Doomsday Can Wait Read online

  “Are all true?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “The sons and daughters of the Watchers are still on earth,” Megan murmured. “That explains a lot.” . “It does?”

  “Didn’t you ever wonder how some people could be so purely evil? How they could do what they do to others and still be human?” Megan tilted her head. “It’s simple. They’re not.”

  She was handling this a lot better than I had. But then, she was Irish.

  “Ruthie could see what these things are, even when they look human?” I nodded. “And now you can?” Another nod. That about summed it up.

  “So what is she?” Megan jerked her head toward the center of the room, where we’d last seen the woman of smoke.

  “Trouble,” I murmured. But then what evil half-demon wasn’t? I got to my feet. “I’m gonna have to go.”

  “Without telling me what she was?”

  “You’re better off not knowing.”

  Too much information could get Megan killed. As it was, I wasn’t going to be able to come back here anytime soon—if ever.

  “You’re headed after her?”

  “Eventually.” First I needed to have a little chat with Sawyer—the man who’d given me the turquoise that had kept his mother from killing me.

  Coincidence? I didn’t believe in them anymore.

  “So you’re what?” Megan asked. “Superpsychic hero girl? Leader of some cult of antidemonites?”

  “Close enough,” I answered, then hesitated. Should I hug her, or shouldn’t I? I was never quite sure about things like that. “Listen, Meg, if you need anything, call my cell.”

  She stared at me for several seconds. “You’re not coming back this time.”

  “It’s not safe for you if I’m around.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Megan said.

  “Thanks to me, you have to.”

  She let out an impatient sigh. “Let it go, Liz. I’ve told you before that Max’s death wasn’t your fault.”

  But I knew differently. If Megan died because of me, I didn’t think I’d be able to go on. And I had to.

  The fate of the world was in my hands. I headed home to pack a bag and get myself on a flight to Albuquerque. Since Sawyer lived at the edge of the Navajo reservation, which was hell and gone from the airport, I’d also have to rent a car.

  It would certainly be easier to give him a call. Unfortunately, the man didn’t have a phone. Sawyer was—

  Hard to explain.

  I pointed my Jetta north on Highway 43, hopped off when I got to the suburbs, drove west until I hit Friedenberg. What had begun as a tiny hamlet on the Milwaukee River had become the commerce center of a wealthy subdivision. I lived in the original tiny hamlet, where the buildings were old and the taxes reflected that.

  The town was quiet and dark. The single stoplight flashed. Nothing ever happened in Friedenberg. At least until I had moved in.

  I parked behind the combination business and residential two-story I’d purchased after leaving the force. A knickknack shop, understandably empty at this time of night, rented the ground floor.

  After opening the outside door, then closing and re-locking it, I hurried upstairs to my apartment. A quick glance into the two rooms—one for living/sleeping/ dining and another for bathing—revealed I was alone. For now.

  Quickly I changed out of my jeans, torn shirt, ugly vest and sandals into another pair of jeans, a navy blue tank top—July in Wisconsin was still July and the temps hovered in the high seventies long after the sun went down—then tennis shoes. Running in sandals never worked out very well, and lately, I ran a lot.

  I threaded Ruthie’s crucifix onto the chain with Sawyer’s turquoise, then pulled the amulet from my pocket to take a better look. In the center of the circlet a five-pointed star had been etched. Carved into the opposite side were several words in a language I didn’t know. Since my repertoire consisted of English, English, and then a little more English, it could be anything.

  I shoved the amulet into my jeans. Since I’d yanked it off his mother’s skinny neck, maybe Sawyer would have a clue as to what it was.

  And speaking of Sawyer’s mother—

  I opened the dresser drawer next to my bed and removed the photo I kept there. When I’d first seen this picture in the lair of the leader of the darkness—a quaint term for the other side’s big boy—I’d nearly had a heart attack. I’d recognized her face from the night Sawyer had conjured her in the desert.

