Sneak Peek #2 of "Life After Death" (Return to Limbo City Book One)

 

Chapter 1

“I had a friend who was a clown. 

When he died, all his friends went to the funeral in one car.”

—Steven Wright

 

Time worked differently between the mortal side and Eternity. That’s how Kevin, Eliza, and I were able to coin off from the Limbo City harbor in full daylight and end up in the pitch-black night on Coney Island. Thankfully, reapers didn’t suffer from jet lag.

Eliza folded her hands behind her head and reclined on the roof of the Ferris wheel gondola. The stars sparkled in her eyes, and her breath fogged the crisp winter air. Kevin stretched out beside her, chin propped in the palm of one hand. His gaze darted from his watch to the deserted amusement park below, where our marks would be arriving any moment.

A handful of security lights lined the chain-link fence that enclosed the park, separating it from the beach to the south and Brooklyn to the north. The candy-striped rides and coasters were quiet in the off-season. There was no crowd to navigate, no potential doppelgangers to complicate our assignment. I expected this harvest to be a cakewalk despite its medium-risk status on my docket. Which was why I’d caved when Eliza had asked for a better view as we waited.

The moonless night melted into the ocean, blurring the horizon. I pulled the hood of my robe tighter around my neck and squinted, trying to find where the stars in the sky ended and their reflected twins began. They danced across the water as the waves kissed the shore.

Moments like these made the mortal realm seem almost tolerable.

I dangled my legs over the edge of the gondola roof and sighed. “Sure is a beautiful night.”

“To die,” Kevin added with a morbid, horror-film cackle.

As if on cue, a bloodcurdling scream tore through the park. My pulse quickened at the promise of death, but I held up a hand, signaling my apprentices to stay put. We already had the best seat in the house.

A second later, another scream bubbled up from the shadows, clearer this time. Then a woman stumbled across a halo cast by one of the security lights.

Usually, I would scoff at the clumsy damsels that couldn’t seem to stay on their feet while fleeing slasher film killers. But then again, none of them had been in shoes ten sizes too big. The technicolor wig and obscene amount of makeup running down the woman’s face finally pulled the full picture together.

“A clown?” Eliza hitched an eyebrow. “That’s a first.”

“Not for me. I scored a French mime in the 1840s,” I boasted.

“Didn’t you run a solo circus harvest back when we were with the Posy Unit?” Kevin asked, his eyes glued to the shadows, searching for our sad clown’s pursuer.

“Yeah, but all the clowns made it out alive. And it wasn’t supposed to be a solo harvest.” I pressed my lips together, deciding not to dig up the past. Kevin had been clean for a decade, and he hadn’t missed a single day of work in all that time.

“You said we’re picking up three here, right boss?” Eliza asked, shifting focus back to our current assignment.

“Yup.” I glanced at my watch. “One might already be dead, but he should be nearby. We’ll collect him after the show.”

“Oh, goody.” Kevin rubbed his hands together and scooted closer to the edge. Eliza rolled her eyes, though she sat upright to have a better look herself.

I was curious, too. The clown had surprised me. Of course, the profiles on my docket stuck to the basics unless a harvest was high-risk. I knew that the three souls we were picking up tonight all worked their nine-to-fives as telemarketers at the same company, selling extended warranties. But I didn’t know the specifics of their side hustles or hobbies. Apparently, clowning around was also something they had in common.

I saw the bloody knife before our killer, confirming my theory about the first victim. Then the light hit her pancake makeup, the stark white punctuated by black brows, rosy cheeks, and red geisha lips. Her lavender leotard and matching tutu were splattered with more blood, and she stalked rather elegantly after her blubbering prey, balancing on the toes of her ballet slippers.

“Please!” the crying clown begged, tripping over her floppy shoes again. “I didn’t know. He said you’d broken up!”

The killer clown slashed her knife through the air. She was too far away to do any damage, but the other woman screamed and tore off, heading for the Ferris wheel and forcing us to lean further over the edge to catch the next act.

“Should we… move?” Eliza whispered.

