Easter’s face twisted, rage flickering in those green eyes. “No one is in my head anymore, that was the deal.”
“Of course, my mistake,” he said softly. She stood and stalked back to her seat. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about Phoenix, or about the strange desire he had to leap off the truck and run straight to her.
16
The sight of the glowing New York skyline did something strange to my heart. This was where I’d grown up, where my family had been, and where most of my hunting of abnormals had happened. This was not home, but it was, in a weird way, my life.
Cowboy was asleep in the passenger seat as I navigated the still-busy streets of the Financial District, working my way in and out of traffic like a pro. I managed to find a place to park in Chinatown, which was close enough to my end destination.
Part of me wanted to walk the streets I knew.
I wondered if they would feel the same. The thing was, with my current blond hair, I doubted many would recognize me. “Cowboy, wake up.” I shoved his shoulder and he startled awake, gripping at Diego.
“Easy,” the gun grumbled. “I was sleeping too.”
“They sleep?” Cowboy shook his head. “Really?”
“Yanking your chain, man.” Diego laughed.
Reaching into one of the bags in the backseat, I pulled out a proper shoulder holster for Dinah. I slid it on, grabbed another handgun—non-speaking—and tucked it in the other side.
“Here.” I handed Cowboy a handgun and a waist holster. He slid it on with minimal difficulty.
I rolled down the windows, then took Diego and strapped him onto my back. “Ruby, guard,” I said as I stepped out of the car.
She gave a woof and put her head on the shoulder of my seat, watching. As people went by, she gave a growl that made them scurry on their way a little faster.
“We won’t be long.” I slid out of the seat, grabbed a button-down shirt from our stash and threw it on to cover the weapons, then started down the street that would lead us to the church I wanted. Cowboy strode along next to me, the heels of his boots hitting the ground with a steady cadence.
“So . . . is this like a haunted church or something?”
“Yes and no. It’s got a resident demon, but he’s not strong enough to cause us any damage, so he’s been left where he is, mostly undisturbed and unknown.” My jaw ticked. “He’s kind of an ass—he has little man syndrome which makes it difficult to deal with him.”
Dinah shivered in her holster. “Because a difficult demon is a rare thing?”
I slapped a hand over her, and she muffled an ouch, which was ridiculous, but Cowboy’s eyes went wide. “She can’t feel it, Cowboy.”
“Oh.”
Dinah laughed. “Let me have my fun. He’s so green, he glows neon with it.”
“I didn’t tell you to stop,” I said as we made our way up the street, crossed under an overpass and continued on. I could see the spires of the church up ahead, and already the air tightened around me.
Most people didn’t realize that it was possible for a demon to live within the sanctified walls of a church. Then again, look at the fallen angels—they were hardly on the good side of the scale, yet most people would think them preferable to demons.
I was not most people.
The wrought-iron fence surrounded the cemetery, and I ran my fingers along the rails as if they were a poorly made harp, the sound strumming through the air.
“Waking the dead?” Cowboy asked, and I nodded.
“In a matter of speaking. I don’t like sneaking up on this particular demon,” I said.
“To be fair,” Dinah drawled, “we haven’t talked to him since you were still in your father’s employ. You think he’ll be mad that you’ve stayed away?”
That depended on what mood he was in, but I didn’t see any point in saying so. The last time I’d spoken to him, I was hunting for an abnormal with an affinity for the dead. My hunt had led me to the church we were approaching and the demon—who at the time I’d thought was a new-to-me abnormal—had given me a tip, though I suspected he’d done it unintentionally. I hadn’t been back since. Not since I realized exactly what he was.
We stopped in front of the church, the tall wooden doors closed and locked tight for the night. I stepped up and knocked hard three times, paused, and knocked three more times, then a third round.
“Three?” Cowboy asked.
“Witching hour,” I said.
“Three, three, three,” Dinah sang. “Six, six, six. All the numbers mean something. How can you not know that?”
Cowboy stiffened as the door unlocked and slowly slid inward. I stepped over the threshold and was hit with a blast of cold air that had nothing to do with any heating or cooling system. I blew out a slow breath and watched the air mist up around my face.
“Ornias,” I called out the demon’s name, “we need to have a chat, you and I.”
An impossible wind snapped through the church and slammed the door behind us, the lock settling into place with a loud click. Cowboy jumped, but otherwise was quiet.
I headed toward the main part of the church, moving easily in the dark. The lights of the city streamed through the colored glass windows, and while it didn’t exactly illuminate the place, there was enough light to navigate. I headed straight toward the front of the church where the cross was set up high behind the pulpit, and then turned my back to it. Cowboy had all but glued himself to my side as if he were taking Ruby’s place.
“Ornias,” I said his name again. “Stop fucking around. You have a problem that I
