“Now you tell me,” I grumbled. “Thanks a lot.”
“Actually, I was waiting for it to happen,” Remy said. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you over the years, brother, it’s the fact that you never take my word for anything. You always have to learn things the hard way.”
I shot him a withering look.
But I couldn’t argue the point.
“How can you tell what I’m doing, anyway?” I asked after a while. “I mean, back at the club, you couldn’t see the cacodaimons—not clearly, at least—and Saliriel didn’t seem to see them at all.”
Remy nodded, taking a sip of his wine. He held it in his mouth for a few moments, relishing the flavor.
“Despite our common origins, we’re not all alike,” he responded. “While it’s true that most of the Nephilim’s powers lie with the flesh and the blood, we’re not entirely insensible to the perceptions you Anakim enjoy. I’ve always had a talent for that, and you’ve helped me to hone it over the years. And while I can’t cross into the Shadowside like you do, I understand most of the mechanics—on a basic level, at least.”
“Does that help you teach me when I come back from the dead?” I asked, still struggling to wrap my head around the idea.
“To some degree,” he acknowledged after another sip of his wine. “Though it gives me an edge in other things, as well.”
What those things were, he didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t think it would be useful to press him on it. Instead, my thoughts drifted to the disturbing files stored in my “Silent_War” account.
“So you said the Anakim were scattered,” I said, as casually as I could muster. “What do you mean by that?”
“Just what it implies,” he said with a shrug. “Your primus is… an elusive fellow. Elusive and, I daresay, a little eccentric.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Eccentric how?”
“Anakesiel always hated structure and hierarchy—saw it as some kind of yoke beneath which we all toil,” Remy explained. His eyes grew unfocused for a moment, and he wore an expression I was beginning to associate with his more distant recollections. “Before the Blood Wars, he did away with the Anakim’s structure entirely. Put you all on equal footing—at least ostensibly,” he added with a disdainful wave. “Try as he might, he couldn’t stop being primus any more than he could change his Name. Hierarchy is etched into what we are.”
When he said Name, I could hear the capital. So they were as important as Lil had implied.
“Blood Wars,” I echoed. “You mentioned those at Club Heaven.”
Remy’s blue eyes grew guarded. “You don’t want me talking of the Blood Wars, sibling,” he said. A note of warning edged his voice.
I pushed food around on my plate, debating the wisdom of pressing him anyway.
“Were those the only wars?” I ventured.
“No,” Remy said distantly, “but they were the last of the great wars among our kind.”
That you know of, I thought, trying to hide my frown. Suddenly, Remy pushed his meal away, abandoning even his wine.
“It’s best to avoid such unpleasantness,” he said, and he sighed. “Suffice that even the primae agreed they had gone too far. When the tribes convened on the slopes of Mount Hermon, all of the primae swore to bury their symbols of power, as a show of good faith.”
Some of that was familiar from my history file. Guess it wasn’t a fairy tale after all.
“So everyone was there,” I said. “Anakesiel? His lieutenants?”
Remy gave me an odd look. “The Covenant of the Six wouldn’t have accomplished much if Anakesiel hadn’t relinquished his icon, along with everyone else,” he said carefully.
The names of the missing Anakim scrolled unbidden through my mind.
“Have you seen them since then?”
Something in my expression must have tipped him off, because he cocked his head at me, his eyes suddenly canny.
“Is there something you’re not telling me on this matter, sibling?” he asked, reclaiming his wine but not taking a drink.
I stared for several long moments at the plate of rigatoni next to my half-finished bowl of soup, debating how much I could safely explain. In spite of his allegiance to Saliriel, I wanted to trust Remy. He wasn’t exactly the bravest soul, but he had proven—at least to me—that he was kind.
“What do you know of a decimus named Dorimiel? I think he’s Nephilim.”
Remy quirked an eyebrow, that guarded expression never leaving his pale features.
“I can’t say I remember him well,” he replied. “He was gone for a very long time.”
“Gone?” I persisted. “What do you mean gone? I thought we were all immortal.”
Remiel swirled the dark liquid in his glass. “Zaquiel, sibling—our past is complicated,” he said without meeting my eyes. “And as much as you dislike my people, your own committed atrocities, as well, claiming they were executed in the name of—”
He was cut short when a throaty female voice broke over the casual chatter of the other diners.
“Zack! What the hell are you doing here?”
Shit!
At the sound of my name I jumped, and probably looked as guilty as a kid caught torturing the family hamster. Lil stood glowering two tables away, hands on her hips, her gray eyes threatening a storm. Everyone in the restaurant was staring at her, but she didn’t appear to care.
During the hours she’d been away, she had changed clothes. Her new ensemble consisted of a lapis-hued blazer, a scoop-necked beige camisole, and khaki cargo pants that hugged her curves. I wasn’t sure how, but she had a gift for making business-casual look almost pornographic.
Remy nearly dropped his wine.
“Lilianna?!?” he gasped. Then he hissed accusingly at me, “You didn’t tell me you were working with the Lady of Beasts!”
28
“It’s Lillee now,” she corrected, and she didn’t seem to share Remy’s discomfort.
