His grin made me catch my breath. Sure, he still appeared as if he’d just spent several days worshiping the porcelain god, then another two or three unconscious in a garbage dump. Regardless, his physical beauty shone through. It would take more than a torture session with a fairy god to erase that. Thank goodness.
Because his smile, and that face, made me think of things I shouldn’t, I kept walking.
“There’s another problem,” I said as Jimmy hustled to catch up. “Even if Ruthie would tell us that the end of the world is nigh, she can’t.” I tapped myself on the temple. “Cable’s on the fritz.”
The reminder that I no longer had a direct line to Ruthie because of what he’d done—and how I’d made him—caused Jimmy’s smile to disappear like the last ray of sun before the storm of the century. His gaze returned to the horizon where bits of pink and orange had faded to a thin, purple line.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” he murmured.
“It’s the idea. Ruthie’s idea. Only by becoming the darkness can we overcome it.”
“I’ve never been real clear on how we do that.”
I wasn’t either, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.
“Ruthie said to infiltrate the Nephilim.”
“Because walking straight into the lion’s den is always a good idea.”
“Worked for Daniel.”
Jimmy rubbed his eyes and didn’t answer.
“Relax,” I said, then remembered something Sawyer had told me once. “To win, we have to believe that we will.”
Dropping his hand, Jimmy began to laugh. “You think they don’t believe they will?”
“You have to have faith, Sanducci.”
He sobered as quickly as he’d lost it. “Do not quote George Michael to me, Lizzy.”
And then I was laughing. It felt good.
We reached the outskirts of Cairo. The place had a haunted air that I didn’t think had anything to do with the Phoenix. My laughter died. I wished like crazy we’d popped out of the Otherworld when the sun was still shining.
“It does feel like a ghost town,” I murmured. “You don’t think—”
“I don’t know,” Jimmy interrupted. “Maybe.”
I didn’t point out that I hadn’t finished my sentence. Jimmy wasn’t psychic, but he wasn’t human either. However, his ability to know what I was thinking, to finish my sentences, stemmed from something that wasn’t, for a change, supernatural. It stemmed from being raised together, loving each other, sharing everything, at least until we’d stopped. That he was acting like he used to, before the world fell apart, was too precious to question and risk driving away.
“Where do you think she is?” I murmured.
“That would be your department, not mine.”
My gaze wandered over the street, the buildings. We’d passed by beautiful stately homes—some restored, others broken. In front of us lay the main street, which appeared to be more of the same—storefronts that had been renovated to resemble small-town America and others that had been left boarded and empty.
The quiet was so loud it seemed to hum, or maybe that was just the power lines overhead. I stepped forward and felt a jolt, as if I’d licked my finger and pressed it to a light socket.
Jimmy, who’d been right on my heels, started, cursed and froze. “Did you feel that?”
“Yeah,” I said. The roots of my hair still prickled. “What do you think it was?”
“Magic,” he muttered, dark eyes flicking from one side of the street to the other. “You okay? Any weird urges?”
“No urges,” I said. “I’m fine.” Or as fine as I would ever be with a dog collar around my neck and a demon murmuring in my head. “You?”
“Just dandy. Come on.”
As we walked past the hardware store, the outside light snapped on, the door opened and a tall, thin man stepped out.
His hair was so blond it was nearly white and his bugged eyes and buckteeth only contributed to the image of an overly excited palomino.
“Hey there,” he said, staring straight at me. “What’s your name?”
Jimmy stepped in front of me. “Why do you want to know?”
The man’s face creased in confusion. “Just bein’ friendly.”
“Then why don’t you want to know my name?”
“Jimmy.” I tugged on his arm. “It’s a small town and we’re strangers. Relax.”
He didn’t. Not completely, but he at least let me move out from behind him so I could converse with the man.
“You must be here to see the new gal,” he said.
“How’d you guess?” Jimmy asked.
“Well.” The guy hitched up his pants, which were in great danger of drooping past parts I did not want to see. He hadn’t taken his gaze off of me once. “One glance at your face, and I figured you for a relative or somethin’.”
My smile was tight, but he accepted the expression for the “yes” that it was.
“You look just like your . . .” He waited for me to supply my relationship.
I tried; I really did. But I just couldn’t get “mother” past my lips.
“Mother,” Jimmy murmured, and shrugged when I cast him a glare.
The man slapped a huge hand across a bony knee. “I knew it. Sure enough. Though your ma, if you don’t mind my sayin’, appears nearly the same age as you.”
I bet she does, I thought sourly.
“Good genes,” Jimmy said.