“Fine,” I said, stalking off to the kitchen so I’d be able to talk to Guthrie on the phone without a bunch of other voices jabbering in the immediate background.
Guthrie picked up on the third ring. “Zorah?”
“Nigellus is here,” I said without preamble. “It’s time to move.”
“The van’s loaded,” he replied promptly. “I assume you’re coming to me and not vice versa?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Nigellus has been to your place before, so he can transport Edward... and my father.” I had to push that last part out through gritted teeth. “Rans and I can fly there. Oh, and you’d better warn Albigard we’re coming, since I have no idea if Fae and demons automatically try to kill each other on sight, or what.”
Presumably, Albigard and Nigellus would keep a lid on things since they’d tacitly agreed to work together on this, but after watching Rans and Albigard sling deadly blades at each other to make a point, I wasn’t ready to bet my life on it.
“Right. Meet us in the parking garage rather than the penthouse. The van’ll be pretty obvious when you see it.”
I gave a quick acknowledgement and hung up. The idea that this was really about to happen started to sink in properly as I headed back to join the others in the living room. Fortunately, there wasn’t time for an emotional meltdown now that we had things to do.
“We’re meeting Guthrie and Albigard in the parking garage under Guthrie’s building,” I announced. “The van’s all packed and ready to go.”
Rans was strapping on his pair of iron swords, the hilts jutting out from their scabbards in an X-shape behind his shoulders. He hefted a small duffel bag containing our other weapons while I pulled my hair back and twisted it in a tight bun for fighting. The unreal nature of the scene threatened my equilibrium for a moment, but I focused on the necessity of what we were doing and didn’t let it derail me.
“Let’s go,” Rans said, and swirled away into mist. I took a deep breath and followed, racing alongside him as we flew over the city at night.
It took us a good few minutes to cross the distance, while travel was essentially instantaneous for Nigellus and the others. They were waiting for us when we arrived, transforming back to solidity in a shadowed corner of the underground garage.
Guthrie had been right; the van was obvious enough. Unmarked and ancient, it practically screamed ‘sketchy.’ But with Albigard and possibly Caspian involved, the vehicle pretty much had to be old, or else we risked the electronic systems getting fried at an unfortunate moment. Still, it was a better option than trying to drag salt-encased body parts around in the back of a vintage pickup truck or something.
With the exception of Edward, who was puttering around loading odds and ends into the back of the van, the collection of people nearby had arrayed themselves like the points of a compass. Albigard and Nigellus eyed each other warily across the distance separating them, while my father was likewise staring at Guthrie with a look of intense concentration. With a start, I realized that no one had clued him in about the small matter of Guthrie being my biological grandfather.
“Dad,” I said, “this is Guthrie Leonides. He was Mom’s biological father, which—somewhat weirdly—makes him your father-in-law, I guess. Anyway, it was his DNA Myrial stole to get Grandma pregnant back in the day. Guthrie... Darryl Bright, my dad.”
My father was still staring. “But, you’re...”
“Black?” Guthrie prompted after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, raising an eyebrow.
“Too young,” my father finished.
I wasn’t at all sure Guthrie wanted his demon-bound status broadcast to the world. Since his undead status was pretty much out of the bag already among this group, I said, “He’s also a vampire. We don’t age.”
Dad’s eyes settled on me, and then went back to Guthrie. “We should talk, you and I. Afterward, I mean,” he said, his expression thoughtful.
“Sure,” Guthrie said. “Assuming we’re not dead, obviously. Speaking of which...”
“Yes,” Nigellus agreed. “We should be on our way to whatever venue you intend to use for the battle.” His eyes remained on Albigard, openly assessing him. “Flight Commander. I assume your interest in this matter lies solely with the disposition of the Fae race-killer?”
Rans looked sharply at the demon.
“It does,” Albigard said. “In this respect, our current interests align. Once Caspian is dead, I offer no guarantee that will continue to be the case.”
Nigellus gave a brisk nod in response.
I glanced inside the van, which had a second row of seats behind the driver’s area. The cargo space in back was piled with fifty-pound salt bags of the kind sold for water softener systems, along with weapons, the promised chainsaw, a can of gasoline, rolls of duct tape, and various other items that, taken collectively, would get someone a one-way ticket to an interrogation room at the local police precinct.
After some discussion, we’d decided to set up our ambush in a quiet part of Kennedy Forest, located south of the golf course inside Forest Park. It was about as close as you could get to a secluded spot in this part of the city, not to mention being conveniently near Guthrie’s apartment building. The park closed at ten p.m., and a bit of quiet surveillance had revealed that the entrances were guarded by park rangers and St. Louis police at night, presumably in an attempt to cut down on the prevalence of drug deals and other unsavory activity.
Of course, you couldn’t really get much less savory than what we had planned for Myrial tonight.
“Not enough seats for everyone, so it looks like we’re flying again,” I told Rans. “We’ll meet the rest of you at the site. Guthrie, can you handle the park security?”
“It can’t be any more difficult than mesmerizing someone into