“There.” I nodded to the rooftop of a nearby attraction. “The spooky one with all the skeletons.”

We rolled our coins and reappeared in time to watch the clowns begin their assent up one of the support legs of the Ferris wheel, awkwardly scaling the open-lattice metalwork. Neither of them was wearing the proper shoes for such an activity, but the ballerina seemed to be having an easier go of it.

“Man! I wish we had some popcorn.” Kevin huffed and climbed up the backside of a skeletal dragon perched above the entrance of the building we’d moved to. Eliza snorted, but she craned her neck to watch as the clowns neared the center of the wheel, their limbs hooked hazardously over metal beams, panting breaths fogging between their faces.

The ballerina took another swipe with the butcher knife, this time making contact across the sad clown’s forearm, drawing an earsplitting squeal from her. It was an overzealous strike, and the ballerina wobbled on her feet from the momentum. She grasped for the nearest beam, letting the knife slip from her hand. It clattered between the rungs before freefalling to the pavement below.

“You crazy bitch!” the sad clown screamed, clutching her bleeding arm to her chest. She was suddenly braver now that the knife was out of play. “No wonder Ron was afraid to dump you!”

Not to be discouraged, the ballerina clown braced her back against a beam and reached into the sleeve of her leotard, retrieving a silk handkerchief—or twenty. They were knotted together, likely for a less nefarious purpose than strangling her cheating ex’s side piece.

She waited for her flopsy-footed quarry to begin down the metal lattice. The knife was on the ground, and I could see the hopeful glint in the sad clown’s eyes. She thought there was a chance she could reach it first and survive this.

But as soon as she was a rung below the ballerina, the colorful noose slipped over her head. Flopsy garbled out a strangled cry and clawed at her neck, releasing her hold on the Ferris wheel base. Her oversized shoes wobbled against the beam she was perched on, just barely holding her upright.

Eliza sucked in a sharp breath and covered her eyes, immediately peeking through her fingers. I stifled a smirk. There was no escaping the morbid curiosity that came with being a reaper. It was in our blood.

A hollow scraping sound drew my gaze back to the Ferris wheel. Flopsy’s giant shoes had finally failed her. She kicked at the metal beams, trying to regain her footing. But it was too late. The ballerina released the rope.

The sad clown’s skull bounced off a crossbeam on the way down, concussing her enough that she didn’t even muster a scream before her body smacked the pavement and began the telltale oozing of a violent death.

“Is the ballerina butcher our third?” Kevin whispered. “Or is there another victim hiding around here somewhere?” He was entirely too eager.

I huffed. “Do you really want me to spoil the surprise?”

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t exactly discouraging this behavior. But was loving your job such a bad thing? Besides, these extra colorful harvests were a rare treat.

“No, don’t tell us,” Eliza said, now fully invested in the final act.

Sirens echoed in the distance. A second later, red and blue lights flickered across the dark skyline of Brooklyn.

I turned back to the Ferris Wheel, waiting to see how our murderous ballerina would react. I expected surprise or panic. Maybe some nervous fumbling. But she remained calm, graceful even, as she slipped down one of the diagonal rungs. It was as if she were following the steps of a choreographed dance, performing a show for the ghosts of her victims—or us.

And then the toe of her slipper found the spot where the sad clown’s split skull had bloodied the beam, making it slick. Much too slick for her murderous victory pirouettes.

Even her swan song was elegant. It wailed in harmony with the approaching sirens, cutting off sharply as she met her end in a colorful pile of skewed limbs beside the sad clown.

“Aww,” Kevin groaned. “That was a cheap finale. Not even a shootout with the fuzz?”

I shook my head. “Clearly, I’ve been giving you too many gangster harvests.”

“I thought it was poetic justice,” Eliza said. “And I can’t wait to question their souls. This should be good.” She hitched up her robe to retrieve the retractable scythe holstered on her hip.

Warren, armorer to the Nephilim Guard, was also contracted through Reapers Inc. to design a few harvesting gadgets. Since we were personal friends, that meant my team and I got to test drive said gadgets. For better or worse.