  Until today, I hadn’t known the woman of smoke was also a Naye’i. I hadn’t known she was Sawyer’s mother.

  I had known she was evil, and I hadn’t liked at all finding her likeness next to the place where Satan’s henchman slept. So I’d snatched it.

  Now I was wondering if that hadn’t been a less than brilliant idea. Before I could think about it too much, I tore the photo into itty-bitty pieces, then ground it up in the garbage disposal. Maybe that would keep her from finding me again. But I doubted it.

  I kept a duffel under my bed, always packed and ready—clothes, cash, my laptop. I’d had no call to use the bag in the past month. My visions of supernatural baddies had dried up as thoroughly as the small plot of grass in my backyard.

  I hadn’t been sure if that was because I was a little short on demon killers, having only two in my arsenal after last month’s massacre. Jimmy, who was in the middle of a mini-meltdown and no help at all, and Summer Bartholomew, who I just plain didn’t like and wouldn’t call unless I had to.

  When push came to shove—and it would, it always did—I had myself. I was the first demon-killing seer in history. Let no one say that I am not an overachiever.

  However, I found it hard to believe that the head honchos upstairs—my name for whoever sent me information via Ruthie’s voice or an old-fashioned vision— would have given me a break in my duties just because I was shorthanded.

  The other option was that I’d lost my power, and it hadn’t felt that way, even before Ruthie had whispered Naye’i.

  But now I had a third option in the amulet I’d yanked off the woman of smoke. She’d been able to get close to me because I hadn’t received the usual advance warning of impending doom. Until I’d gotten my hands on the medallion, Ruthie’s ghostly voice had been silenced.

  I really needed to find out what that thing was.

  I stowed my knife in the duffel, then cast a glance at the safe under my sink where I kept my gun when I wasn’t at home. I could bring the knife on the plane as long as I checked the bag, but there were rules about transporting firearms by air—particular cases required, certain ways the ammunition had to be packed—and I didn’t know them all.

  That sense of urgency that had been riding me since I left Murphy’s won, and I decided to make do with the knife. Guns weren’t all that useful against Nephilim anyway, unless you knew where to hit them, how many times, and with what.

  Looping the luggage strap onto my shoulder, I turned. Someone stood in the doorway.

  CHAPTER 3

  Ruthie’s voice remained silent. But after the incident with the Naye’i, the lack of that whisper wasn’t as dependable as it used to be.

  Whoever this was, they were short. Really short. But if they were a demon, short didn’t mean squat. Ha-ha.

  I hoisted my duffel at the person’s head, then rolled across the floor in the direction of the safe. I’d been a state champion in high school gymnastics, which was coming in a lot more handy than I’d ever dreamed.

  I doubted I’d get the safe open in time to shoot, had no idea if the silver bullets I now habitually loaded into my Glock would work, but I had to do something.

  The duffel connected with the intruder’s chest. I heard a soft “Oof,” then “Hey!” just as my fingers touched the keypads. I lowered my hand; I recognized that voice, should have known from the tiny stature who was here even before the lights went on without either one of us touching them.

  Tiny and blond, the woman in the doorway resembled
a pixie with a country-western fetish. Her tight jeans, fringed halter top, cowboy boots, and white Stetson were slightly out of place in a land where people wore cheese on their heads.

  “What the hell do you want?” I climbed to my feet.

  She lifted her eyebrows and pursed her perfect mouth. I wanted to slug her. I usually did, but I refrained. Summer Bartholomew was the only one of my demon killers, or DKs, still alive and available. She was also a fairy.

  Really.

  To fight supernatural evil, more than just plain folks were required, so most of the DKs were breeds— descendants of Nephilim and humans. The added influx of humanity with each successive generation diluted the demon enough so that breeds could make a choice about which side they fought for.

  The ones who weren’t breeds were angels who hadn’t succumbed to temptation but were caught on the other side of the golden gates when God slammed them shut on the fallen. Not good enough to go to heaven, but not bad enough to go to hell, they became fairies.

