Page 36 of The Demon’s Due (Bedeviled #5)

I claimed the seat next to Darsh for the ride back on that somber Wednesday morning.

The bus had super-tinted special filters on the windows, good for both people who wished to sleep and to prevent vamp operatives from being crispified.

Silas sat by himself at the back while Sachie sat across from me talking to Chief Constable Keira Davis to track down Olivier.

Gemma was among the Maccabees who’d been patched up by healers before heading back to Vancouver. She and Joe were asleep on the seats in front of me.

All of my task force was on the bus, but we’d lost four operatives and six Trads who’d been dispatched after the staff’s terrified 911 call. Darsh arrived with his crew before them, but he didn’t realize for quite some time that those officers had shown up.

One of the non-magic cops who’d died was the young man Rupinder had been helping. Her eyes were fixed on a distant point, but every few seconds she’d blink, slow and mechanical like a doll with dying batteries, all while her face remained a perfect mask of nothing.

Marilyn had taken the young woman under her wing, making her drink water and see the healer for a broken wrist before sticking close to her on the ride back.

I’d driven down this highway a million times, the trees and grass along the side of the road a verdant green backdrop, but in the early morning mist, there was a wrongness to our world.

The characteristic drooping branches of Sitka spruce had been “corrected” upward into rigid right angles, the normally scattered spray of needles locked into precise rows like teeth on a comb.

I blinked at grass that looked painted, every blade the same height and hue of green, exactly like artificial turf.

“Darsh.” I pointed out the window.

“Yeah,” he said grimly. “I see it.”

Running out of vampires or magically infused artifacts to “heal,” the Luce was turning its sights on earth herself, like an immune system gone out of whack.

How long until it remade humans? Vancouver had only until Saturday for the predicted apex of the Luce. Would people suffer painful aberrations or simply crumble away, their very humanity now deemed an imperfection?

I couldn’t shake the image of streets filled with nothing but abandoned clothes and the echo of screams.

My phone vibrated, a band around my chest loosening at Maud’s message that she was okay. Adrian had stashed her at Maccabee HQ behind mezuzah wards when the madness broke out, and they were currently headed back to his place.

I replied with a heart and told her to stay in touch.

“Spook Squad operatives in other cities walked off the job to support the Vampire Care Initiative.” Darsh secured his hair with an elastic, the gesture quick and fluid despite his exhaustion.

“I wonder how many of them survived. They should have gone to Babel.” He snapped his fingers.

“Oh, wait. They couldn’t because the rifts were closed. ”

“By the Luce or shut down?”

“Oh, I’m sure it was the Luce and the timing for Natán being unable to get evac’d vamps to Babel after all the clinics were closed was completely coincidental,” Darsh drawled sarcastically.

“How do you feel about Babel being cut off?”

He half twisted to watch Silas, who was slumped against the window with a blank expression. “I never had much of an emotional attachment to it. I just wish Nasir had made contact.”

News of what was happening around the globe must have filtered back to the megacity. Was the situation so critical there that he couldn’t come back to stand alongside his fellow Maccabees before the rifts closed? Or had he simply chosen not to?

I nudged Darsh’s shoulder. “You’re still here.”

It was a statement and a question.

He laughed bitterly, but his gaze lingered on Silas a moment longer before he turned back to me.

“I’m still serving time with the Maccabees in exchange for them sparing Patrin’s life.

Ezra was right. Now would be my shot at freedom without the Authority coming after me, but I’m choosing to remain in their faces. ”

What a bitter decision they put on my friend: finally free to bolt but staying put to prove he mattered.

He shook his head. “I’m lying to myself again. It’s not just about forcing them to acknowledge my value or upholding the tikkun olam vow. I could have cut and run days ago.” He got a cross look on his face. “Silas makes me want to be a better man. One worthy of him.”

The raw honesty in his voice surprised me. This wasn’t the defiant Darsh who’d declared his loyalty to his job at Ezra like a taunt. My friend had found something worth staying for beyond principle or spite.

Darsh nudged me. “Don’t you dare tell Cowpoke I said that though.”

I mimed zipping my lips, processing this new side of him as we fell into a tired silence.

Luce hit or not, our attackers at Seaside had left no room for verbal negotiations. It had been us or them.

