by Jenn Stark
I considered that. “So they can’t be sent back?”
“Oh, hell yes, they can,” Jimmy said, and try as I might, I couldn’t tell if his play on words was deliberate. But he pushed on. “Unless they’re absolved of their sin, they’re fair game for eternal damnation—but they have to be caught, first. And with so many of them, the ones that are going to be targeted are the ones who wreak havoc among the humans.”
Finally, I got it. “That’s how you get clean, then,” I said. “You get your sin absolved.” I spoke with utter confidence, but once the words were out, I realized I still had no idea what I was talking about. Jimmy, though, smiled like he was a proud mama and I’d just passed my Driver’s Test, and suddenly I didn’t want to disappoint him.
“Yup.” He nodded. “Trouble is, most demons don’t have any interest in getting their sin absolved. They’d much rather wreak havoc. And with so many of them hitting the earth…”
“We’re going to have a lot of problems on our hands.”
“A lot,” he agreed. “You’re lucky, actually. Chicago was a hot spot for demons even before this release, and if they knew you had the ability to stop them, you and the coven, I’m surprised they didn’t send additional reinforcements to take you out.”
I grimaced, thinking about the scene in Danae’s dining room. “Yeah, well. I’m not sure they didn’t. But now what?”
At this, Jimmy turned back to me, looking older than I’d ever seen him, which was saying something. “Now, we have a mess to take care of. You said you wanted information on the war on magic, but you’re already past the point of information. That bitch has started.” He pointed toward Dixie’s chapel. “And what happened in there is part of it too.”
I blinked at him, then back at the chapel. “What do you mean?”
“You want to know who blasted her place? Demons. You want to know why? Because along with peddling drugs and shooting up with anything she thought might take her to the next level, she’s been talking to the asswipes, trying to pump them for information that she was in no way able to handle.”
“And you knew that because of you could—sense it. Those conversations. With demons.”
“Bingo. All that started with the summons a couple of nights ago, and I wasn’t all that keen on sharing since I didn’t want to have this conversation.” He flapped his hand at the countertop, and I nodded. But Jimmy wasn’t the only demon that I sort of knew.
“So is it only, ah, former demons who can sense these summons, the summons and the release of new demons? What about the crew at Viktor’s?”
“The Syx.” I expected the name to be uttered with derision, but Jimmy sounded more bummed out than disgusted. “No, they can’t help you, not with this. They’re still condemned. But they will be useful to you, if you force them into it.”
“Force them?” I’d seen the Syx several times since I’d brought them back from their bolt-hole beyond the veil. They weren’t exactly the kind of creature you could force. In their human form, they were well over six feet tall, bristling with muscle and bad attitudes. Nikki had a way with them, in the same manner that she had a way with every male that walked the earth, but I hadn’t done more than exchange a nod with the group. I didn’t even know their names, other than their more-or-less leader, Warrick. “Force them how?”
“Oh, that’s the easiest part of this,” Jimmy said, his voice wry. “Demons have to do what you ask. That’s what people screw up. The ol’ ‘Devil is a dumb spirit’ line, only not the Devil of the Council, though he’d probably do the same thing just for grins. You order a demon to dance with enough conviction, and he’ll do it all right. And the Syx…” He shook his head. “Back before the veil was created, they’d already made a name for themselves as the killing kind. Then the veil went up, and they were stuffed beyond it. Stuffed, but not forgotten. Anytime someone needed dying, some demon who hadn’t been banished but who still had an all-access pass to Earth, one or more of the Syx were summoned to take ’em out.”
“And Dixie? How does she figure in with this?”
“She decided she wanted to become a demon queen,” Jimmy said, way too matter-of-factly.
“A what?”
“Demon queen. She got the goods on how to control a faction of the bastards and knew that it was just a matter of time before she’d get her chance to recruit. She organized the drawing of the repeater circles—probably a thousand of them, spread out over the world. None of them manned. Just chalk circles drawn in hidden places over the past couple of weeks. That part I didn’t know until you did your thing up north and all hell broke loose, as they say. I would have told you otherwise.”
