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“When men destroy their old gods they will find new ones to take their place.”
—Pearl S. Buck
WHAT A COMPLETE AND utter waste of a day.
I supposed I’d asked for this with my hesitation to harvest a soul whose life had ended prematurely. But there was no satisfaction to be had when it meant I’d be sent out to try again tomorrow. Jenni’s disbelieving ire didn’t help matters either.
I slouched in one of her guest chairs and folded my arms over my stomach as she paced back and forth in her office. Gabriel stood in front of the wall of windows, squinting into the distance as if he could glimpse the future in the horizon over the sea. He moved to rest his arm on the glass above his head, but Jenni swatted him away.
“I just had the windows cleaned,” she snapped, ruining his pensive brooding. Gabriel fluttered back a step and rolled his eyes.
“Can we leave now?” he whined. “I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving.” Jenni turned away from him and crossed the room again, stopping at her desk to stare down at me. “You’re absolutely certain none of them could see you?” she asked for the zillionth time.
“We’re positive,” Hecate answered before I had a chance to tell Jenni what I’d do to her damn windows if she didn’t lay off with the third degree. The goddess of the crossroads stood in the corner opposite Gabriel, away from the windows where the evening light didn’t touch. “We tested each soul at least twice,” she explained—and not for the first time.
“I just don’t get it.” Jenni dropped into her chair and propped her elbows on her desk. She yanked the chopstick out of her tightly wound bun and raked her fingers through her hair with a disheartened sigh. “Those were the Fates’ top candidates. We’ll have to request a new selection. The council meeting is going to be a nightmare in the morning.” She groaned and pressed her fingers over her closed eyelids as if she were fighting off a migraine.
“You know what I don’t get?” I said, my annoyance coming to a head. “How none of this seemed like that big of a deal until you found out that original believers might be able to see me. If it turns out that my gift has faded away along with the throne realm, what’s the council’s backup plan? What were they prepared to do before I was thrown into the mix?”
Gabriel’s face flushed as he turned toward the window again, giving me his back. Not a great sign. Jenni finally pulled her hands away from her eyes to look at me. “I don’t know that I’d call it a plan, exactly.”
“But it is,” Hecate said, her smooth voice unwavering. “It’s the oldest plan in nearly every sacred text.”
A creeping sensation prickled its way up my spine until it reached my neck, cuing a shiver. “No way. Things can’t possibly be that bad. Can they?” I directed the question at Gabriel’s reflection in the window, where I could see him watching me from the corner of his eye.
“Not yet,” he said softly, his breath fogging the glass.
Jenni scowled at him and went back to massaging her eyelids. “But we’re not far off,” she countered. “If we can’t stop the flow of demons into the mortal realm, the gods will have no choice but to unleash the armies of heaven. It’s all downhill from there—and despite the puppies and rainbows the scriptures detail in the aftermath, there’s no guarantee that Eternity has enough soul matter to sustain such an idealistic utopia.”
“Meaning...?” I blinked at her, but it was Hecate who answered.
“Meaning we could have our very own end times to deal with on this side of the grave.”
“And no one to save us,” Gabriel finished.
I’d thought Jenni’s speech about helping all of Eternity was a bunch of bologna. Just another sad attempt by the council to reclaim the power and prestige they’d lost. The hefty bribes and lack of red tape made more sense now.
“At least we have the Nephilim Guard to keep the demons at bay for now,” I said, clinging to what little shred of optimism I could muster.
“The Guard is running on fumes and filling Meng Po’s infirmary.” Leave it to Jenni to ruin a perfectly good delusion. “Ross is ready to resign,” she continued. “He lost thirty guards yesterday alone. Experienced, senior nephilim. Like Abe.”
“Abe?” I sucked in a sharp breath and pressed a hand over my heart.
The guard was mainly assigned dock duty, but he’d been a part of my security detail after rebels torched my old apartment. He’d also joined my team when the council ordered me to dismantle the ghost market. We hadn’t worked closely since, but he dropped by the ship for poker night whenever he wasn’t working. I knew his favorite pizza was anchovy and that his left wing was bigger than his right—something he was self-conscious about. Now, he was just... gone?
Jenni sighed and fixed her bloodshot eyes on the window, staring out at whatever troubling nothing had captured Gabriel’s attention. “We also lost two reapers today. Molly Driver and her apprentice. I know you only worked together on the Posy Unit for a short while, but you seemed fond of her.”
“I was.” I rubbed at the growing ache in my chest and took a deep breath.
This couldn’t be happening. Yesterday, I’d harvested killer clowns and drunks who went skinny dipping with piranhas. Now, my friends were dropping like flies, and the world was falling apart—and everyone expected me to fix it.
“If this assignment is so important, and the demons are becoming such a problem, we should have a larger team,” I said.
Jenni’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, but we can’t afford to pull your apprentices off task. It’s been a busy year, and everyone is already overworked.”
“What about Tasha Henry?”
“What about her?” Jenni snapped.
“You said it yourself. Everyone is overworked. And she deserves to be pardoned anyway after what she did to help take down the ghost market.”
Jenni scoffed. “The only reason she knew so much about the ghost market was because she’d dealt with them to sell poached souls. The council will never agree to excuse her previous crimes. Besides, the Guard hasn’t reported a sighting in five years. No one knows where she is.”
