“Your point?”
“If this protects me against the cravings from the angel magic, I won’t have to…” I searched for the right words. “Use Rafael when I destroy the Sefer Raziel HaMalakh. Which we can both agree would be a good thing.”
Levi shook his head, but he handed me the pouch.
I crossed over to the window so that he’d be out of range of any compulsion and slipped the chain over my head.
Levi picked up one of the fire irons from a stand next to the wood fireplace, propping it on his shoulder like a player at bat.
“What are you going to do with that?”
“Knock the damn pouch out of your hand if you lose control.” He motioned for me to open it.
I can withstand the craving. I opened the pouch.
The scent of a hot sandstorm enveloped me…
… and I didn’t care.
“Holy shit.” I held the container aloft, breaking into a wriggly happy dance.
Levi lowered the fire iron. “You want to keep the amulet, don’t you?”
“Pretty please, can I? I’ll totally walk it and feed it.”
“You’re not cute,” he said.
I opened my finger and thumb a couple inches. “Little bit. Yeah, I am.”
Was suppressing my cravings really this simple?
The faintest tang of a sandstorm hit me. Uncertain if the scent was real or imagined, I sealed the pouch up.
“This amulet would make my life a lot easier,” I said. Except for Chariot coming after me again. “However, it’s not essential. I get how dangerous it would be if Isaac got hold of it and I’m willing to keep my promise. Your call.”
“Great. I get to be the bad guy if I say no.”
I dropped the pouch on Levi’s desk and crouched down in front of him. “You’re not the bad guy, Watson.”
Levi rolled his eyes. “We’ve talked about that.”
I’d missed him so much. My hand tightened on his thighs, my gaze dropping to his lips. I could close the gap between us and be laid bare to him, but it was too soon. Any type of intimacy would cloud things between us.
Being a grownup fucking sucked.
I pried my hands off, finding the same mix of longing and resignation in his expression. “What do you want me to do?”
“Meet me halfway. You’re the Jezebel. Make the call.”
I spun away, barely refraining from stomping my feet, but he was right. I had to decide.
The little devil called Selfish raised its hand, jumping up and down on my shoulder yelling “pick me!” The Noble angel on the other side shook its head slowly, sighing heavily. It was barely making any effort to win me to its side. At least Selfish showed an appreciable level of enthusiasm.
I ran the Kiss of Death back and forth across the chain, my hand clamped around it so tightly we might as well have been surgically fused. Isaac didn't need to know we had the amulet and I could tell Nicola I’d destroyed the bamah.
The Ash of four months ago wouldn’t even have hesitated. Or indulged in this half-hearted charade of convincing herself there was any other course of action, save one.
I pulled the amulet off in a swift motion. “I’ll nuke this puppy, but let me show it to Rafael first. Maybe the good news will get through to him. Want to come?”
Approval warmed Levi’s eyes. “Sure.”
We made our way back to the infirmary with the pug, like a family. I sped up, forcing Levi to match his strides to mine.
Priya was reading animatedly to Rafael, who was still unconscious. She didn’t mind the interruption, though, when I produced the amulet.
“Rafael, we got it. Behold the Kiss of Death.” I placed it in his hands, telling him how the operation had gone down and about the amulet protecting me from the feather’s magic.
His eyes popped open.
“Fuck!” In my shock, I jostled him and the amulet slid off the bed.
Rafael went right back into his coma.
“Whoa.” Priya picked up the amulet, wiping it off on the hem of her blue sweater.
I met Levi’s gaze. The seconds spun out between us. I grimaced. “I can’t…”
In a millisecond, I assembled a treatise-worth of arguments.
Levi placed his hand on my arm. “I know,” he said in a kind voice. “Promise me that you’ll stay alert.”
“Don’t worry. Either of you. Chariot isn’t going to get the jump on me.” Again.
“That’s just dumb,” Priya said. “Obviously we’re going to worry.”
Levi smiled. “She’s not wrong.”
Pri held the artifact out. “He’s your Attendant. Do the honors.”
