“Finders keepers.” But true to her nature, Zoe said one thing and did the opposite, handing over the weapon with a bored jerk.
He took the scythe and rolled the wood of the staff between his palms. Its texture and heft had always been second nature to him, yet it felt unfamiliar now. Too slim and light, the magic absent in his hands. A weak sensation pooled in his belly, dread, and stole what little strength he had.
He closed his eyes to be surrounded with his familiar dark. “Can you give me the power to wield it as well?”
“And how do you propose I do that?” The girl, the new Death, dripped sarcasm.
Shadowman opened his eyes again and handed the scythe back. His head pounded with the simple action. He’d denied the blade too long. It had cried for him from Twilight, begging to be lifted, and now when he needed it most, the thing had abandoned him.
“Do you know what happened to Layla?” Asking this chit for news of such import tightened his skin unbearably. He’d have shrugged out of his new flesh if he could have, but it clung to him, gloved him.
“She tried to help us,” Zoe said, her tone barbed. “She thought you would come. She screamed for you, but obviously you weren’t listening.”
Layla had called his name. She’d needed him.
“What happened?” he snapped.
Zoe’s expression finally mellowed to pity. “There were three fae. The one with the scissors dragged her away.”
“Moira.” Shadowman staggered. His mortal legs would not hold him.
“Who?” Adam asked, reaching out an arm to steady him.
“Fate,” Shadowman clarified. “Fate has her claws in Layla.”
The worst had happened.
Adam turned to Zoe. “Seems you’ve got his power now. Look for her, will you? Custo is already there. The Order may send more angels as well, but they won’t value her soul over any other’s, so they may not be much help.”
No help at all.
“Layla will be under Moira’s skirt,” Shadowman said. As if Zoe would ever be able to locate Fate, much less bid the witch to lift her dress. “And she will be gone to madness, her soul light dimming.”
He’d brought this upon her. Cursed her and trapped himself in mortal impotence. This was why she had come back to life, to prevent this very thing from happening. He’d been a fool, vain in his power.
“Layla will be under Fate’s skirt,” Zoe repeated, as if the combination of words made no sense to her. Then with false brightness, “Alrighty.”
Death’s scythe swung out, and the wraith’s head was severed, its body sagging into gore.
As Zoe evaporated into the void, Talia’s black-eyed child reached a chubby hand after young Death.
“I’m getting them out of here,” Talia said and wheeled the stroller down the hallway toward the elevator.
Shadowman made to follow, his mind rapidly sorting all the places on Earth where the veil might be thin. Kathleen’s paintings would not work, if this attempt at Shadow hadn’t. But, water had always been a medium of transfer. Fire, too. Emersion or immolation. Or . . .
Adam fell into step next to him. “Listen, I know you’ve got no love for the angels, but they’re an undeniable power that is at least somewhat accessible to us. I suggest you go to their headquarters, where information is more readily available. Maybe they can figure out what happened to you and give you some idea of how to reverse it.”
“They will not treat with me,” Shadowman said, boarding the elevator that would raise them to the surface. The angels had defied him at every turn, and as a mortal, he lacked the power now to force their compliance. They might even cut him down, if Ballard had his way. Shadowman had to try something else. A Diné ceremonial sandpainting, perhaps. Though that, too, would take so much time.
“I bet they will,” Adam returned. “Word is you might just be one of them.”
There was no way he was a mortal angel. The idea was preposterous.
“Try Luca, Custo’s uncle. He’s a little more reasonable. I’m sure he’ll help in whatever way he can. And, they have their own access to Shadow.”
Shadow.
“How do I get there?” New York City, the nearest locus of The Order’s power, was miles away. “The last vehicle went so slow.”
Adam pulled half a smile. “I think I can move you quite a bit faster than that Hummer.”
“Oh, no,” Talia said, as they stepped out into the sunlight. “Here he goes.”
Adam put a phone to his ear. “Kev, I’m going to need the Sikorsky five minutes ago.” He paused, then answered, “Make him as comfortable as you can. I’ll be there to speak with him shortly.”
Talia rounded on her husband. “What now?”
“One Mr. Mickey Petty just arrived at the compound.” Adam turned to Shadowman. “Don’t worry about the devil. I’ll draw Rose out with her husband and end one bit of this nightmare. That bitch took out fifteen of my men. I mean to see her put down.”
Layla would want the devil dealt with, Talia and the family safe.