Fallen Angels 03 - Envy (18 page)

Scanning the other tips, he nodded. “Yeah, and the layout of that supermarket . . . there’s nothing across the street or to either side, real y. It’s set off the road, so it’s not as if she would go walking off anywhere.”

“Someone should have seen something.”

Christ, it was almost like what had happened to him with Kroner: nothing but aftermath . . . surrounding a whole lot of blank hole.

Maybe there was something in the Caldwel water that was making people forget.

“Let’s start at the beginning,” he said, reordering his pile. “And tau, b one step at a time.”

As he thought about Bails talking to Kroner, he took out his cel phone and put it on the desk in case the guy cal ed in.

Sissy Barten definitely fit the profile of the kil er’s victims, and was one of only two reported missing persons in the city who did: Kroner had never gone for males, children, or anyone over thirty, and the other girl who was on the list had been reported as gone almost a month ago, so she might wel be outside the time scope.

Sissy was it, Veck had a feeling.

Sissy was his way back into the Kroner case.

“B
ut I
didn’t
touch him.”

Jim was naked and shaving in his bathroom as the argument that had started up between Ad and Eddie hours ago continued next door in their room. It was kind of like having a TV on in the background—only their version of commercial interruptions were showers, dressing, breakfast runs, etc.

He got the impression the pair of them had done the back-and-forth forever. They were damn good at it, too . . . very creative. And to think he’d once been impressed with his own F-bombing.

“Next time, be more specific,” Adrian added. “You can’t smack my ass on this one.”

“Did you stop to think that what happened to Jim could have gotten into you? There was no one to help you.”

“I didn’t fucking touch him!”

Dog was ringside for the show, sitting in the open connector, his scruffy head going left and right as one of the boys spoke and the other fol owed up.

The little guy seemed perfectly happy to just hang and play witness to the vol eying. Maybe he thought it was the live version of an Animal Planet show; who knew.

Shaking his head, Jim braced his palms on the counter and leaned into the mirror. Last night’s go-around with that badge had been a wake-up cal .

Devina had tricks and minefields he stil had to learn about . . . and there was no question that Veck was sucked up into al this—

“. . . vampire.”

Jim frowned and leaned back, putting his head out into his room. Had he heard that right? Neither of his boys seemed like
Twilight
fans, although with Adrian, you never knew where the hel the lines were drawn. And ordinarily, he would have let it go. But he hadn’t believed in angels, either . . . until he frickin’ became one.

“You saying I need to invest in garlic?” he shouted out.

Dog repositioned himself so he could keep his eyes on everybody.

Before a response came through the doorway, Jim’s cel phone went off on the bedside table. Going over and grabbing the thing, the screen announced that the cal was from a 518 area code.

Good morning, Detective DelVecchio.

“Heron.”

“This is Veck. How are you and your col eagues?”

Recovering from all kinds of fun and games with you last night.
“Good. Yourself?”

“We’ve been going through the casework on Cecilia Barten. Do you guys have anything we don’t?”

Jim had been prepared for the info request—it was SOP, and the kind of thing he’d have been able to field if he’d actual y been an FBI field agent. “I’m not sure. You want to meet and I’l take a look at what you’ve got?”

“Good cal .”

“There’s not a lot to go on.” Devina wouldn’t have left dangling threads, and given al that she could manipulate, the cleanup job around the abduction had to have been spectacular.

“Yeah, I know. There were no witnesses—how in the hel could there have been no witnesses?”

Because his Sissy had been taken by a demon, that was why.

Not that she was his.

“Listen,” the detective continued, dropping his voice. “I think she’s connected to Kroner. Can you double-check your files on him, too?”

“Absolutely.” Jim didn’t especial y like lying, but he had no problem with it when shit cal ed for a fal acy. “I’l see what I can dig up. Lunch?”

“Yeah. Riverside Diner?”

“See you there at noon.”

Putting aside the whole vampire thing, Jim walked around the end of the bed and stuck his head through the connector. “We have a date with the good detective.”

Eddie and Adrian looked over, and instantly both of them frowned.

“What’s around your neck?” Ad demanded.

