"Who, then?" Too bad the pool cue wasn't barbed along its length; I would've twisted it. It wouldn't have done much good. Demons, especially these high-level demons we were suddenly seeing so much of, had a high tolerance for pain. "Tell me and maybe Zeke and Griffin won't turn your head into history and the rest of you into a pool of ecological disaster that'll have the EPA beside themselves."

"All right. All right. What a sore winner," he grumbled. It was all just another show. As I'd thought, he wanted to tell me. He'd come here to tell me. Putting up a fight wasn't on his agenda . . . for now. "Beleth ordered it. And guess who works under Beleth. Way under. As in 'He's my boss, but I just sit and wait for his memos and gaze dreamily at his photo on my desk.'"

"Solomon." I'd read books other than holy ones. I had the list of the higher demons memorized to the last duke, a.s.suming humans got it right when they wrote it all down, and that was a big a.s.sumption. Beleth was supposedly a king in h.e.l.l. There was only one step above a king downstairs. "Beleth wants to take over? Push Lucifer aside?"

"I told you, darlin', we all do. But he's one of the ones with the best shot. And if he obtained the Light, he could start a rebellion. Another rebellion, rather. Arrogance and pride were the downfall for us all. We all want to sit in the big chair someday." He shrugged. "Solomon is personal a.s.sistant material. It's beyond him, but if he brought the Light to Beleth, swing! One big-a.s.s promotion and a giant step closer to the throne for himself."

Solomon had seemed sincere in his denial of knowledge about the fall of Eden House, but Solomon always seemed sincere. He was good at what he did, but a demon that gave up killing? I shouldn't buy it. Couldn't, not if I wanted to do what needed to be done. "And whom do you work for, Eli? Who sent you for the Light?"

"n.o.body. I'm a free agent. I sell to the highest bidder." He grasped the pool cue and within seconds pulled it loose. I let him, dropping it from my hands. "Like you, Trixa. We're one in the same. Well, I might be slightly more s.e.xy, but basically one in the same. We're all business when it comes to the Light." He handed the cue back to me with a small bow. "But all pleasure when it comes to everything else."

He held out his hand and a box, wreathed in a wisp of smoke, rested in his palm. The same size as his hand, it was plum-colored with a thin silver bow. Very elegant. "For you. Call me if you decide I'm a lighter touch on the leash than Trinity."

"Call you?" s.e.xier, my a.s.s. I leaned back and crossed pajama-covered ankles. I couldn't help but take him in and admit to myself, all right, maybe a tad s.e.xier. Just a tiny bit. Vain b.a.s.t.a.r.d. But he wasn't smarter, no matter what he thought. "As in say your name and poof-here you are?"

"Hardly. I'm not a genie. I'm a demon, and my hearing isn't in the superhero range. Call my cell." He whipped out a card and pa.s.sed it over. "Here's my number."

I didn't bother to look at it. "I'm guessing 666- 6666."

"Oh, right. As if that number weren't s.n.a.t.c.hed up decades ago." The sarcasm hung in the air, but he was gone. Even his jacket was gone.

d.a.m.n, what a long morning.

"You never let us play anymore," Zeke grumped from his position on the stairs. He'd been well behaved and waited on my signal as to whether to shoot or not. He was getting better and better at grasping the intricacies of mental battles versus physical ones-even if he thought the former were rather pointless.

"I still need him, Kit. Between Solomon, Trinity, and the angel that showed up this morning, I need a wild card to play if things don't go my way." I carefully undid the bow-I did love presents-and pulled off the lid of the box.

It was a finger.

Definitely not the kind of present I was looking for. My stomach rolled. Griffin and Zeke had already moved to my side to ask about the angel. They didn't get the chance.

"Leo?" Griffin's voice was hoa.r.s.e and black with rage. I rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"No. Not Leo." I closed the box and retied the ribbon with a savage twist. I had no idea what I'd do with it. There was no point in turning it into the police. Whoever it belonged to was no doubt dead by now, and if he wasn't, he was far beyond the reach of any authorities.

"How do you know?" he asked incredulously. "It could be. It looked . . ."