The retractable scythe was his latest creation. And mine had been jammed since last Tuesday, after I’d gotten the business end stuck in the eye of a hellcat. In Chicago.

The creatures had been appearing more frequently on the mortal side, but no one could figure out where they were coming from. Was there a rift in the soul matter that separated one side of the grave from the other? Or perhaps a new old god with a bone to pick now that the Throne of Eternity had been dissolved and there was no longer an infinitely powerful soul lingering in the shadows like Grim’s invisible watchdog?

It wasn’t really my place anymore to seek out the answers to these questions—even if it was making my job more problematic. That was Afterlife Council business, and I was more than happy to stay off their radar these days. I just wished their problems would stay off my radar.

In the meantime, I needed a tune-up on my retractable scythe. I still preferred my battle axe when it came to most high-risk assignments, but until the hellcat issue was resolved, I required something more practical to get me through the workday in one piece.

“I’ll go track down the first soul,” Kevin offered, shouting over the nearing sirens. I nodded and pointed Eliza at the two clowns under the Ferris wheel.

“Let’s get this show on the road before they turn into chalk outlines.”

"Life After Death" will be available December 21st, 2021.

Find it at your favorite e-bookstore today! 

https://angelaroquet.com/books_life_after_death

Sneak Peek! Chapter 1 of Blood Vice #MondayBlogs

Blood Vice (Blood Vice Book One)
Coming June 27th, 2017
Pre-order today for only 99¢:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07115FRPC
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/2940154311745
Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1217053724
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/blood-vice-1

Detective Jenna Skye bombs her first week on the St. Louis County Police Department's Vice Squad when she's bitten by a vampire in a supernatural brothel. Her day only gets worse from there. She wakes up in the morgue and discovers that her partner is dead. Before the sun rises, she realizes she is too. Jenna vows to continue their investigation until justice is served, but a werewolf squatter, an unexpected visit from her estranged sister, and a nosy FBI agent stand in her way. Not to mention her fresh aversion to sunlight and a thirst for something a little stiffer than revenge.


Chapter One

    As I lay dying on the floor of an abandoned warehouse basement in the bowels of St. Louis, I couldn’t help but question every choice I’d ever made. Which one of them had led to this moment? Was it just one? Maybe my entire life had been one poor decision after another. That seemed the most likely answer as I stared into the vacant eyes of my partner sprawled out on the concrete not ten feet away.

Will Banks had definitely drawn the short straw when it came to being paired with me. At the time, it had seemed like divine intervention. His partner was transferring to a PD down in Florida, and I was finally getting the promotion I’d had my sights set on since day one. Will had been my mother’s partner ten years ago. Being paired with him felt like an omen from the universe. Like a sign from my mom even, that everything was unfolding as it should.

What a joke.

I thought of Will’s wife and daughter. He’d bragged about Serena to me just that morning, about the big scholarship she’d been awarded to go into the engineering program at MU. I could remember babysitting Serena the summer Will and Alicia had moved to St. Louis. I’d been sixteen, and she had just turned five. She was all bubblegum cheeks and beaded cornrows, full of exciting facts from her family’s recent trip to the Gateway Arch. That was twelve years ago. Had so much time really passed?

I was finally able to think of something worse than dying in a warehouse basement—facing Will’s family. I wondered who would be tasked with delivering the news that he was dead. And that it was my fault.

The suspect I’d chased down here was crouched over me, his face buried in the crook of my neck. Mewling, sucking noises filled my ears. Terror punched my heart until it felt like it would burst. My hand trembled around the 9mm pressed into the man’s stomach. I’d already squeezed off a dozen rounds, but I didn’t have the strength to empty the magazine. I’d lost too much blood.

I could hardly keep my eyes open, but every time they refocused, I found myself looking at Will. In the moonlight slipping through the dusty basement windows, I almost couldn’t tell that it was blood oozing from his lips and spreading in a puddle under his face. I tried to pretend that we were back at the precinct. That he’d fallen asleep at his desk again. Maybe it was just drool. I’d give him hell when he woke up, and he’d joke for the hundredth time that he needed all the beauty sleep he could get, and that a young punk like me would know what he was talking about soon enough…

But I’d never know, because I was dying. I’d been so eager to prove myself worthy of the vice squad, and now I would be nothing more than a cautionary tale to warn rookie detectives who got too big for their badges.

