A small balance of the scales for him not having taken care of her properly.
“Duke, please let me—”
“No, I’m good.” He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Excuse me?” Jim demanded. Surely he couldn’t have just heard his psychotic enemy suggest that he was going to be the new Nigel … and that that could be avoided only if they pulled out, so to speak.
Whatever. One thing he was certain of? He absolutely, positively was not going to step into the spats that Nigel had always worn—that was not going to happen. She had to be wrong. Had to be…
Except the demon didn’t budge, meeting him square in the eye. “You and I quit.”
He laughed in a hard rush. “You’ve said some fucked-up things, Devina, but this tops ’em all. Congratulations.”
“The game can’t exist without us. If you refuse to play—”
“Then you’re going to win the next two rounds and it’s game over. You don’t honestly think I’d fall for that?”
“But I refuse to play, too. It’s over.”
Jim crossed his arms over his chest. This whole savior thing had not been presented to him as a choice: Either man up, or your mother is going to be lost to Hell forever. What other option had he had? So, yeah, not a lot of decision-making there for him. And accordingly, it had never dawned on him that he might simply be able to … stop.
Provided Devina did as well.
In which case, nobody won—or lost.
“They’ll just find someone else,” he said, aware that that was a question. “To fill both our shoes.”
“Wrong. There is nobody else like me. I am a sole creation, unique to the Maker’s vision. Well, I am now that my predecessor’s dead.”
He could certainly see how one of her was enough for the universe. “This is not up to us.”
“Bullshit. The Maker may have created everything, but He gave us free will. You think He ordained Nigel to do what he did? Hell, no. Nigel chose that path—and if anything, his actions prove my point. We have choices in this, too.”
“Not on this level. Not with what you’re talking about.”
“That is the weakest thought you’ve ever had.”
“Maybe. But I could still win this, and then I’m rid of you.”
“No, under the rules, you get to be Nigel for the rest of your unnatural life. You mean to tell me you’re going to be satisfied eating crumpets and babysitting for that castle up there? You’ll lose your fucking mind.”
Jim paced around, shaking his head. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t take all this at face value. You aren’t exactly known for an altruistic nature.”
“This whole war is a fucking waste of time. It’s nothing but a contest for His amusement, and I have no intention of being a trick pony for Him anymore—if you also are willing to stand down.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. The takeaway, Jim supposed, was that even with the win they’d bartered for, she wasn’t sure she could come out on top. Therefore, this plan was her strategy for winning it alclass="underline" Get Jim to flake out … and then take everything because of a forfeiture.
Thinking that she was coming at this in any way but for her sole benefit would be like expecting a rattler not to use its fangs.
“I can’t trust you,” he said evenly.
She jutted forward on those heels of hers. “And I already know your word is for shit—or do I need to remind you that you lied to my face. The difference here is, I’ve never given you a vow to break.”
“There’s always room for Jell-O, sweetheart.”
“Try me.”
“Couldn’t we start with something easier, like you borrowing a fiver from me?”
“Joke all you want. But I’m right about all this—and do the math. It’s mutually assured destruction, so the playing field is leveled.”
“Yeah, but come on. Assuming that you’re not fucking me completely, and I really don’t believe that for a heartbeat, do you honestly think if we go to the Maker and hit Him with this, that He’ll be all, ‘Whatever, you guys,’ do you? Not going to happen.”
“Won’t be the first time He’s hated His creation, I’ll tell you that. And what is He going to do? Make me act if I don’t want to?”
“But according to you, if Nigel’s dead, my fate’s sealed—so technically, I’m out of the game already.”
“Not if you quit, Jim. Not if you stop playing right here and now.” When he fell silent, she nodded. “You think about it, and then you call me.”
Jim expected her to sidle in for a kiss. Instead, she just gave him another long look … and then she was gone into the night.
Left alone, he turned back to the house, where he had to imagine there was a round two or three going on.
She hadn’t even tried to get to the soul in play. And she’d shown up without minions, without some sex ploy, with nothing but her charming self, and a bright idea—not her usual MO. But come on, he wasn’t going to be a fool.
Yeah … the only rationale that made any sense was that she’d decided she really couldn’t win this. Except … they were even, now, and she was arrogant—so he wasn’t sure he could buy that. Then again … they were two-two only because he’d given her one of the rounds.
Jim wandered slowly back into the house, passing through the door again, sitting back down on the sofa.
She had a point about the free will thing. Choice had always been part of the human experience, for good and bad. Did that apply to angels and demons, too?
It had never dawned on him that he could opt out of this bullshit.
And Devina was right.
He did not want to be Nigel when he grew up.
The question was, how could he independently verify all of it. And how much time did he have before the Maker came a-knockin’ … and Jim ended up with a “promotion” he didn’t want?
Chapter
Forty-six
Cait was back in the Palace Theatre’s parking garage.
She was once again on that ramp that ran down between levels, walking fast, hearing the footsteps of someone behind her.
Panic got her going even quicker as she shot out to the lower lineup of cars and broke into a full-on bolt. Dragging her purse in front of her, she dug into it for her phone—
A gun. This time she had a gun.
Instead of her cell, she took out something mean and black. It was loaded, although she didn’t know how she knew that, and as she gripped the weapon, her palm fit perfectly, sure as if the thing had been made for her.
In the manner of dreams, she kept running, heading for the doors of the elevator that seemed to be ten miles off in the distance and staying that way. And in her wake, her attacker was getting tighter on her, closing in—
In the blink of an eye, she was at the vertical pair of buttons, one arrow up, one down. She jabbed at both with her left hand, craning around, waiting for whatever it was to come out of the shadows.
The ceiling lights were extinguishing one by one, tracking the figure, always a step ahead so she couldn’t see who it was.
Punching the buttons—she was punching the buttons as those illuminating fixtures went dark and death came for her.
The doors were not opening. This time she was locked out of her escape.
Spinning around, she slammed her back against the elevator’s closed entrance and put the gun up at chest height.
“No!” she screamed. “Stop!”
Whoever it was just kept coming. For an eternity, she stood braced for death’s approach, time slowing to a crawl even as her heart fluttered in her chest and her blood boiled with terror.
“Noooo!”
Losing control, she pulled the trigger over and over again, shooting at whatever was coming at her, the popping sounds echoing all around, the recoil vibrating up her forearms and into her shoulders. The more she squeezed off rounds, the faster her attacker seemed to come—