It looked like Leo's. The same color red-brown skin, large . . . there was blood on the white velvet beneath it, indicating it had been taken off a living human being. Poor d.a.m.n b.a.s.t.a.r.d, whoever he was or had been . . . but the finger didn't belong to Leo.

"I know. But it's not, not that it makes it any less horrible." I put the box on the pool table before standing and going to the bar, where I picked up the phone and dialed the number on the card. I got Eligos's voice mail. It figured. I always thought that an invention of h.e.l.l anyway.

"Eligos, find my brother's killer and only then do you get the Light. As for the finger-I'm giving it to you right now." I disconnected, although throwing the phone across the room instead was very tempting.

No, he wasn't half as smart as he thought he was. All he'd done was succeed in p.i.s.sing me off-and I had a long list of people who could tell him that wasn't a good thing. Mama said never hold a grudge against a man; hold his b.a.l.l.s instead and yank them off. Saved the both of you time. Aggravation time for you . . . recovery time for him. Eli had better watch his back and his sac from now on, because I was through with playing. This girl was going to make him sorry he'd ever stepped one foot outside h.e.l.l.

"How do you know for sure it isn't Leo's?" Griffin persisted. "I didn't see any marks or scars, so how can you know?"

"I just do." Back at the table, I retrieved the pool cue, put it back to its less lethal form, and cleaned the black blood from it with angry strokes of a bar rag.

"Can't you call him and make sure?"

Griffin, in his own way, could be as inflexible as his partner. And he'd known Leo as long as he'd known me-gotten his male bonding from the bartender. Leo had been and still probably was his role model. It was understandable Griffin would be worried, but he'd have to trust me on this. "Because there's no coverage where he is. And before you ask, his family doesn't have a land line."

"What are they? Native American Amish?" Zeke asked, annoyed. Annoyance was one of the few emotions he was genuinely good at. But that wasn't fair. He was as worried about Leo as his partner; he just had trouble showing it.

"They like their privacy. Now leave it alone. Leo is fine. And, Griffin, don't ask me again how I know that finger isn't his. You're giving me a headache. I just know, all right? How I know, you don't need to know. Got it?" I said, patience thinning. I wasn't proud of it. But everything was coming together now after so long. I needed to concentrate, not squabble.

"No, I don't have it," he snapped back. "And what about the angel you said was here? What angel? What did he want?"

At least that I could tell him. "Oriphiel," I sighed. "I know you had to learn enough from the House to know he's up there, no mild-mannered little Christmas angel. He's come to hold Trinity's leash while Trinity thinks he holds mine."

At that moment Lenore winged through out of nowhere, as usual, swooped down toward the pool table, and s.n.a.t.c.hed the bow to the box in his beak. He then flew toward the back office. I'd decided to drive to the desert and bury the finger, but I could see that wasn't in the cards for me after all, which was for the best. I still wasn't done with my research on what the seed of Light had flashed through my brain. "I'm taking a shower. Take Lenny and my car"-what was left of it-"and get rid of the finger, would you? My keys are on Leo's desk." I softened it further, adding, "Please? Bury it. Treat it with respect." Although I knew Griffin didn't need to be told that. "And if any more boxes show up, don't open them. There's no point."

"But how . . ."

I went up the stairs, leaving the questions I couldn't answer and the poignantly pitiful body part behind. The next time I faced an angel, demon, or human ice cube like Trinity, I wanted to be at my best. Having to fight in cotton, Mother Goose pajamas didn't have me feeling quite at my peak. I could do the same damage, but as a samurai went into battle in his armor, I preferred to go in my clothes. Mark Twain would've understood. He'd once said, Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society. My interpretation ran along the lines of naked people had limited options on where to hide their weapons. Thin cotton jammies weren't much better. And weapons? They had a great deal of influence on society.

Human and demonic.

Chapter 13.

The day was shot. I'd known that from the beginning. Angels, demons, severed fingers, Griffin irritated with me and with every reason, more boring research to be done, and now this.