Humiliation overpowered my pain, and I found the strength to squeeze off one last round. The creep gnawing on me barely grunted at my effort. Meth? PCP? Bath salts? It was the only explanation my aching brain could come up with. Human trafficking and drugs. God, this could have been a career-making bust. A massive launch pad for me, and a grand finale for Will. That’s what had been on my mind when I saw a flash of movement through the basement window. And look where it had gotten me.

We’d been staking out the building all week. A lucky arrest had turned up a tip about a prostitution ring responsible for the recent surge of missing teens around the city. Will and I had parked our unmarked car in a dark alleyway between two buildings across the street. There was scarcely enough room to open our doors, but after four fruitless nights before this one, it seemed pretty clear that whoever was in charge had been tipped off and had abandoned the place.

It was almost five in the morning. We were arguing about where to have breakfast when movement caught my eye. It was a stray dog, sniffing around the building’s foundation. That’s when I saw something flicker through a window, something shiny, reflecting the moonlight as it moved around the basement.

I was out of the car with my gun in hand before I knew what I was doing. Will hissed at me to wait, to get back in the car. He said that we needed to call for backup. But my feet moved on their own. There were young girls being held captive, and we were going to find them. I was sure of it.

The only thing I was sure of now, with a drug-addicted cannibal at my throat, was that I was a reckless idiot.

A soft whimper drew my attention to a spot across the room, and for a moment, I could have sworn I saw a dog lurking in the corner. I was hallucinating. Great. At least that meant I wouldn’t have to endure this agony much longer. I was ready for my life to flash before my eyes and be done with this nightmare. I thought back as far as I could, trying to jumpstart the event.

One of my earliest memories took place under a kitchen table. A pink, plastic stethoscope dangling between my blond pigtails, the business end pressed to the chest of my mother’s first partner, a beautiful German Shepherd named Maggie.

My mother, Toni Skye, was what the department called a natural-born hero. She’d worked her way up from patrol to the K9 unit, and then she’d transferred to vice after we lost Maggie.

Maggie had been my favorite patient. Doctors are not supposed to have favorites, I’d tell her at every appointment, but I knew she wouldn’t report me to the medical board.

The memory pulled one corner of my mouth up in a lazy grin, even as the life drained from my body, and my skin grew cold and clammy. My muscles slowly unclenched. I couldn’t feel the gun in my hand anymore. I couldn’t even feel the teeth in my throat, though I could hear them working me over, a horrid gnashing sound that echoed in my skull.

And then I saw her—a flash of dark fur darting through the moonlight. Maggie? Had she come to deliver me from evil?

My vision warped, eyelids fluttering their last as I began to lose consciousness. I strained to keep them open, waiting to see if my mother would show next. She always arrived a moment behind Maggie. Why should it be any different in the afterlife?

As if answering my silent request, the silhouette of a woman rose up before me, towering over the brute at my neck. My eyes watered as they rolled back in my head, and my heart strummed out a hopeful staccato.

Then, it stopped.

Sneak Peek of PSYCHOPOMP

Hey! So I'm still hard at it, trying to finish up PSYCHOPOMP, book 4 in my Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc. series. The plague has passed (big sigh of relief). Once again, I apologize for the delay, but here is a little excerpt to tide you over. Enjoy! : )  

P.S. The title PSYCHOPOMP was suggested by my friend Thomas, who is quite the writer himself. Even though I'm not Christian, his Christian poetry is brilliant! Psychopomp is from the Greek word psuchopompos, meaning the "guide of souls". Pretty cool, huh? 

Chapter 1

“An education isn't how much you have committed to memory, or even how much you know. It's being able to differentiate between what you know and what you don't.” -Anatole France

The entrance essays for the demon defense course Bub was going to be teaching at the academy were deplorable. I’d learned that word from Jack, Bub’s butler, but I’d figured out the definition all on my own. It meant that they were shit.

