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“On Jeremiah? Lord, he was huge. It’s always hardest getting through the spine. I had to use Grandpapa’s old ax in the garden shed.”

“I’ve taken a couple of heads myself. I know what you mean about spines.”

“Thank you. Most people just don’t understand the amount of work involved.”

Wanuri gives me a look and cuts in. “Were you rich, Doris?”

“Obscenely,” Doris says. She smiles. “That’s why there was a garden big enough to do my special planting.”

Johnny reaches for the lighter, but Doris snatches it away and hands it back to me.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he says. “He could have had that all along.”

“He’s been bumming lights and matches from people since he got here,” Daja says.

“Bollocks.”

I flick the Dupont on and off a couple of times. Point it at Johnny.

“That’s it, pal. You’re off my Christmas-card list. It was going to be a good one, too. Kittens pulling Santa’s sleigh.”

“Stay away from me and my people,” he says.

“Your people? You’re a joke. A handful of cretins and scaredy-cats doesn’t make you John Dillinger or the Magistrate. They’ll dump you at the first sign of trouble.”

“Come on,” he says, and his puppy pack trails behind him, tails wagging for their master.

“That was fun. Can I go see the goddamn Magistrate now?”

“He’s downstairs in his room,” Daja says. With a week full of healing, her hand is looking a lot better.

We follow her to the hatch belowdecks and down the ladder.

“Is he still fucked up?”

“No. He’s mostly better.”

Mostly. The fucker is faking it. Archangels heal even faster than I do.

“That’s good to hear.”

Daja knocks on his door and we go inside.

Sure enough, he still has a big bandage wrapped around his chest. I bet he does it himself. Won’t let anyone help him, not even Daja. They all think he’s such a strong, brave soul when he’s just exactly the kind of winged asshole I’ve been dealing with for years. I’d like to rip the bandage off and show everyone what a liar he is, but I stay cool. Samael was probably right. Hang on and find the Light Killer. Then make sure this clown doesn’t play with it like a ten-year-old with the combination to Daddy’s gun locker. He looks up from the map in surprise when I come in.

“Mr. Pitts. You have come back to us. I’d almost lost hope.”

“I was out of Moxie.”

He comes over and gets me in a big bear hug. For a guy who’s supposed to be hurt, he’s got a pretty good grip.

“Come. Sit down. Do you bring good news?”

I sit on one of the bunks while the remaining pack crowds in.

I say, “Where’s Traven?”

“The good father is going through what books he could save from his library. Vehuel and her companions have pinpointed the location of the Lux Occisor. We planned on sailing there tomorrow, with or without you.”