  “There’s a problem,” Summer began.

  “I know. I was on my way to New Mexico.”

  “He’s gone.”

  “Gone? That’s impossible.”

  “No,” Summer said. “It isn’t.”

  “How long?”

  She shrugged. “I hadn’t seen him for weeks. Then I stopped by and …” She spread her hands.

  “Weren’t you supposed to be his keeper?”

  “He goes missing every year. He always comes back.”

  I suddenly remembered—once a year Sawyer went hunting.

  For his mother.

  That she’d showed up at my place was becoming more and more interesting.

  “If he always goes off, why run across the country to tell me about it?”

  “I’m not here because of Sawyer,” she said. “I’m here because of Jimmy.”

  I forced my fingers to uncurl from the fists they’d automatically made at her words. Stupid to be angry and jealous over his leaving me and choosing her. We’d been eighteen. Grade A idiots, both of us. But mostly Jimmy, since he had to have known the next time I touched him I’d see her.

  I’d been born psychometric. Basically when I touched people, I saw things. I’d seen way more than I ever wanted to of Jimmy and Summer.

  Imagine—your first love, your first time, all rolled into one. Alone and lonely, a street kid who’d found a home, found him. Thinking he loved you, believing you’d be together forever, then “seeing” him in the arms of someone else. I’d reacted badly—for the past seven years.

  “What about Jimmy?” I asked.

  Something in my voice must have tipped Summer off to my mood because she inched back.

  “What are you afraid of?” I moved forward. “You’re a fairy. You’ve got powers, too.”

  “You know damn well I can’t use them on you.”

  I smiled and Summer stepped back again. If she kept it up she’d fall down the stairs. Not that it would hurt her any.

  “I do love the fairy rules,” I continued. “Can’t use your magic against anyone on an errand of mercy. And since my whole life is one long errand of mercy …” My smile widened. “Sucks to be you.”

  “You have no idea,” she murmured. Before I could ask what that meant, she went on. “Getting back to Jimmy.”

  My smile faded. “I don’t know where he is.”

  She glanced down, the brim of her hat shading her too beautiful face. Fairies could practice glamour, a type of shape-shifting that made them more attractive than the average human. However, since fairy magic didn’t work on seers, I had to think that Summer was truly gorgeous. So how much could it suck to be her?

  “I do,” she said reluctantly.

  “You do?” For a second I forgot the question. Then I stiffened. “You know where he is? He called you? Came to you?”

  “I saw him.” She waggled her fingers—manicured and painted pale pink—toward her head.

  “I thought you could only see the future.”

  “Right.”

  “What good does that do me today?”

  Summer’s gaze lifted. “There was a Fourth of July parade, right down the center of town.”

  “The Fourth is in two days.”

  “Which makes it the future.”

  “What town?”

  “Barnaby’s Gap, Arkansas.”

  “And you think Jimmy’s there why?”

  “I saw him watching the parade.” Her lips, the same shade as her fingernails—who does that?—tightened. “He didn’t look good.”

  My heart took a sharp leap, then fell with a heavy thud. Jimmy hadn’t exactly been himself the last time I’d seen him.

  “You could have just gone and gotten him. Why come to me?”

  “You two have a connection.”

  “Seems to me that you two have the same connection.”

  “No.” She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, the movement perking up her already too perky breasts. “What we had—” She broke off at my glare. “He loves you.”

  I had a hard time believing Jimmy Sanducci had ever loved anyone—except for Ruthie. She’d taken him off the streets same as me, but Ruthie was dead.

  “Even if he did love me once, what difference does that make in dragging him back from Arizona?”

  “Arkansas.”

  “Whatever.”

  “There’s going to be trouble.”

  The hair on the back of my neck tingled. “You’ve said that before.”

  The day after I’d killed the leader of the darkness— a.k.a. Jimmy’s father.

  “It’s here.”

  “Here?” I moved toward my duffel and the knife inside it.

  “Not right this second here, but soon. It’s coming.”