I put it over Rafael’s head. “Wakey wakey, buddy.”
His eyes snapped open once more. He felt for his horns, and upon failing to find them, sagged against the pillow. “Bloody hell, Ashira, what kind of bollocks plan was—oomph!”
I’d crushed him in a hug. He tried to squirm out of it, but I tightened my hold, and eventually he patted my back in a “there, there” manner.
We hadn’t won the war, hadn’t even won a battle really, merely recovered from this side skirmish. Isaac knew about me and if he got his hands on the amulet, it could tip the balance of power in his favor. There were so many ways for me to be defeated and right now, they all fell away, because this awkward embrace was the sweetest victory prize I’d ever claimed.
Chapter 24
Other than his ongoing depleted magic, my Attendant was back in fine health and very excited to learn everything about his shiny new possession. He also majorly scored with the discovery that Theresa Magnon had inherited her position on the Ten from her grandfather, Misha Ivanov.
Levi planned to talk to his mother alone about coming to stay with him. He’d enlisted Priya to build a picture of all his father’s financials, declared and otherwise, to determine what Nicola would be entitled to, and was lining up divorce lawyers. We’d agreed it was best to withhold the knowledge of what exactly the bamah was so that she couldn’t accidentally implicate herself. It would be up to Levi to convince her that this wasn’t something she could get half of. Nor was she to gloat about thwarting Isaac’s plans for it.
Let him believe that was all on me.
Lux called me about Rafael’s condition, very relieved that he was free of their magic. That made two of us. I warned her to tell the other Followers about Chariot’s attack. I didn’t think they’d go after Lux and her friends, but if they knew we’d been in contact and thought to use them against me somehow…
“Desperate people do desperate things,” Lux said wryly. “I’ll let them know. And Ash? If you need us, we’re here. We all serve the goddess together.”
After that unexpected but appreciated gesture, I was free to turn my attention to the Sunday service at His Divine Spirit to find proof that the shelter handed Nefesh kids over to Chariot. I created a demure persona, selecting a sedate floral dress with long sleeves and a hem that hit mid-calf, left over from some past event of Talia’s. I even put on a small strand of pearls and pulled my hair into a bun, secured by about ten bobby pins. Freaky jabby torture devices.
Thanks to traffic delays on the highway, I didn’t arrive until right as the service was starting. I slipped into a back pew, the heavy smell of incense tickling my nose.
Oddly, there were no families among the roughly thirty congregants, only adults, presided over by a whip-thin pastor in his fifties with a pronounced Adam’s apple and a surprisingly melodic voice.
Whatever ostentation the building lacked, it made up for with the fire-and-brimstone sermon that sent its worshippers into a frenzy. There was nothing metaphoric about their belief. To them, the Rapture was a matter of when, not if.
Among the non-believers who wouldn’t make it to the pearly gates in the preacher’s version? All Nefesh, whom he deemed “abominations.” There was no mercy or compassion in his worldview.
I white-knuckled a prayer book, the words on the page blurring. The hypocrisy between t
heir so-called Christian values and the hate necessary to run that shelter as a front to destroy magic and torture those innocent kids disgusted me.
After the sermon, the pastor invited everyone to stick around for coffee and baked goods in a small room off the chapel.
I grabbed a styrofoam cup, perusing the framed photos on the walls of bland beaches and sunsets overlaid with biblical quotes.
One of the larger prints featured a longer passage about a stubborn and rebellious son. It was advised to bring him to the gates of his city and stone him to death to purge out the evil. Seemed a little extreme to me, but in keeping with the rest of their dogma. At the bottom of the print was the source of the quote: Deuteronomy 21.
I spilled my coffee. Setting the styrofoam cup down, I grabbed a napkin to wipe off my hand. D21. Deepa’s company. Deuteronomy was from the Old Testament. Was there an Asherah quote that fit D21 and would confirm Anand as one of the Ten?
