She stood there, her hand on me. “If you want your son to be safe, there is only one answer. Because these creatures will find you no matter where you go. You know what you must do.”
And then she stood and left me in that little room, a cold spot where her palm had been resting, her words hammering at me.
“Goddamn it!” I snapped out the words and the table cracked under the pressure of my fingers. “Dinah?”
“Yeah, she’s good,” she said carefully. “But that’s not what you’re asking, is it?”
I closed my eyes as the tears formed. Tears of rage, of pain, of all the emotions I couldn’t indulge in. “I can’t . . . I can’t leave him behind again.”
“But are you leaving him behind?” she asked. “Or are you protecting him? That’s the question.”
I slowly released the table under my fingers and made myself type in a few more key searches. Nothing came up on how to deal with these fuckers. How to kill them. How to stop them.
“You going to tell me what’s on the screen?” Dinah asked. “I can only see so far when I’m stuffed into your pants.”
I turned the computer off and headed back to the dining room, my body cold from what I’d seen. From what I was already committing to do.
I’m so sorry, Bear. I’m so sorry that I’m not coming for you.
Four abnormals waited for me, Cowboy finally awake and sitting upright. Sort of. He was slumped in his chair, his eyes foggy from the drugs in the dinner.
“It’s worse than you could possibly imagine,” I said, not sitting.
Peter’s face paled. “That is not cool, Nix, coming out of your mouth.”
I folded my arms. “The names—Eligor and Gardreel—they are demonic names in some circles, but in others . . . they are the names of the fallen. Angels who either chose to leave their realm or were kicked out for a variety of reasons.”
I’d basically dropped a bomb on the middle of the table. Dinah was the first to speak, eloquent as always. “What the fuck? So fallen angels that act like demons? Feathers and shit?”
“No feathers that I saw,” Peter said.
They were all looking at me, and I held each of their gazes in turn, ice forming over my heart. I had to put it away for a little longer.
“I have an idea. But we need to move and quickly, because if there are angels—fallen or otherwise—looking for us, then I have no doubt they have the ability to track us.”
Anita gave me a sad, hopeful smile. “Then you will try to stop them?”
“On one condition,” I said.
“Anything,” she whispered, and because she was a mother too, I suspected she already knew.
“You will find my boy, and you will hide him until I can get to him,” I said.
She gave a slow nod. “He’ll be in Europe.”
“Start looking in Ireland.” As soon as I said it out loud, I wanted to take it back, despite knowing two Hiders were using their skills to keep us as hidden as anyone could be. “What’s left of the Irish mobsters will have the latest info. When you find him . . . tell him that Montana is pretty in summer, but a wintry bitch.” That was our code phrase.
Anita hurried from the room. “I’m leaving now for the airport.” As she passed me, she reached out and touched my arm. “On my life and the life of my own child, I will protect him.”
I didn’t like the way my throat tightened. It should have been me leaving, not her. “Tell him I’ll be there soon.”
She bobbed her head and then she disappeared deeper into the house. I knew she would pack weapons, using her ability to hide them from the TSA agents. Fifteen minutes later, she was gone, down the road and on her way to Bear. I didn’t have a picture of him, but I’d described him as best I could.
“I met your father once,” Anita had said. “I’ll recognize your boy if he favors your side so strongly.”
Just me and the boys left—and, of course, Dinah.
They’d packed their bags too, and the room was quiet.
“What are we waiting for?” Cowboy asked.
The gray dog hadn’t left my side through all this, standing with me. Feeling my pain. She let out a low whine and I dropped my right hand to her head, the touch soothing her and me. “We need a plan. They’re going to find us, but if we’re smart, we’ll take them on a road trip.”
I explained what I was thinking, the plan spilling out of me.
Cowboy liked it.
Carlos was hesitant and Peter . . . well, Peter didn’t like it one bit.
“I’m not bait!” he snapped. “I’m a fucking Magelore! I may not be as feared as you, but I’m no chump change to be used as petty BAIT!”
I raised an eyebrow. “They aren’t going to catch you. I’m sending Carlos with you, remember? When the moment comes, he’ll hide you both, and then you’ll meet back up with me and Cowboy.”
Peter’s jaw ticked and danced with irritation. “Fuck.” Just like that, he’d agreed.
Carlos cleared his throat. “Before we go on, I must apologize for even thinking of handing you over. The stories about you—”
“Are true,” I said. “But that is what makes me uniquely designed to kill every single one of these fuckers and burn their world to the ground without flinching.” Eligor would have been the only one I left alive, but he was gone. Terminated.
He tipped his head at me. “I have something you should take.”
He led me down the hall into the last bedroom, the master suite.