“At twelve,” Jim said, “which means you have another couple hours to argue while I get back on the Internet.”

As he backed out and went for the pants he’d left on the chair, they fol owed him into his room.

“What’s up with the necklace?” Ad barked.

Even though Jim was flashing his ass, he decided getting a Hanes undershirt on was more of a priority. He didn’t want them to see Sissy’s little strip of gold, thank you very much—

“We are fucked,” Adrian muttered. “We are so fucked.”

Jim yanked the shirt over his head. “Thanks for your vote of confidence—”

“She is not your problem! She’s just some girl, get over it
.
”

Wrong thing to say in the wrong tone on the wrong morning.

Jim flashed over to the guy and jammed his face into the other angel’s. “I spent part of yesterday afternoon staring into the eyes of that
girl’s
mother. So before you write her off as nothing special, I suggest you go over there and see for yourself how much she
does
matter.”

Adrian didn’t back down. “And I suggest you get your priorities straight. There’ve been a hundred thousand pretty, innocent victims in this conflict, and yeah, that’s tragic, but it’s also reality. She’s just the most recent one I’ve seen—you gonna pul this shit with every chick you come across? This is war, not a goddamn dating service.”

Jim bared his teeth in a snarl. “You holier-than-thou mother
fucker
. Don’t you
ever
pretend to know me.”

“Then do us a favor and know yourself!”

Jim stepped back. And glanced at Eddie. “Get him away from me—and keep him there. We’re done.”

Adrian tossed a,eah, whatever,” over his shoulder and walked back into their bedroom. A moment later, a door slammed shut.

Jim yanked his leathers on commando, and in the silence, he wanted to scream.

“He’s right,” Eddie said.

Shooting a glare over his shoulder, Jim bit out, “And you can leave, too. I don’t need either one of you.”

There was a beat of quiet and then Eddie’s brows slowly lowered, cranking down over those red eyes . . . that suddenly started to glow.

Jim took a step back, but not because he was afraid he was going to hit the guy. More like he realized he’d thrown a match on some gasoline.

Eddie Blackhawk pissed off was not something to fuck around with.

In a voice that warped as if it were a radio going in and out of frequency, the angel growled, “You want to be an island? Good luck with it—I saved your cock and bal s last night, and that wasn’t the first time. You think Adrian’s the problem in this? Take a look in the mirror, you’l get further.”

On that note, Eddie pivoted on his heel and shut the connector, locking it in place. Then a brief flare of incandescent light suggested the angel had taken off the old-fashioned way.

Wheeling around, Jim picked up a cheapo chair, raised the thing over his shoulder, and got ready to throw it at the door.

Except he paused as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the dresser.

His face was flushed with fury, his eyes glowing icy blue in the same way Eddie’s had gone Christmas-light red. His T-shirt was stretched tight across his bulging chest and shoulder muscles, and Sissy’s delicate necklace was cutting into the cords of his neck.

Slowly lowering the chair, he leaned into the glass and checked the tiny gold links. Any more of that and he was going to break the thing, just split it right in half.

“Dog, I’m going out for a little bit.”

When there was no chuffing reply, no pawing at the calf for attention, no pair of scruffy ears popping up over the far edge of the bed, he pivoted around.

“Dog?” Jim whistled through his teeth. “Dog?”

Maybe the little guy had gotten locked in over at Eddie and Ad’s. Going to the door, Jim went to spring the lock with his mind—

No luck.

No Dog, either.

He was alone.

For a moment, he had a head scratcher, a kind of what-the-fuck-just-happened-here. But then he shut his connector and dead bolted it. Al things considered, this split had been inevitable. He and Adrian had gotten into a fistfight within forty-eight hours of official y working with each other, and al that oil/water had continued to simmer below the surface. And yeah, Eddie was cool, but Jim had the sense he could lap the guy when it came to the magic—

so he couldn’t say he felt compromised.

It was neater this way. Cleaner.

Besides, when he’d been under Matthias the Fucker at XOps, he’d always worked alone, so this was also business as usual.

He was used to this.