I yanked out my phone and quickly googled it. Holy… Do not set up any wooden Asherah pole next to the altar you will build for the LORD your God. Deuteronomy 16:21.
There was a light touch on my sleeve and I started, hastily shoving my phone away.
“Be welcome here,” a woman said.
“Thank you.” I shook off the bombshell of my discovery and smiled politely.
I could dismiss the rhetoric in this church, but not the people. Among the ones who introduced themselves were a married couple who were teachers, a nurse, a mechanic, and a civil servant at the local City Hall. It was the very gap between this “normalness” and the extremity of their beliefs that unnerved me. For them, the impending Rapture was as much a fact as the cars they’d driven here or the weather.
After accepting a second serving of delicious homemade apple pie that had been pressed upon me, I complimented the baker, Susan, an athletic woman who baked to destress from working as a parking enforcement officer, adding that they must be proud of the good work they did with the youth shelter.
Susan cut up the rest of the pie. “Oh yes. Those children are part of our flock.”
“But you let Nefesh in. How come?” I said.
“God spoke to Pastor Nephus. It was not for us to question His desires.” She lay the knife down on a paper plate. “Sadly, our invitation didn’t work out. The Nefesh children were troublesome and we had to restrict it back to Mundanes only.”
I bet you did. Right after that operation was shut down and Chariot no longer needed you.
By now, the gathering was breaking up, so I took my leave with the other congregants, filing past the pastor to shake hands.
He clasped my hand in a firm grip. “Pastor Nephus.”
“Jennifer,” I said. “Thank you for the service.”
“We don’t get a lot of new faces, but I hope you’ll come back again.” There was no crazed glint in his eyes, he didn’t hold my hand overly long, and nothing about him raised any suspicions. My work would be so much easier if all guilty people acted shifty.
“I’m sure I will. I enjoyed your sermon a great deal,” I said.
After a few more pleasantries, I took my leave, driving away in full sight of the remaining congregants. I made sure I wasn’t followed for a couple of kilometers, then pulled off to wait for the church to clear out. I gave it an hour. When I returned to the tiny parking lot, there were no cars. Still, I parked farther down the road at the foot of their neighbor’s driveway and walked back to the church, slipping on gloves and a knit cap.
The front doors were locked. I climbed onto the railing, using the wall for balance and peered in one of the windows. Inside was empty, so I went around back, where there was another door, also locked. I manifested a pick and was inside in moments.
A cool hush enveloped me. One lone light provided the illumination in this back hallway, revealing a set of double doors to the main part of the church, with another door to the pastor’s office. A bleeding Christ on a cross was nailed up across from his desk, while off to the side hung a rather lurid painting of the Rapture. There was no laptop, merely a lot of religious texts and some notes for next week’s sermon. The only evidence of the church’s connection to the Sunshine Youth Shelter were some brochures.
Other than the restrooms, there was one more door, leading to a narrow staircase into the basement. I sighed. The last basement I’d found myself in had contained a sentient yarn monster.
I clicked on the pen light stashed in my small purse and carefully made my way along the rickety stairs. The most suspicious thing in the main area was a washing machine, but there was another door to investigate.
Someone lightly touched my back as a bulb snapped on overhead.
“Nefesh!” the pastor cried.
“I’m not—”
“You drew from your blood.”
Ah, crap. The lock pick. I went on alert, ready to bust out my magic, but he didn’t try to hurt me or burn me with holy water or anything.
He pressed his palms together in supplication. “God sent you.”
“Say what?”
Pastor Nephus opened the door at the far end of the room.
A coltish young woman about Isabel’s age, with hair the color of bleached-out wheat, knelt, praying silently, her lips moving.
What the fuck?
The pastor lay his hand on her head. “God has not forsaken us. Our prayers have been answered.”
They had no weapons and I had my magic. Since I was in no danger, I stuck around to satisfy my curiosity. “Answered how?”
“Show her, Eve,” the pastor said.
Eve looked up at him with terrified eyes. “But, Dad—”
“It’s okay,” he said in a more gentle voice. “Show her.”
