A hand grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me up, out of the Pit and through the Gates of Hell.
Tough
At about two in the morning, I heard the pop-pop-pop of automatic rifles. They were getting closer. Under that, somebody gunned an engine—no, lots of engines. I had a quick flashback to Rian and his crew driving those four-by-fours away from the bakery, but these engines didn’t sound as well-maintained as the Dark Mansion trucks had been.
The coyotes all perked up and looked toward the front of the tattoo parlor.
“Ezra, get the door!” Clarion grabbed a .308 out of a high school kid’s hands. “Cy and Zeke, you’re on me. Stop anything on foot or in the air.”
One of the younger coyotes ran to the door and jerked it open while Clare and two of the older coyotes posted up outside the entrance. The trucks slammed on their brakes out front.
Clarion’s messenger coyotes ran inside, followed by a flood of humans wearing black body armor. Except for not having wings, they looked almost identical to the foot soldiers in riot gear, and they were all armed. The humans who’d survived the first attack on the Dark Mansion, looked like they were going to piss themselves.
“That’s everybody,” shouted this tall black chick. “Close her up!”
Once Clarion and the coyotes who’d posted up outside with him were back inside and the door was shut, she headed straight for Clarion. She looked about my age, but she had to have a good eight inches on me, and she was packing a pair of custom .357s with crosses acid-etched down their barrels.
“Uncle Clare.” She socked him in the shoulder. He rolled with the blow and caught her with a couple half-power punches to the stomach. They hugged. She had an inch or two on the old one-eyed coyote, too.
“Glad you made it,” Clarion said. He nodded for me to come over. “Naomi, this is Tough Whitney. Tough, Naomi Banks.”
Then he waited like our names should mean something to each other.
Naomi looked me up and down. “You’re Uncle Danny’s son? I thought you’d be taller.”
Uncle Danny? I sucked my teeth and gave her the onceover, too. You couldn’t really tell much through the body armor—except that she was tall as hell. Probably built, too, if she could run wearing that much gear.
That gave her time to catch sight of my fangs. She scowled and opened her mouth to say something.
Clarion jumped in before she could. “Naomi’s dad, Noah, and your dad were part of my pack for a while. Noah could banish demons. Raised his kids in the family business, kind of like your dad did.”
I smirked at Naomi. Sucks for you.
She was smirking back. “Let me guess, you’re the black sheep of the family?”
Let me guess, you’re the Colt—asshole OCD perfectionist looking for the best way to die. Lonely, ask her if she’s batshit crazy, too.
Lonely just grinned and kept his beak shut.
The name Noah did sound familiar. It brought to mind Dad pointing at a picture on his computer’s desktop. A linebacker-sized black guy playing peek-a-boo with a laughing, red-faced baby wearing a U of Wisconsin beanie. A summer road trip that everybody remembered but me because I was that baby.
Noah. Uncle Clare. Uncle Danny. “Your dad used to be part of my pack.”
They’d been friends. Me and Jax type friends, if we could’ve both stayed alive that long. But when Mom died, when Dad went all Soldier of Heaven, when Kathan cut Dad’s fucking head off, where the hell were they?
Clarion and Naomi were still talking, but I couldn’t hear them anymore. I shoved over to Lonely’s drafting table and grabbed some flash paper and a marker.
You and this Noah guy were supposedly Dad’s best friends but you didn’t come help him. Neither of you did, UNCLE CLARE.
Pretty hypocritical coming from a guy who had just murdered his best friend, but I was not supposed to be the good example here.
Clarion’s blond eyebrows drew in tight over his nose as he read, shifting his eyepatch. Before he could say anything, though, Naomi read the note over his shoulder.
“Don’t you dare talk about my father like that,” she snapped, getting her body all cocked like Harper and Scout always did. “Dad brought me and my sisters down here for nine months trying to get through that blockade. Mom almost left him because he wouldn’t give up on getting into Halo and go back to regular demon hunting with her!”
Clarion raised one hand to stop her. “Look, Tough, you might’ve been too young or too busy fighting the war inside to realize that there were blockades all around the county for the duration of the NP-Human Conflict, but for those of us outside trying to get in, they were real hindrances. Tanks, razor wire, the National Guard keeping crusaders and any unsanctioned press out. The only souls and information that got in or out were the ones he let in or out.”
Big surprise, Mayor Kathan had everyone in the country on his side. No wonder people outside Halo had hated Dad so much when he tried to get them to see Kathan for what he really was. Kathan had probably twisted everything Dad said with his Prince Charming act. He’d probably had his cocksuckers on the news and radio and internet tearing Dad down at every turn and convincing everybody we were the real bad guys here.
For a minute, my mind went off in a completely different direction: How was it that Desty hadn’t been prejudiced against me when she met me? She’d known my family was the one who tried to get the fallen angels out of Halo—she even asked me about it that first night she’d stayed over.
She must’ve seen through Kathan’s bullshit. She was too smart for
