Rant over.
“Will Gabriel ever speak you off a cliff?” I asked. “Or maybe into a busy intersection? I’m not saying I want you to die, so please don’t take it that way. But at the same time, I kind of, sort of want you to die.”
He sighed. “In all honesty, I don’t trust the story Gladas told the authorities about his nephew. I don’t trust his willingness to pay us. Not one bit. It feels too contrived. Circe turned him into a Demi, and right now, it feels like they’ve created an alliance. I trust Gabriel’s direction with all my heart, and he’s telling me that I can’t accept this case. At least, not from Gladas.” Xander’s eyes had glossed pink.
A quiet concern in my heart had started screaming, and I wanted to scream right back at it. Instead, I sat rigid on the couch and set Henrietta in my lap. “What the hell are you saying exactly?” Xander was lucky the gun probably wouldn’t fire with the Nephilim runes scribbled across it, and that I’d dissembled it, and that it had no ammunition—otherwise, I might have placed a bullet right through his face.
“You have to understand where I’m coming from.”
“Well, try your darnedest to help me.”
“I intuit, but it’s also more than that. I just know things. Just like Moses knew how to use his staff to part the Red Sea. I just know. I know because I see what to do—because Gabriel grants me sight when he speaks to me. He implants visions in my head.”
“What do you know right now?” I asked. “What do you see?”
“That’s the thing. I know I’m not supposed to take the case from Gladas, but I can’t see further than that. I don’t know why. But I have to…” He wiped a tear that broke from his eye and ran down his cheek.
“Fucking say it. Let me hear you say it.” I stood and drifted closer to Xander without even knowing it.
“I can’t… follow this lead to find Mel,” he whispered.
“The only fucking lead we have.”
“I can’t go against Gabriel’s direction.”
I found myself standing within striking distance and didn’t squander that convenient coincidence. I drove my right fist across his jaw. He must have anticipated it—he rolled with the punch, but part of it caught him across the chin and staggered him back into the bookshelf. Coffee cups toppled and fell, spilling black liquid across the shelf and floor. I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around him, trying to drag him to the ground. Xander had about fifty pounds on me, mostly in the form of defined muscle mass. He resisted my assault without much effort and shoved me away.
“Joey!” he roared. “Enough!”
I panted. My body trembled.
He straightened his jacket and wiped coffee off his slacks. “Listen, this isn’t easy for me. I know you’re in a tight spot right now, and you need support. I’m still here for you. Understand that. But I have a greater purpose I must fulfill. That’s part of my pact. Sacrificing friends, family, possessions, my body for whatever Gabriel asks of me. My pact was never to receive magic in exchange for servitude to a Nephil. It was always to unite the world and make it a better place. And even if I don’t understand the why, I still have to do it. I can’t just abandon my oaths like—”
You did, he meant to say, but he had stopped himself from uttering the words.
I chewed on my tongue and scratched my nose. “Fuck off. I’ll find Hecate myself.”
I pivoted away from him and stormed out of his office.
7
After slamming the door to the office building, I stood on the sidewalk and stared at the blue sky. Why couldn’t it just rain? It was almost worse that the weather remained beautiful this late in the year, while my life fell into turmoil and chaos. It should have just fucking down-poured like it was supposed to. Why didn’t life just act like its supposed to act? I mean, in a world of unpredictability, we count on the predictable. Hours, days, months, seasons. You get the picture. So, when it’s supposed to fucking rain, why doesn’t it rain? The sunlight does nothing more than expose the beauty of a world that is so damn ugly.
Speaking of ugly.
“You okay?” one the agents disguised as a bum asked me.
I glared at the two of them. “Do I look okay? I mean, really, do I? I have a hole about the size of a golf ball going from my stomach through my back. My face looks like a piñata about to take its last hit. I’m more hungover than a bachelorette in Miami. I haven’t slept in seven fucking years. Oh, and to place that nasty little cherry on the top, I’ve lost my wife and daughter and home and possessions, and I may have just lost my only friend because I need everyone around me to feel just as shitty as I do.” Glancing at the sky again, I screamed, “If it would only fucking rain, I might get my wish!”
Neither of the disguised men said a word in response.
“This whole thing you got going on,” I said, referring to their disguise, “it’s incredibly offensive. So, fuck off.” Panting, I headed down the sidewalk.
Sorry for all the F-bombs in this scene. I’m just really pissed and tired and hurting. If Xander or the winter weather aren’t going to share my pain, maybe you can.
I roamed the streets of downtown Sacramento without any direction, keeping my eyes open for any Empousa to question. Finding an Empousa, roughing the creature up up, and questioning it about the Scylla curse, Circe, and Hecate seemed my only logical step. I had no other leads outside of Gladas, and I
