03 Before The Devil Knows You're Dead-Speak Of The Devil (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-five

I stood in front of the small altar inside the third-floor chapel and stared at the Roman spear, lying there like someone had dropped it there and meant to come back for it later. Which was, well, basically the truth.

“I can’t believe he put it here.” I picked up what was essentially one of the holiest relics ever in existence. The holiest relic on the Earthly plane since J and Tolliver had managed to win the nails back from some mobster during a weekend long poker game in Vegas back in the Seventies.

The last of the Holy Relics, and it was lying there for anyone to walk by and touch. If we weren’t in the middle of all Hell breaking loose, I might have said something to Harold about playing fast and loose with the whole of mankind but right now I probably didn’t have much to whine about, especially if my harebrained plan actually managed to work.

I sat down so that I could study the thing. It was nothing special. Millions of them had been made during the Roman Age. Possibly billions. The Roman Empire was a big place and they’d lasted for a long time. Why was this one so special? It was only a simple wooden handle, iron tip, plain rope tying it all together.

“I always wondered what happened to him,” J said from the doorway, his ankles crossed over each other and his hands shoved in his jeans pockets.

“Who?”

“Longinus.” J straightened and then moved closer. He sat down beside me in one of the pews and patted my knee. “Or at least that’s what history decided to call him. I don’t think it was really his name because, come on, how weird would that be? The Centurion who killed me was actually named Lance? Even your Dad would think that’s tacky.”

“So you didn’t know him?” I put the spear down on the other side of me, feeling a bit awkward holding it while J sat beside me. It did seem a bit insensitive, like holding a gun up and showing it to an attempted murder victim and asking if they recognized it.

“Know him?”

“People have always suggested that he was someone that you and Tolliver knew. That he was a follower who wanted to put you out of your misery. I never wanted to ask or anything but…”

“No.” His voice was soft and I looked over to see him staring into space above the altar.

“You know we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay,” J said. “I don’t mind. I didn’t know him. Tolliver might have. He was a bit insane in those last days, desperate almost, running between senators and the army and the Maccabees, pleading with people, trying to find Roman citizens to speak to my defense in front of Pilate. Anything he could think of. I wouldn’t put him past him to have…hired someone for the end.”

“You never asked?”

“I guess I’m like you a bit. I didn’t want to know. I guess I never wanted to know about what happened to him. Longinus. I know the legend is that Dad made him immortal and then killed him with the spear, wiping him from the face of existence, but I don’t know if it’s the truth or some rumor. I never asked.”

“Now you’re curious?”

“Wouldn’t you be?” J grabbed the spear, running his finger over its tip. “Wouldn’t you want to know the truth?”

“No.” I took the spear from him. “I don’t need to know.”

“You don’t?”

“It’s not what defines you to me.” I shrugged and focused my attention on the spear. “It’s a thing. A horrible, horrid, tragic thing. Like a car accident or a mugging or losing your powers to a homicidal archangel who’s gone off on a power trip. The act doesn’t define you. It’s what you do afterward that tells me who you are.”

“So who am I? Without all of this”—J waved his hands around to encompass the chapel—“what’s so special about me?”

“You’re my cousin who works in soup kitchens and with people who have special needs and you moonlight as a doctor in overworked emergency rooms and you arrange teddy-bear donations for kids in disaster zones. That’s what makes you special. Not all of this.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You said it’s not what happens to someone that defines who they are, it’s what they do afterward. What are you going to do now that a homicidal archangel has stolen your powers so he can bring about Hell on Earth?”

“I’m going to take this.” I stood up and held the spear under his nose. “Up to the roof where I’m supposed to meet him so that he doesn’t start killing more children.”

“Then what?”

“Then, I’m going to save the world and get my powers back. Duh.”

“I’ll go with you.” J stood and put his hand on my shoulder.

“You don’t have to,” I said as we made our way out of the chapel. “I can do this alone.”

“No one saves the world on their own, Faith. It’s one of those team effort things—like winning Miss America or whatever.”

“Yeah, well if I ever decide to go the beauty-queen route I’ll keep that in mind,” I said as we approached the stairwell. “Although if you think about it I’ve already got one heck of an answer for the standard ‘and what did you do on your summer vacation?’ interview question.”

