“Honestly, we have to hustle. We need that codex.”
Okay, Lincoln has a point. The Rixa Codex is where we’ve been storing up evidence for a trial against Acca, a House of thrax asswipes who need to be brought down. Once we get that book back from Desmond—and use it to record our last interview for the thrax court—then we’ll finally have enough proof to officially tear Acca apart. And after what those freaks put me through last month, I really want to destroy them. I mean, who enters into a secret pact with none other than Armageddon, the King of Hell?
Acca, that’s who.
Lincoln and I almost died cleaning up that particular mess. In fact, Lady Adair of Acca did end up dead. She might have been a bit of a bitch, but still. The whole situation isn’t something we can let slide.
I pick up the pace so I’m running shoulder-to-shoulder with Lincoln once more. “For the record, you spoil all my fun.”
“Huh.” Lincoln glances in my direction while arching his brows ever so slightly. “I know for a fact that I’m your main source of fun.”
I stick my tongue out at him. He’s totally right.
Lincoln laughs, which is a rich and rolling sound that makes everything in Purgatory seem a little less crappy. Together we leap toward another rooftop and land in perfect sync. A few pigeons flap off. When Desmond sees us closing in, he pulls a vial from his pocket, downs the contents, and picks up his pace. For a demon who has to waddle-walk everywhere, that guy sure starts hustling. The vial probably contained a velocity potion.
That said, even if Desmond can go extra fast, I’m not worried that he’ll actually escape. While most full-blooded demons fall into the not-too-bright category, Desmond brings dumbass to an entirely new level. He can’t stop stealing junk, dresses like a homeless clown, and has stalker issues with my family. Yet the biggest giveaway of Desmond’s stupidity is the fact that he’s running away from us right now.
Come on, showing your back to a pair of hunters? Seriously? That’s like predator crack. The dude must have a death wish.
Desmond jumps off the roof to land on the pavement in a roll. That’s no easy feat when your spine’s extra long. Interesting. I’ve never seen Desmond so motivated before. Lincoln and I share a puzzled look before leaping off as well. We sprint a few blocks in silence.
“Does any of this seem odd to you?” Lincoln finally asks.
“I was thinking the same thing. This isn’t Desmond’s MO.”
“Precisely.”
For months, Desmond’s been trailing my family in the hopes of stealing random bits of our junk. No real shocker there. Mom’s the President of Purgatory and I’m the Great Scala. As a result, we both have our share of stalkers. Some are cute, even if they do rummage through our trash, looking for keepsakes. Others are creepy.
Like Desmond.
I shake my head. “Normally, Desmond never runs. He just hands over whatever he stole. Which is what should have happened back at the limo.”
“It’s what he did last time, and without any complaint.”
“Yeah, that was at the Toys for Quasi-Demonic Tots thing.”
Last week, Desmond lifted some stuff from Mom’s purse while she was speaking at a fundraiser. Not a great idea. While Mom’s the President of Purgatory, my father’s a badass archangel. All Dad had to do was glare at Desmond, and the klepto handed over what he took. That time, it was Mom’s brush and an old Tic Tac from the bottom of her purse. Like I said, Desmond’s not the brightest star in the demonic sky. Sure, it’s in his nature to steal, but most klepto demons are a little more strategic about it.
Okay, a lot more strategic.
A sinking feeling runs through my belly. Maybe Desmond isn’t too smart, but someone else is. “He could be a pawn here, you know. Who would expect Desmond to get mixed up in something seriously evil?”
Lincoln’s voice gets crazy calm. “Go on.”
“Let’s look at the facts. Desmond is running from us. You know we can’t resist that.”
“True.”
“Next, how does a klepto demon go so fast on those stubby little legs? That vial must have contained a velocity potion. Enchantments like those are pricey. You don’t pay for them with stolen Tic Tacs. And then there’s what he took. To grab the Rixa Codex, Desmond had to know when and where we’d be…And whether we’d have the book.”
“All of which requires some serious scheming.”
“Exactly. The whole thing is totally out of character. Desmond’s a demon who spontaneously grabs junk. He doesn’t plan complex heists.”
Lincoln’s full mouth thins to an angry line. “And now, he’s lifted our codex, the very evidence that we need to put Acca behind bars.” Thrax are all about tradition. Since we’ve challenged the House of Acca to court, thrax rules state that one side must go to jail. If it isn’t Acca, then it’s Lincoln and me.
Prison. What a sucky way to spend your honeymoon.