“Jimmy,” I said, staring at him. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe that Dixie Quinn is running a demon network out of her freaking chapel. That’s—that’s insane.”
“Well, she tried to, anyway. Now she’s kind of messed up, from what I’ve heard. She’ll be out of commission for a while.” He shrugged. “Gotta ask yourself who was the one behind the demon hit.”
The bells jangled on the door, and Nikki stepped in, her face white and tight. “Dollface,” she said, with a nod to Jimmy.
I didn’t wait for her to speak. “Do not tell me that you’ve found evidence that Dixie is running a group of demons as part of her drug cartel.”
Nikki jerked back as if she’d been slapped, then looked at Jimmy. “You do something to her I should know about?”
He grinned, showing yellowed teeth. “Oh, if I’d done something to her, you’d know about it.”
“What is it, Nikki?” I asked, and Nikki shot her gaze back to me, thankfully not taking umbrage to my tone, because I was all out of umbrage to give.
“Well—way to burst my bubble, dollface, but yeah.” Nikki made a face. “Ever since I had a chance to get up close and personal with Warrick and his demon buddies, my de-dar is pretty accurate.” She shot Jimmy a glance. “At least demons who are still high-test. And demons were all over that crime scene. Cops don’t know it, and Brody is still chewing on the idea like it’s an old shoe he’s been served for dinner, but I know what I know. There were totally demons in there, and no one I’ve sensed before. As to the rest of it—it does not look good. After she texted Brody earlier today, Dixie crashed big-time. She’s in full arrest at the hospital, apparently in withdrawal, but no one knows from what. We’re sending her over to Dr. Sells as we speak. That’s not the worst of it, though.”
My head was starting to pound in earnest. “It isn’t?”
“Nope. The worst of it is what we found in her office. This wasn’t just a couple of pills planted by a competitor or an irate street gang, dollface. Whoever broke in to her office knew where to put the good stuff…or where to find it. There were hidey holes revealed I’d never even seen. Inside, they found file folders, plastic cases, baggies, files, notations, Dixie’s handwriting all over the place and her fingerprints with them. There’s no way that this much evidence could be a plant. At least that’s what the cops are saying.”
I frowned. “Look, we’re dealing with Connecteds here. You really think that it would be all that difficult for them to create this kind of smokescreen?”
“What I think doesn’t so much matter. Even if Dixie is being set up, the collateral damage is up close and personal. Now that she’s become fair game for full investigation, guess who else is in the line of fire? As in right now?”
I stared at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Not even a little bit,” Nikki said. “In fact, if you’ve got a back door to this place, Jimmy, now would probably be a good time for Sara here to try it out.” She looked at me. “We can meet you back at the house, dollface, but you’re going to have to get there on your own. Neither Brody nor I are exactly hard to miss. I only managed to slip out here to warn you because they’re all rolling around in delight at the stash they’re uncovering inside, and I said I was going to grab Brody’s something or other from the car. That won’t hold up long if I do
n’t get back there.”
“Get out of here already, then.” As I spoke, Jimmy was already moving toward the corridor that led to the back of the shop, where both he and Death had inked more clients than I could imagine, most of whom had no idea of his and Death’s true natures. Death, also known as Blue in the auto airbrushing circuit, hadn’t spilled much ink or paint of late, though. She’d made herself scarce from Vegas.
“I got an idea,” Jimmy called forward, and I exchanged a look with Nikki. She shrugged.
“I got no help for you, so I say, go with whatever he suggests,” she said. “Brody thinks he’ll be able to come up with something to keep these guys busy, but it’s not going to take long for them to come sniffing you out.”