He didn’t respond, and there was an awkward silence. The patrons continued to stare, from the octogenarian on down.
“So I guess I don’t need to make introductions?” I offered. As I did, Lil dragged a chair from an empty table and made herself comfortable. Remy looked mortified, his gaze darting around the restaurant. I wasn’t sure someone so pale could blush, but he was certainly working on it.
“Oh, come on, Remiel,” Lil said with a smirk of satisfaction. “Not even a ‘hello, how are you?’ Is that any way to treat your wife?”
Hell of a time to be taking a drink.
I nearly shot water through my nose.
“Wife?” I choked.
“Ex-wife,” Remy corrected swiftly.
“Guess who introduced us?” Lil asked, flashing me a grin like the baring of teeth.
“Why am I glad I don’t remember?” I muttered. After another significant glance my way, Lil blessedly turned her storm-gray gaze back to Remy.
“I don’t recall signing any papers,” she purred.
“One of us was dead,” he gritted. “I think that counts.”
She rolled her eyes. “Details.”
“Zaquiel, why?” he cried, pointedly trying to ignore Lil as she leaned in closer and plucked a morsel of veal from his plate. She popped it into her mouth and chewed with undisguised relish.
“Always did have good taste,” she said.
“Um, she followed me home?” I quipped, unable to stop myself.
Remy made a disgusted noise and started to rise from the table. He tossed his wadded-up napkin onto his plate, snarling angrily.
“I will not subject myself to this. I—”
Lil cut him short, “Yeah, that’s right. Go rush off, now that you’ve had a chance to play the dutiful sibling, and pick his brain. That’s just your style.”
He paused, halfway between standing and sitting. “I resent that.”
“Of course you do,” she spat. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
“Lilianna!”
<
br /> “Lillee,” she corrected again.
“All right, Lillee. I don’t know why you have such a low opinion of me—”
“Maybe it’s all the times you’ve double-crossed me when the chips were down,” she suggested with a snarl.
“You’re over-looking, I believe, all of the times you betrayed me.”
“You say that like survival’s a bad thing,” she purred. “I had my reasons. You, on the other hand, just jumped whenever Sal told you to. It’s not the same.”
“So, you two know each other?” I said, determined not to be left out. “Great. Remy here thought we should go out to dinner, just us guys, talk about that article in the paper, and other stuff…” Like feeding, I thought, though I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.
Remy wavered, but sat back down—though not before releasing his most put-upon sigh.
“You saw the article then,” Lil replied. “That’s one of the things that turned up while I was out. Still don’t know squat about that meeting at Lake View, but there is something I need you to take a look at. Just not in front of him.” She jerked a thumb toward my brother.
“I’m flattered you think so highly of me, that you would withhold information,” Remy huffed. “I have to wonder, though—what is your interest in the events at the museum?”
Lil shot him a withering look. “My interest,” she replied acerbically, “is in whatever my sister was studying, and how it got her kidnapped.”
“Your sister?” Remy responded, his eyes still cautious. “Which one?”
There are more of them? I thought. If they were all like Lil, then two seemed to be plenty. Any more might tip the cosmic scale of snark. More importantly, I wondered how much information the “Lady of Beasts” had been holding back.
“Lailah,” she answered after a moment’s hesitation.
“Dr. Ganjavi,” he said, pressing his palm against his forehead. “I should have known. When did you reconnect with the Lady of Shades?” He directed this last to me.
While I fumbled for some response, Lil smacked my arm with the back of her hand. “What are you waiting for?” she demanded. “We need to get to the museum.”
I just stared. “You’re joking, right?”
“You don’t think the article covered everything, do you?” she shot back a little too loudly. “All that fuss over forgeries? There’s more to it—there has to be—and we won’t know what till you go and check out your office.” She locked eyes with me. “Unless you have a better idea.”
Mindful of the people still staring, I lowered my voice. I was, after all, still wanted by the police, mob-friendly establishment or not.
“And how exactly do you propose that we get into a closed museum,” I hissed, “less than a week after a major break-in?” She gave me a look that made me feel like a particularly thick-headed pet.
“You walk in, of course.”
I practically tore my hair.
“Have you been listening to anything I say?”
Remiel had been watching in silence.
“She means from the Shadowside,” he interjected.
Lil jerked a thumb. “What he said.”
“Whose side are you on, anyway?” I demanded of Remiel, and he pouted a little.
“Whichever side helps resolve what happened to you, sibling. And despite any, ah, bad blood between us,” he added, as I winced at the unintentional pun, “if Lil’s sister is missing, that can’t be good.”
“Like you care,” she grumbled.
He sighed, shaking his head sadly. “You know, Lilianna, I am not as heartless as you seem to think.”
She glowered at him, and if lightning had flashed behind the thunderclouds that were her eyes, I wouldn’t have been shocked.
“Don’t pretend to know what I think, Nephilim,” she growled, and it made me think of the big cat. “Now why don’t you go scurry off to your master, and make your report?”
Remy ground his teeth, but didn’t reply. The waitress headed for our table, carrying a dessert tray. She took one look at our expressions and did an about-face.