“If they locate her, do you think the council would reconsider?” I asked.
If ever there were a time to secure a ticket home for Tasha, it was now. She didn’t complain as vocally as Ellen about being stuck out of her element, but I knew it bothered her, living on the mortal side among people she couldn’t interact with—at least no more than a hostile ghost could. It had to be so incredibly lonely. Not that she’d ever admit it to me.
“The Guard has enough on their plate right now,” Jenni said, exhaustion finally dropping her shoulders away from her ears. “Go home. Get some sleep, if you can. We’ll meet up tomorrow morning after the council arrives. I should have a new list from the Fates by then.”
She reached for her desk phone as I stood. Gabriel finally turned away from the window. He placed a hand on my shoulder and followed me out of Jenni’s office. Hecate nodded to us, but she remained behind. As the liaison for the Fates, I expected that Jenni wasn’t quite done with her yet.
Until the borders of hell were secure, and the apocalypse was put back on the shelf, I knew I wouldn’t feel done about anything.
The lobby was dark, lit only by the fading daylight through the wall of windows on the opposite side of the building from Jenni’s office. Regina had left for the day.
“Come on,” Gabriel said, steering me past the front desk and toward the elevators. “I’ll buy the first round at Purgatory.”
“Sure,” I agreed before remembering my dinner plans with Bub. “I can only stay for one, but I’ll get you back next poker night.” If we live that long, I thought.
Gabriel seemed plenty depressed without me adding to the doom and gloom, but I could tell there was something more bothering him that he hadn’t shared in front of the others. Hopefully, a single beer would be enough to drag it out of him.
––––––––
IT WAS THURSDAY, SO the early crowd at Purgatory Lounge was light. A few off-duty guards dined in the row of booths that sectioned off the empty dance floor, and a handful of factory souls lingered between the jukebox and pool tables, dropping quarters and fries as they cheered for some mortal football team playing on the big screen.
Gabriel and I sat at the bar like we always did when it was just the two of us. Xaphen was usually good company, but he was short a waitress tonight. He popped in and out of the kitchen, his hands full of appetizers and pitchers of Ambrosia Ale. The crown of flames that circled his head flickered excitedly as he darted throughout the room, trying to keep everyone happy until the late staff arrived.
I let Gabriel make it to the bottom of his mug before interrupting whatever deep thoughts were holding his attention hostage. He hadn’t said two words since we arrived, which was rare even when Amy’s father was tending the bar.
“You really think this could be it, don’t you?” I swirled the last inch of beer in my glass, deciding that I didn’t have the stomach for it. There wasn’t enough alcohol in Eternity to make the end of the world palatable.
“I wish I could say I didn’t believe that.” Gabriel sighed and trailed a finger through the condensation on his mug, refusing to look at me. “But there are other signs to consider.”
“Such as?”
“The plagues and fires.” He rolled his hand in the air. “I know it’s all open to interpretation, and the mortals can never seem to agree on the when and where, but... some of the demon sightings have reported beasts that look like lions.”
“You mean hellcats?” I hooked an elbow over the back of my seat and tried to keep a straight face when he glared at me.
“More so than the typical hellcat,” he said. “‘The heads of the horses resembled the heads of lions, and out of their mouths came fire, smoke, and sulfur.’”
I couldn’t contain my groan this time. “It must be dire if you’re quoting Revelations at me.”
“This is serious.” Gabriel’s brow creased. “And it’s worth noting that these troops with lion-headed mounts appear right after a fallen star is given a key to the abyss to release the scorpion-tailed locusts of Abaddon.”
“Have there been reports of those, too?” I asked.
Gabriel’s jaw flexed. He dragged his gaze away from mine and reached for the pitcher to refill his mug. “Not yet, but I fear it’s only a matter of time.”
“Doubtful,” Xaphen grumbled, having caught the tail end of our conversation. He circled the counter and took the empty pitcher from Gabriel. “When I left the abyss, Abaddon was training his pests to farm netherye and brimcorn for Lucifer’s latest whiskey venture.”
“Oh, that’s just great.” The information only seemed to agitate the angel. “Let’s turn the master of the locusts into a lush. I can’t see anything going wrong with that plan.”
Xaphen snorted. “Says the angel slamming beers in a demon-run bar.” His eyebrows bobbed up on his forehead, causing the flames near his temples to crackle. “Another?” he asked, holding up the empty pitcher.
Gabriel’s face scrunched as if he might snarl in protest, but defeat melted his expression just as quickly. “Might as well pour me a glass of Luce’s new whiskey while you’re at it.”
I squeezed his shoulder and stood. “I gotta run, but don’t give up hope just yet. We’ll take another stab at the problem in the morning.”
I could have gone for some whiskey myself, but I had a feeling there would be plenty of booze served with dinner—social lubricant to warm me to the idea of Tantalus moving in up the river. The thought made my skin crawl.
“Don’t forget your jacket,” Gabriel said, nodding at the backrest of my abandoned barstool. “Hell’s bound to freeze over any day now.”
He’d been claiming as much ever since I’d moved in with Bub. I gave Gabriel’s curls a ruffle and tugged my jacket on as I headed for the door. Hell freezing sounded like a reasonable next step with the way things were going. But if it meant an end to the raining fire and brimstone smog, who was I to complain?