“Not exactly,” Luke said with a slight smile.
“What does that mean?” Watson asked.
“It means that Mort kept him alive and is taking him back to Charlotte to play with him some more,” Luke replied.
“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” Watson asked.
“More than a little. We did our best to make sure that he can do no harm, removing his appendages and cauterizing the stumps. Then Mort put him in a casket and is ferrying the torso back to his bar, where he plans a lengthy process of torment for the demon that dared harm his family. I have been invited to assist whenever I so desire.” Luke smiled, and I got a little chill.
I’d been in the room in France when Luke had what he referred to as “an unpleasant conversation” with a Nazi spy. Every once in a while I still woke up with those images haunting my dreams. And that guy hadn’t hurt anyone Luke actually knew personally. I didn’t want to be in Oro’s shoes. Not that he needed them anymore.
“What about the Chaos thing?” I asked.
“What Chaos thing?” Luke replied.
“Isn’t Mort supposed to take Oro’s place as an Agent of Chaos?”
“Yes,” Luke said. “Once Orobas dies. That is another reason Mort is keeping Orobas alive.” He gave me a smile. “He isn’t breaking his word, or even amending his deal. He is simply shifting the timetable.”
“Lesson number twelve,” I said. “Don’t make deals with demons.”
Flynn leaned over to Glory. “What about you?”
Glory looked at her. “What about me?” Her voice was flat, lifeless, like someone had ripped away her very essence. Which he had.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know what I can do. Without my wings, I am merely a human. And the only one who can restore my wings is the Father Himself. And Barachiel was telling the truth—no one has seen Him since the Great War.”
“Well, how do we find him?” I asked.
“How do you find God?” Glory asked. “You might be the last one of all of my charges I expected to ask that question.” A little smile crept across her face as she started the long climb back out of the dark places inside herself. As an angel, Glory had never seen those dark places before. We were going to have to watch her as she got used to being human. Hopefully we could make it very temporary.
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess it’s high time I got a little religion.”
“There are two theories on how to bring the Father back to his throne—”
“Is it really a throne?” Gabby asked. I glared at her, and she shrugged.
“Yes, it really is a throne,” Glory said. “As you may imagine, the Father is somewhat old-fashioned. In fact, I believe He may be the very meaning of the word. Many feel as Barachiel did, that if humanity is placed in enough jeopardy, God will return to rescue His creation. But so far, despite the human race’s best efforts, you have not managed to create enough carnage to get His attention.”
“What’s the other theory?” Jo asked.
“That if all the Archangels, including Lucifer Morningstar, were brought into one place and called for Him at once, that their collective voice would be enough to call Him.”
“Well, okay then. We just need to hunt down some Archangels and get them to ring up old Dad on the phone and get Him to come home, and bring you a set of new wings while He’s at it,” I said.
“Too bad all the Archangels fled at the same time the Father did,” Glory protested. “But…”
“Yes?” Watson prodded.
“You have Michael’s sword.” She pointed to it leaning in a corner of the room. “That implement is a part of his very being. With that, we may be able to call and bind Michael to one place.”
“Okay, that’s one,” I said. “How many Archangels are there?”
“Seven,” Glory said, “plus Lucifer, who was an Archangel before he was cast down.”
“So we just need to find their favorite sword, or teddy bear, or whatever, call the Archangels, and by the way, Satan, into one place without starting another interdimensional war, then convince them to send God a telegram saying you need your wings back,” I said.
“Pretty much,” Glory said. She stood up and pushed her chair back from the table. “Thank you for the thought, but it’s impossible. I should just get used to being human.” She started walking to the door.
I cut her off, putting my hands on her shoulders. “Come on, G,” I said. “Look around the room. Impossible is kinda our thing.”
“But it will be incredibly dangerous, and quite likely deadly, to handle some of these artifacts. Not to mention the Archangels themselves.”
Flynn stood up and moved next to me. “Yeah, dangerous, possibly suicidal? Sounds like every Tuesday. Glory, you saved us all out there. Not just Harker, but the rest of us, too. We had no chance at stopping that bastard until you showed up. We owe you for that. The human race owes you for that.”
