies gather the golem’s armor?”
A petulant look came over Reiter’s face. “I tried. I sent Michelle to retrieve the Hand of God.”
Then that was the artifact left at Lethe.
Alex felt a sudden surge of elation that left her dizzy, drunk on hope and the possibility of survival.
Maybe she was going to get through this night.
Maybe she was going to leave here with another piece of the golem and armed with knowledge of what to look for at Lethe and Scroll and Key.
“You tried and you failed,” she said. “Michelle couldn’t find the Hand of God.” Or that was what she’d told Reiter.
“It should have been the easiest item to retrieve. I nearly took it from you the night you vandalized my home.”
The Knuckles of Shimshon. She had found them in the Lethe Armory, taken them with her when Eitan sent her to shake people down.
“So close,” she said, afraid to show her excitement.
“But you can’t get past our wards and Lethe has fewer delegates than the other societies, fewer saps to prey upon.
You must have been waiting for someone like Michelle for a long while.
” A woman who had tried to end her own life, who had been desperate never to see the other side of the Veil again.
But she hadn’t given Reiter what he wanted.
Michelle might have been a liar and a snitch, but she hadn’t been stupid.
“Fine,” said Alex. “Give me the boots. Let me take Mercy home and you have a deal.” She was happy to make a promise she didn’t intend to keep.
Reiter raised his hand, gesturing to Nell, who emerged from her fancy car with a large shopping bag.
Goddamn it. Assuming Reiter wasn’t lying, the Feet of Clay had been in the back seat of the SUV the whole time.
“But there’s another condition.”
Alex startled. While her eyes had been on Nell, Reiter had drawn closer. He was blocking her path and he grinned, his sharp teeth long against his lips.
“No,” Alex said and took a step backward.
“Release whatever ghost you’re holding. I want a taste of Wheelwalker blood.”
“Fuck you.”
“Isn’t your friend’s life worth a little sip? I won’t drain you. I need you alive to bring me my golem.”
“No.”
It was fear that answered, the memory of his teeth penetrating her skin, the feeling of violation, the pain, the sensation of her life being pulled from her and drawn into him. The theft.
But there was more than panic screaming through her, even as her heart pounded and her hands shook. Her blood did things she couldn’t anticipate. Golgarot had used it to prop open the door to hell. Reiter might have a use for that blood she couldn’t imagine.
“I want to see Mercy first.” She was stalling and he must know that, but she would take any advantage she could.
He gave a little wave of his hand, magnanimous now. “Go ahead.”
Alex took her time crossing the sand, afraid she might simply see a corpse.
“Mercy?” she asked, going to her knees.
She was asleep, wrapped in blankets and snoring softly. Reiter must have drugged her. Alex checked her neck—no marks.
She heard a squeal of tires. Alex let herself glance back once, briefly, glimpsed headlights approaching from the road.
She rose, putting distance between herself and Mercy in case things turned ugly.
“Okay,” Alex said to Reiter. “Come and get it.”
“You’ve purged yourself of any Grays?”
“Yes,” she lied.
In less than a breath Reiter had hold of her, his grip like a fist closing tight around her body.
“My God,” he whispered, drawing her closer. “You stink of suffering. How do you fit so much agony into one tiny girl? How is there room for so much pain?”
Alex tried to scream, but he was crushing the air from her chest. He had no scent, no heat to his body. She couldn’t think over the clamor in her brain.
“It’s as if you were prepared for me,” he murmured against her neck. “A calf kept in darkness, fattened for veal. You are a delicacy.” He made a disapproving clucking sound, his lips hovering over the spot Darlington had bitten only the night before. “Someone has been here before me.”
She could hear the roar of an engine.
“You should know,” Alex gasped out. “I brought something back from hell.”
“They always do.” He nuzzled her neck, pushing her hair aside. “I’m going to leave a bit more of a mark this time.”
“Me too.”
Blue fire ignited over her skin. A weapon. A beacon.
Reiter shrieked and shoved her so hard she flew backward, landing with a rough jolt on the sand.
“You filthy little bitch,” he seethed.
Alex scrambled to her feet, drawing a curtain of hellfire around her and Mercy. “That’s not my name.”
“I’m going to drain you and your friend dry.”
“You said yourself you need me,” Alex shouted with more confidence than she felt. She could hear the rumble of the engine. Closer. Closer.
“Filthy little girl. Abomination.” He stalked toward her, his face singed, his eyes wild.
The pretense of humanity was gone, the illusion of the aristocrat in his fine white suit.
The demon hadn’t known pain in a very long time and he was going to hurt her for refreshing his memory. “Mongrel whore. Human waste.”
Alex backed away, pushing a wall of hellfire between them. Maybe it was the power of her fear, but she felt the substance of the flame this time, the shape of it in her hands, bending to the curve of the Wheel. She let it guide her, forging hellfire into a towering shield.
Reiter roared his rage, but he was afraid to cross that blue fire. “Your father stabbed your mother and fucked the wound! He sewed his seed up inside her and you’re the infection. I will root you out. I will—”
Turner’s Dodge leapt the boardwalk and slammed into Linus Reiter.