I cupped my cheek where Trinity, swear to my best pair of high-heeled demon-stabbing boots, had just b.i.t.c.h slapped me. "You said you could do this," he said, reaching into his suit pocket for a handkerchief to wipe off his hand as if I were contaminated. I was surprised he didn't pull out a bottle of antibacterial wash and scrub up like a surgeon. "And you are not living up to your claims."

"You slapped me." Bemused and stunned, I said it as if the sky had abruptly turned green and promptly fallen on my head,. "You actually slapped me." Never mind I'd punched one of his men two days ago. That had to be done . . . as a lesson not to imagine they could force me under their control, that they couldn't push me. I didn't think they learned it, because this was pushing. I didn't think I'd ever been slapped in my life. Hit, kicked, thrown against a wall, thrown over a wall, clawed, and stabbed . . . a demon carrying a mundane switchblade . . . I hadn't seen that coming. All understandable with what I did. But slapped? I was insulted.

No, I was furious, which might be why I lost my temper. Completely. A luxury I rarely allowed myself.

"What are you, Iktomi? Thirty? Thirty-one?" He knew exactly how old I was per any doc.u.ments on file with the city. He would've investigated me thoroughly the second he found out I was involved with Griffin and Zeke's hunts, and more important, connected to the Light. He was only demonstrating how little I mattered by pretending to forget such routine information. "You are a child compared to the long history of Eden House, a child in this war."

"And let me guess, 'Spare the rod, spoil the child.' " I pulled my Smith from the holster at the back waistband of my black jeans and pressed the muzzle hard, right between his cold eyes. "What about 'Spare the bullet'? Ever heard that one, Mr. Trinity?"

We were up in my room, where I was doing the research I'd planned on. Books and on the Internet. I hadn't found what I was looking for yet, but I was close. Trinity had one of his two men kick open the door downstairs. I'd heard it and not been particularly surprised. Picking the lock would've been more subtle, but Trinity wasn't in the mood for subtlety now. He was only in the mood for results.

They'd ascended the stairs as I stood up from the chair at my desk, fully expecting who it was. What I didn't expect was for him to walk over and, without a word, slap me across the face. It was a slap full of contempt and no antic.i.p.ation that you'd raise a pinky in self-defense . . . or revenge. How unfortunate for him that he was that lacking in perception. I decided a gun was too good for him and much more than I needed to take both him and att.i.tude down.

I must have still had my mama's advice on my mind as I moved the gun, aiming it at the men with him. I then gave him a swift knee to his crotch, swept his legs from beneath him to drop him on his side, and rammed the knuckles of my left balled-up hand onto the floor hard and fast. It was so close to the front of his neck that I brushed his skin and he knew, for a nicely unpalatable fact, I could've crushed his larynx if I'd wanted. It was a move I'd picked up in Israel, where the martial arts aren't meant to be pretty and color coordinated-they're meant to kill.

"It's been a long time since you fought any demons hand to hand, hasn't it, Mr. Trinity?" I asked as his eyes closed tightly in pain as he struggled not to embarra.s.s himself by cupping his damaged-during-delivery package. "I fought one last night."

His two men moved closer, then backed away when I narrowed my eyes and aimed the gun at them. "I'll bet it's been thirty years since you actually faced one down," I added. "I kill demons all the time. I can kill you with a lot less effort, time, and firepower. And don't think your boss is sending anyone to help you. Heaven let Eden House burn. Why would they save you?" I stood from my half crouch beside him. "Besides, I talked to Oriphiel this morning. It seems he has the same confidence in you that you have in me. I doubt he'll care if he loses his middleman. How many Eden Houses are there anyway? How many Mr. Trinitys? I sincerely doubt you're irreplaceable." I put a booted foot on his leg and rolled him over from his side onto his back. "But I am. I'm the only one the Light speaks to. And you know what? That should have you kissing my feet, if not other parts of me."

I walked to the bed, took the book I'd "borrowed" from the library, and said casually, "When you're done writhing in pain and self-pity, I'll be downstairs and maybe . . . maybe we'll talk. If you puke, avoid my rug and have one of your pathetic minions clean it up, and when you start plotting your revenge"-I smiled-"and I know you will, be sure you wait until after you have the Light to carry it out. Otherwise, Mr. Trinity, you'll be carried out by Eden House pallbearers. As far as I can tell, you're no better than a demon. If I don't have a problem with killing them, why would I have one with killing you?"

