I probably should have sent Sanducci on his way. I didn’t need him to come to Brownport; I could handle Xander Whitelaw myself—but I didn’t trust Sanducci not to disappear the instant my back was turned. I’d wasted a lot of valuable time lately looking for him. I didn’t want to waste any more, so I let him think I needed help.
Once on the ground, we picked up our checked bags—couldn’t carry knives on the plane, but we never went anywhere without them—then I headed for the rental-car area. However, Jimmy walked right out the front door, and in the interest of not losing him, I followed. He headed straight for a black Lincoln Navigator idling at the curb. Jimmy liked big cars. His last had been an obnoxiously huge Hummer—also black.
The man who climbed out of the driver’s seat was also obnoxiously huge, but white. I held my breath, waiting for the whisper that, in the past, would signal a Nephilim, before I remembered that Ruthie no longer spoke to me. Harboring this demon was proving to be an even bigger pain in the ass than one might think.
Though I’d allowed the transformation—allowed? Hell, I’d chased Jimmy down and stolen it—for the sake of the world, the consequences of embracing evil had been more painful than I had anticipated. Where before I’d heard Ruthie’s voice on the wind, I’d seen her in my dreams and she’d felt so much less gone, now she spoke through someone else and I was on my own.
I watched Jimmy for a clue. He smiled and strode toward the guy with his hand outstretched, and I relaxed a bit. Sanducci had been doing this long enough to feel the vibe from a Nephilim. He might not know exactly what type of demon they were or exactly how to kill them, but I doubted he’d smack one of Satan’s henchmen on the back and say, “Good to see you, Thane.”
Since Thane didn’t grow another head, or sprout claws and tear out Jimmy’s eyes, I joined them.
Only to scramble back when the guy went down on one knee and bowed his head. “Mistress,” he murmured in a burr so Scottish I smelled heather.
“What the hell?” I glanced at Jimmy. Taking my eyes off the giant Scotsman proved a mistake. He grabbed my hand, and I beaned him with my duffel bag.
He didn’t fall down, but he didn’t wrap his huge arms around me and bear-hug me to death either. Instead, he peered up at me with eyes so blue they mimicked my own and rubbed at his strawberry blond head.
“Ach, I jest wanted to kiss yer ring.”
“I don’t have a ring.”
“Ye should. It’s good for smackin’ folk with, right about here.” He made a jab toward his own eye. “A nice piece of silver about yer finger can split the skin to the bone.”
“What is wrong with you?” I demanded.
“Yer the leader of the light, aren’t ye now? I’m t’ swear my allegiance.”
Ruthie had said that the members of the federation would come to me and pledge fealty. So far none had for several reasons.
One—most of them were dead following an infiltration of our secret society. Two—I wasn’t exactly staying in one place or broadcasting my whereabouts. Three—I’d sent word through all the grapevines I had for everyone to continue doing their jobs and skip the swearing-allegiance portion of the program. But I supposed some might feel compelled upon meeting me to drop to their knees and kiss my ring.
I glanced around. In LA, no one would have noticed any of this. In Indianapolis, people were staring.
“Fine,” I said. “You’re sworn. Get up.”
“Not until I’ve kissed yer hand.”
“Sheesh, let him kiss you and be done,” Jimmy ordered, so I did.
Thane’s lips were warm but his breath so cold my skin ached as if I’d been walking in the snow without gloves for hours.
“What are you?” I asked.
He lifted his head and smiled, revealing slightly pointy teeth. I snatched my hand away as he got to his feet, towering over me by at least ten inches. Considering I was five-ten in my casual flip-flops, giant wasn’t out of the question.
“Nuckelavee,” he said, and tossed Jimmy the keys to the Lincoln.
Then, with a wink, he jumped into a Jeep parked right behind the Navigator. The young woman at the wheel held her crucifix in my direction as she drove past. The sun sparked off of it and gave me a helluva headache. I fingered my collar. When I wore this, I could touch a blessed cross. When I didn’t, the icon gave me second-degree burns.
Once I’d worn Ruthie’s crucifix—a connection to her as dear to me as her voice in my head and her presence in my dreams. But I’d chosen to embrace the darkness, to become it and to let it become a part of me. So, for now, perhaps forever, wearing Ruthie’s necklace was no longer possible.
Jimmy was stowing his duffel in the cargo area, so I joined him, tossing mine in too. He reached up to shut the door, and I stayed his hand. There was more to this car than what met the eye. I could smell it.
“Federation vehicle?”
Instead of answering, Jimmy yanked up the false bottom. Beneath the carpeted base rested weapons of every imaginable metal. Guns with silver bullets. Golden knives. Bronze swords. Crossbows. Gallons of accelerant—gasoline, kerosene. Probably dynamite.
“A rolling bomb,” I murmured. “Fabulous.”
We got in, and Jimmy headed south toward Brownport.