Tasha paled and shook her head. “Fuck that yacht. I’m not trying that again.”
I remember the scar I’d seen on her back. “Don’t worry. That’s what the bread is for.”
“Right.” Tasha scoffed and hugged herself.
“Trust me,” I said.
“Why the hell would I do that?” She glared through the glass again, trying to see me. “You fucked me over. I was supposed to have immunity. Tack too.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I swallowed and bit my bottom lip. “Look, I’m trying to make things right. It’s not like you really wanted to go back to work as a reaper again, did you?”
She rolled her eyes. “It didn’t exactly sound like buckets of fun, but it would have definitely been a fate better than death.”
“That doesn’t have to be your fate, Tasha.”
She thought it over for a minute and then held the roll up to the window, figuring I could see her even if she couldn’t see me. “Thanks, precious. This is one hell of a last meal.”
Chapter 27
“Everything I did in my life that was worthwhile, I caught hell for.” —Earl Warren
The chicken Bub had prepared for our celebratory dinner was amazing. So amazing, in fact, that Kevin had invited himself to join us. And then Gabriel returned from wherever Holly had sent him off to and decided to stick around for a bite too, claiming that eating food prepared by my demon consort was a crucial step in their budding friendship. I let him win that argument.
The dinner conversation spilled over into dessert—one of my famous apple pies—and then we cracked open a few Ambrosia Ales and riffled through my John Wayne collection. I’d expected Bub to pout about our second dessert being delayed, but he seemed just as amused as I was by Gabriel finally warming up to him.
We were all sprawled across the couches in the living room, watching Pals of the Saddle, when someone tried to put their fist through the front door.
“I know it was you,” a wrathful voice yelled.
Saul’s head snapped up with a growl, and Coreen curled herself more tightly around the helljack puppies. Gabriel made it to the door first, and Bub was a step behind him.
Ridwan stood in the hallway, his wings expanded and his chest puffed out. His bloodshot eyes glared past Gabriel and Bub, seeking me out.
“I know it was you,” he said again.
It was hard to play innocent when he looked like he was prepared to take the whole building down to get to me, but I at least managed to contain my gloating. “What was me?”
“You freed that traitor and her demon sidekick.” His eyes darted from me to Bub and he scoffed, as if he saw a resemblance to Tasha and Tack.
Gabriel scratched his head. “I thought Maalik said she was wearing a tracking bracelet.”
Ridwan’s lips peeled back to bare his clenched teeth. “It was removed after the battle. How convenient.” He held a finger up in the air. “The Nephilim Guard will find them, and when they do, I’ll be able to prove it was your doing.”
“Lana’s been here with us all evening,” Gabriel said.
Bub nodded. “She came home right after the hearing and baked the most sinfully delicious apple pie.”
Kevin hadn’t moved from the couch, but he piped up long enough to vouch for me too. “À la mode,” he added, nodding enthusiastically.
Ridwan snarled. He reeled his fist back and slammed it against the doorframe in a fit of rage.
Gabriel’s mouth gaped open. “I wouldn’t do that—”
But his warning came too late. The Latin prayers engraved in the woodwork flared to life, sending a line of blue fire up Ridwan’s arm. It burned through the sleeve of his robe until it reached his wing, where it promptly ignited as if the angel had recently bathed in gasoline.
He screamed and flapped his arm and wing about, setting fire to a lampshade on a side table in the hallway.
“Bloody hell.” Bub sighed and grabbed the fire extinguisher from under the kitchen sink. He ran out into the hallway and sprayed foam over Ridwan, taking special care not to miss his face, which burned even brighter than the fire had.
The angel sputtered and stumbled down the hallway toward the elevator. He took a ragged breath as he turned around, pointing a finger at me as he pounded his fist against the down button.
“I will see you hang if it’s the last thing I accomplish on this council,” he said. “Your kind is a curse on Eternity, and I’m here to break it. They will all see you for what you are soon enough.” The elevator dinged open and he swooped inside, shedding singed feathers as he fled.
Gabriel watched with a comical expression, his lips pinched together in a tight line that his grin was slowly overpowering. A laugh bubbled up from his chest, but he tried to disguise it with a cough.
Bub waved the hose of the extinguisher at Ridwan. “You’re welcome!” He huffed out an exasperated sigh. “We demon sidekicks are so underappreciated.”
Ridwan fumed at us as the doors of the elevator slid shut, sealing away his hateful face.
“Those wings are going to be fun to explain at the board meeting tomorrow morning.” Gabriel looked at me and snorted. “I’m totally going to tell everyone the Lord of the Flies saved his sorry ass.”
Bub waited for Gabriel to turn around and head back to the living room before he leaned down to kiss the side of my neck. “You naughty, naughty girl.”
I grinned and looked up at him from under my lashes. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Six books and three short stories later, and I have a whole new appreciation for writers who tackle series work. Keeping all of one’s fictitious facts straight is no easy feat. I know I’ve slipped up a time or two, accidentally swapped minor characters names, placed a business on the wrong street corner of Limbo City, but luckily, I have some really awesome editors and readers who let me know when they spot these inconsistencies. All remaining errors are my own.
I also owe a huge thanks to the usual suspects: my critique group the Four Horsemen of the Bookocalypse, THE Professor George Shelley, my saintly husband who takes care of all the things (including me) while I write, Andrea Cook who cheers me on with her Twitter release day countdowns. Then there’s Angie Hacket, Robin Phillips, Kelly Byrd, Rachel Dawson, Lester Smith, and—ah hell, I could fill a whole book with the names of people who have encouraged and inspired me. But since I’m all out of time and space, please feel free to you add your name to that list right here:
Thank you from the bottom of my heart. For your sweet emails, your thoughtful reviews, or for just taking another stroll through Limbo City with me and Lana. I hope you’ll join us again this fall in book 7, Hellfire and Brimstone. xoxo
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ANGELA ROQUET is a great big weirdo. She collects Danger Girl comic books, owls, skulls, random craft supplies, and all things Joss Whedon. She's a fan of renewable energy, marriage equality, and religious tolerance. As long as whatever you're doing isn't hurting anyone, she's a fan of you, too.
Angela lives in Missouri with her husband and son. She's a member of SFWA and HWA, as well as the Four Horsemen of the Bookocalypse, her epic book critique group, where she's known as Death. When she's not swearing at the keyboard, she enjoys painting, goofing off with her family and friends, and reading books that raise eyebrows. You can find Angela online at www.angelaroquet.com
If you enjoyed this novel, please leave a review at your favorite online retailer. Your support and feedback are greatly appreciated. : )
Book 7, Hellfire and Brimstone, coming October 2016
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Ghost Market (Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc. Book 6) Page 18
