“We can trust her,” I said softly. “I think. For now.”
“I assure you all, gentleman and goddess, that I bid you no ill will. This is a matter that should concern us all, and especially those working in my department. I only regret that I did not act sooner.”
I watched her in suspicion. Pretty words. That was all they were until Sadriel did something to show that she meant it.
But then she pulled something from out of her breast pocket. It looked like one of those cases you used for keeping pens while preventing any ink leaks, a translucent plastic sheath. What were they called? Pocket protectors?
Oh. Of course.
She hurled the case at the ground, sending the pens scattering and rolling off under shelves and crevices. It was the sheath itself that expanded, larger and larger, as big as a plastic bag, then a picnic umbrella, then a tent huge enough to encase all six of us. The bullets came, the dimension filling with the ear-splitting sounds of gunfire. And wouldn’t you know it: every last slug that struck the plastic shield bounced harmlessly off, falling to the ground in harmless pings and plinks.
I grumbled to myself, already knowing that this new innovation of Sadriel’s was another misunderstanding of human stationery, but maybe I had to stop being so judgmental. The angel of order’s confusion had just saved my butt, yet again.
“Holy shit,” Artemis said. “That was sort of amazing.”
Sadriel adjusted her glasses, grinning. “Very kind of you to say, goddess. Now, if everybody could please step back for a moment?”
“Oh no,” I said, obeying, but feeling suspicious all the same. “What’s coming next, Sadriel? Oh, God.”
“Please, Mr. Albrecht. Have some faith.”
Knowing Sadriel’s love for flashy armaments, I herded our group towards the wall. She checked over her shoulder to make sure we were out of harm’s way. For extra protection, I buckled down and conjured a tower shield, just big enough to hide behind. Florian and the others crouched behind me, but still peered over the top and sides of the shield, curious.
Sadriel brushed a lock of hair behind her ear as she retrieved another object, this time from her jacket’s inside pocket. It could have been a special-looking pen, if pens looked like miniature firearms complete with a barrel, a grip, and a rocket-powered grenade.
Oh, shit.
Sadriel knelt on the ground, bracing herself as what was supposed to be a pen grew rapidly in size. She grunted as she supported the rocket launcher on her shoulder, pointing the weapon towards the thick of the thugs outside our plastic dome. She checked over her shoulder one more time.
“Ready?”
I huddled behind my shield. “Everybody, get the fuck down.”
Like a tarp that had come loose, or a tent without its pegs, the giant plastic shield around us deflated, leaving a clear path for Sadriel’s RPG. Shouts of warning rang out from the cluster of thugs, but there was nowhere to run. Sadriel’s laughter filled my ears as the rocket went soaring through the air.
The explosion that rocked the freezer dimension sent splintered equipment, shards of ice, and globs of meat flying everywhere. Everywhere. Something with the skin still on it landed with a splat on my shield. Gross. I couldn’t tell if it was something Cornucopia had hoped to sell, or part of one of the Hunger men. Shaken by the blast, I dismissed my shield, letting Florian help me back up off the ground.
Artemis leapt out, clapping her hands thunderously in Sadriel’s direction. “That was so fucking awesome. You’re the man, lady. You’re the man.”
“Pocket rocket,” Sadriel said, beaming. “You like?”
I groaned.
19
I couldn’t be bothered to count the survivors, not that there were many left. Several of the men had scattered. The few who lingered to help the injured went running as soon as they saw me and Samyaza approaching. Artemis hung back with Sadriel, the two of them apparently geeking out over projectiles and missile weapons. Apollo and Florian had fanned out, scouring the surroundings.
There was one man left, at least, one who hadn’t been strong enough or smart enough to run. He was dragging himself away from an upturned shelf, leaving a bright trail of red from the wound in his leg.
“Not so fast,” I said, grabbing him by the back of the collar and slamming him against the ground. I dismissed my sword, clenching my hand into a fist as I immediately conjured a new threat. The man blubbered when he saw the sheath of light around my hand. He gulped as he watched it form into a solid golden gauntlet.
“Please,” he said. “Please, don’t.”
“Don’t kill him,” Samyaza said. “Not yet.” It was a bluff, knowing Sam, but it had its intended effect. The man whimpered.
“I’m the thing you’re looking for,” I said, one hand clutching his collar, the other upraised, prepared to smash his teeth out if he tried anything. “I’m the thing you fuckers were planning to butcher back here. You see this hand? I’m going to use this to rearrange your guts from the outside if you don’t answer correctly. Now tell me. Where is the nephilim?”
He raised his hands protectively, squirming. “I don’t know. It was Steve who gave all the orders. By now the truck could be driving off to the coast. Man, I don’t fucking know.”
I pressed my face close, pushing him against the ground, not caring when he showed pain as my hand slowly threatened to collapse his throat. My words left my lips in little wisps of fog that tickled at his cheek. I wanted to punch that cheek. I wanted to crush him into nothing.
“Who is Steve? Where is Steve?”
He looked to either side of him, like he might find Steve with his limited range of vision. “Gone. Made a run for it. This was supposed to be a done deal.”
My bare hand, the one gripping his shirt, curled into