“Saved the world, saved your brother from an army of crazy nephilim, managed to marry off your brother, your best friend and your parents—again—and stopped an invasion by reapers? You’ve had a hectic couple of months,” J said as we started up the stairs toward the roof and my meeting with Michael.

“Yeah, well if we make it out of this. I hope you don’t mind but I may spend your birthday in the Bahamas, trying to forget it all,” I said.

“South of France,” J said. “I’ve already got a condo rented with a guest room on it. We’ll go to Biarritz and leave the rest of these lunatics here to deal with the cold. Me and you and a whole lot of red wine.”

“It’s a deal,” I said and we both fell silent as we continued to climb. We made it to the tenth floor quicker than I expected and my heart clenched. If this failed, the world as we knew it would end and it would be my fault. Somehow I had thought that an invasion of homicidal angels would earn a bit more fanfare than it did. Heck, it was a Thursday. Who’d have thought the first Celestial visitation was going to be on a Thursday? Or that it would start in Pittsburgh of all places?

“Hey, J?” I stopped, my hand on the door that led to the roof. “I didn’t ask before, but what are you doing here?”

“Harold came and got me,” J said. “You didn’t expect the rest of us to let you go to your death alone did you?”

“What about Matt?”

“Guarding Tolliver. You know your brother is lousy in a crisis.”

I pulled the door open and stepped onto the roof. “Thanks for protecting him, J. Well, both of them, really. But right now, it’s not them I think we need to be worried about.”

“Well maybe you should be,” a sharp, angry voice announced.

My stomach dropped into my shoes as I saw Brenda standing there, two enormous reapers flanking her—my brother in the reaper on the left’s arms and Matt dangling from the one on the right’s embrace.

“Brenda,” I said. “How is it that every time I walk into a place that sucks, there you are, right in the middle making it suck a little bit more? Is that like your superpower or something? Brenda the Amazing Queen of Substandard Suck?”

J snorted.

“I’m here to protect Matt.” Brenda smiled at me, her lips twisting upward in more of a bitter sneer than a gesture of friendliness.

“Protect him? It looks more like your goon has him in a stranglehold.”

“With all these dangerous mortals filling the streets, not to mention the reapers, he could be hurt on accident. I had him picked up for his own safety. After all, someone could get confused and mistake him for part of your merry band of morons, and I’d hate to think what could happen.”

“That’s head of her merry band of morons for your information,” Matt said, and the reaper holding him tightened his grip on Matt’s throat.

“Give me the spear.” Brenda held her hand out imperiously, beckoning for it with her fingers.

“No.”

“No? What do you mean ‘no’? I said give me the spear. I command you to give me the Roman spear. Or else.”

“No, the spear is meant to go to Michael. I had an arrangement with him. Not with you. So stuff your command up your snooty ass.”

“I’m here to pick it up for him.” Brenda narrowed her eyes, her wings folding out from her back and beating in an ominous thump like the sound of a cat trying to stalk her prey.

“No you’re not. Michael wouldn’t have sent you to pick up the spear for him. He doesn’t like you.”

“He does like me,” she said. “He loves me. I’m to be his consort, his one true heart. A goddess all women struggle to imitate. We’re going to rule together as man and wife.”

“You and Michael?” I raised my eyebrows. “Are you sure about that? You’re not really Michael’s type.”

“I am. I am his type. I don’t care what you say, Faith Bettincourt. Men like me. They do. There is nothing wrong with me. Now give me the spear. Give me the power to rule the world as it deserves to be ruled.”

“What will you give me in return?” I asked. “If I give you the spear, will you give me Matt?”

“No.” She looked over at the man slumped in the arms of the reaper beside her. “He’s mine. I love him. He’s my soul mate.”

“I thought you were going to be Michael’s consort. You can’t have both of them. You have to choose. Michael or Matt? Queen of Everything or plain old Matt Andrew’s wife?”

“I can have both.” Her eyes started to glow and she stepped toward me, almost levitating from how hard her wings were beating. “If you give me the spear, I’ll be in charge. I can get rid of Michael, and Matt and I can rule together.”

