Redemption (A NOVEL OF THE SEVEN SIGNS) (37 page)

“So if I’m him—” She painted the words with sarcasm. “Why wouldn’t I just poison those? Why mess about with finding a way into the tunnels, when I can corrupt the source?”

“Because he’s only got eight hours until the full moon, that’s why. The system is gravity-fed. That means no pumps. It takes at least a day for the water from the reservoirs to reach Babylon.” He tapped the paper, impatient. “No, he’s in the tunnels. They’re underground. The skanky little sucker likes that. But which one first? And where?”

Rose peered closer at the chart. The tunnels looked like subterranean snakes, writhing beneath the surface. “Okay, wiseass. Imagine I’m the demon. How do I get into these tunnels?”

“There are vertical shafts that bring the water up to the distribution network.”

“So why can’t I just tip my crap into one of those? Wouldn’t that poison the whole thing?”

Japheth considered, surveying the chart with hard eyes. “They’re two hundred feet underground,” he said at last. “He’d have to get down there first. And the water’s flowing upwards under pressure at that point. The poison would be washed back up into the system and dissipate after a few hours. No, he’ll do this the most efficient way.”

Rose laughed, shaky. “Don’t wanna burst your bubble, angel, but reason doesn’t fly high on this guy’s radar.”

“And that’s why he’ll do this properly.” Japheth shrugged, feathers sparking. “I’ve met your master, Rose Harley. He likes to make people suffer, and the more people, the better. He won’t waste his precious wrath on some fleeting disaster.” A grim smile. “Oh, no. He’ll want the entire catastrophe. Everyone in Babylon either cursed or dead. And that means all three of these tunnels.”

Rose dragged her hair back, and her fingers caught and pulled. Her braid had dissolved, somehow, into a nest of knots she’d probably have to cut off… Hmm. She yanked tighter. “What if we cut off the water?”

“Say again?”

“They must be able to shut these tunnels down, right? For maintenance or cleaning or whatever?” Her heart quickened. “He’s only got a few hours to get this done. So who cares where he’s going to be? Why don’t we just stop the water flowing? No water’s better than cursed water, right?”

Japheth shot her a fierce smile, echoes of his lost passion. “Clever as well as pretty. How nice for you.”

Stupidly, she flushed. “Save it, dickhead. How do we do that?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, that’s a big help.”

“Have a little faith, vampire.” Japheth pulled a phone from his pocket and thumbed through the contacts. “We don’t have a cabal of angels running city hall for nothing. And there were terrorist threats in Babylon long before Azaroth got wrath-happy. We have guys who know about this stuff. Let me make a few calls, get the lowdown.”

“O-kaay.” Rose eyed him quizzically. Still weird, the idea of angels with cell phones and computers, hanging about in city hall and the PD, telling everyone how to run things. Forestalling hell on earth.

She shivered. Easier just to pretend the End wasn’t coming. That was how everyone got through the day. Sort of like Japheth and his emotions. Just pretend the whole fucking lot of them away.
See ya. Thanks. Bye.

Everyone except those End of Days freaks, partying in the streets like there was no tomorrow. If she and Japheth failed, here, now, to stop Fluvium spreading this curse? There really would be no tomorrow.

The thought sobered her. But it fired sweet seduction in her blood, too. The world was ending. Who cared about heaven or hell or sins? No point wasting the days the world had left with pointless moralizing.

“Hey.” Japheth stalked over to the window, talking into his phone. “It’s Japheth. Yeah, that one… Listen, can we trade insults later? I’m doing a job for Michael and I need… No, it can’t wait. Will you just put Simeon on…? Simeon, yeah. Because I need an engineer, that’s why, and you’re obviously a moron, so… Well, go get him, then, genius. I’ll hold. Thanks ever so.”

He leaned one strong forearm on the glass, gazing out over the street. His feathers glistened, luminous, streaked with moonlit red. Beautiful. She wanted to touch them again. Revel in his body heat. Make him gasp, groan, feel his pleasure. Prove they were both real, alive, here and now while the world ended.

Spend their last few hours making love, instead of fighting battles that couldn’t be won. There were worse ways to go.

Suddenly, she wanted that more than anything.

She hugged herself, steamy. “Umm… Excuse me? I’m kinda useless here. What can I do to help?”

Japheth glanced over his shoulder. “Come again?”

Did he just say that on purpose?
She cleared her throat, husky. “I said, is there anything I can do?”

He flashed a cold grin. “Stand there and look sexy and think up excuses to get me into bed?” Not an invitation. A rebuke, sarcastic and cruel. “You can do that, can’t you?”

*   *   *

“Valve chamber,” announced Simeon, ten minutes later. “Up here, near the city line. That’s where I’d go.”

He peered shortsightedly at the chart, and Rose sighed. This white-haired angel was no warrior, evidently. More like an office worker. Tie loosened, shirt sleeves rolled up, and his skinny forearms hadn’t seen the sun any time recently. He smelled of dust and old paper, like a crusty librarian who spent too much time reading in the dark.

“Van Cortlandt Park,” Japheth read, frowning. “In the Bronx. Great. Nothing like a den of muties and virus zombies to make it easy for us. Why so far up the line?”

“There’s a reservoir up there that feeds all three tunnels.” Simeon shrugged, ruffling dusty white feathers. “In a roundabout way. I could get technical, but that’s the gist of it. And the valve chamber controls the flow. It’s quite near the surface. The best place to introduce a contaminant, if you’re into that sort of thing. And the only place you can shut off the water.”

“But one’s tunnel’s already contaminated,” said Rose. “We saw the fountain at Bethesda. And look.” She pointed at the bloodstained sink. “Doesn’t that mean Fluvium’s already been there?”

