It took me a few minutes to convince him not to call 911 and to just let me use it. A good old boy, he was willing to risk going to jail for drunk driving just to get me help. I felt bad for lying to him, but it had to be done. I told him it was a couple of crooked cops who’d come after me, leaving me out there to die. If he called for an ambulance, they’d find out about it and would come looking for him and his family.
He handed the phone over in a hurry.
After contacting DRAC, I thanked him for his kindness and sent him on his way with my eternal thanks. Because of me, he’d probably never stop to help anyone ever again. That was a shame, but I was still glad for his kindness.
After what seemed like an eternity, Rahim plucked me up and whisked me back to my house for a dose of my uncle’s blood. It took a few fumbling minutes to dig out my stash and get a few drops into me, but when I felt its burning magic taking hold, I cried in ecstasy.
Under the narcotic sway of the blood, it was hard to stay focused, but I watched as it knitted my crippled hand back together. Drawing from the essence of myself, the bones of my fingers grew back first. White protrusions inched upward from the ruin of flesh, like morbid blooms, the skeleton of my hand reforming. The veins and tendons came next, weaving their complicated routes as the flesh crept behind to seal it all in. In but minutes, the nails, and even the hair, had returned, my hand just as it was before my weapon exploded. The rest of my wounds healed as well, metallic shards lay in a scattered bloody mess atop my blanket where they’d been ejected from my body.
I gave thanks to my uncle, wishing him goodwill, wherever he was. Once again, though gone, he’d saved my ass.
Afterward, we headed to DRAC. There, no trace of my wounds visible, Abraham stared at me over his cluttered desk, his eyes bulging behind his glasses.
“Are you sure it was Daartan?”
“At this point, Abe, I’m not sure about much of anything.” I shrugged, stretching my repaired hand, glad to have it back. “I’d never met the guy before, but I can’t think of a reason he’d lie about who he was? There’s not a whole bunch of folk who even know he exists, let alone have the power or interest to fake being him.”
Abraham shook his head while Rahim scowled behind him, fury engraved upon his face.
“I don’t care who he is, he has Katon. We have to go after this knight.”
While I felt the same way, I tried to calm him down. “He had the chance to kill Katon, but he didn’t.” I’d left out just how bad the revenants had hurt him, not wanting to stir the wizard up more than he already was. I also didn’t tell him about the amulet that would summon Daartan. There was no reason to waste it on an emotional suicide run. “Daartan is powerful, Rahim, and he has Katon’s sword to boot. We need some time to plan, to prepare to face him.”
Rahim was having none of it. “You two chat about what’s best, I’m going after Katon.”
While still somewhat hobbled by his injuries, they didn’t slow him down one bit. He headed for the door, driven by rage, his anger masking his pain.
“Rahim!” Abraham called after him, the slamming door drowning him out.
He sighed, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. “His wounds have taken a toll on his mood,” Abraham explained, unnecessarily.
“Can’t say I blame him any. If I hadn’t seen how easily those guys took us apart, I’d be out the door with him.” I sunk into the chair, leather squeaking. “The problem is we’re way overmatched. For me, that’s business as usual. But with Katon kidnapped, Rahim still recovering and out of sorts, and Baalth about to crack up, I’m not sure we can handle this. Shit. Even Scarlett is incommunicado. We’re not exactly running on all cylinders here.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m not sure, really.” I sunk further into the accommodating seat. “With Forcalor in Heaven, and out of touch, I don’t have much left in the way of friendly and powerful contacts in Hell, so I can’t go there for help.”
“What about this…Karra woman? She seems capable and strangely reluctant to do you harm. Could we use this to our advantage?”
I shrugged. “Do you really want to risk the fate of the world on my relationship with a woman?”
“Good point.” He slipped his glasses back, leaning back. “There must be something we can do.”
“I’ll be damned if I know what. Maybe Rahim will stir something up.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Abraham replied, his voice a quiet whisper as he drifted off into thought.
I stood, peeling away from the leather chair, recognizing the end of our conversation. Abraham stared off into space, barely acknowledging I’d moved.
“I’m gonna head over and ask Baalth if he knows anything useful about our White Knight buddy. Keep our folks on the cemeteries and the like, still. Reven has been losing a bunch of zombies lately, so he’s gonna need to replace them. If we can keep him from collecting the blood he needs, we might be able to delay Longinus’s resurrection until we have a better idea of what’s going on. Maybe by then, we’ll know how to stop it.”
Abraham agreed, on the phone before I’d even finished talking.
I waved and started to leave when I spied Candy’s cell phone on the desk. I snatched it up, checked to see if it still had service, then stuffed it in my pocket. With a nod to Abraham, still too distracted to notice I was there, I left. On the way out, I replaced my exploded gun at the armory, stocking up on ammunition.
Exhausted, my mind a thick sludge of coagulated thoughts, I needed something to get the blood flowing.
Since my first choice of a blowjob was probably out of the question, coffee would have to do.
Chapter Sixteen
Thanks to Baalth’s outburst, I had to take the long way around Old Town. While the fires had been put out and the asphalt roads had cooled enough to walk on, the streets were still filled with rubble and marred with giant, steaming potholes. The sidewalks were non-existent, scaled models of the Himalayas. Slabs of concrete rose at ninety degree angles in some places and sunk, close to the same, in others. Not up for a hike, I circled the neighborhood until I found the easiest access point.
Just as I’d crossed the line into ground zero, I heard a quiet voice call out from behind me. I spun around to see the daintily smiling face of Lilith.
“Hi, Frank.”
My heart pounded in my chest and at my groin, a blast-beat of raw lust.
Eschewing the dress she had on the last time I’d seen her, she wore a pair of ultra-tight jeans, which outlined everything as if they weren’t even there. It hurt to lift my eyes, but when I finally did, they got stuck at her chest. A thin, white wife-beater did absolutely nothing to hide her perfect boobs. They stood out in defiance of gravity, daring me to look away.
They knew I wouldn’t.
Caught off guard, my own pants mimicking the tightness of hers, I just stood there and stared, while visions of leather and chains danced in my head.
Lilith understood the way to a man’s heart was through his crotch. She was a sexual sniper: one shot, one kill. If my uncle’s bloodline hadn’t run so fiercely through my veins, I’d have been panting at her feet. As it was, I could have welded steel with the fire burning in my pants.
“Uh, hey.” Smooth, huh?
She stepped in real close, wisps of her black hair tickling my neck and cheek, her breasts a naughty whisper against my fluttering stomach. One of her warm hands settled on the small of my back, the skin prickling at her touch.
“I have something for you.”
And I for you. I only hoped I wouldn’t have to clean it out of my underwear before our conversation was over. “What’s that?” My voice squeaked like a schoolgirl’s.
“I know where Baalth’s pets are being held.” She brushed her lips against my chin. Tiny electric shocks reverberated downward from the touch, curling my toes and straightening everything else in between.
Two thoughts struck me right then. The first was a mental treatise in the moral and ethical dilemma of banging my uncle’s woman and ex-wife’s mother, my once mother-in-law, in the middle of the street, in broad
