Doomsday Can Wait (8 page)

"Those kids are too young for this," I said.

"We may have no choice."

I shook my head. There was no way I was sending teenagers after demons. Unless I had to.

God, I hoped I didn't have to.

"The names, Jimmy."

He strode out of the cavern. I hurried after. All I needed was for him to take off again.

But I saw him turn and disappear down another stone hallway in the opposite direction of the exit. A few hun-dred yards away I found him in a cavern along with his duffel, a brand-new sleeping bag, a fire pit, canteen, and other evidence that he'd been living here. He'd already began to strip.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting on dry clothes. You want some?"

I shook my head, unable to make my mouth move as he peeled off his tattered shirt and then his pants. He was the same beautiful, sun-bronzed shade all over. The sight of all that skin made me want to lick him like an ice-cream cone.

Hell. I turned around.

"You should get out of those wet things," he called.

"That's what they all say."

He laughed. The sound gave me hope. I hadn't heard Jimmy laugh with true humor since long before Man-hattan.

A sheet of paper appeared next to my face. On it were names, addresses—both snail and e-mail—along with phone numbers.

"Thanks." I took it.

Because each seer worked independently with his or her own psychic connection and personal contingent of DKs, there'd rarely been any need for the leader of the federation to contact them. According to Ruthie, when a new leader appeared, the seers would come to him other once it was safe, to pledge their allegiance.

"They aren't going to be there," Jimmy said. "Everyone's in hiding. I blabbed their identities to the enemy."

"Blabbing
isn't exactly the term I'd use."

"They're all dead because of me."

"Not all."

He cast me a look.

"Are you going to give up?" I asked. "Just lie down and die?"

He glanced away, and I got a very bad feeling. "Why did you write this down?"

Jimmy shrugged.

"You didn't think I'd get here in time."

"In time for what?" he asked, but I knew.

"In time for you to tell me the names before you killed yourself."

"You always were a smart girl."

Jimmy had been taking the blame for Ruthie's death, and everyone else's, since he'd snapped out of his evil twin phase. Certainly he'd been the one who'd compromised their identities, but he hadn't meant to. Jimmy had adored Ruthie as much as I did. He never would have revealed her identity to the bad guys if he'd been able to stop himself.

However, she was still dead—something he'd pointed out to me often enough—and all the regret in the world wasn't going to bring Ruthie back. Neither would Jimmy killing himself.

"Don't do it, Jimmy."

"I can't." He sounded disgusted. "And not because I'm gutless, but because of what I am, how I have to be killed."

“Twice in the same way," I murmured.

"Every time I manage the first death, I lose consciousness; I die, and then I can't kill myself again. I wake up completely healed." His eyes met mine. "Someone's going to have to do it for me."

"Not me," I blurted.

He shrugged. "I know someone who will."

I opened my mouth to tell him that I needed him. That I couldn't win this fight without him. That he couldn't die and leave me alone with the monsters.

Before I could, the room spun, lights that weren't there flashed. My stomach rolled.

Not now,
I thought.

But as soon as I closed my eyes, I had a vision.

CHAPTER 8

A small room full of people holding hands and chanting. Candles flickered; the faces did, too.

Woman, wolf, woman. Man, wolf, man. Over and over the human guise gave way to that of a beast.

I stared so hard my head began to ache, trying to remember the appearance of each and every one, but there were so many.

"Kill them all," they whispered as one. "The earth will be
ooouurrss."

The last word became a howl, and this time when their faces went wolf, they stayed that way. Their bodies contorted. Hands and feet became paws, spines crackled and shifted, fur covered every inch of skin.

I'd seen werewolves before, killed them, too. Silver bullets worked as well as the legends said.

However, werewolves were bigger than their animal counterparts, with glowing yellow eyes and creepily human shadows. These wolves looked just like wolves, except I'd seen them shape-shift and knew better.

Luceres.

The word whispered through my head. I'd never heard it before, didn't know what it meant beyond a name for the Nephilim I was seeing.

The beasts began to mill around the room, agitated, revealing as they paced what made them different.

