Page 78 of Dead Beat

And there was magic, pulling her back in, weaving its mystery.

“I can’t tell,” Alex said. “Dawes or Darlington will figure it out.”

“Is it safe to go back? To be in the dorms?”

“Dawes has salt pearls she can give you to wear tonight. I’ll see what we can do about wards to protect against … everyone. But even if you went home to your parents’ place, I can’t offer guarantees.”

“Magic is real, but safe is make-believe.”

“Something like that.”

“I’d rather take a car home.”

Alex could have said that she was being shortsighted or petty, that it was safer for one of them to escort her. But she didn’t have the will to argue anymore. “Sure.”

She rose but when she reached the door, Mercy said, “I liked hanging out with you too. And I haven’t forgotten what you did for me. What you did to Blake.”

“Okay.”

“But if my choice is between you and magic or God, I’m choosing God.”

“Probably the better bet,” Alex said. “If you get a chance, put in a good word for me.”

She didn’t know what she believed anymore, but if the right words said by the right person could place some great cosmic thumb on the scales, she’d take all the help she could get.

28

When Darlington emerged from the laundry, he joined Turner and Dawes in the living room with Turner’s mother. He still couldn’t quite believe that the detective had allowed them into this house, and he had to admit it was distressing. If Turner was letting down his guard, maybe they really were in the end times.

“Are those Esau’s clothes?” Celeste asked when he entered the living room. “Your brother is not going to appreciate that.”

“Does he have to know?” Turner asked.

“If you tell me why your friend was in wet clothes, I suppose I could hold my tongue.”

“He fell into a snowbank.”

“Yes,” Darlington agreed. “Very embarrassing.”

“For everyone, really,” said Turner.

Celeste rolled her eyes. “Lying is a sin, Abel. Please excuse yourself so that I can fall asleep in front of the television like a respectable woman.”

Turner kissed his mother’s cheek, then hovered beside her, staring at an empty spot on the couch.

“Good night, Mama,” he said.

In the kitchen, they settled at a round breakfast table with teacups and a tin of butter cookies Turner set beside the teapot with a grudging thunk.

“We should have put down Reiter when we had a chance,” he said.

Darlington had to agree. They’d gotten lucky tonight. Reiter easily could have chosen to kill both Alex and Mercy. “He’s physically powerful, much more so than Kittscher.”

“Because he’s fed on so many souls?” Dawes asked.

It was possible. Kittscher had clearly enjoyed feeding on his victims slowly, drawing out the kill. Reiter had shown no such restraint, but whether that was due to preference or need, Darlington didn’t know. “Do you think the artifact Reiter gave us is authentic?” he asked. “And what exactly did he give us?”

The shopping bag with the supposed Feet of Clay sat between them. There was no way they were leaving something that valuable in the car.