which looked like it had been fished out of the bowels of the earth post-quake. Most of the spray-painted VAMPIRE graffiti had worn off, and I had fixed the back window with a good dose of duct tape. It wasn’t much to look at, but it moved. Mostly.
“I’d feel better if you let me drive you.”
Normally this kind of chauvinism would grate on me because I like to think I’m a feminist, but after the whole puddle of goo in the face of G.I. Joe Alex, I wasn’t even going to bother.
The streetlights were out along all the avenues so it was slow going.
“So when you were out . . . patrolling,” I started, pinching the skin on my upper lip. “Did anything interesting come up about the quake?”
Alex glanced at me as he took a corner. “What are you talking about?”
I glanced around the empty car as if there were spies everywhere. “Do you think this was a regular earthquake or was it something more . . . supernatural?”
He guided the car down a street that was completely dark, the gaping black windows of each still house looking ominous and foreboding. I pulled my jacket tighter over my shoulder and shifted in my car seat.
“Remember that house over there?” Alex asked, gesturing with his chin.
I squinted to make out the boxy house. “Yeah. That was where we saw the werewolf.” I smiled. “Good bloodthirsty times. You still didn’t answer my question.”
“It was an earthquake, Lawson. If you’re asking if the road split and the devil came tap-dancing up, I’m going to have to say no. It was just an earthquake.”
I picked at a piece of dried rice stuck to my pants. “But the gates of Hell . . . and Sampson just fired me.”
Alex’s brows rose. “He fired you?”
“No exactly fired, fired. But he said that I should make myself scarce until all of this is figured out.”
“What does he mean by ‘all of this’?”
“Armageddon, I’m assuming. Isn’t that what you’re thinking?”
“Look, Lawson, I know I told you about Armentrout. And I know I was the one who told you there might be more to it than you think. But . . .” Alex shook his head. “I just have a hard time buying that this”—he jutted his chin out the windshield—“is . . . that. But then again . . .”
“But then again what?”
“You know what they say about the devil.”
“No, not really.”
“He’s a trickster.”
I rolled my eyes. “Trickster? Sampson said the same thing. So, is this Satan or a ten-year-old boy?”
“He’s into ruses, games.”
“I pose my question again. I don’t know if I should be quaking in my proverbial boots or picking up a stash of lollipops and sling shots.”
“There’s the feisty Lawson I know.”
I waited for him to say, “and love,” but it never came. I shifted in my seat and reminded myself I had bigger fish to fry. “Have you heard anything?”
“Haven’t been on the fallen angel website lately. Didn’t see any apocalyptic tweets.”
He shot me that sexy half smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back. Alex had the uncanny ability to put me at ease, even when he was the one I was always putting into danger.
“Like I said, I’m halfway convinced that if—and that’s a very big, very I’m-not-totally-convinced if —we are dealing with Armageddon, the apocalypse, whatever, that it has nothing to do with Satan. It’s probably some Dennis the Menace shit like it always is.”
“And you’ve fallen for Satan’s greatest ruse.”
I felt my eyebrows dive down. “What’s that?”
“Convincing the world he doesn’t exist.”
We drove in silence for several blocks, Alex negotiating the police tape and destruction outside, me chewing the inside of my lip and trying to focus on something soft and light like kittens or cotton candy.
It wasn’t working.
“What?” Alex finally asked.
I looked down at my hands. “Nothing.” Pause. “Hey. Can I ask you a question?”
“Do I have to answer it?”
“Let me ask it and you can
“I’d feel better if you let me drive you.”
Normally this kind of chauvinism would grate on me because I like to think I’m a feminist, but after the whole puddle of goo in the face of G.I. Joe Alex, I wasn’t even going to bother.
The streetlights were out along all the avenues so it was slow going.
“So when you were out . . . patrolling,” I started, pinching the skin on my upper lip. “Did anything interesting come up about the quake?”
Alex glanced at me as he took a corner. “What are you talking about?”
I glanced around the empty car as if there were spies everywhere. “Do you think this was a regular earthquake or was it something more . . . supernatural?”
He guided the car down a street that was completely dark, the gaping black windows of each still house looking ominous and foreboding. I pulled my jacket tighter over my shoulder and shifted in my car seat.
“Remember that house over there?” Alex asked, gesturing with his chin.
I squinted to make out the boxy house. “Yeah. That was where we saw the werewolf.” I smiled. “Good bloodthirsty times. You still didn’t answer my question.”
“It was an earthquake, Lawson. If you’re asking if the road split and the devil came tap-dancing up, I’m going to have to say no. It was just an earthquake.”
I picked at a piece of dried rice stuck to my pants. “But the gates of Hell . . . and Sampson just fired me.”
Alex’s brows rose. “He fired you?”
“No exactly fired, fired. But he said that I should make myself scarce until all of this is figured out.”
“What does he mean by ‘all of this’?”
“Armageddon, I’m assuming. Isn’t that what you’re thinking?”
“Look, Lawson, I know I told you about Armentrout. And I know I was the one who told you there might be more to it than you think. But . . .” Alex shook his head. “I just have a hard time buying that this”—he jutted his chin out the windshield—“is . . . that. But then again . . .”
“But then again what?”
“You know what they say about the devil.”
“No, not really.”
“He’s a trickster.”
I rolled my eyes. “Trickster? Sampson said the same thing. So, is this Satan or a ten-year-old boy?”
“He’s into ruses, games.”
“I pose my question again. I don’t know if I should be quaking in my proverbial boots or picking up a stash of lollipops and sling shots.”
“There’s the feisty Lawson I know.”
I waited for him to say, “and love,” but it never came. I shifted in my seat and reminded myself I had bigger fish to fry. “Have you heard anything?”
“Haven’t been on the fallen angel website lately. Didn’t see any apocalyptic tweets.”
He shot me that sexy half smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back. Alex had the uncanny ability to put me at ease, even when he was the one I was always putting into danger.
“Like I said, I’m halfway convinced that if—and that’s a very big, very I’m-not-totally-convinced if —we are dealing with Armageddon, the apocalypse, whatever, that it has nothing to do with Satan. It’s probably some Dennis the Menace shit like it always is.”
“And you’ve fallen for Satan’s greatest ruse.”
I felt my eyebrows dive down. “What’s that?”
“Convincing the world he doesn’t exist.”
We drove in silence for several blocks, Alex negotiating the police tape and destruction outside, me chewing the inside of my lip and trying to focus on something soft and light like kittens or cotton candy.
It wasn’t working.
“What?” Alex finally asked.
I looked down at my hands. “Nothing.” Pause. “Hey. Can I ask you a question?”
“Do I have to answer it?”
“Let me ask it and you can
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