They didn't have tails. That oughta make them easy to spot.

Suddenly, the largest of the group leaped through the window, and glass rained down. The others followed, springing gracefully through the now wide-open portal.

Beneath a moon-drenched sky, the luceres ran as a pack. I'd hoped for a nice open field, no sign of a house or a town. Maybe even a sign that read: nowhere, Wyoming—population 3. But nothing was ever that easy.

Instead, the wolves raced through suburban streets. The houses had been recently built; bicycles, tricycles, and Flintstones cars cluttered the driveways.

"Where are you?" I muttered.

As I watched, fireworks exploded in the distance, illuminating a familiar skyline, the resulting thunder rattling the earth.

Then I was falling out of the vision, waking up on the floor of the cave nauseous, sore, and dizzy. My clothes were still soaked, cool against my flushed skin. My shoes squelched when I wiggled my toes. The earth beneath me shook with thunder, the sound reminiscent of the fireworks I'd viewed hundreds of miles away near the—

"Sears Tower," I muttered.

"Chicago."

Summer leaned in the doorway. I stayed right where I was, too out of it to sit up. From prior experience I knew the dizzy nausea would pass; I just had to keep my head still for a few minutes.

I received information in one of three ways. Ruthie spoke if a Nephilim came near; she told me what they were in visions like the one I'd just had; and she also came to me in dreams to answer what questions she could. There were rules about ghost whispering, and some information she couldn't reveal—usually what I really needed to know.

Visions always left me weak and loopy, but they also imparted the most useful information.

"Ever heard of a lucere?" I asked.

Summer came closer, then sat on the ground and drew up her legs so she could rest her chin on her knees. I wondered if she'd practiced that adorable pose in front of a mirror.

Rain trickled into the pool, pinging against the surface with a quick rat-a-tat-tat. Outside it was pouring, yet Summer was as dry as the desert in July.

"A lucere is a type of lycanthrope," she answered.

"I got that when they changed from people into wolves."

Her blue eyes narrowed. "You want the information or you want to be a smart guy?"

I didn't answer because obviously I wanted both, and after a few seconds, she went on.

"Luceres roved near Rome. Some call them 'lucumo-nes,' derived from
loco."

"So they're crazier than the average werewolf?"

"Yes. In ancient times luceres would form tribes or packs and wipe out entire villages."

Kill them all.

"I think they're still following that plan," I murmured.

"Luceres shift following a ceremony." Which coincided with what I'd seen in my vision. "Once they decimated an area, the land, the homes, the businesses became theirs. They'd send a part of the tribe on to the next town they coveted, forming a new pack, blanketing entire areas with their kind."

"An ancient Roman version of a hostile takeover."

"So to speak," Summer agreed. "Some scholars believe the first lucere was King Lycaeon, a Greek king—"

"How could the first lucere be Greek," I interrupted, "then wind up in Rome?"

"Didn't all roads lead to Rome back then?"

"You tell me."

"Are you insinuating I'm old?" she asked.

"I'm
saying
you're prehistoric."

"Sticks and stones," Summer murmured. "I don't age, and you will."

She had me there.

Fairies didn't grow old; neither did Nephilim. Breeds were born and therefore died. They aged, but because they rarely got sick and healed all wounds, they didn't age as badly or as quickly as humans. I had no idea what I was, but definitely not ageless.

"Getting back to Lycaeon," I prompted.

"The myth was brought to Rome by Greek colonists. When they were confronted with lycanthropes, they called them by the name they knew. Lucere."

"And the legend?"

"King Lycaeon was visited by passing gods, but he didn't quite believe they were who they said, so he devised a test. He served them dishes laced with human flesh, a major insult. Being gods, they discovered the deception and changed Lycaeon into a werewolf, a more proper form for devouring people. From his name, we get lycanthrope."

Legends of supernatural beings came about as people tried to make sense of what didn't. The Nephilim had been hunting the earth since time began, which meant the luceres had been here since the angels fell and mated with humans. They just hadn't been given their name until the story of Lycaeon began to circulate.

