They reached the Ford they had “borrowed” that morning from a used-car lot. “She really rubbed you the wrong way, huh?” Kaldar popped the locks open and held the door out for her. She went to sit down, and his hand brushed against her hip.
“I steal things. It makes people sad, but in the end they’re just things. They are replaceable. She steals memories and secrets, and she ruins people who take her into their confidence. She’s a snake.”
“I thought a shark myself.”
They got into the vehicle, and Kaldar started the engine.
“You’re not serious about this?” she asked.
“I’m very serious.”
“Kaldar, jobs like this take time. Did you forget that we have a homicidal blueblood on our trail?”
“She doesn’t know where we went. We have a couple of days.” He pulled out into the street.
“We need two weeks minimum to pull this off, and you know it.”
“Well, we’ll just have to do it fast.”
She stared at him.
“I have a feeling Fate will be with me on this one,” he told her.
“Fate?”
“Mhm. She’s sucker punched me twice since this job started. I’m due for a kiss. Why don’t we go spy on Yonker? You might change your mind.”
“What about the kids?”
“They are safe with the wyvern. Besides, Gaston should be back from talking to the locals by now. He’ll keep them from doing anything stupid. They will be fine.”
She shook her head. “That’s your general approach to life, isn’t it? Wing it, and it will be fine.”
“Hey, it’s worked so far.”
“You are impossible,” she told him.
Kaldar laughed.
NINE
KALDAR passed the binoculars to Audrey. They were parked out of the way, in the back lot of Vans, a large grocery store, their stolen car just an anonymous vehicle among all the others. A few hundred yards down, a large brown-and-beige building sat in the back of a parking lot, couched in large California sycamores and flame trees, blazing with bright red flowers. The Church of the Blessed. Sturdy, solid, brand-new, with large, spotless windows and a large portico before the double-doors entrance. The building had no steeple, no bell tower, nothing to mark it as a church. If anything, it resembled a small convention center.
Audrey took the binoculars. Her fingertips brushed his hand. In his head, he was kissing her, tasting those raspberry lips. Of course, in his little fantasy she loved it. Idly, he wondered if she wanted him to kiss her. Would she pull back, would she melt into the kiss, would she . . .
“Children,” she said, passing the binoculars back to him.
He looked. A throng of adolescent boys made their way to the doors, each carrying something pale . . . Kaldar zoomed in. “Flyers. They’re carrying flyers.”
Audrey reached for the binoculars, and he let her have them. “They’re a skinny lot,” she murmured. “Probably runaways. It’s warm here. The city is full of them. He’s using them as walking advertisements.”
A man in his early thirties, carrying a placard, followed the kids. The doors opened, and two women brought out a cart filled with sandwiches. The children lined up. The man thrust his placard into the lawn and joined the end of the line.
“Come to Jesus and live an abundant life,” Audrey read. “He’s a prosperity preacher, all right. Ugh.”
“I meant to ask you about that,” Kaldar said. “What is a prosperity preacher?”
Audrey took the binoculars from her face. Her eyes were huge with surprise and outrage. She looked hilarious.
“You don’t know what a prosperity preacher is, but you took the job anyway?”
“I have you to explain it.”
“Kaldar!”
He leaned closer. “I like the way you say my name, love. Say it again.”
She plucked a paper map off the dashboard. “No.”
“Auudreey?” He toyed with a lock of her hair. His voice dropped into the quiet intimate murmur that usually got him laid. “Say my name.”
She leaned toward him, her eyelids half-lowered, her long eyelashes fanning her cheeks. She tilted her face to his, close, closer. Her lips parted.
Here it comes.
“Dumb-ass.”
Ouch.
She tapped his forehead with the map. “Focus on the job.”
The woman drove him crazy. “I would focus, but I’ve been rejected and must now wallow in self-pity. So prosperity preachers. What are they?”
Audrey sighed. “How much do you know about Christianity?”
“I’ve read the Bible,” he told her. “The good parts.”
“Let me guess, the ones with wars and rich kings and women?”
He gave her an innocent look. “We’ve barely met, and yet you know me so well.”
“The New Testament, that’s the one with Jesus, in case you didn’t know, doesn’t care for rich people. There is a story in the Gospel of Matthew, where a rich prince visits Jesus and asks him how he could get into Heaven. And Jesus tells him to keep the Commandments, and if he really wants to ensure his place in Heaven, to give away all his possessions to the poor. That’s where that famous verse comes from, ‘It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.’ There are more things in the same vein. Mark and Luke and James, all of them basically said that the richer you are, the harder it is to go to Heaven because rich people fall into temptation and surrender to their greed.”
“ ‘The love of money is the root of all evil.’” He had read the Bible, and the quote had stuck with him. He took it as a warning.
“Timothy 6:10.” Audrey shrugged.
“From the way I’m looking at it, poverty doesn’t lead to love and happiness, either.”