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I couldn’t feel the sun when my phone, screeching in the dark, woke me. For the briefest moment, I thought it was going to be the funeral home calling to let me know that everyone had been wrong, Valerie was okay. But that had been my dream. Reality hit me hard and fast when I saw it was Remiel calling. I answered, the sleep gone from me.
“There’s been another attack,” Remiel said as I answered. “Two dead; two in critical condition.”
“Holy fuck,” I whispered. “Isn’t it Tuesday?”
“No, it’s Wednesday, but this means the pattern’s been broken.”
“It isn’t Bill and Camilla, is it?” I asked, already putting on pants.
“No, it was Martha and her family,” Remiel said.
“Your receptionist?” I asked, pulling on my socks.
“Yes,” he sighed.
“I didn’t realize she was a supernatural,” I said. “I’m sorry, Remiel.”
“She isn’t, but her husband is, as are her kids.”
“It’s the first crossover,” I said.
“He’s devolving,” Remiel said. “Which just means he’s losing control.”
“He knows you’re involved,” I offered.
“Yes,” Remiel answered. I hung up, finished dressing, and went to Jerome’s room. I knocked softly. He sleepily blinked at me, already sitting up in bed.
“I heard your phone ring,” he said. “I heard you ask, ‘Your receptionist, but Martha was human,’ so I don’t know who called for sure. I couldn’t hear his part of the conversation.”
“We have to wake Duke up. I’m going to have him come sleep here. I have to go, but I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I told him, walking over and giving him a hug. Eventually, I knew he’d begin to protest the hugs, but for now, he was still happy to get them, and I was happy to give them.
Jerome came with me to wake Duke up. The kid was in his pajamas. Shorts, a t-shirt, and socks, because Jerome often slept in his socks. He put on sandals with his socks to walk to Duke’s room just down from ours. I didn’t know why he thought he had to come, but he wanted to, and I let him.
“It’s 3:12 in the morning,” Duke said as he groggily opened the door, blinking at the brightly lit hallway.
“I know, they just found another family. I’m meeting Remiel there, and I need you to stay with Jerome.” Duke was instantly awake. His eyes opened completely, he stopped blinking, and he moved out of the doorway. We followed him in.
“Let me get dressed in something more than this, and I’ll take him back to your room,” Duke said.
“Great, I’m going to try flying to the address Remiel gave me. I’ll call you later and let you know what we find out.”
“It’s Remiel’s secretary, Martha,” Jerome said.
“I thought she was human; she didn’t have double or triple irises,” Duke said, pulling on a bath robe.
“She is human, but she’s married to a supernatural,” I said. “They have two kids.”
“Oh man,” Duke said, and he sounded genuinely sad for them. Most cops I knew turned their emotions on and off; they had to, or the job drove them crazy. Duke wasn’t like most cops, though. . He usually wore them on his sleeve.
Flying in the dark is a lot different than flying during the day. Even over a city with light pollution, it’s hard to make things out and know exactly where you are. I flew about three blocks and saw a cab. I landed next to it, climbed in, gave him the address and asked for a lift. It was only a few miles, so we were there fairly quick. He stopped at the entrance to a street that had lots of extra light pollution from the strobing lights of ambulance and police cars. I got out and started walking toward the house that was being taped off with crime scene tape.
About halfway down the street, I was stopped by a cop and asked for identification and why I was there. I explained, handed him my driver’s license, grateful I was used to carrying a man’s wallet, and waited while he got on his radio and talked to someone. I could see my uncle standing on the lawn, wings folded down at his sides. The spines of wings aren’t bone; they are cartilage like what’s in a person’s nose. It had some flexibility, which was good, because angel wings dragged the ground when they weren’t partially flexed and being lifted up. I had always known wings were impractical and ridiculous, but seeing my uncle stand in the partial, eerie darkness really drove the point home to me.
He was standing under a tree. Next to him was Janet. She looked tired. I walked up to them. Remiel was talking to a guy in a suit that I guessed was a detective. We were in Chesterfield, Missouri. Chesterfield was a weird suburb of St. Louis; it was the furthest away. It was a wealthy area because it had been designed and built by supernaturals.
“Did you arrive by cab?” Janet asked.
“Wings are awful,” I told her. “I can’t fit them in the Tiguan very well and flying at night sucks. It’s disorienting and strange. I flew until I saw a taxi and then decided that was a more acceptable form of transport.”
“I see,” she said. “I’d never considered they might be more trouble than good.”
“Have you been inside?” I asked Remiel.
“No, we’re waiting for my coven to arrive. The house will need to be magically cleansed,” Janet answered.
“Why?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Martha’s husband Harry is an angel,” Remiel said. “That’s why I didn’t think they’d be at risk—getting brimstone out of the Stygian is a Herculean feat, and I never imagined the killer would do it.”
“How does one dispose of brimstone?” I asked.
“Demons,” Azrael’s voice came from above me.
“You and I will have to summon some demons. Janet’s coven has agreed to act as hosts. The demons will take the brimstone, eat it, and take it back to the Stygian when they are exorcised,” Azrael said, emphasizing his sentence by landing with a soft thumping noise.
“Summoning demons??” I glared at him. “I haven’t summoned a demon since I graduated!”
“Well, you have, you just didn’t realize it,” Azrael said. “You summoned Lucifer and a few others in Chicago.
“So, Lucifer is dead?” I asked.
“Not in the way you are thinking,” Remiel said.
“Anyway, we need to summon lesser demons, niece, no dukes or hell princes. Think you can manage that?” asked Azrael.
“Maybe,” I shrugged, unsure of how much control I had over that part of my power.
“We want the tiniest demons we can get,” Remiel said.
“Gotcha,” I answered. Surely summoning tiny demons was way easier than summoning big, bad demons.
There was a commotion up the street, and we saw several cars stopped in the road with uniformed officers walking to them. It was then I realized the neighbors were out on their lawns.
“How’d we know before morning this had happened?” I asked.
“Martha’s got a 19-year-old daughter. She was out with friends and came home at 2 a.m. to find her family dead or injured. She called emergency services and me, then ran outside and woke the neighborhood before collapsing from inhaling brimstone dust,” Remiel said.
“Is she one of those still living?” I asked.
“Yes, she and Martha’s husband Harry were both alive when paramedics arrived. One paramedic went down; he was nephilim. The other was a weretiger and managed to single-handedly empty the house in a hurry because there was no silver in the brimstone dust.”
“Could a duke or hell prince tell us who got the brimstone dust?” I asked, looking at Azrael.
“No, all humans are essentially the same to demons. The most they could provide is species, and if they got the brimstone dust in a trade, the demons wouldn’t tell us anything. That seems like the best way to get brimstone. I’m sure the killer didn’t powder it himself. I don’t know of any machinery that would do it, so he probably asked for brimstone dust.”
“I see,” I answered. The cars were being allowed in. They were triple and quadruple parking across the road, creating a barrier with their cars about a hundred feet from us. I recognized some of the witches and wizards that got out. I’d met Janet’s coven a few times, as she’d had to have their approval to go into business with me because she’d be using communal power from her coven.