Vowed in Shadows (23 page)

Twin spots of color flagged Jilly's wan cheeks. “I've never met a better man.”

“That wasn't an answer, was it?”

“Then let me be clearer. Yes, I would have chosen him. It wouldn't have mattered even if my mother had been the one to introduce us. I wanted him. I think I was waiting for him and no other.”

Nim shrugged. “Then if it was meant to be, how can we lose?” She waited a moment, knowing Jilly wouldn't speak. “Oh, right,” she answered herself softly. “Because love doesn't conquer all. It just seems that way because it's your whole world falling apart. I'm going to go see how my shoes are drying.”

“We'll call you when it's time.”

As she let herself out of the room, Nim wondered how she'd gotten on board with Team Double X. At least she could be sure Sera and Jilly wouldn't steal her eyeliner.

In the sterile hall, she leaned her back against the wall and sank to her haunches. Who was she kidding? The fantasy had gotten more violent and otherworldly, but still she was just another weapon, to be nailed to the wall when not in use.

She didn't like having nothing to do. Idle hands were the devil's tool, or so she'd heard. Maybe that explained Jonah's excessive goodness; having only one hand kept him too busy for naughtiness. She'd always kept herself busy with stripper intrigues and shopping. Now . . .

Well, she could still go shopping. Jonah had left his wallet in the room. And he owed her for that first lap dance.

 

“. . . But when I woke up, I tried the door, and it was unlocked, so I got the hell out.” Andre finished his tale in a rush. One hand clutched his slipping pants; the other he held fisted above his heart, as if only his white-knuckled grip kept him from falling apart.

Behind him, the lake glittered like a broken bottle, the smooth blue-green spiked with light sharp enough to pierce the eyes.

“Just walked out of the league stronghold, eh?” Corvus sprawled in his chair, the hinge of his jaw cradled in his palm as he studied the young man. He tapped one finger thoughtfully against the dent in the back of his skull. “And with your soul. Lucky you.”

Lucky too the cloying heat had chased most of the late-afternoon crowds into the air-conditioned comforts of the Navy Pier shops, and only the two of them remained in the overheated wrought-iron tables. Andre's voice had risen exponentially as he'd detailed how the female talya had tried to steal his soul.

Corvus squinted against a closer glare, and he looked down. A glass orb had appeared in his hand while he was distracted; something the djinni had been toying with outside his conscious awareness. He fumbled it in surprise and only djinni reflexes saved him. Fury limned the world in bilious yellow. Was the djinni angry at Andre or at him? “You realize if you didn't tell the talyan what they wanted to know—as you swear you didn't—they'll have you followed.”

“I doubled back through a tenebrae infestation like you showed me,” Andre said quickly. He leaned away from the glass orb nestled in Corvus's palm. “The demon waste will throw off any teshuva.”

“Not forever.” When the youth flinched, Corvus waved his hand. “But I can't wait that long.”

Andre blinked. “You want them to come?”

Corvus found himself stroking the chain around his wrist. The flesh under the tight links had bruised where the djinni was lax about repairing the damage. The memory of manacles made his skin creep, and a thin stream of demon venom trickled down his arms. His flesh smoldered with an acrid stink that wrung tears from his eyes. From his one eye, anyway. “I need them to finish what they started.” Pain laced the words into a long slur.

Andre's gaze flickered over him, and Corvus felt each pause like a thrown stone: the drifting eye, his crushed skull, the filthy sleeves stained in the djinni's poison pus.

But of course the youth could not understand. Corvus didn't blame him. Even the ancient evil inside him failed to grasp the conviction, and they had been bound together for centuries.

As if annoyed at his recriminations, the djinni yanked him to his feet. His voice cleared, his tongue suddenly agile again as he heard himself say, “Not finish. This is only the beginning. Come, Andre. Walk with me down the pier.”

His hand tossed the delicate ball into the air. Against the hot sky, movement swirled within the glass, like a frantic wave from the other side of a dirty window. Corvus's focused eye tracked the motion with avaricious delight, but his wayward eye noted Andre's wary, hunched shoulders.

