“Kill it,” she said. “Don’t let it suffer any longer.”
“I want answers,” I said, taking the weapon and shells from her. I fit one into each chamber, than snapped the shotgun straight and handed it to Xander. “Then and only then, will I kill that vile creature. Now, pick up my chair and sit your scrawny ass down.”
She eagerly obeyed my command, scrambling around the table, lifting the chair and taking a seat. The Raven hissed for breath beside the stove, just behind her.
“And you,” I said to Xander. “You, you, you. Did you know her weapon wasn’t loaded?”
He stuck out his lower lip and shook his head, looking as smug as a bug in a rug. “I honestly thought it would jam if she fired.”
Despite Nephil existing in this world, it was still hard as shit to believe that an omniscient and omnipresent God existed, ruling over everything, and that He sometimes tasked his Archangels with divvying out pacts to humans so they could battle the darkness. Half the time, I didn’t believe Xander’s pact even existed. But on more than occasion during our time together, it was clear he received... assistance when carrying out a mission for the Big Guy.
“How do you make holy water?” Xander asked, reminding me of the joke.
“You boil the hell out of it,” I said, biting my lip to not laugh at myself.
Xander chuckled, entertaining my humor.
Annie whimpered and lowered her head.
I stomped over to her, pausing to kick the Raven in the face. My foot connected for the first time that day, and it felt very satisfying. One for three, now.
“Annie Bananie,” I said, placing my hands on my knees and leaning over so we were nose-to-nose. She smelled like old cheese and wet dirt. “What the hell’s bells is going on here?” With my index finger, I lifted her chin so her crazy eyes looked directly at me. “Why is there a Raven working with you?”
In response, the front door opened and Gladas walked in.
13
“Gladas,” I said, moving away from Annabel and retrieving the guns the Raven had so kindly dropped to the ground, “I’m so glad you didn’t knock. I really appreciate your lack of manners.” I raised a finger. “Speaking of lack of manners… sorry we completely bailed on your case. But, as luck would have it, here we all are, happy as clams on a grill. Good times, my man. Good times. Have a seat.” I nodded toward the chair Xander sat on.
Gladas wore a fitted suit, as he had yesterday, and he smelled like smoke and leather. At his hip, he wore a cutlass—a pirate sword. It had a pearl handle and a kelp-colored blade. He stepped toward me. Let me repeat this for you, in case you were skimming and it flew right over your head—my man, Gladas, had a goddamn pirate sword on his hip.
I raised both guns. “Slow down there, Captain Jack. Another step and I might have to impair your ability to step. And that’s not a peg leg joke.” I winced and cocked my head, wondering if my threat even made sense.
It didn’t.
Gladas stepped closer. I might’ve been a grown-ass man afraid of cabins and horror movies. And maybe I was unequipped to deal with my emotions in a healthy manner. I was maybe even be weirdly turned on by cartoon characters. But I wasn’t a liar when it came to threats—even if those threats made little to no sense.
I lowered the Beretta and fired twice at his kneecap. The bullets snapped against his bone before clattering to the ground, as if they’d collided with Superman. Gladas didn’t so much as flinch at the impact. He took another easy step, standing toe-to-toe with me, the sidearms pressed into his steel-coated gut. He glared at me, daring me to shoot him again.
“You know,” I said, “if you don’t want to sit, don’t feel obligated to.”
“You’re late,” Annie said from her chair.
“No,” I answered. “A wizard is never late, nor is he on time. He arrives precisely when he means to.” Using the tip of the Beretta, I tapped it against Gladas’s chest. “Eh. Gandalf said that, I think. And by the way you took those bullets, I’d say you’re a wizard at the least. Maybe even a… Demi.”
“Joseph,” Gladas said in his mesmerizing baritone, “have a seat.”
Annie stood and offered me my old chair. She was a real sweetheart and a great hostess.
I glanced at Xander. “I hate to say this straight to your face, as I prefer to insult you behind you’re back… but you’re a dummy and I was right about everything. Has that ever happened before?” I looked at Gladas. “Before you kill us, can you at least allow me to bask in this moment? You see, Xander is usually the one who’s right about stuff, it’s never me. And I called this twist a while back. In fact, I don’t know if it’s even a twist anymore. It was expected. That’s the MF’n twist.” Returning my attention to Xander, I asked, “So, what’s the plan now?”
Gladas didn’t allow for us to make a plan. He drew his cutlass in a quick, sweeping motion. I almost wet my pants, thinking the bulletproof Victor’s Secret model—that’s a male underwear model—meant to cleave my head from my shoulders. Victor’s top model did not bounce my head across the cabin floor. Instead, he drove his blade through the Raven’s face, ending whatever pain its broken back had permitted. Gladas removed his cutlass with a sick sucking sound, reminding me why I’d avoided the sword focus—and a career in medicine.
I hated close combat. The blood and the spit and the sounds of breaking bones—ugh. Guns kept me at a healthy distance.
After using a pocket napkin thing to wipe the blood from his blade, Gladas placed the weapon back at
