If they had any idea what Griffin had been and what Zeke had abandoned, they would’ve done their level best to kill them both.
That was why I was reasonably satisfied with the way things turned out. I wasn’t happy the demon escaped a no doubt well-deserved death, but to keep Zeke out of jail for whatever length of time it took to prove that no body equaled no prosecutable crime was worth it. The hissing turned to snarling and the demon slithered from between Zeke and me, went on to flip over the table in one continuous movement of sinuous speed, and was gone onto the casino floor and out into the crowd in a matter of seconds. The movement caught the bartender’s attention in midswipe at the inside of a glass. Then he shrugged. Cirque du Soleil was always in town. It was a commentary on the city that demons were so easily explained away. Or perhaps it was a commentary on the peculiarities of Cirque du Soleil performers. I wasn’t one to rush to judgment.
Flexibility though, that was something to think about. Maybe like Leo I should do some dating of my own. Catch a show and dinner. Killing demons was entertaining, but a girl had to eat.
I hid my gun out of sight, returned to its holster in the small of my back. “Kit?”
Zeke shook his head and finished his beer in several swallows before echoing the bartender’s shrug. “Same as that son of a bitch Eligos told you about. Nine hundred some of the murdering bastards dead. Like any of us are crying over that.”
Griffin shifted almost imperceptibly beside me. Zeke frowned at him. “Don’t do that. Don’t think that. It’s not true, okay? It’s not fucking true.”
“It is true. I don’t remember it, but it’s true.” Griffin pushed away the whiskey because at that moment it had to be too much of a temptation for him.
Zeke kicked me under the table. He’d known Griffin all his human life, but Zeke had never been good with words, not the non-four-letter kind, and now he was wanting me to fix this. Although I’d give it my best, in the end it was only Griffin who could fix himself, but I gave it a shot. “You were born seventeen years ago,” I told him sternly, swiveling to plant a finger in his chest. “You’re a twenty-seven-year-old human being”—with wings, but no need to go into that—“who has never done anything in his entire life that wasn’t for the greater good, and, even better, for the little good.” When it came to the greater good, there were often civilian casualties. That’s why greater was slapped on the description, so that when you cried over a dead neighbor, friend, or family member, you could remember it was for the greater good. Their sacrifice . . . your sacrifice . . . wasn’t in vain. That’s why I cherished the little good. With that, no one worthy of life died. No one was hurt. There was a happy ending and only evil fell.
With a bemused expression, Griffin looked down at my finger denting his chest. “But before that . . .”
“No, no, Griff. There was no before that. Whoever that demon was before, it doesn’t matter. He died when you were born, and when you chose us over Hell, you put a headstone and wreath on his grave. You’re Griffin, no one else, and if Zeke won’t smack you for thinking differently, then I will. Clear?” I asked with one last poke of my finger to his expensive shirt. “Or should I go on?”
“Unless you plan on sticking your entire hand in my chest and pulling out my heart to show me how big and wholesome it is,” he said, “I think I have it.”
“Big, wholesome, and bright and shiny as a parade of Valentine’s hearts. I promise you that. Want a peek at my emotions to know if I’m telling the truth?” I offered. I could drop the shield that protected me against psychic incursions. I rarely did, but for my guys, I made exceptions. And when it came to situations like this, I didn’t think twice.
“No. The offer is enough. That you believe is enough.” He pretended to smooth his shirt. Zeke growled. “And you too,” Griffin added. “I think that would go without saying though.”
“Like you listen to me.” Zeke slid out of the booth. “Did you believe me when I said the house on the corner was a meth lab? No.”
“I did too believe you. I just thought you should let them blow themselves up, not do the job for them.” Griffin exited the other side. “It would’ve happened sooner or later. They didn’t have kids . . . or puppies. There was no hurry.”
“It smelled. It made my eyes water.” Zeke waited for Griffin to pay the bill. He was of the opinion that he provided a public service like a policeman and like a policeman, he deserved food and drink for free. That he didn’t have a badge to prove it was the only flaw in his plan.
Griffin passed over some bills, waved off the change, and walked out with us. “I guess I should be grateful you waited until they were out before you blew up their house.”
Zeke didn’t appear the least bit sheepish. “Coincidence is a . . .” He let the words trail off, at a loss.