I threw the latest disasterpiece down on Bub’s desk. “Why am I helping you review these again?”

Jack slipped off his reading glasses and rubbed the small span of forehead between his gritty horns before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Because you’re more familiar with this gibberish that your kind mistakenly calls English. And Master Beelzebub insisted that you approve the class roster.”

“At this point, he’s more likely to have an apprentice than a class.” I slouched back in my chair and gazed out the darkened window of Bub’s study. It was well after nine. The light was fading behind the mountains, leaving only a thin line of pink along the sharp skyline. Bub still hadn’t returned from his meeting with the Hell Committee.

Jack followed my eyes to the window and sighed. “I think we’ve tortured ourselves enough for one night. Would you care to join me for tea and dessert?”

I was still full from the dinner Jack had prepared, that Bub had also missed, but I nodded anyway. Sugar would help ease my disappointment. Besides, Jack made a chocolate mousse to die for.

Bub’s country home in Tartarus was swanky, but it was rustic and small enough to still pass as charming. Well, except for the study. That room was downright archaic. I felt my shoulders sag with relief as we left the soaring shelves of volumey texts behind. Clusters of antlers were fashioned into little chandeliers down the hallway, and they flamed to life as we made our way towards the kitchen. I had a feeling it was more sorcery than modern technology, but Bub was known to dabble in both.

We bypassed the dining hall, opting for the more humble breakfast area in the main kitchen. Between the cooling ovens and low ceilings, the room was quite toasty. The stone floors were polished to a shiny gray. They matched the alcove shelving behind the counter that dissected the room, separating the old table from the modern gadgets in the otherwise medieval kitchen.

I took a seat while Jack paused at the pantry to slip an apron over his dapper butler attire. It was a simple white garment, but it still managed to look comical on the stuffy old demon. He looked up at me, and I pressed my lips together in an effort to hide my grin.

“What?” He blinked stiffly.

“Hmm? I’m just excited to try your chocolate mousse.”

He raised an eyebrow before clearing his throat and setting to work, retrieving a carton of cream from the refrigerator. He poured some in a metal bowl and set it under an automatic mixer, quickly moving on to the sink, where a basket of fresh berries waited in a colander.

Jack’s forehead crinkled as he rinsed the berries. “Unfortunately, the only decent essay I’ve read thus far happens to be the one submitted by your apprentice, Mr. Kraus, and he’s the least likely to need a formal education in demon defense, as he has you for a mentor.”

“Kevin submitted an essay?” I frowned. Why hadn’t he told me? I’d been teaching him bits of what I’d learned over the summer, but I had to admit, I’d left out the more tedious lessons. I was just so relieved to be finished with my training and classes at the academy, and excuse me for not missing the migraines. Summer was meant to be enjoyed. I’d try harder now that fall was creeping upon us.

The mixer chimed just as fluffy white peeks began to curl up out of the bowl. Jack retrieved the chocolate mousse from the refrigerator. He had made it just before dinner and left it to chill as a bribe to lure me into the study and read essays. Sneaky old demon. He placed three crystal serving glasses on the counter and put a healthy scoop of mousse in the bottom of each. Then he layered in the fresh whipped cream and spiraled the last of it on top for good form, outlining the rim of each glass with the berries. There was nothing Jack made that didn’t look as wonderful as it tasted.

He picked up one of the glasses and sighed. “I’ll just set this one in the chiller for Master Beelzebub--”

“I think not, my good sir.” Bub suddenly appeared in one of his flashy business suits. It was a shiny blue number with a gold tie that matched the flecks swirling in his dark irises. He slipped out of his jacket and flung it over his shoulder before taking the dessert from Jack.

Jack brought me the remaining glass of mousse and took his down the hall with a frown. I think he had been looking forward to discussing the essays further, but I couldn’t say that I wasn’t relived to have that conversation postponed. I also couldn’t say that I wasn’t relived Bub had finally shown up. I felt a little pathetic that I had waited around so late hoping to see him, and I could feel my skin warm from embarrassment. Bub did his best not to gloat, but I could see it in his tired eyes all the same.