The end of the pier looked scalded in the heat, with the concrete, water, and sky all charred to white ash. Nothing moved except for the endless waves and the frantic churning within the glass.

Andre peered at the globe. “What's in that ball?”

“My freedom,” Corvus tried to say, but his tongue tripped as the djinni rose like vomit in his throat. “Our freedom.”

The demon rummaged through his pockets, quick as a thief, and withdrew another glass ball. The djinni tossed the clear orb to Andre.

The youth's eyes widened, and the globe fell into his warding hands. His brows furrowed. “It's empty.”

The djinni smiled, and when his lips cracked and sulfur stained his breath, Corvus remembered why they weren't doing that anymore. “It's for you.”

When Nim stepped out of Water Tower Place, the sun had fallen behind the buildings but heat still shimmered on the concrete. She raised her hand for a cab, and three large shopping bags slipped to the crook of her arm, already sweaty.

The cabbie started the meter. “Where to?”

She thought for a moment. Shopping, done. Couldn't go to the club. Couldn't go to her apartment. Where else did people stay out of trouble? She'd always been curious about those kinds of people. Okay, not always. But lately.

She gave him the address on the outskirts of town.

The lot beside the church was empty except for a staid minivan with the side door standing open. Apparently, the owner expected everyone to stay out of trouble.

Or maybe trouble had already been here.

The cab pulled away, and Nim felt her skin prickle with a sudden chill, despite the humid press of air. She yanked the bags up over her shoulder to free her hands. In case she had to grapple something. Damn it, if she lost another pair of shoes—the cutest Jimmy Choos, on sale too—before she even had a chance to wear them . . .

A woman—her red hair frizzed from its tidy French twist and contrasting unfortunately with her limp orange jumper—backed out of the church doors, leading a vacant-eyed zombie by the hand. “This way,” she was saying. “Be careful you don't trip—Oh, my.”

The woman stumbled when she saw Nim and had to grab her companion to steady herself. The zombie didn't falter.

“Hi,” Nim said. “You must be Nanette. I'm Nim.”

“Oh, dear. Another female talya. This is becoming quite the coven.”

Nim jerked her chin back with a snort. “Does three even count as a coven? I figured we'd need at least thirteen or some other unholy number.”

Nanette smoothed a hand over her hair. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say you were a witch. It's not a word I would've chosen.”

“I've been called worse. Mostly by your good buddy Jonah.”

“He left a message saying he'd been by. Is he here?” Nanette's eyes brightened as she peered past Nim. “I could use his help. I need to move these haints before my husband finishes his sermon and wants his dinner.”

Nim shook her head. “I left Jonah at home while I went shopping.”

“More tenebrae repellent and Chinese throwing stars? Jilly brought me some a while ago, but I'm almost out.”

“Uh, no.” Nim tried to imagine what the somewhat plump and obviously uncoordinated preacher's wife did with throwing stars. “But I got sexy sandals and a party pack in black from Frederick's of Hollywood.”

Nanette blinked at her.

Nim rattled her shopping bags. “Now you know why I don't object to witch.”

The other woman blew out a breath that puffed a wayward strand of red out of her eyes. “Sometimes I understand why the mighty of the angelic host refuse to believe that demons can repent.”

Nim almost felt bad for her. No wonder Jonah had taken her under his one wing. He was drawn to women in need.

The thought rankled, and she caught herself up short. She was just being bitchy. That thought stuttered inside her too. Since when had being bitchy become a bad thing? She started to triple-guess herself, and in her distraction realized words were coming out of her mouth. “I'll help you move the zombies out.”

“Haints,” Nanette said.

“Do they care what I call them?”

“Maybe not, but I do.”

Nim gave a mental shrug. The woman had bust out with “witch” quick enough. But she was curious about the life Jonah had abandoned. “Do you want help or not?”