  “What’s coming?” I asked, though I had a pretty good idea. The woman of smoke was going to be the next big pain in my ass.

  “I’m not sure,” Summer said.

  “Then what good are you?”

  “I found Jimmy.” She lifted her just-pointed-enough-to-be-cute chin. “You didn’t.”

  “Fine, you give me a ring when you’ve got him in hand.”

  “No.”

  “No?” I raised my eyebrows. “You seem to have forgotten who’s the boss of you.”

  “You have to come with me. You’re—” She paused and bit her lip.

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’m what?”

  I was a lot of things—some of them good, some of them kind of creepy. I still wasn’t used to it myself.

  “The leader of the light. You’re stronger than any of us.”

  I wasn’t sure about that, though I knew that I could be. Unfortunately, what I had to do to increase my powers was slightly more than I was willing to, unless absolutely necessary.

  “Jimmy’s going to need help,” Summer finished.

  Panic flared. Had the woman of smoke gone after him?

  “How do we kill her?” I blurted.

  “Her who?”

  “You aren’t talking about the Naye’i?”

  “Naye’i,” she murmured. “Dreadful One. The only time I ever heard that was—” Her eyes widened. “Sawyer’s mother?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That bitch has been a nightmare since she was born,” Summer said.

  Hearing the word bitch come out of Summer’s sweet mouth gave me a nearly irrepressible urge to giggle. The only way I was able to stop it was by remembering that I did not giggle. Ever.

  “Haven’t all the Nephilim been a nightmare?” I asked. “I think it’s part of the definition.”

  “She’s different.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s more than a Navajo evil spirit, she’s a witch, too.”

  “I know. She gained her power by killing Sawyer’s father.” Who’d been a powerful medicine man in his own right.

  I’d said Sawyer was hard to explain. That was one of the reasons. Being raised by a murdering-evil spirit-witch-demon would give anyone issues. We were luc
ky the guy hadn’t been gibbering in a corner for the last few centuries.

  “She’s the reason I was headed to New Mexico to talk to Sawyer,” I continued. “She showed up tonight and tried to kill me.”

  “You’d better get used to it,” Summer muttered.

  “Ruthie didn’t have to deal with constant assassination attempts.”

  “None of the Nephilim knew Ruthie’s identity.”

  “True.” Everyone and Satan’s sister knew who I was.

  ” ‘Leader of the darkness kills leader of the light and sets in motion Doomsday,’” Summer recited. “But when you reverse that, you reverse everything. Or at least that’s the rumor.”

  “Say what?”

  “Haven’t you noticed there hasn’t been a whole lot of chaos going on?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “The scuttlebutt on the streets is that by having the head good guy—you—kill the head bad guy, we get a rewind. At least until—”

  “Some other bozo with a god complex kills me.”

  Summer shrugged. I guess I knew now why the woman of smoke wanted me dead.

  “Are you sure this is good intel?”

  She nodded. “As soon as I heard the whispers, I nabbed a few Nephilim, beat the truth out of them.”

  When she said things like that I was never quite certain whether she was serious or not.

  “They all spilled the same story.” She twirled her finger. “We get a do-over.”

  “Why didn’t we know this?” I asked. “Why didn’t Jimmy or Ruthie or even Sawyer tell me?”

  “I’m not sure they knew. The prophesies about the end times are confusing to say the least. Everyone interprets them differently.”

  “You’d think that Ruthie, having died and gone to her version of heaven, would have a pretty good handle on the truth.”

  “You’d think,” Summer agreed. “But what is truth?”

  I groaned. I hated existential questions. Give me black or white, good or evil, truth or lies. Please.

  “We have free will,” Summer continued. “So, we choose one path instead of another and the whole prophesy shifts.”

  “Swell.”

  “Ruthie’s the first leader of the light to be killed by a leader of the darkness. They’ve tried, but they’ve never succeeded. Doomsday hasn’t been set in motion before, though many believed that it was.”