“How’d the meeting go?” I asked.

He tossed his jacket over a chair and joined me at the table. “Same trouble in paradise. Different day.”

“Well. That’s nice and vague, and it perfectly explains why you’re nearly three hours late.” I peeled my eyes away from him and took a bite of chocolate mousse.

Bub had the decency to look ashamed. “It was a horribly long meeting, about horrible people with horrible plans. Please, forgive me for not wanting to relive the tedious details a second time in one evening. I have better things in mind.” The twinkle returned in his eyes as he dropped them to take in the low cut of my dress. It felt a little wasted at this hour.

“Your better things will have to wait. I’ve already stayed longer than I should have. Jack asked me to go over the entrance essays for your class.” I raised an eyebrow in question.

Bub chuckled nervously. “I’ve read some of them. I just asked Jack to help out a little, is all. What are butlers for?”

“Mmmhmm. You have to turn in an approved list by Friday. You do realize that’s in two days, right? Have you even started on your lesson plans, or is Jack doing that too?”

“Lana.” His shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh. “I know I play the part of a carefree playboy, but try to keep in mind that I actually do have legitimate responsibilities.” His face creased, and he looked away. “I imagine they’re not as legitimate as the likes of Maalik’s--”

“Not that again,” I groaned. “He had the Helm of Hades. I had a plan, and it went all to hell when he was injured--”

“I’m able to achieve invisibility without the helm. You could have included me in the plan.” Bub’s brows pinched together in hurt confusion.

“We’ve been over this.” I raked a hand through my curls. “You’re the better warrior, and you know more about demon defense, obviously. I mean, you’re teaching a class on it. Come on.”

“Right.” He sighed and pushed his half-eaten dessert away. I knew Jack would be insulted, but I didn’t feel like eating the rest of mine either.

“It’s late. I should go.”

Bub reached across the table and took my hand. “Let’s not end our evening on a sour note, love.”

I placed my other hand on top of his. “How about a do-over? Friday night?”

He grinned and gave me a nod. “It’s a date. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

I gave him a light peck on the cheek and scooped up my glass of mousse. “I’m taking this to-go. Tell Jack I’ll return the glass this weekend,” I said with a wink.

I left through the foyer and stepped out onto the front lawn, if you could call parched desert lawn, and coined myself back to the harbor of Limbo City.

Normally, I wouldn’t have felt especially safe on the dock at night in nothing but my skimpy evening attire. But since Grim had deactivated coin travel through the city and set up travel booths with nephilim guards, I didn’t have to worry as much. Aside from the time Loki had shapeshifted into a guard and knocked me out cold, I hadn’t had any problems with the new system. It was just that once, I reminded myself, as I eyed the two guards standing watch at the end of the dock.

I quickly made my way to the nearest travel booth and took it to the booth across from Holly House. The city was cooler than Tartarus, and I shivered against the chill. A light fog wove its way through the courtyard past the gates of the most holy condo complex in Limbo. Just a few months before, I had been slumming it in a crummy studio apartment, until a fire demon remodeled the place for me. It had taken awhile to warm up to the ritzy new digs, and the ritzy new rent bill, but it was worth the added security.

I passed a gurgling holy water fountain and a few concrete angels on my way to the front door, where I paused to punch my security code into the little cross-shaped box anchored to the stone wall. Charlie, the perpetually chipper deskman, called out a friendly greeting as I waited for one of the elevators. I gave him a short wave and smiled as one chimed open to take me to the tenth floor.

On the way up, I finished my chocolate mousse. I had three roommates, which meant nothing in the refrigerator was sacred. Chances were, they were all sleeping soundly by now, but Josie and Kevin were usually up a bit earlier than me. They were really taking advantage of the amenities at Holly House, especially the fully equipped gym. Jenni woke earlier than me too, but not by much. Punctuality was higher on my priority list, now that I was captain of the Posy Unit.