“What’s in it for me? Besides the fact that Matt will be safe?” I asked, pretending to be interested in her deal. If I could get her to distract Michael, it would give me a bit more wiggle room to do what needed to be done and, as an unintended bonus, it would keep Matt safe until I could get him out of here.

“I’ll let you live. That’s more than Michael’s willing to do. He’ll kill you if you give him the spear.”

“It is possible,” Michael said, his voice glacial . He walked around one of the air conditioning units, a body in his arms.

“What’s going on?” I pointed at the little girl in his arms, rage licking along my spine as I glared daggers at him. “I thought you weren’t going to make her end painful. If I gave you the spear, you were going to make it quick. Letting her suffocate here on the roof isn’t quick.”

“She won’t,” Michael said as he continued to walk toward us. “In light of your obedience, I’ve decided to be a magnanimous god and heal her instead. She’s sleeping now, but once she wakes, the doctors will be amazed at her miraculous recovery.”

“Then why is she here?” I glanced over again and saw that Hannah looked pale inside his arms.

“To make sure that you hold up your end of the bargain. Which it seems to me you’re not doing. Unless I’m misinterpreting the situation, and that is highly unlikely. So unless I am misinterpreting what’s going on here, it seems the child’s return to health is going to be short-lived indeed.”

“Brenda is double-crossing you and thinks offering me my life will persuade me to help her. At first she did try to deceive me. It was a lousy attempt but she at least tried. Claimed to be your consort and that she was here to retrieve the spear for you.”

“Of course you didn’t believe her.” Michael smirked at me. “Otherwise she wouldn’t have moved on to her desperate attempts to convince you to help her.”

“I am his consort,” Brenda said. “Tell her.”

“Oh dear, dear girl.” Michael shifted his grip on Hannah so that now instead of cradling her like a baby he had her on his hip, her head resting on his shoulder. I watched her carefully, and was relieved to see her back move. Whatever Michael had done meant that she was surviving without the various life-support machines. Now, all I had to do was find a way to get her out of harm’s way and make sure she stayed alive until we got her back downstairs and into her bed.

“You dear, stupid girl,” Michael said and he stepped forward, backing Brenda toward the ledge until her knees hit the back of it and her back was to nothing but open space as he pushed her backward into nothing but empty air. She seemed to hang there for a second before she fell.

“No!” I threw my hand out, reaching for her but Jesus grabbed the back of my shirt and held me still.

“Now.” Michael beckoned to me with his bare hand, completely unconcerned with the girl he’d killed and dropped from ten floors up. “Bring me the spear, if you please.”

“Faith.” My brother’s eyes were wary.

“It’s okay.” I nodded and tried to look in control even though I was trembling. If this went wrong, I was sentencing my entire family—and a whole lot more people—to death and there was a lot of ways this could go wrong. “I promise it’s all going to be okay.”

“That’s lovely.” Michael rolled his eyes and then curled his fingers again, impatiently this time. “Completely wrong, but lovely anyway.”

I looked over at Jesus and smiled, before glancing at my brother and my fiancé one last time. J was right. No one took on an archangel to save the world on their own. Not even me. You needed someone else to guard your back after all. Anything else was suicide.

Michael said, “Bring me the spear, or the child dies. Then I’ll go downstairs and kill every other child in this hospital. Every child in this city if that’s what it takes?”

“You want the spear?” I stepped forward, keeping my grip tight on it. I moved even closer so that we could almost touch and then stopped.

“Give it to me.” He started toward me at the same time

I lunged within arm’s reach and rammed the point into his chest, right over where his heart would have been. “Here you go then.”

He gasped as the world around us went white and I felt electricity and—oh, thank evil, yes!—dark power raced from the spear, up my arm, and back into my body. My wings burst free from my back and it felt glorious to be me again.

“You bitch!”

“I’m a demoness, remember?” I shoved the spear farther into him. “Bitch comes with the territory.”

I pushed again and his knees hit the ledge a second before he started to topple. Letting go of the spear, I lunged like one of those insane eastern European volleyball players, grabbing for the back of Hannah’s tiny pajama top.