I certainly didn't have a problem beating the c.r.a.p out of an old guy. I suppose that made me a bad, bad girl. But the fact that he was in his late sixties, early seventies, didn't make it harder mentally and only easier physically. A bad girl, but a practical one. He might have the Sean Connery look, but Connery never would've gone down that easily. Mr. Trinity was a disgrace to his profession. As they say in so many professions, there are no retired demon hunters, only dead ones. Trinity might not have gone soft, but he'd gotten slow.

But slow or not, he hadn't forgotten how to use a shotgun.

He pulled the trigger as he stepped through the door at the bottom of the stairs. The slug from the gun of one of his bootlickers. .h.i.t the ceiling directly above me, causing plaster dust to drift down onto me. It landed in my coffee as well; black with six sugars, extra sweet like me, but it had gone cold anyway in the twenty minutes I'd sat there thumbing through the book. I looked up, brushed at the black and copper swirls of my shirt, and ran a hand through my hair to see white dust fly. I won't deny a shiver pa.s.sed down my spine. I was relatively sure he wouldn't shoot me off the bat. I was tough, but I had nerve endings like anyone else, and they had minds of their own when it came to the sounds of ma.s.sive booms near my body. Feeling it and showing it though were two different things. "You know"-I pushed the ruined coffee away-"I'm surprised you had the b.a.l.l.s to do that . . . especially considering what I did to them upstairs."

"You think I can't kill you, Ms. Iktomi," he said lev elly. "But I can hurt you. Cripple you if I like. You will give me the Light, and you will not make such unseemly trouble again or I'll shatter one, perhaps two kneecaps, and watch you crawl to the Light, leaving a trail of blood and screams behind you. Do we have an agreement?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it as he pulled more ammunition from his suit pocket and reloaded the shotgun. A little slower than he'd once been, but not soft, and still a man to be reckoned with. "I think we might." I nodded, reluctant, but you can't play two sides against each other if you don't have both sides present. Kimano would've told me that justice wasn't worth my life, but it wasn't justice-it was vengeance, pure and simple. And Kimano wasn't here to tell me anything.

"Although some respect on your side would help quite a bit," I added pointedly.

"That is unfortunate as I've yet to see any reason you deserve it. You're a mediocre merchant of mediocre alcohol in a less than mediocre establishment. You live and run a business designed to promote nothing but sin. Why two members of my House found you in any way worthy enough to join them in fighting an evil beyond your limited comprehension, I cannot fathom." He aimed the shotgun again, this time at my chest. "If I do kill you, the House of Eden might not find the Light in my lifetime, but neither will any demon. Think upon that."

What a way with a compliment he had. At least he didn't call me a harlot or Jezebel or Wh.o.r.e of Babylon. It was an unexpected and pleasant surprise. "Don't think they won't be p.i.s.sed about that, Mr. Trinity. I already have two jockeying for it." From the tightening of his lips, this was apparently news to him. Good. "You're right. If you kill me, they won't have the Light-they'll only have you. Are you that anxious to go meet your big boss? With your ironclad, I'm sure, faith, I bet you can't wait . . . even if you have to be skinned alive strip by b.l.o.o.d.y strip and your internal organs eaten while your heart still beats to get there." I shifted my view back to the book and turned another page. "I admire a man of your conviction."

I heard the metal of the gun's muzzle clink once, twice, three times against the floor. Trinity was thinking, but what? He was a fanatic. Fanatics are almost impossible to reason with or outthink. " 'Thou shall not kill,' " I reminded him softly, my eyes still on the book.

"We honor 'Thou shall not murder,' and killing a soldier in a war is not murder, especially if that soldier is fighting against G.o.d." I heard his footsteps slow and measured.

"I'm not a soldier." Any demon could tell him that wasn't true. "And I'm not fighting against G.o.d." Heaven maybe, but not G.o.d.

