Mean Streets

anymore. 'I just can't wrap my brain around the idea of wiping them out,' he said.

'Think of it this way: they're murderers,' Francis said flatly. “And they shouldn't even be alive. The flood should've erased them from the world.'

Remy poured himself another cup of coffee, not buying the Guardian's justification.

'Think of it as tidying up,' Francis stressed. 'We'd be setting things right.'

'We'd be committing murder.'

'Is it murder when you put a rabid animal down?' Francis asked. 'These things are likely dangerous. Can we take a risk on them maybe breeding and getting around?'

Remy knew that his friend's points were accurate, but something nagged at him, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

'We don't know anything about them, other than what Sariel has told us.'

'And?' Francis asked.

'When have we ever trusted anything Sariel has said?'

'Good point.' Francis took a sip of his tea.

'I'm not comfortable with this,' Remy said, removing the cloth napkin from his lap and placing it on the table.

'So does that mean you're not in?' Francis asked.

Remy fished fifty dollars out of his wallet and put it on the table.

'I don't know what it means.'

'Do you want a lift?' Francis asked. 'Let me finish here and-'

'Think I'll walk,' Remy told him. 'It'll give me a chance to think this through. I'll call you later.'

'Sounds like a plan,' Francis said, as he continued to eat. 'And thanks for breakfast.'

'Everything all right?' the hostess asked as Remy passed her on his way out.

He smiled, tempted to tell her the truth. No, things weren't all right. Not in the least.

It was a nice day, not that Remy noticed at all.

He walked across Arlington Street and through the Public Garden, heading toward the Boston Common. People were just starting to hit the streets on their way to work, flowing up from the Park Street T Station and trickling down from the many small streets that made up Beacon Hill.

Remy wandered against the tide heading to Downtown Crossing, the financial district and Government Center, making his own way home up through the Common to Joy Street.

As he walked, the same thoughts bounced around inside his head. He didn't want to be like them… like the Grigori, and even Francis. He would have been perfectly content to live like those bustling along to work around him.

Ignorant to the matters of the preternatural.

But he wasn't, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't ignore what he knew.

Especially when lives-human as well as angelic-might be at risk.

To say that Marlowe was happy to see him was an understatement. But that was one of the most glorious things about dogs, they were always happy to see you. The black Lab met Remy at the door, panting like a freight train, tail wagging so fast that Remy thought he was going to take off for sure.

'Remy!' the dog barked. 'Remy! Remy! Remy!'

'Hello, hello,' Remy said with a laugh, pushing the dog aside so that he could get in and close the door.

'Thought gone,' the dog said, eagerly licking Remy's hand.

'Yep, I was gone but now I'm back,' he reassured the animal.

Remy walked down the hallway, excited dog by his side.

'Did Ashley stop by to feed you?' he asked, already knowing that she had.

'No,' the dog said, standing at attention in the kitchen.

The dog's answer took him by surprise.

'No?' he asked.

'No feed,” he growled. 'Hungry.'

Remy glanced around the room, noticing the empty food bowl and the full water dish. He also saw the note on the counter near the coffeepot and Ashley's unmistakable scrawl telling him that Marlowe had been fed and taken out. She'd even drawn a smiley face at the bottom of the note.

'Then what's this?' Remy asked, picking up the note and showing the dog.

'Paper,' the dog answered, tail wagging. 'Rip?'

'No, you can't rip it. It's a note from Ashley telling me that you already ate,' Remy said. 'You've been nabbed, good sir.'

'Nabbed, good sir,' Marlowe repeated sadly.

Remy laughed. The Lab had a bottomless pit for a stomach and often tried this trick to get an extra meal. It had worked a few times with Madeline, but never with Remy.

His wife had been too trusting.

He flashed back to the last vision he'd had of her aboard the rig, the sensation of warmth on his hand as it was placed upon her stomach.

'A gift of our union,' she had said.

What does it mean? he wondered. At first he'd believed it all part of the process of grieving, but now he was beginning to suspect otherwise. There was some kind of connection between the visions and Noah's murder, but what, he hadn't a clue.

And that was what he was going to have to find out.

He'd planned on returning home, cleaning up a bit, and heading to the office to catch up on paperwork.

But not now.

There was little chance of turning this boat around. He might as well throw himself head-on into the madness. The quicker he dealt with this business, the quicker he could return to the life he'd worked so hard to build, but now that seemed to be crumbling at the foundation.

Noah's office would be the place to start. It had been in a shambles, and he hadn't had a chance to really go through it. There might be something still lying about waiting to be uncovered.

'Shit,' he muttered beneath his breath.

That meant returning to the rig, and the only way he would be able to do that would be with the help of certain skills that he had used far too freely lately. He knew that there wasn't much of a choice, but it still pissed him off.

He walked into the living room to explain to the dog that he was leaving again. Marlowe lay in the middle of the floor, Sphinx-like, tail thumping. Remy knew what that particular look meant and felt bad.

'Sorry, buddy,' he said. 'But I can't take you for a walk right now, 1 have to go to work for a while.” The dog looked as though he'd just been told that he was going to the pound. Guilt almost got the best of Remy, but then he remembered something that was even better than a walk to the park.

'Would you like a pig's ear instead?' he asked.

Marlowe jumped to his feet and bolted toward the kitchen. By the time Remy caught up to him, he was standing in front of a lower cabinet door, staring intensely as his tail wagged in anticipation.

'I guess that's a yes,' Remy said as he pulled open the cabinet and reached for the bag that contained the disgusting treats. 'You work on this and I'll take you for a walk when I get back,' he told the dog, who wasn't even listening. Marlowe's dark brown gaze was transfixed on the bag.

Remy removed one of the greasy treats and held it out. Marlowe carefully plucked it from his hand, then darted from the kitchen to his room-his lair, as Madeline used to call it-to consume his prize.

That taken care of, Remy walked into the living room and stood on the spot where Sariel had used his unique skills to take him from his home. He closed his eyes. Carefully he stirred the angelic essence lying inside him. It didn't take more than a gentle prod to awaken it.

The divine power surged through him, coursing through his blood. His senses at once awakened, coming alive with a vengeance. His hearing became preternaturally acute, and the voices of millions in prayer assaulted his ears, as though they were all in this very room with him. And the smell.

The smell was strong, nauseating-the smell of magick.

Opening his eyes, he looked down at the spot where the passage had opened. He could see the residue of Sariel's traveling spell, wafting up from the rug on his living room floor.

Rolling his shoulder blades, he allowed his wings to emerge. He could feel the appendages moving beneath his flesh, growing in size as they worked their way toward the surface. There was a brief flash of pain, and then enormous relief as his golden wings unfurled. Gently he fanned the air as he prepared for his journey.

Now is as good a time as any, Remy thought as he pulled his wings about him, wrapping himself within the tight embrace of the golden feathers. The scent of Sariel's magick was still fresh in his nostrils, and by closing his eyes he could see the path he would need to travel.

He thought of his destination, and then he was gone.

TEN

Like electricity moving through a wire, he was there. The heavy smell of salt in the air was the first thing he became aware of. Remy opened his wings and exposed himself to the new environment.