The condo was dark and quiet, except for the grumbling snores of my hellhounds drifting down the hallway. I considered it comforting white noise, but I was pretty sure most people would find it as soothing as snuggling up with a couple chainsaws.

I set my dessert glass in the sink and headed back to my bedroom. My mind was still on Bub. The fact that I was holding onto some of my secrets hung in the air between us more and more lately. It wasn’t like him to push or beg, and I hadn’t noticed until recently that he was biding his time, waiting for me to unravel my mysteries to him. He already knew too many of my deepest and darkest for my tastes.

The secret that clearly weighed on Bub’s mind the most these days was why I had asked him to fetch Maalik for me during the battle that took place when we rescued Jenni Fang, my roommate and Grim’s second-in-command. The Helm of Hades, better known as the Cap of Invisibility, was a weak excuse, and I knew it, but it wasn’t like I could come right out and say what he wanted so desperately to know. What everyone in Eternity so desperately wanted to know.

Maalik was one of three people who knew the location of the secret Throne of Eternity. Grim and myself being the other two. Winston, the former soul on the throne, had given Maalik a coin that would take him to the secret pocket realm from anywhere in Eternity. He’d given me one too, but after an impromptu abduction, Caim and Loki had relieved me of mine. That’s why I’d needed Maalik. The battle had beaten us down, and we were on the waning side of it. Maalik was our only hope of reinforcements. He went to Winston and gave him our coordinates, along with a request to activate coin travel in the cave corridor just beyond the battle and to level the main hall full of raging rebels. By some strange magic, we managed to escape.

Maalik hadn’t even received proper thanks for the feat, since not even Grim knew about the coins Winston had given us. The cave-in was written off as a fortunate coincidence. Everyone at the scene had been so relieved that they hadn’t thought to ask why or how coin travel had been activated within the cave corridor. Maalik and I were the only ones privy to that detail. It didn’t mean that we were on our way to a tender reunion.

I could understand Bub’s concerns, but I still wasn’t about to spill my guts to ease his mind. I was hoping a little time and attention would be enough to prove to him that I wasn’t going anywhere. I was pretty smitten with the Lord of the Flies.

There were still some lingering questions I had about Maalik. For starters, I really wanted to know if he was aware that in order to get us out of the cave alive, Winston had stepped down from the throne and installed the new soul I’d brought him as a backup.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about Naledi yet. She definitely wasn’t Winston, but she did distract him enough that he didn’t require my attention as frequently. In fact, I hadn’t been back to see him since our follow up meeting after the cave incident. It had been three weeks, and I still didn’t have a replacement coin or any other means of contacting him. I was starting to get a little unnerved. If he didn’t show soon, I’d have to suck it up and ask Maalik for an update.

I was not looking forward to that conversation. As far as I knew, Maalik didn’t know that I had been commissioned by Horus to find backup souls for the throne. That was a secret I had guarded fiercely, and one that probably had more to do with our breakup than I cared to admit.

Maalik was good at his job on the council. Maybe too good. He wouldn’t like what I was doing behind the scenes. I didn’t really have a choice though. Horus was prepared to expose my secrets to the council if I didn’t help him relieve Winston of the throne. Now that Winston had stepped down, my task was essentially complete. Not that I could tell Horus that. Not yet, anyway.

Winston was in no hurry to leave the secret throne realm, and not just because he needed to keep up appearances with Grim for my sake. He was in love with the new soul. I hadn’t been around them long enough to tell if Nadeli returned the sentiment, but if she did, Horus might not be too happy about it at the end of his term, when he fully expected Winston to follow him to Duat, the Egyptian afterlife.

Besides my mental turmoil, life had been simple for the past three weeks. The Posy Unit was running smoothly, Grim had been scarce, and best of all, Gabriel and I had patched things up. My favorite archangel was even living at Holly House now, and he was keeping his halo sharper these days, laying off the booze and mingling with political socialites. He’d even accepted a position on the Board of Heavenly Hosts. It had taken him a little longer than me to get past the rut we’d fallen into since the death of my mentor, Saul Avelo. But to be fair, I hadn’t taken that first step willingly. We were both back on track now, and things were looking shiny.