"But are you fighting for him?"

He had me there. No, I wasn't precisely fighting for him. I was fighting for myself and my own. Luckily, I found a way around answering his question, not that I didn't have a lie ready and waiting on the tip of my tongue. "There." The thrill that ran through me this time was triumphant. There it was. Finally. I ran my fingers over the glossy black-and-white picture. At least it had once been black and white. Now it was black and a pale yellow. "I've found it. The next signpost. The last signpost."

For a moment he forgot to care whom I was fighting for and moved close enough for a look at the picture himself. "This is where the Light is?"

"No." It was a bleak picture, but beautiful as well. "But this is where the last bread crumb lies, the one that tells us where that caver Jeb hid the Light." The caver who had been tortured to death . . . by whom, I still didn't know. I had no evidence that Mr. Trinity had anything to do with it, but I wasn't about to jump to the conclusion that he wasn't capable of having it done either. Look what he was willing to do to me.

It made sense that Jeb, the Light-the mixed-up conglomeration of the two of them-would choose this. I thought the shark had been all the Light's idea-it seemed to have a wicked sense of humor-and all this, leaving a difficult and annoying trail, seemed more than sentient enough for humor to exist in the Light. But with this, the Light had let Jeb have his way. Cavers were desert to their heart and bones. And deserts were rock and sand, caves and scorpions, mines and ghost towns. Rhyolite was one of the bigger ghost towns in Nevada.

There was information everywhere on it, but that drugged-out musician couldn't make things that easy. Couldn't give me a name or a glimpse of a highway sign or even a feeling in one particular direction. All I was able to get was the flash of the inside of a building and not even a clear flash. Just a haze of sunlight dancing in different colors of amber and green, so much of it that it almost reminded me of the light seen through a stained-gla.s.s church window. That was all I saw-a blurry amber and green glow, a wood floor beneath my feet, and the sense of an L-shaped building. Small. I must have looked at the same place in twenty different pictures before I realized it was the semi-famous Bottle House of Rhyolite. Built mainly out of beer and medicine bottles, it was one of the star attractions in the ghost town. But I hadn't been there and none of the pictures showed what the inside of the building was like. After so many times of looking at photos of the peculiar thing, it had finally hit me. The sun was shining through the bottles. Our drugged-out, french-fried friend had been standing inside the Bottle House bathed in that odd light. Sightseeing, he'd probably thought. I knew he had no idea an ancient caver and a far more ancient crystal had anything to do with the fact he'd ended up there to drop the last bit of Light that wasn't in me or tied into the crystal's whole.

I leaned back in my chair as the overwhelming sense of relief hit me. Not only were the House, the demons, and I pushing me, the Light was also pushing. It wanted to be found. Soon. It wasn't entirely safe from discovery where it was, not for long. It needed to be in hands that understood it; knew what it was made to do. It had whispered I was the lesser of evils when it first curled into a corner of my brain. I hoped it hadn't changed its mind. I rubbed at my eyes and slammed the book shut. "Thank-"

"G.o.d?" Oriphiel's smooth voice was back. And he wasn't alone. Two more angels of the same silver persuasion stood behind him. I wondered if that was what happened when silver angels fell . . . They became gray demons.

I glared at him as he stood beside Trinity. There had been no flash of light this time. One second he wasn't there; the next he was. It was kinder on the retinas, I had to say. Trinity himself took four steps back when the angels appeared, to put himself firmly where he belonged-in the shadow of Heaven's hand. "No," I contradicted. "Thank me. I'm the only one doing the heavy lifting of the three of us. So how about a little prayer of grat.i.tude aimed in my direction."

"Blasphemy." Trinity murmured the accusation more harshly than he had days ago.

Oriphiel wasn't as upset. Why be upset with the ant that waves its antennae at you in rage when you crush his hill? How pointless. "You do as you were created to do. If you find the Light, it's only because Heaven wishes you to find the Light. How amusing you think yourself that important. You exist only to do Heaven's work. Or you can choose h.e.l.l, if you haven't already with this pitiful life. As you said, you have free will." His smile was carved with an ice pick. He made the ever-frozen Trinity seem like a raging bonfire. "As much as we would like the Light, I cannot help but hope you've chosen the latter. Writhing in h.e.l.lfire, devoured by a demon, that seems as right for you as a serpent-tainted apple."