Partners, whether professional or personal, were just too goddamn messy for the likes of him.

“I
beg
your pardon.”

Up on the lawn outside of Heaven’s castle, Nigel looked across the linen-draped table and nodded at a Royal Doulton plate. “I should like the scones, please.”

“That is
not
what you said.” Colin sat back in his dainty chair, his black eyebrows down over eyes that were ful of curses.

Their two dining companions—wel , three if you counted the Irish wolfhound—stopped in midsip . . . or sniff, in Tarquin’s case. Nonetheless, Bertie delivered the plate in question, his fair face ful of compassion, as was his way.

Suffice it to say, however, that no matter how glorious the pastry on the bone china was, tea was ruined.

“Nigel, what the hel have you done.”

“I shal thank you to not address me in that tone, Colin.”

“And you can pop off with the etiquette. What do you mean, you’ve been to see the Creator.”

Nigel broke open his fresh currant scone, and breathed in the waft of sweet steam that rose up. Indeed, they did not require sustenance, but to deprive oneself of this pleasure on a technicality was absurd.

Byron pushed his rose-colored glasses up higher on his nose. “I am sure he had his reasons, did you not.”

Unlike Colin, who was a hardheaded bul , the other two would merely wait for whatever Nigel chose to impart. Bertie, with his soft heart, and Byron, with his eternal optimism, were more delicate creatures than that other one, capable of demonstrating the virtues of restraint and patience in abundance.

Colin, however, would perhaps inquire but once more. And then he would start pounding the tabletop.

So natural y, Nigel took his time with his butter knife.

And natural y, one could feel the heat from the other side of the table sure as flames atop hardwood.

“Nigel. What has transpired.”

He replied only after his first bite had been chewed thoroughly. “I believe we have discussed the other side’s predilection for . . . how shal one put it . . .

the creative readjustment of reality—”

“She’s a cheater and a whoring liar,” Colin spat.

“Must you be so blunt.” Nigel put the scone down, his appetite gone. “And may I remind you
again
that we, too, have broken the rules? Our hands are likewise unclean, old friend, and—”

“ ’Tis but a patch on what she hath wrought—”

“You shal desist the interruptions.
Now
.”

The pair of them glared at each other in unbroken, unwavering silence . . . to the point where Nigel knew wel he would be sleeping alone this night—

and that was more than fine with him.

“Are we finished arguing?” Nigel patronized.

Colin opened his mouth, then shut it with a clap.

“Good. Now, as I was saying, the Creator was aware of the transgressions—on both sides.” Nigel tested the temperature of his Earl Grey tea, expecting, and finding, that it was perfect. “But I acknowledged our derelions and the fact that it is hardly fair of us to demand things of Devina that we are not prepared to honor as wel .”

“Her nature is as it always has been,” Bertie said quietly. “She cannot help who and what she is. Surely the Maker knew this from the start.”

“I think so, yes.” Nigel took more of his tea. “There was no surprise at any of it. In fact, I received the impression . . .” Nigel chose his words careful y, as one should never speak for the Creator of al things good and evil. “I almost believe it was al expected. Her violations. Our attempt to provide aid to Jim in the form of Adrian and Edward. Al of it.”

“And the outcome of your query is?” Colin barked.

“Unknown as of this moment. The Maker did impart news of the most unfortunate kind, however. As I was leaving, I was informed that there has been a fracture of goodwil among Jim and Edward and Adrian.”

“Oh, they mustn’t fight,” Bertie murmured.

“Since when?” Colin demanded.

Nigel placed his china cup precisely in its saucer. “It just happened, evidently.”

Colin’s brows tightened once again which meant he was thinking. Never a good thing. “What transpired?”

“The Creator did not say, and it is not my place to inquire.” And how he wished he could impart the same restraint to the archangel’s heart. “But it is clear Jim is on his own.”

Which was a disastrous course. The savior was strong, but had no experience in the ways of this ancient war. He was now a sitting pheasant to that demon’s proverbial bird-shot.

“But I do believe the Maker is going to take action,” Nigel concluded.

“Against us?” Colin asked.

“We shal wait and see.”