my eyes.
“Oh, that’s me,” she said with a throaty laugh. “Sugar and spice.” Then her expression turned serious again. “So what went down at Sal’s latest den of iniquity?”
I wasn’t sure how much I should tell her.
“How do you know Sal?” I asked.
She made a sour face.
“Oh, we go way back.”
I thought about checking her for fangs, too, but with her warm, bronzed complexion she didn’t seem the type. Also, if I got anywhere near those full, red lips, I was pretty certain she would bite—fangs or no fangs.
“Spit it out, Anakim,” she said, eyeing my expression.
I rubbed the heels of my hands against my forehead.
“Give me a minute. I’m still working through all this
Constantine
shit.”
“Get used to it. Everyone you know is a monster,” she said flatly, and she wasn’t joking. I took a careful breath, not wanting to reveal how much that unnerved me.
“So what are you?” I asked, trying to sound casual about it.
She fixed me with her lucid, stormy glare. “I’m your worst fucking nightmare, if we don’t find my sister. Now tell me what happened at the club. If we figure out what’s after you, it will help me track its source.”
“I said it already. Cacodaimons.”
Irritably, she shook her head. “I call bullshit. Those things don’t come crawling out just to follow someone around.”
“But Remy said—”
She cut me off with a sneer. “Don’t tell me what he said. Tell me what you saw.”
I thought back to those adrenaline-kissed moments at Heaven. The whole experience came flooding back and I realized I could call it up as vividly as one of my visions. My hands buzzed with recollected power, and I could almost feel the blades.
“Shadows,” I breathed. At that, the words spilled out of me. My eyes were closed, but I hardly noticed. The replay in my mind’s eye eclipsed everything. “Inky black, invertebrate. Sharp teeth, hideous eyes. Long whipping tails and all these little arms. They rode on the corpses, worked them like puppets. I was the only one who could see them.”
Lil fell silent beside me in the car. When I opened my eyes, she was staring out the driver’s-side window. Little hairs stood up along the tanned length of her forearm.
“Lil?” I prompted.
She puffed her cheeks, releasing a shaky breath. “Those sound like cacodaimons all right. What the hell did you and Lailah get into?”
“I guess we should go check my apartment and find out.” I reached for the door, ready to open it to the night. Lil seized my arm, dragging me to a halt.
“Isn’t that your car?” she hissed.
“How the hell should I know?”
I followed where she gestured. In the apartment building across from us, an old gray Buick was backing onto the street. I should have been trying to stare at the driver, but instead I got side tracked by the bumper stickers. One had a
Battlestar Galactica
insignia. The other showed a familiar blue police box with a wibbly wobbly proclamation on the nature of time.
“Pretty sure that’s yours,” Lil replied. “I can smell the geek from here.”
I frowned at the single working tail light of the retreating vehicle. The Buick had seen better days.
“Remind me why I drive a car older than most college students?”
She ignored me, grumbling, “This complicates things.” She released my arm, shoving it off the divider between us. Flipping open the armrest, she revealed a white leather clutch-purse tucked inside. She dug around in the purse and took out—no joke—a little pearl-handled Derringer.
“Holy crap,” I muttered.
“All right,” she said, oblivious to my shock at seeing the gun. “We wait a couple of minutes to make sure he doesn’t come back. Then we head in.”
“Do you always pack heat?” I wondered—and maybe my voice quavered just a little.
She made a disgusted noise. “Stop being a pussy. It’s not like I’m going to shoot you.” She paused, then added, “Unless you piss me off.”
From the
“Oh, that’s me,” she said with a throaty laugh. “Sugar and spice.” Then her expression turned serious again. “So what went down at Sal’s latest den of iniquity?”
I wasn’t sure how much I should tell her.
“How do you know Sal?” I asked.
She made a sour face.
“Oh, we go way back.”
I thought about checking her for fangs, too, but with her warm, bronzed complexion she didn’t seem the type. Also, if I got anywhere near those full, red lips, I was pretty certain she would bite—fangs or no fangs.
“Spit it out, Anakim,” she said, eyeing my expression.
I rubbed the heels of my hands against my forehead.
“Give me a minute. I’m still working through all this
Constantine
shit.”
“Get used to it. Everyone you know is a monster,” she said flatly, and she wasn’t joking. I took a careful breath, not wanting to reveal how much that unnerved me.
“So what are you?” I asked, trying to sound casual about it.
She fixed me with her lucid, stormy glare. “I’m your worst fucking nightmare, if we don’t find my sister. Now tell me what happened at the club. If we figure out what’s after you, it will help me track its source.”
“I said it already. Cacodaimons.”
Irritably, she shook her head. “I call bullshit. Those things don’t come crawling out just to follow someone around.”
“But Remy said—”
She cut me off with a sneer. “Don’t tell me what he said. Tell me what you saw.”
I thought back to those adrenaline-kissed moments at Heaven. The whole experience came flooding back and I realized I could call it up as vividly as one of my visions. My hands buzzed with recollected power, and I could almost feel the blades.
“Shadows,” I breathed. At that, the words spilled out of me. My eyes were closed, but I hardly noticed. The replay in my mind’s eye eclipsed everything. “Inky black, invertebrate. Sharp teeth, hideous eyes. Long whipping tails and all these little arms. They rode on the corpses, worked them like puppets. I was the only one who could see them.”
Lil fell silent beside me in the car. When I opened my eyes, she was staring out the driver’s-side window. Little hairs stood up along the tanned length of her forearm.
“Lil?” I prompted.
She puffed her cheeks, releasing a shaky breath. “Those sound like cacodaimons all right. What the hell did you and Lailah get into?”
“I guess we should go check my apartment and find out.” I reached for the door, ready to open it to the night. Lil seized my arm, dragging me to a halt.
“Isn’t that your car?” she hissed.
“How the hell should I know?”
I followed where she gestured. In the apartment building across from us, an old gray Buick was backing onto the street. I should have been trying to stare at the driver, but instead I got side tracked by the bumper stickers. One had a
Battlestar Galactica
insignia. The other showed a familiar blue police box with a wibbly wobbly proclamation on the nature of time.
“Pretty sure that’s yours,” Lil replied. “I can smell the geek from here.”
I frowned at the single working tail light of the retreating vehicle. The Buick had seen better days.
“Remind me why I drive a car older than most college students?”
She ignored me, grumbling, “This complicates things.” She released my arm, shoving it off the divider between us. Flipping open the armrest, she revealed a white leather clutch-purse tucked inside. She dug around in the purse and took out—no joke—a little pearl-handled Derringer.
“Holy crap,” I muttered.
“All right,” she said, oblivious to my shock at seeing the gun. “We wait a couple of minutes to make sure he doesn’t come back. Then we head in.”
“Do you always pack heat?” I wondered—and maybe my voice quavered just a little.
She made a disgusted noise. “Stop being a pussy. It’s not like I’m going to shoot you.” She paused, then added, “Unless you piss me off.”
From the
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