“The second wave of the war on magic,” I muttered. “Humans against humans.” The timing of this drug bust couldn’t be accidental. Dixie hadn’t been left alone to her own devices for long enough to cause this much trouble. No way. In fact, when she recovered, if she recovered, it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that she didn’t know anything about all this. Some of the drug stuff, sure, but seriously, demons? Even with Jimmy corroborating this story, I had a hard time believing it.
From the back of the shop, Jimmy yelled something unintelligible. I gave Nikki a salute, then headed after him. By the time I got to the large open garage where Blue painted most of her cars, he’d already opened the back sliding door and was sitting in a souped-up muscle car, low-slung and painted a fire-engine red, with a starburst of psychedelic colors playing over its hood and doors.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” I protested, but Jimmy merely revved the engine, barely keeping the car in check long enough for me to open the door and slide inside. I’d hardly shut the door behind me when he punched the accelerator, and the vehicle shot into the back alley behind the shop, wheels squealing.
“Stealth!” I shouted as Jimmy peeled out of the alley and floored it down one street, then another. “And you’re going in entirely the wrong direction.”
“You shut your trap and enjoy the ride,” he shouted back, dropping the car into another gear as he miraculously found a side street devoid of most vehicles. “I needed to blow the dust off this baby, and you need to know one more thing before I drop you home. Something I sure as shit couldn’t say back there in the office, with the very walls in service to Death, but something you gotta understand if you want a chance at getting out of this mess in one piece.”
He banked around another corner, the sunbaked houses of south Vegas flashing by.
“You're not gonna like this,” he said.
In a flash, all the dots connected. Courtesy of my dip into the Magician’s source magic? I didn’t know, but I held up a hand to cut Jimmy off. “You can save your breath. I know the Hierophant isn’t as innocent as he seems.”
The ex-demon snorted. “Innocent doesn’t even begin to cover it. He’s bad juju, that’s all there is to it. Forget his hard-on for killing anything that was once or might ever be a demon. The Archangel Michael is very much a ‘condemn first, get the facts later’ kind of dude. All that time serving as the sword of God has clearly not improved his perspective.”
“Dude.” I sagged back against the seat, staring out at a sea of stucco. I was having a really hard time processing this. “I mean, he’s a warrior. I get that. But he—he seemed so nice. Is he a threat to humans? Because—no disrespect—but if he’s just after demons…”
“Well, gee, I don’t know. Do humans ever defy the God of all creation, ever do something as idiotic as worshipping other gods or, worse, no god at all? Do humans ever skip church on Sunday to watch their kids’ soccer match or pray more for a sale on Amazon Prime Day than they do for their own souls?”
I glanced over at him, but his gaze remained on the road ahead, his wispy brows beetling over his sunken eyes. “You really think God gives a crap about that sort of thing?”
Jimmy’s laugh was hollow. “I’ve long since given up thinking about what God truly cares about. But he sure as hell isn’t one of the douchebags trying to pierce the veil. He’s already played his hand at walking the earth. Michael is another story. He’s here, and he doesn’t show any signs of leaving. What’s more, he’s pissed. That guy has the balls to change all the rules of the Council if they don’t watch out.”
“Yeah?” I asked derisively. “That’s all it takes? Balls?”
He nodded, taking my question seriously. “You gotta want it bad enough, but yeah. Go big or go home. Nothing else seems to work with those guys.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I went back to trying to line up all my jigsaw pieces. The demons were frankly the least of my problems. We had Danae and the covens, Michael and his flaming sword, and apparently even the Syx to handle them. I was more concerned about the three-fronted war. The humans vs. the gods equation was, somewhat ridiculously, the easiest one to prepare for. We had the Houses of Magic, we had the Council. We would handle whatever the gods tried to dish out. Then, there would be Connecteds vs. Non-Connecteds…but who exactly did that mean? Interpol, maybe SANCTUS, sure. But was I missing a third player? I somehow felt like I had to be.
Then finally, there was the Council against itself? I couldn’t even think about that. My cup of crazy was already spilling over.
