Sanducci slouched in a chair by the terrace. I could have been annoyed that he’d disappeared last night; I could have started the day bitchy. But he’d brought coffee and beignets.
I crossed the room and snatched the nearest cup, taking a healthy swig despite the waft of steam that billowed up and nearly blinded me when I removed the top. Then I grabbed a beignet and stuffed most of it in my mouth—they were small—letting the sugar and the deep-fried dough soothe me until I almost felt human.
“Where’d you go last night?”
Jimmy reached into his back pocket and slapped a lethal-looking silver dagger onto the table. The weapon was small, but from the way the sun sparked off the edges, it was sharp, the grip black, grooved, all business. No fancy jewels or cutesy dragon faces to mess up the aim.
“Charmed?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t be much good if it wasn’t.”
I thought it might be good enough for most things, if you stuck them just right. But we weren’t interested in most things. This dagger was for Mait.
“Where’d you get it?”
“Charmed dagger shop.”
“That’s a legitimate question, Sanducci. What if I need a charmed dagger at some point in the future?”
Knowing my future, I was sure that I would.
“You’ve got one.” He flicked his finger at the table.
“Do you have one?” He shook his head. “Why not?”
“They aren’t cheap, Lizzy. Besides, we only need one. I’ll grab the book, you stab the Nephilim.”
“How come I have to stab the Nephilim?” I whined.
“Mait and I have a history. If he sees me coming, we’re screwed.”
“I thought the gris-gris would repel his magic.”
“They will. But he’s a big guy, and he fights dirty.”
“So do you.”
“You’ll have a better chance of sliding in and—” Jimmy made a stabbing motion with his fist toward his eye. I resisted the urge to gag. I did not do well with eyes. They were yucky.
That sounds girlie. But I am a girl.
Which didn’t mean I wouldn’t do what I had to. I’d also do everything I could to get out of it first.
“Why do you think I’ll be able to get close to him?” I asked. “I’m not huge, and my dirty fighting isn’t the best.”
I’d always had a hard time with it, probably because I’d been kicked when I was down so often as a kid whenever I tried to do it myself, I hesitated. I needed to get over that, but I wasn’t sure how.
“Besides,” I continued, “the first time Mait saw me, he knew I was there for the book.”
“Anyone who shows up is there for the book, Lizzy.”
“They couldn’t be out for a stroll?”
“In New Orleans? In August? In the swamp?”
“All right,” I muttered.
“You won’t have to fight him.”
“You think he’ll just let us walk in and grab the Book of Samyaza.”
“I think he won’t notice me grabbing it if you’re seducing him.”
I choked on my coffee, which went down the wrong pipe and made me cough as if I were in the throes of death. For a while I wanted to be. At last I managed a hoarse, “If I’m doing what?”
“This guy’s been stuck in an abandoned church for a very long time. He’s desperate to get some.”
“Well, he isn’t getting any from me! He’s a Nephilim.”
“I didn’t tell you to sleep with him.”
“You said seduce.”
“I meant offer but don’t deliver. I’m sure you know how.”
My eyes narrowed. I’d certainly never offered him anything I hadn’t delivered.
“I’ll just fight him,” I said. “I’ve got skills.”
“You won’t have your powers.” At my frown, Jimmy lifted a gris-gris. “Once we walk in with these, it’s a no-magic zone for everyone.”
“You couldn’t buy a gris-gris that puts a hex on evil magic and leaves the good guys’ juice alone?”
“What is evil?” he murmured.
“Don’t start with the existential bullshit!”
“It’s a legitimate question.” He repeated back my own earlier comment, and my head felt as if it might explode. Only Sanducci had this effect on me.
“You think a bag of seeds and grass can tell the difference between good and evil?” he asked. “Especially when the bad guys believe what they’re doing needs to be done. Haven’t you ever heard the saying: A villain is the hero of his own story?”
“No.”
“Think about it. Mait was given the task of protecting that book. He’s going to protect it by any means necessary. Is that an evil deed?”
“Hell, yeah!”
“In your opinion.”
“In everyone’s opinion.”
“Mait’s just following orders.”
“From Lucifer,” I said. “You think because the guards at Dachau were ‘just following orders,’ they aren’t roasting above an open flame directly to the left of Hitler?”
“Probably.” Jimmy sighed. “The fact remains that the gris-gris will put a stop to any magic—good or bad—so seduction is your best bet. Get in close, make sure I’ve got the book, then”—he made the same jabbing motion toward his eye, and I flinched—“nail him.”
CHAPTER 29
“Got the gris-gris?” Jimmy asked as he stepped out of the car near the swamp.
“Check. You?”