"You didn't tell me the most important fact." I sat up, thrilled when my head didn't pound, and my stomach didn't roll. "How do I kill them?"

"Pierce their hearts with fire. I'd suggest a burning arrow."

"Do I look like Robin Hood to you?"

Summer didn't reply. What could she say? I'd asked the question; it wasn't her fault I didn't like the answer.

My archery skills were as adequate as the next woman's, which meant pretty damn inadequate. The last time I'd touched a bow it had been to shoot at a target in high school. I hadn't been terrible, but I doubted I was capable of nailing a werewolf's heart from twenty yards, let alone a dozen of them.

"There's no other way?" I asked.

Summer spread her hands and shrugged.

"Swell."

Regardless of my lack of skill with the necessary weapons, I needed to get to Chicago right away. I'd seen fireworks, which could mean two nights away, but could just as easily mean one. A lot of big cities shoot off their rockets on the third. I contemplated Summer; maybe I should send her.

She stared right back, biting her lip. "There's a pile of ashes out there," she began.

I was so glad to hear that the howler's body had disintegrated that I nearly forgot to tell Summer what it was.

"Hey!" she shouted.

"Oh. Sorry. Remains of the howler."

"There was one?" She let out a relieved breath. "For a second I thought—"

"Shit!" I glanced around. "Where's Jimmy?"

"You found him?"

"Shit, shit, shit!" I jumped to my feet. Everything that had been in the cave before was gone.

"What happened?" Summer asked. "What did you say?" She grabbed me by the arm. "What did you do?"

I yanked out of her grasp. "I have the information. That's why we came."

"And now you just forget about him and go on your merry way?"

'Did I say that?" We had to find Jimmy. He was a danger to himself and others.

"Was he . . . himself?" she asked.

"Yes." I took a breath. "And no. He talked about sui-cide."

Summer's brow furrowed. "But he's a dhampir. He—"

"I wish I had something he touched," I interrupted. "I might be able to see where he is."

Summer held out her arm. At my curious expression, her eyes widened with false naivete. "Something he touched."

"Do you
want
me to slug you?" I asked.

"You can try."

I turned away. I didn't have time for a catfight right now. Maybe later.

My gaze wandered the cave. He'd left nothing behind. No map, no notes—

I paused, practically laughed out loud, then reached into my pocket for the list. As soon as I touched it, I got a flash of a face and stilled. "He's gone to Sawyer."

Summer cursed.

"Luckily, he won't find him." Because if Jimmy wanted to die, Sawyer would be happy to oblige.

"What if Sawyer came back?" Summer asked.

Now I cursed, resisting the urge to run from the cave, jump in the car, and head for the nearest plane to New Mexico. I had to think, then act. I had to decide what was best for the world before I did anything.

Though I desperately wanted to follow Jimmy, to find some way to convince him that he needed to live, if not for me, then for the human beings he'd sworn to protect, there was still the problem of luceres in Chicago.

I sighed. I didn't have much choice. We all had our strengths, and in this case, Summer's strengths outweighed my emotions.

"You go after Jimmy," I said. "I'll head to Chicago."

"Keys are in the car." Her voice was matter-of-fact. She'd known my decision before I had. "Put a scratch on it and we
will
have words."

I had no doubt we'd have more than words, but that was a concern for another day.

With Summer's gift of flight, she'd be able to beat Jimmy to New Mexico. Even though he had the superior speed of a dhampir, a commercial airplane was still faster with the added incentive of not having to use his feet. Summer could meet Jimmy at the airport, or on the road, or wherever the hell she wanted to, as long as she caught up to him before he reached Sawyer.

"Do whatever you have to do," I said.

Her gaze flicked to mine. "Anything?"

"Anything," I repeated. "Just keep him alive."

CHAPTER 9

Time in that cave had moved a lot faster than I'd thought. By the time I retrieved my cell phone and the other items I'd left by the pool, then made my way outside, dawn had broken. The air smelled of rain; the pavement was soaked, strewn with torn leaves, and a lot of tree limbs were down. I guessed the thunder and the lightning hadn't just been for show.