With a grunt of satisfaction that pulled me out of my reverie, Jimmy cut the wheel hard. We careened onto a side street that had all the personality of masking tape. Instantly, he dropped his speed until we were cruising almost silently past tract house after tract house, each of them decked out in remarkably contrasting shades of beige stucco.
I slowly unpeeled my fingers from my seat belt. “Um…why are we here?”
“Because I got word that there’s someone else who needs you,” Jimmy said. “Lot of that going around these days, you ask me. Kind of makes you wonder how much of a big deal you really are.”
I looked over at the once-upon-a-time demon and smiled. “Go big or go home, right?”
He nodded, piercing me with his bloodshot eyes. “Go big or go home.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jimmy slowed to a stop, then popped the door locks. Obligingly, I got out of the car and frowned at the building in front of me. I could feel the magic in it. Strange, since it was yet another squat, stucco tract house, with a shutters-and-front-door treatment that screamed early 1950s and a front lawn done over in shades of early abandonment. I half feared that Jimmy would roar off into the sunset, but instead, he drove the car another three doors down and turned into a driveway, disappearing behind the corner of the residence. Was there a garage back there? There sure as heck wasn’t anything approaching a shade tree.
Either way, I was glad he was off the street, given the one-of-a-kind paint job he was rocking on that car.
Faced with the choice of knocking on the front door of the house or getting fried to a crisp on the sidewalk, I took option three and stuck my hand in my jacket pocket, fumbling for my cards. I moved up the driveway, then took the Candyland-esque walkway toward the front door. By the third step, I’d pulled the Page of Swords, the Fool, and Justice, so I had more than a little idea of what I was going to encounter behind the salmon-pink front door, as incongruous as this place was as a point of discovery.
The Page of Swords was obvious enough. Pages indicated communications or messages, and drawing a Page almost always meant that you were about to get needed information about the question at hand. In this case, I opted not to interpret Swords as one of my own House employees, but a simple representation of logistics. While all Pages were messengers, the individual suits could sometimes target the type of information received. Considering I was literally on the doorstep of a war, logistics seemed like a pretty good place to start. The second card was the Fool, which almost felt like cheating. Between that and the influx of energy coming out of this anonymous little house in the middle of an anonymous little street, there was pretty much no question that I'd find Simon behind the pink door in front of
me.
After that, it got a little trickier. Justice was one of those cards that could mean a number of different things, particularly as an outcome card. It could mean that Simon wanted to make up for the wrong he felt he’d dealt me, and I was certainly open to that. I didn’t need any more apology than he’d already given, but I understood his need to give it. Then again, the card could also mean that a government entity factored into the equation, since the figure pictured was holding a sword in one hand and scales in the other. And finally, Justice could simply mean balance—once more harkening back to the scales imagery.
All that to say, it was entirely possible that Jimmy merely thought I needed a little yoga in my life, and that Simon was here teaching a group of housewives how to perfect their Downward Facing Dogs.
Still, totally worth the drive to see that.
I tried the doorbell and heard no answering ring, so I rapped on the door.
For a moment, the house remained silent, but it was a different kind of silent from what I’d heard after the inoperable doorbell. This was more the silence of the house holding its breath. Then a quick shuffle of steps sounded, and the door cracked open.
The broad-featured, sharp-eyed face of a Mongolian warrior stared out at me beneath a reinforced door chain. I smiled. He said nothing. I tried to peek past him into the room beyond. There didn’t appear to be any spandex-wearing ladies with frosted hair, so I swallowed my disappointment and tried actual words.
“Simon wants to see me. Tell him Sara is here?” It was all I could do not to speak the words too loudly or to enunciate as if the warrior was hard of hearing. I knew Simon’s security detail didn’t speak English, or at least they hadn’t when they arrived in Las Vegas, but they’d been here several months at this point. It was possible Simon had given them the tools they needed to communicate.
