Covet

knew you were going to choose wisely. All along, I was sure, yes, I was.”

Jim focused on Colin. “What else are you guys hiding from me.”

“I'm afraid things are on a need-to-know basis, dear boy.”

Jim let his head fall back on his spine and he stared at the milky blue sky that seemed at once miles away and close enough to touch. “You don't by any chance know a fucker named Matthias, do you.”

As a soft breeze rolled on by and rustled through the blades of grass, the question went unanswered, so Jim struggled to get to his feet. When Bertie and Byron leaned in to help him, he put them off even though his ass was about as steady as a pencil standing on its eraser.

Jim knew what was next. Another assignment. Seven souls out there and he'd saved one…or was it two?

“How many more do I have to take care of?” he demanded.

Colin swept his arm over to the left. “See for yourself.”

Jim frowned and looked to the castle. On the top of its towering wall, curling in the breeze, was a massive triangular flag in brilliant red. The thing was incredibly bright, as vivid as the green of the grass, and as it waltzed in the breeze, he was transfixed.

“That is why we wore pastels,” Nigel said. “Your first flag of honor is unfurled and nothing save the grass of the earth here should rival it.”

“That's for Vin?”

“Yes.”

“What's going to happen to them?”

Byron spoke up. “They're going to live out their days in love, and when they come herein, they shall spend an eternity together in joy.”

“Provided you don't cock things up with the other six,” Colin interjected, getting up. “Or quit.”

Jim leveled his finger at the guy like it was a gun. “I don't quit.”

“We shall see…we shall see.”

“You are such a prick.”

Nigel nodded gravely. “He very much is.”

“Because I am logical?” The angel didn't seem concerned at all—or a 'tall, as he would say—with the label. “There is a point in every endeavor when one feels the burn of too many vertical steps. We have all been there ourselves and so have you. We shall just hope that when you reach that point—”

“I'm not going to quit, asshole. Don't you worry about me.”

Nigel crossed his arms over his chest and stared flatly at Jim. “Now that Devina knows you and you've taken something from her, she's going to start targeting your weaknesses. This is going to get much harder and much more personal.”

“The bitch can bring it on, how about that.”

Colin grinned. “It is a bit of a shock we two don't get along better.”

Byron cleared his throat. “I think we should all just take a moment to support Jim as opposed to challenging him more. He has done a wonderful, brave thing, and I for one am quite proud.”

As Bertie started chiming in and Tarquin's tail wagged, Jim held out his palms. “I'm cool—Oh God, no hugging, no—”

Too late. Byron wrapped surprisingly strong arms around Jim and embraced him, and then Bertie was next, with Tarquin rising up and putting his paws on Jim's shoulders. The angels smelled good; he had to give them that—just like that smoke that had come from the cigars Eddie had lit up.

Fortunately, though, Nigel and Colin weren't the brothers-inside-arms types.

Sometimes you lucked out.

Funny, Jim was a little touched, though it wasn't like he'd admit it. And abruptly, he was also ready to go back into battle. That flag, that tangible symbol of success, was a serious motivator for some reason—maybe because in his old life headstones were how he measured whether he was getting the job done, and that waving banner was far more attractive and uplifting.

“Okay, here's the deal,” he said to the group. “I've got something I need to do before my next case. I need to find a man before he gets killed for the wrong reasons. It's part of my old life and not the kind of thing I can walk away from.”

Nigel smiled, his strangely beautiful eyes locking onto Jim's as if they saw everything. “Of course, you must do as you wish.”

“So do I come back here after I'm done or…?”

More of that all-knowing smile. “Simply take care of things.”

“How do I get in touch with you?”

“Don't call upon us. We shall call upon you.”

Jim cursed under his breath. “You sure you don't know Matthias?”

Colin spoke up. “You do realize that Devina can be anything and anybody. Men, women, children, certain animals. She is pervasive in her numerous forms.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

“Trust no one.”

Jim nodded at the angel. “Not a problem, I got plenty of experience with that shit. One thing, though…do you guys actually communicate with me through the TV or did I lose my damn mind?”

“Godspeed, James Heron,” Nigel said, raising his palm. “You have proven yourself worthy against our enemy. Now do it again, you tough bastard.”

Jim got one last look at the castle walls, and imagined his mother safely and happily on the far side of them. Then a blast of energy blew out of the angel's hand and he was scrambled down to his molecules and sent flying.

* * *

Hard. Cold. Fuckin' ow.

Those were Jim's first thoughts when he woke up again, and opening his eyes, he got another load of milky, diffused light that seemed to come from no particular source. Which made him wonder if Nigel's flashy palm crap hadn't fucked up and landed him right back where he'd been.

Except the air wasn't fresh. And instead of a bed of springy grass, he felt like he was lying on a stretch of pavement—

As a sheet was whipped off his face, Jim nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Hey,” Eddie said. “Ready to go?”

“Fuck!” He clutched his chest. “You want to scare me to death?”

“Little late for that.”

Jim looked around. The room they were in had pale green tiles on the floor, walls, and ceiling and an entire bank of three-by-two-foot stainless-steel doors with meat-locker handles on them. Empty stainless-steel tables with hanging scales and rolling tables were arranged in orderly rows, and the sinks in the far corner were the size of bathtubs.

“I'm in the fucking morgue?”

“Well, yeah.” The duh was implied.

“Jesus Christ…”

Jim sat up, and sure enough there was a body bag with an occupant two tables down, and a sheet-covered corpse with its feet sticking out from the end next door. “So they really do put toe tags on them, huh.”

Eddie shrugged. “It's not like they can give their name or some shit.”

With a curse, Jim swung his legs off the table he was on, and that was when he saw Adrian. The angel was standing just inside the room by the double doors and he was unusually self-contained: Typically a sprawler, he had his arms linked tightly across his chest and his feet were set right together. With his mouth nothing but a slash, and his skin the color of Kleenex, the guy stared at the tile floor, brows down, lashes dark against his pale cheeks.

He was hurting. Inside and out.

“I brought you some clothes,” Eddie said. “And yes, I went back and got Dog. He's in our truck, happy as a little clam.”

“So I'm dead?”