It didn't take long to load up the half dozen passive haints. As Nanette brought them up from the church basement, Nim filled the seats in the minivan, then tucked the remainder into the cargo space in back. The haints listed against one another like pale mannequins. In the thick summer light, solvo glimmered like pearly sweat on their foreheads and in the hollows of their throats. The flecks of soul matter that clung around them were harder to see, even when Nim revved up her demon.

“No seat belts,” Nanette fretted.

“No souls,” Nim said. “Or at least not much.”

Nanette straightened one woman's sharply angled neck. “You're right. It's silly to worry. I'd like to talk more, but I need to get the haints out of town, and since Jonah has been busy . . .” She slammed the hatch on whatever else she'd been about to say.

Nim ignored her to study the sky. The sun had dropped out of sight, but it would be hot for hours. “Speaking of Jonah, can you give me a lift to the warehouse? I spent the last of his money on the cab ride over here.”

Nanette pursed her lips. “Maybe you should have passed on the Frederick's party pack.”

“Too late now,” Nim said with excessive cheer. “You going to make me walk home in this heat?”

Nanette chewed her lower lip pink, clashing even more with her dress and hair. Obviously, she liked to worry. No wonder she got along with Jonah. “I don't think that's a good idea. The angelic host I'm meeting to transport the haints, he's at war with demons.”

“Of course, but which ones?”

“All of them.”

Nim rolled her eyes. “I'll stay in the van and be quiet.”

“I could leave you here and come back for you,” Nanette muttered. “But what if Daniel finishes his sermon and comes to church early?”

“Daniel's your husband? Don't worry. I'll keep him busy till you get back.” Nim smiled with lots of teeth.

“Oh, please. I don't worry about
him
. I'm worried about you. Do you want to spend an hour as his sermon beta tester?”

Nim shook her head hard enough to make her dreads dance. “For God's sake—no, really, for God's sake—take me with you.”

Nanette folded her hands in front of her, upraised thumbs bumping a nervous rhythm. “Okay. My contact has a habit of ignoring anything he considers beneath him.”

“Gee, thanks,” Nim said.

“Which is pretty much everything,” Nanette added. “Just be good.” She thought about that, then revised to “Just don't be evil.”

Nanette locked up the church and joined Nim in the van. In the close confines, the zombies smelled faintly of falling spring rain, and Nim took a deep breath. “You'd think they'd smell rotten, wouldn't you?”

Nanette checked all her mirrors before starting the vehicle. “It's odd,” she agreed. “That's the scent of the solvo coming out through their skin.” She hesitated. “Sometimes I think it's the perfume of peace.”

Nim swiveled her head toward the other woman in surprise. “Soullessness is peace? Is a preacher's wife allowed to even
think
that?”

Nanette's grip on the steering wheel blanched her knuckles. “I wouldn't say that in front of the other angelic host, of course. But I thought you of all people would understand. They've escaped pain and fear and anger.”

You of all people?
Nim bit back a sharp retort. But as she swallowed down the words, she thought she got a taste of Nanette's meaning. “Trust me, escape doesn't get you as far as you'd think. Avoiding life isn't peace.”

“I realize that. It's just . . . Did you know that some of the scattered soulflies make their way to the haints?”

“Jonah mentioned it. They just look like radioactive dust motes to me.”

Nanette grimaced. “They do glow, pure and beautiful. Because they
are
pure. You might not care for the difference because your teshuva can't see it, but the angelic force in me knows only the goodness returned.”

Nim twisted in her seat to study the haints. Though one was a man and one a woman, they bore the same glassy stare that made them eerily alike. The woman looked ahead, her hands tucked in her lap, precisely as Nim had arranged her earlier. The man had been heavier and more awkward, and Nim had stuffed him haphazardly into his seat, leaving him crooked, so he appeared to gaze out his window. She doubted he saw the passing city.

She sat back in her seat. “Honestly? If that's the alternative, I'd rather be part evil.”

“Of course an exotic dancer would say that,” Nanette murmured.

So, Jonah had left more with his message than “I was here,” apparently.