“And more than that, you’re our friend,” I said, “and we take care of our own.”
“Damn straight,” Jo said, standing.
“Absolutely.” Watson rose from the table.
“I don’t feel the need to stand to add my affirmative response,” Adam said, still seated.
“Oh, come on, Frankenstein,” Gabby said, tugging on the big man’s arm. “We’re having a Spartacus moment. And, of course, I’m in. It sounds like the kind of gig where I get to shoot stuff. A lot of stuff.”
Adam rose and looked down at Gabby. “I do not like being referred to as Frankenstein. My father’s name was Frankenstein.”
“Nobody likes a grump, Franky,” Gabby said with a smirk.
“So it looks like everybody’s with you, G,” I said, motioning around the table at the group, every one of them on their feet and looking at us. “Now let’s go hunt down some angels and find God.”
I looked around the room at my friends, my former guardian angel, and my… what was she now?
“So…” I said, turning to Flynn. “About that ring around your neck…”
She looked at me, that smartass smile on her face, the one that made me realize this was the woman for me in the first place. “What about it?”
“Can I have it back?” I kept my face completely calm and composed, despite the fact that my stomach was roiling.
Becks’ face fell, but without a word, she reached around behind her head, unfastened the clasp of her necklace, and handed me the engagement ring I left for her with Glory. Flynn had made it very clear that a proposal via proxy was neither accepted, nor acceptable.
I took both her hands in mine and dropped to one knee. “Rebecca Gail Flynn, I am not a perfect man. A lot of times, I’m not even a good man. And I am so much too old for you that it’s not even funny. I don’t know where this next quest will take us, but I know this—I want you by my side for it. For this, and for everything that follows. Rebecca… Becks… will you marry me?”
She looked down at me, a pair of tears rolling down her cheeks, a smile that lit up even the darkest corners of my soul on her face, and nodded. “Yes.”
I stood up and kissed her thoroughly, then pulled back to look her in the eye. “Then let’s go storm the Gates of Heaven.”
To Be Continued in Quincy Harker Year Three,
And
The Shadow Council Case Files, Volume One
The Quest for Glory
Begins in 2017
Acknowledgments
Thanks as always to Melissa Gilbert for all her help, and for trying in vain to teach me where the commas go.
Many thanks to Adrijus at rockingbookcovers.com for the awesome cover to this and most of the Harker books.
The following people help me bring this work to you by their Patreon-age. You can join them at Patreon.com/johnhartness.
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About the Author
John G. Hartness is a teller of tales, a righter of wrong, defender of ladies’ virtues, and some people call him Maurice, for he speaks of the pompatus of love. He is also the best-selling author of EPIC-Award-winning series The Black Knight Chronicles from Bell Bridge Books, a comedic urban fantasy series that answers the eternal question “Why aren’t there more fat vampires?” In July of 2016. John was honored with the Manly Wade Wellman Award by the NC Speculative Fiction Foundation for Best Novel by a North Carolina writer in 2015 for the first Quincy Harker novella, Raising Hell.
In 2016, John teamed up with a pair of other publishing industry ne’er-do-wells and founded Falstaff Books, a publishing company dedicated to pushing the boundaries of literature and entertainment.
In his copious free time John enjoys long walks on the beach, rescuing kittens from trees and getting caught in the rain. An avid Magic: the Gathering player, John is strong in his nerd-fu and has sometimes been referred to as “the Kevin Smith of Charlotte, NC.” And not just for his girth.
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Also by John G. Hartness
The Black Knight Chronicles - Omnibus Edition
Paint it Black
In the Still of the Knight
Man in Black
Scattered, Smothered, & Chunked - Bubba the Monster Hunter Season One
Grits, Guns, & Glory - Bubba the Monster Hunter Season Two
Wine, Women, & Song - Bubba the Monster Hunter Season 3
Year One: A Quincy Harker, Demon Hunter Collection
Queen of Kats Book I - Betrayal
Queen of Kats Book II - Survival
From the Stone
The Chosen
Heaven Can wait: A Quincy Harker, Demon Hunter Novella Page 11