Simeon squinted at her, like she was a spider on his shower screen. “Must we have
her
in here?”

Rose bristled. “Hey, I’m doing my part. Must
you
be such a self-righteous son of a—”

“Just answer the lady’s question,” snapped Japheth.

Rose snorted inwardly.
Lady. There’s a turnabout.
But it felt all warm and squishy inside that he’d defended her. Damn his frosty ass to hell.

Simeon sniffed, haughty. “The answer is no, in case you weren’t paying attention. The water down at city hall is still
clear. So if both Madison Avenue and the park are poisoned? That’s not the tunnels. That’s the aqueduct.”

“The what?” Rose and Japheth said simultaneously. He glared at her. She glared back, sardonic. Jesus, at this rate they’d tear each other’s throats out before they got anywhere near Fluvium.

“The old aqueduct. It’s a different system altogether, using water from a different reservoir. Probably your demon’s using it as a test. You see, when they upgraded at the turn of the century—”

“Okay, Simeon.” Japheth cut him off. “We get it. Valve chamber. How do we get in there?”

“An elevator. I can get you the key—”

“I don’t do tiny metal boxes,” Japheth said stonily.

Rose snorted. “My hero.”

“Screw you,” offered Japheth coldly. “What else is there?”

“Well…” Simeon’s feathers curled. “There’s the emergency stairs. It’s two hundred fifty feet down…”

“Perfect.” Japheth stuffed the chart into his pocket. “Now get your dusty butt back to city hall. All those contingency plans for poison, biological agents, whatever other threats you disaster guys dream up? I want it all happening in the next three hours. Evacuations, bottled water, fire hydrants feeding from the Hudson, whatever. Drag the fricking mayor down to Bethesda and rub her face in it, if you have to.”

Simeon’s pasty face paled more. “I’m just a consultant. I don’t have the authority—”

“Then get the authority,” snapped Japheth. “All you heavenly asshats have Michael’s number, don’t you?”

The other angel smirked, superior. “Matter of fact, we don’t need it.”

“Hooray for you. Just do whatever you have to.” Japheth buckled a silver vambrace around his right forearm, and slid his rippled dagger into it. He slung his sword over his shoulder with a metallic scrape, and hooked Rose on a cold glance. “You,” he announced. “You’re coming with me.”

Oh, yes I am.
The thought of meeting Fluvium again—this time with an angel on her side—speared dark vengeance into her blood. But her skin crawled at the thought of Fluvium leering
at her. Sliding that rapacious gaze over her body. Feeding her curse with his silken words. Touching her…

She smoothed her hands over her ripped t-shirt, shivering. It didn’t cover much of her anymore. “Can’t I change first?”

“What you gonna do, take a shower?”

“Oh. Yeah.” She’d forgotten about the contaminated water. Cold fear knifed into her bones, and her teeth rattled. She couldn’t be exposed in front of that psychopath. Not again…

Japheth’s glacial gaze cracked. “You don’t need armor, Rose Harley,” he said stiffly. “He can’t hurt you where it matters.”

She licked her lips, speechless. He saw through her. Felt for her. She knew it. But…

His mouth hardened, and the moment fled.

She coughed, and tied the torn ends of her t-shirt into a knot over her sternum. At least she wouldn’t be flashing her boobs everywhere. “Guess that’ll have to do.”

“Stop fluffing and get over here, woman,” growled Japheth, extending his arm to her. “As if you don’t know you look perfect.”

She sidled up to him, flushing.
Damn. Asshole or not, he still smells fantastic.
“Got kind of a hard-on for this, don’t you?” she grumbled as he folded her into his metal-clad embrace. “Shouldn’t we take some time first? Come up with an ambush plan?”

“Ambush?” Japheth laughed, a dreadful eagerness that tingled her skin warm. “I think you’re missing the big picture. All that messing about at Bethesda? That was a
diversion
, Rose Harley. You don’t actually believe we’ll get to the chamber before him, do you?”

CHAPTER 33

Iria coughed blood into the glittering snow.

Bleeding Christ on a cross. These fearwraiths were all over the goddamn place.

On her knees, she leaned two-handed on her crossbow, catching her breath. The last glare of sunset had blown out like a candle flame an hour ago, and the darkness swarmed, biting and scratching and exploding at whim into flame and terror. She’d killed hundreds. They all had. But the ethereal little squeezers kept coming.

She climbed wearily to her feet, sheltered from sight by wind-whipped snow. They’d crept in under cover of daylight, taken key positions, just as Michael had planned…but the wraiths were just so many. She hadn’t seen Jadzia, or the Guardian. She only hoped their plan was working.

She tightened the spring on her crossbow, wiping away gore and demonslime. Her bolts were magical, a gift from distant heaven that hadn’t deserted her when she was Tainted. Her supply never ran out. Damn good thing, too. Swords were difficult against fearwraiths, who clawed inside you with their nasty little spellfingers, chewed at your confidence until it wilted. The crossbow let her keep her distance, thrive on the thrill of fear…

Above her, atop the ancient stone monastery wall, Trillium yelled, his voice shredded by the gale. A curse, most likely, wraiths exploding left and right. Iria readied her bow, and sprang up onto the wall.

Her boots crunched onto the parapet. Snow swirled, blinding, but she detected that bitter fearstink, so strong she gagged. The queen wraith. At last.
Come out, you bitch. Let me see you
…

Stairs, leading upwards onto a wide stone rampart. She took them two at a time, stealthy. A baby fearwraith dived for her, and sank gritty teeth into her wrist. She smashed it against the stone. It fell limp, and she hurled it away.

She reached the rampart. The snow was clearing, and overhead, starry sky peeked through gaps in the clouds. The monastery tower loomed, a forbidding black silhouette against the mountain.