Michael would, of course, back that call, but I understood with blinding clarity why she’d ordered us to refrain from executing all vampires.

It wasn’t because it played into the Authority’s desire to rid itself of vamps on earth; it was because it played into Natán’s hands.

He’d masterfully spun Authority orders, able to claim that the doors to Babel were locked and that he’d complied in the only way possible: by closing all Seasides.

Natán could now hold up the slaughter of his people as proof the Maccabees were power-hungry murderers who had to be stopped.

In fact, I found his broadcast of that very response.

“Today they came for vampires,” he said.

“But should anyone, those with magic or without, get in the way of the Maccabee agenda, their lives will also be forfeit.” His voice dripped with sorrow when he added, “I’m a proud man.

A powerful man. I do not like to admit to vulnerability.

But the lesson of how little Maccabees regard the lives of those they profess to value was branded into me years ago at a cost I still pay today. ”

Fury blazed through me. Natán hadn’t paid; Ezra had.

He carried the weight of a broken childhood, his mother’s absence a void that Natán forged into a weapon.

The Maccabees and Natán played their power games—against shedim and each other— while Ezra survived on fragments of a childhood that should have been whole.

I texted Ezra that I loved him and was thinking about him.

Natán wrapped up by urging people to write their government representatives to not only cut off all Maccabee funding but dismantle the organization entirely.

Sometimes the most devastating revenge required nothing more than the truth mixed with time. In this case, a carefully curated truth, with the glaring omission of his own role.

Natán had played a long game with masterful patience and perfect timing. Each calculated statement since the Luce hit was designed to plant seeds of doubt that had, judging by comments online, bloomed into public outrage.

He knew when to strike and when to let others do the work for him.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, in finding his broadcast, I had the dubious pleasure of seeing posts about Ezra and me. People were so considerate about tagging me and making sure I was aware of their opinions.

Even the well-wishers’ comments were invasive, transforming my private relationship into public entertainment, while the worst comments left me feeling nauseous and vulnerable.

Sachie ended her call and rested her head against the seat, her eyes closed.

I leaned across the aisle. “Did you find Olivier?”

“He’s in emergency vascular surgery to repair a torn carotid artery in his neck he got while patrolling downtown.

He was overworked and was unable to defend himself like I’d trained him to.

” She recited it without a trace of emotion, but her grip on her phone was so tight that her knuckles had gone white.

“What?!” A torn carotid? With that kind of blood loss, he should be dead. Please don’t let there be complications, he’s suffered enough . “Do they know how much longer he’ll be in surgery for?” I moderated my voice to sound like this was no bigger of a deal than Olivier having his tonsils out.

“No.”

While she didn’t need my fear and wouldn’t want my sympathy, the dread in her eyes had me moving before I could think twice.

I leaned across the aisle, grabbed her hand, and didn’t let go for the rest of the ride.

She didn’t either.

Once we got off the bus at HQ, I asked if she wanted me to come to the hospital.

Sachie shook her head. “I want some time alone with him.”

I hugged her. “I’m here if you need me. Any time.”

“I know.” She pulled free, endured a hug from Darsh, then hurried to her car.

“Where are you off to now, missy?” Darsh playfully tugged a lock of my hair, but half his attention was on Silas.

Silas dug his nails into his palms, drawing blood, though he didn’t seem to notice, his gaze distant and sad.

“I have to get hold of Ezra,” I said.

“Good. Do that.” Silas’s voice was raspy.

Darsh and I both waited for something more, but he’d relapsed into silence.

“We’ll catch you later, puiul meu,” Darsh said and led Silas away.

Some of the operatives I’d fought with last night still gathered around the bus in small groups bathed by the gloomy overcast morning.

Our phones buzzed simultaneously with texts from Monserrat, a vivacious Orange Flame in Madrid. Her flame cohort had analyzed global weather patterns in consultation with meteorologists and Blue Flames’ information on humidity and air pressure.

There were some fronts moving in with high humidity conditions she wanted to avoid in a number of rift locations, so we were to meet at 1PM Vancouver time to shut the Luce down for good.

We’d launch our magical backfire from all the rift sites simultaneously, letting it spread out and meet the healing magic head-on.

Ha-joon chimed in with the next message. Given some cities were still in the thick of battle, anyone in the clear was to get some sleep.