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“He’s over in the motor home. What’s wrong?”
I speak to her as quietly and calmly as I can.
“Round up everyone and get them in the center of camp. Make sure they have guns and ammo.”
“What the hell did you see?” she says.
“The worst thing you can imagine.”
Before she can ask another stupid question, I run to the motor home and bang on the door.
The Magistrate opens it and says, “Pitts. What is wrong?”
I climb up a step.
“Do you have any Spiritus Dei?”
“Of course. It’s with Mimir.”
“A lot?”
“Gallons,” he says.
“Good. We need to pour it on all the ammo.”
“What are you talking about. What is wrong?”
I hand him the telescope.
“Look.”
He peers in the direction of the cloud. Adjusts the glass several times, then takes it from his eye.
“Are those angels?”
“Damn right. And those aren’t bouquets they’re carrying. They’re swords.”
He comes down from the motor home and we run to Cherry’s ambulance.
“Mimir will be able to tell us if you are right,” he says.
“I am.”
“What if you are? Perhaps they are angels of the Lord, come to aid us on our mission.”
We reach the ambulance and I slam open the door. Cherry is lying on the floor, twitching with convulsions and foaming at the mouth.
“I don’t think they’re coming to help us.”
The Magistrate swallows and nods. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him truly spooked. He grabs a couple of gallon jugs of Spiritus Dei from the ambulance. As he climbs out he says, “With this on our bullets, will we be able to destroy them?”
“Spiritus Dei will kill pretty much anything, but I’m not sure about angels. But it will slow them down until we come up with a better idea.”
He heads out with the jugs to the center of camp where they’re handing out weapons.
“You stay with Mimir,” he says. “I will rally the havoc.”
Right. Great. This is exactly what I wanted. We’re about to be overrun by flying armored assholes with flaming swords and I’m on babysitting duty. I look down at Cherry. She makes choking sounds, so I roll her on her side and use a rag to wipe the spit off her face. The ambulance is full of medical supplies, but I don’t know what 90 percent of them are for. I was never great at healing hoodoo, but we’re all about to die and there’s no one around to see me, so I improvise a quick spell.