“We both know who you work for, Remiel,” Lil spat. “Zack, why did you even give this spineless bloodsucker the time of day? What made you think you could trust him? You know the Nephilim are tangled up in this.”
Remiel’s whole face darkened and his eyes glittered with an inhuman light. When next he managed to speak, his voice was quiet, but each word carried a thunderous weight.
“I will not bear your insults, woman.”
“Then bear this,” she retorted, grabbing her phone. With a triumphant air, she played back the voicemail. My voice came out, tinny and urgent.
“Hope this is still your number, Lil. They have your sister. Not sure what’s going on, but the Nephilim are involved. I’m going to try to get her back. Hope I don’t disappear like the others… Gotta go.”
Remiel stared at the smartphone for several moments, but Lil didn’t bother to repeat the message.
“Zaquiel?” he asked, confused.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s my voice, but I don’t remember leaving the message.”
“Maybe you were mistaken?” he replied hopefully.
As gently as possible, I said, “You said yourself that I came into the club Tuesday, accusing Saliriel of sending people to rob the museum. I knew they were Nephilim. They might not have been her people, but wouldn’t I have recognized them as Nephilim?” I wasn’t sure about that, but I was fishing.
“You also said there were cacodaimons,” Remy reminded, “working together with them. That doesn’t happen.”
“What about the ones that came after me at Heaven?” I insisted.
“We don’t know for certain they were after you. They just came in shooting,” he said. “We’re by the lake. Every once in a while a gate opens up, and they make it to the shore.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“Oh, they were after him, all right,” Lil chimed in. “I didn’t believe it either, until I saw the ones this morning.”
“There were more?” Remy gasped. He struggled to keep his voice low. “There has to be a logical explanation.”
“Someone’s sending them after me,” I insisted. Lil talked over me.
“One or two I could chalk up to chance,” she replied. “They slink out of Lake Michigan back home now and then, too, and while Erie’s shallow by comparison, it’s still deep enough where a couple might get through. But we’re talking—what—five total, maybe more? Something funny’s going on.”
“There is nothing funny about the unmakers,” Remy responded hollowly.
“I don’t get why this is so hard. It’s the one thing that’s obvious to me. Somebody’s calling the shots with those creepy-crawlies, and he’s hot to have them eat me.”
Lil made a dismissive gesture, shaking her red curls at me. “I’m not sure someone can actually be directing them. How could they? But if this swarm ties back to the Nephilim, Saliriel would know.”
Remy gave her a wounded look.
“Come on, Remy,” she said. She snagged another bite of veal. “Do you really think Sal doesn’t have a clue? Not bloody likely. He’s got his fingers in more pies than Sweeney Todd.”
“She,” Remy corrected automatically.
“Hunh?” Lil responded.
“She,” Remiel stated. “Saliriel is a woman now.”
Lil nearly choked. “What? When the hell did that happen?”
Remy refused to respond, pale nostrils flaring.
“Whatever.” Lil made a rude gesture. “Whether he’s wearing a suit or a skirt, Sal’s a lying sack of shit making some kind of power play. Just like old times. The only thing surprising is that you’re still working for him. Or her. It, maybe,” she snarled, throwing up her hands in frustration. It sounded rude, even to me.
With quiet urgency, Remiel said, “Our hierarchies are inescapable. I cannot disobey my decimus.” Anger, indignation, and regret all vied for dominance on his features.
I shifted in my seat. This was getting us nowhere.
“You know what would be great about now?” I asked no one in particular, though plenty of people around us were staring. “The check. Yeah, the check, and getting the hell out of here. That would be stellar.”
“Not my problem.” Lil shrugged. “Why don’t we just go, and he can settle up.”
“No, I’m coming with you,” Remy said firmly. He withdrew a billfold from his pocket, dropping a handful of twenties onto the table.
“Like hell you are,” Lil shot back. She grabbed me by the sleeve, tugging. “Zack and I need to have a little chat, and not with you around, husband.” Coming from her lips, the word was an insult.
“Ex-husband,” he responded quickly. “And I wasn’t asking for your permission.” He turned to me. “Zaquiel, you have no memory, so you have no idea how dangerous she can be.” He tilted his head toward his… wife. “You need someone who’s on your side, before she drags you into things you cannot possibly comprehend.”
“Seems fair,” I said, eyeing Lil and daring her to argue.
“You don’t seriously think you can trust him?”
“I don’t seriously think I can trust you, either,” I replied, “but I’ve been running around with you since yesterday. So what do you say? It’s both or neither. Take your pick.”
“Fine,” they said in unison.
29
They argued like an old married couple. Of course, they were an old married couple. At least in some incarnation.
“We’re taking my car,” Lil declared, storming ahead of us into the parking lot.
“There’s more space in my Lexus,” Remy replied automatically. “Some of us have to think about legroom, you know.”
Lil whirled around, hands on her hips. “You are so not driving. I bet you still drive like somebody’s grandfather.”
“I’m a very safe driver,” he objected. “I have a perfect record.”
Conspiracy of Angels Page 15