Could you call someone a p.r.i.c.k if he didn't actually manifest one when he was on Earth? Ah well, if the sentiment was there . . . "Don't be a p.r.i.c.k if you don't have one to back it up with." I pushed the chair back and stood. "As for the original tattletale crying to Daddy, it's a shame G.o.d came up with man before he did spines. Must've been a lot of flopping around in the garden for a while.

"And if you think we're going yet, you had better pull up a bar stool and wait. If you want more wine, you'll have to go somewhere else. I'm not serving you. Or you." I added those two words in address to Trinity. "Until my friends are back, I'm not going anywhere. Oh, and Mr. Trinity?" I said as I pa.s.sed him. "My friends aren't your friends anymore and they haven't been for a while. I'm sure you've been around long enough to block telepathic or empathic probes, but my boys aren't stupid. They fight demons because it's right. They worked for you to accomplish that, but they learned over the years."

"Learned what?" he said stonily.

"That Oriphiel isn't the only p.r.i.c.k in town."

When I reached the phone, I hit REDIAL and pretended to order a pizza into another wretched voice mail recording. Not much in the way of breakfast food and I hoped the son of a b.i.t.c.h actually sent one as a cover story. As much as Eli had angered me right now, he was the only demon I could get in contact with. Solomon had, much like a married man, never left his number and his club was still burned to the ground, so no go there. I didn't want to be standing with Griffin and Zeke at the Light's last clue if Eden House went postal, the three of us surrounded by the holy choir-Heaven's wrath on one side, Trinity's blazing Eden House shotguns on the other.

Eligos was trying to mess with my head with the fear that he had Leo. I knew he didn't have Leo. That didn't change the fact that I'd known the demon was a killer all along, but if he followed us to Rhyolite, at least that would be one more knife up our sleeve. I didn't have to like Eli. In fact, I could despise him for the murdering monster he was. It didn't change the fact that I could also use him and respect what he brought to the table. I'd seen Oriphiel's face when Eli had whispered in his ear. The angel was afraid of the demon, which made Eli serious s.h.i.t, a deadly weapon, and a good advantage. As long as I didn't forget he didn't care whom he killed to get the Light-angels, humans, or me.

As for Solomon? Who knew? He'd tell you he cared, that he didn't want to kill, but would that stop him?

Sooner or later, I would find out.

Zeke and Griffin arrived back from burying the finger about two hours later, an hour after the pizza had shown up. It was a double garlic anchovy special. Eli-smugness incarnate. Too bad for him that I rather liked garlic and I loved anchovies. It did keep Trinity, Goodman-who'd shown up not long after the angels-and the other two Eden Housers at a distance. The angels kept their distance as well, but I doubted it had anything to do with the pizza. It could've been any number of things. Some angels, like Oriphiel, had superiority complexes and considered humans just a bundle of walking sin waiting to happen. Others were mystified by the entire mammal experience; still others were following orders of middle management . . . there to do the job and not get involved with the natives. It was the rare angel that wanted to hang around and chat. They existed, but you didn't often see them with Eden Housers.

These angels took a table in the corner, folded their hands, and froze into three identical positions. Com muning silently with one another over the plan or taking a nap. Who knew? The only difference between the other two and Oriphiel was eye color. Oriphiel's were as silver as his hair. The angel to his right had pale brown eyes and the one to his left dark blue. The rest was the same: faces, suits, hair. Like a cl.u.s.ter of Stepford Angels, which made me think Oriphiel was the sole middle-management angel of the group. The other two were there for orders only. No equal, free-will birds here to divide the glory with. It was all for Oriphiel . . . oh, and Heaven too.

Oriphiel was so much more like humans than he ever knew. I didn't see Trinity sharing any of the information about the Light with the other Houses or there would be out-of-state Trinitys here. It spoke volumes that there weren't.

