For keeps. Cronus said it: He didn’t play for fun; he played for keeps.
I decided right then I liked it much better when he wasn’t aware of me or who was in my bar. A man had died because of me . . . and what I’d wrongly thought were some stellar checker skills. He’d died because of a stupid game—me and a stupid game that I hadn’t taken seriously. I took Cronus very seriously, so seriously that I thought he was beyond something as petty and throw-away spiteful as this. Killing more than nine hundred demons, yes, that I could see. Killing one polyester-clad tourist, who I sincerely hoped was right with whichever religion, philosophy, or lack thereof he nurtured in his soul, over a move in a game five-year-olds mastered—that was no better than pulling the wings off a butterfly. Who did that?
A Titan asshole apparently.
Armand shimmered. He might work for Eli and aspire to someday get lucky enough to stab his boss in the back to take his place, but I didn’t think he liked what he was seeing. I didn’t think he knew what he was seeing. Demons thought they were killers and they were. They thought they were monsters and they were. They thought they were evil and, yes, they were. They thought they were the first evil.
They weren’t.
They thought they’d invented evil.They hadn’t.Thought they were the very epitome of evil—they were only a shadow. I wasn’t proud of it, but the first evil had been pa?en. Cronus wasn’t the first evil, but he wasn’t a shadow of it either. He was the genuine article and Armand was only another ant, the same as me, and running for his anthill, which was better known as Hell, as fast as he could go. It wasn’t fast enough.
Cronus was gone from his chair and holding Armand up off the ground before pinning him against the wall, a butterfly soon to lose its wings. Armand, physically bound to earth, did what he thought would be his best chance of escaping. He changed to his true form: the scales, the snapping alligator j aws, the thrashing tail, jagged talons. They didn’t help him. Cronus didn’t bother to move as claws passed through the fake flesh that instantly repaired itself behind them. The only thing that helped Armand/Amdusias escape was his wings. If he considered death an escape and if I’d been the one facing a Titan who did not care for me at all, I would’ve happily considered it so. A vacation. A party.
I didn’t think Amdusias agreed with me. He screamed as one wing was torn off in Cronus’s hand. And then he was gone, a black puddle. His wing stayed, which was apparently a Titan trick, as normally it would’ve melted along with Amdusias.
I’d gotten to my feet to run. Not to help the demon. That was way beyond my capabilities and Amdusias wasn’t my problem. Locking the door and preventing someone else from walking in on a scene of dead tourist, demonic puddle, and Titan holding a demon’s wing like a cheap Vegas souvenir, that was my immediate concern. Large black puddles were easy to explain. . . . If cleanliness was your thing, then this wasn’t the bar for you. A bizarre eyeless fake human, a red and ebony dragon wing, and an expired tourist soaked in blood, that was more difficult than what looked like a very bad bathroom leak.
I was about to lock the door when Leo walked in. He took in Cronus, the wing, the dead man, and he shook his head. “I don’t know why I ever listen to you,” he said to me. I closed the door and gave the lock an annoyed twist shut. I didn’t worry about the blinds. They were closed. This was Nevada and this was a bar; there was no reason for them to be open.
“I feel bad enough about the guy,” I said, folding my arms. Did I look defensive? Probably. I sure as hell felt that way. I hadn’t planned on any collateral damage during all this unless it was demons. “I didn’t know Titans took checkers so seriously—that anyone took checkers that seriously.”
“Titans take all games seriously. I’m more of a free spirit. Make up the rules as I go along and then smash them into tiny pieces—along with the rest of the world,” Leo remarked as he leaned back against the door, as casual as they came. “Rules never were worth my respect, not even my own. What’s the point of creating something if you don’t destroy it? What goes up must always come down. What we make, well, damn, we have to break.”
It was said with a dark acid humor I hadn’t heard in a long time from him. From the bad old days when world destroying was as easy and as natural for him as reaching for the remote. He’d been a bad boy before the concept of bad boy had been spawned. That’s what Cronus would remember about him and that’s who Leo would be for the trick at hand. Who he’d be for me.