Fire burst into a halo above Eve’s head. Neat trick. Too bad her father didn’t appreciate the control it took to do that.
“You drew your blood out and manipulated the magic within it,” he said. “Do the same for my daughter. Remove the evil from within.”
Eve’s flames died out. She wrapped her arms around herself, and I caught a glimpse of scars along her wrist under her long sleeves.
That poor girl. She wasn’t the evil one here.
I punched Pastor Nephus. His eyes rolled back into his sockets and he collapsed on the ground.
Eve gasped, backing up, until she hit the wall.
I put up my hands. “I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. Your magic isn’t bad. It’s a beautiful thing.”
“No!” Fire exploded into life all over her body. “I’m evil.”
“You’re really not. Listen, I can give you something to take away the magic.”
The crackling died down to a bare pop, and then sputtered out altogether. “You can?”
The hope in her eyes broke my heart.
“Yes. It’ll only last twenty-four hours but that will give you time to decide what you want to do about it.”
“Get it out of me! I’m going to hell.” She fell to her knees, sobbing. “God sent you. Help me.”
Eve was so committed to this single detrimental way of thinking that she couldn’t even show mercy to herself. The absoluteness of her beliefs left no room to entertain any other path. I rocked back on my heels, these insights hitting uncomfortably close, then shook my head. It was different with Isaac.
Eve continued her crying pleas.
Was she beyond assistance? Had a lifetime of being told she was evil twisted her beyond any hope of understanding how amazing her power was? She was of legal age, but was she of sound mind? I glanced at her scars. Would it be crueler to try and rehabilitate her than to take her magic away? Could I even do that without… the image of Mr. Sharp, the man who’d led the auction for Chariot and whose magic I’d destroyed, rose up, his cries echoing in my ears.
Her flames extinguished, Eve threw her arms around my legs, her nails digging painfully into me through the fabric of my thin dress. Her gaze was frighteningly clear. “Please.”
“Please,” Pastor Nephus slurred, sitting up w
ith his hand pressed to his head.
My magic had never weighed so heavily on me.
I paced in a tight circle. The last time I’d prayed to a deity, I’d been twelve years old. My prayers hadn’t been answered and my father never came home. I wished that I had the pure faith of the others who came to this church. That I’d received a sign instead of being the damn sign.
Eve whimpered, her pain naked and raw in the twist of her shoulders, her grimace, and the stiffness in every muscle. I couldn’t leave her like this. May the universe forgive me, but I was going to take her magic.
I sat down on the floor next to her. “You need to relax for this to work.”
Tears glistened in her eyes. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Move a muscle, pastor, and I’ll make you regret it.”
He nodded, pale.
Working as carefully as I could, I pulled all the magic out of Eve. It smelled like charcoal and tasted like cream. I forced myself to stay grounded through the rush that heightened my senses; not to divest her of it too quickly, and carefully snagged it in the forked branches.
Her whimpers turned to wheezing breaths and her eyes clouded with fear, but it was too late to stop. The clusters had already begun to bloom. The magic was eaten up, leaving a milky taste on my lips, and a shocked silence in the room.
Eve slumped over, not broken like Sharp, but not moving either. Her pulse was faint.
“Will she…” Her father swallowed. “Wake up?”
“I don’t know.” Nothing like this had ever happened.
He pushed me out of the way, cradling her head and murmuring for her to say something.
Then a miracle occurred. Her lids blinked open and she took my hand. “It’s gone.”
“Yes,” I said.
She hugged me tightly, but I didn’t feel her joy. I’d granted her wish, but the scars of this trauma would live on.
My only satisfaction was that I hadn’t harmed her. I’d taken someone’s magic and they’d recovered, proving I was more than a destructive force. I wasn’t a monster. My heart swelled with an enormous lightness.
“Promise me, you’ll live well,” I said.
“Oh, she will,” Pastor Nephus said, an odd darkness to his voice.
Revenge & Rapture: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Detective Series (The Jezebel Files Book 4) Page 23