"f.u.c.k," Zeke said succinctly at the sight of Trinity and the angels. Swatting in annoyance at Lenny who was perched on his shoulder, tugging at the random stray copper strand, he repeated it. "f.u.c.k."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." I sighed, then nodded at the now-cold pizza. "Want a slice? Keep the vampires away."

"Vampires do not fear garlic." One of the angels had come out of his coma.

Griffin frowned. "Don't go there. There are no such things as vampires. Demons are enough, all right? So shut up about any d.a.m.n vampires." He was right. For Griffin, demons were more than enough evil in this world. It would be cruel, with the loss of his brothers and sisters in arms to tell him differently. He didn't need to know and it wouldn't do him any good, not now.

Griffin's mood, normally easygoing, had not improved with the burial detail or what he saw before him. "And for that matter, why the h.e.l.l do you bother to show up now? The House is gone. Most everyone's dead. If you can't show up when we need you, why do you come down here slumming with your dirty servants at all?"

Zeke shook his head as Lenore flew off to pick at what was left of the pizza. "Leo." He retwisted his braid that the bird had done his best to destroy. "You should tell him."

Tell him how I knew Leo was safe. Griffin needed that. He needed one less of his friends to be dead. But I couldn't tell him how I knew. Leo had been in on my plan for a long time now. He wouldn't want me endangering it with loose lips about where he might be. I could do something else for Griffin though. Hopefully it would be enough. "Griffin." I turned him away from the angels of whom his opinion seemed to drop drastically. He was losing it all. His House. His friends. His faith. "Griffin," I repeated. "I can't tell you where Leo is or how I know he's safe, but touch me. Know that I'm telling you the truth."

He focused on me. "You'd let me?"

"You deserve it and you need it, so go on." I dropped my shield just a fraction, the one I'd long ago built up against telepaths and empaths. I waited until I felt the lightest of touches as he felt the truth.

He smiled, weary face relieved. "He is all right. You do know."

"I do." I smiled, just as I slammed the shield back up in time to have an angel's psychic probe hit and bounce off. One of the silver boys winced as if he had a headache. "That's what you get for trying to walk in uninvited," I said with satisfaction. "It must just kill you that humans have it too: telepathy, empathy, and even other psychic talents you don't have." Fire starting didn't mix well with feathers.

Eden House had always said it was G.o.d's plan, giving humans those powers-to fight the demons on even ground. More and more it was clear they didn't have a clue what G.o.d's plan was and never had. This was the most prime of examples. An Eden House rogue board president, Trinity, meets Above's middle management while the CEOs are on vacation, and a merger is born. Any big corporation could tell you how that worked-it didn't.

Zeke had moved to stand at Griffin's shoulder, but his gaze wasn't on demons. It was on Trinity and the other three Eden Housers. "How was Florida?" he said without emotion. "Bring us a postcard?" Griffin might have come to see what Trinity was . . . not a good man, no matter that was the side he claimed. But there had been good people in the Vegas House, and he had liked them, felt as if he'd belonged. Griffin was a social creature and he hated Trinity now. Trinity had tried to use him while planning on rejecting him and didn't seem to give a d.a.m.n his own House had burned.

Zeke had considered those in the House comrades, but he couldn't go further than that. His bonding emotions extended to Griffin and to a lesser degree to Leo and me. He missed his comrades, but he had never had emotions for Trinity one way or the other-until now. He didn't care if Trinity and all the Houses of the world rejected him-as long as he had Griffin. He did care, however, how it made his partner feel. He cared a great deal. As Griffin looked after him, he looked after Griffin . . . although in a slightly more homicidal way. "We missed you at the battle," he went on, and his Colt Anaconda was in his hand. I had a feeling Zeke didn't plan on missing Trinity now . . . or a good chunk of the wall behind him.

If he killed Trinity, Goodman and the two others would be at his throat in an instant. Truthfully, I wouldn't put my money on them. Shotguns against the Anaconda, that didn't really matter. Them against Zeke, that was the meat of the matter. And meat was what Zeke would make of them. But there were the angels-at least one a high-level angel-and whether they could take Zeke or not, I didn't know.