Nor was there any need to find out. When I found the Light, I wanted a virtual crowd around me. Demons, angels, humans. Whatever it took to muddy the waters. If they were preoccupied with one another, they wouldn’t be concentrating on me. If Eli showed up with the price I was charging for the Light, if Solomon showed up to demonstrate what side he was really on—angels, demons, humans—it was going to be one massive brawl.

Finally, after all these years, Kimano could rest. I could rest.

As for Heaven, Hell, and Earth . . . let the pieces fall where they may.

My way.

I looked at Griffin and he wrapped his fingers around Zeke’s wrist. He didn’t say “Safety on” to halt Zeke, but I imagine he thought it loudly enough that Zeke heard it in his mind. He had to have because he growled and moved away from them all, not showing them his vulnerable back once. Lenore had flown back to his shoulder with a shred of anchovy in his beak and was eyeing the angels with suspicious, beady eyes. He swallowed the bit of fish and squawked at the angels, “Whom the angels named Lenore.” But these angels hadn’t named Lenore. He had more or less named himself, and he definitely didn’t consider himself birds of a feather with them. “Nevermore. Nevermore,” he hissed with dark emphasis. That the angels didn’t give him a second glance was their mistake, a huge one. Forgive me if I didn’t bring it to their attention.

We waited a few more hours. What I had to do might be better done in the dark with no tourists around. Better safe than sorry. It gave me a chance to get the rest of the plaster dust out of my hair and pull it up in a twist with loose curls springing everywhere. It also let me brush my teeth free of garlic, because offending Trinity wasn’t worth offending myself and half the city to boot. I didn’t bother with makeup this time. If I was going to wear war paint at the end of this day, it would be made of blood. But hopefully we’d get past this last bread crumb without a fight. Don’t get me wrong. There would be a fight, but I wanted it at the end . . . when I claimed the Light. When everyone tried to buy it from me or take it from me.

Then there would be blood.

Finally we left, and “finally” truly was the word for it. Except for Griffin, Zeke, and Lenore, the company wasn’t entertaining. The angels and their servants didn’t play pool or darts. Or talk. Or do much other than blink balefully at us (that would be Goodman), coldly (Trinity), and not at all (the angels). It made my eyes water to watch the latter; unmoving, unblinking, they were like silver and marble statues, nothing like Malibu Angel from Wilbur ’s place. I don’t think they even breathed—although in human form they would have to. At least, I thought they would.

Zeke spent his time gathering up weapons, some of his that he kept here and some of mine. Since he seemed to have enough for Griffin and me as well as him, including three shotguns, I stuck with my Smith. I did make sure to slip several speed loaders in my messenger bag just in case. I expected Trinity or at least Goodman to protest, but they didn’t. I guess having three shining warriors of Heaven on your side evened the odds and then some from their point of view.

Rhyolite was about two and a half to three hours north of Vegas, taking U.S. 95. There were ten of us. We took three cars—mine, held together by once-shiny red paint and sheer hope, and two of the Eden House cars, big, black, and official looking. “Why aren’t they white?” I asked Griffin, who sat beside me in the passenger seat. “Isn’t white all that is holy and good? Pearly gates? Fluffy-white-cloud cities?”

“Too hard to keep clean with all the dust and sand,” he grunted, sliding down and pushing the seat back to close his eyes. “And demon blood.”

“So cleanliness is better than godliness, not just next to it? The things you learn.” I looked at the brown-gold skin of my hands on the steering wheel and grinned. “And pure white isn’t all that. I could’ve told you.”

“I was born pasty. It’s not my fault,” Zeke grumbled from the backseat.

I reached back with one hand and smoothed his copper hair. “No, sugar, none of this has ever been your fault.”

He looked confused for a moment, then did what Zeke did best with confusion—he ignored it. “What are you going to do with the Light when you get it?”

“More to the point, do you think either side will let you keep it or choose whom to give it to?” Griffin murmured, his eyes still shut, obviously still wiped from the night before. Emotionally and physically. The death of so many comrades. That was triply hard on an empath as it was on the rest of us. “It’s going to be a massacre.”

“Yes, indeed it is.” My grin tightened to something with very little humor. I put my sunglasses on and ramped the speed up to ninety.

“Sounds fun,” Zeke said seriously. “Can I kill Trinity then?”

“Kit, when the time comes, you can kill anyone you want,” I promised. Griffin opened his eyes and shot me a questioning glance, but I didn’t answer. When it was time, he’d see—see if he’d still serve Heaven or serve anyone but Zeke and himself. I wasn’t the only one whose life was going to change. He and Zeke were going to have to make a choice, and I had to say I was really curious to know the way they were going to go. Maybe even worried. You try and raise them right, but in the end, they have to make their own way. Make their own decisions. I shook my head.

Kids.

Chapter 14

Rhyolite was a few miles from a tiny town called Beatty. I stopped there at a little gas station. I didn’t need gas, but I was thirsty and a candy bar wouldn’t kill me. Mainly, though, it was to irk the rest of the wagon train behind us. There was a bigger place, the Death Valley Nut and Candy Company on the north end of town, but they were so big, bright, and shiny that I figured they had all the business they needed. I liked giving my business to someone who actually could use it, and this ramshackle place looked like it could use all the help it could get.

I got out of the car and headed in, smiling at the actual rusty ding of a bell overhead. Didn’t hear that much anymore. I touched a dreamcatcher hanging from the ceiling and gave it a gentle push. Inside, an American Indian teenager slouched over the counter, thumbing slowly through a magazine. He had short black hair, copper skin, and a long-sleeved T-shirt that used to be black but now was faded gray. “What you want?” he said, with such incredible boredom that I was amazed he could keep his heart pumping from the sheer weight of the tedium of it all.

“Food, water, peace on Earth.” I spread my arms, braced my hands on the counter, and gave him a big smile as a reference point. “And service with a smile maybe?”

He looked up when he heard my voice . . . female—ding . . . and smiled back. Smirked, rather—a genuine, horny sixteen-year-old smirk. I might have passed the big three-O, but I still had it. I laughed at myself—which is some of the very best laughter there is. “I’ve got more than a smile for—” A dark wrinkled hand smacked the back of his head hard. His grandfather or great-grandfather stepped up beside him.

“You show respect, Aaron. You show it to every visitor. You never know who might walk through our door.” With iron gray hair streaked with white and tied back into a long ponytail, the man bowed his head. “I apologize for my grandson’s slothful, rude ways. I am Samuel Blackhawk. Welcome.”

By this time, Griffin and Zeke were wandering the whole two aisles of the store and Trinity and his men stood behind me. I gave Trinity and the others a dismissive look over my shoulder. “I’m hungry. So wait here or wait in the car. Up to you.” Then I turned my attention back to Samuel Blackhawk and held out my hand. He hesitated for a second, then took it with exquisite care.