J. Ward: Possession

“But of course.”

“Then you also know why I’m not going to waste time here.” Ad held up his palms to cut the oh-no-I-couldn’t-possibly’s. “Jim’s just taken a left-hand turn off the road and into the weeds. No one down there is in the game—except for Devina, and you know what? If Jim’s distracted now? That ain’t nothin’ compared to what’ll happen if the demon gives him that girl.”

Colin’s response was just a shake of the head. And that was so not good enough.

Ad cursed. “Seriously. Before we lose this whole goddamn thing, you need to step up. I already know I can’t go to Nigel about anything—he and I are oil and water and then some.”

Colin pushed his dark wet hair out of his harsh face. “I had hoped…”

When that was as far as the guy got, Ad shrugged. “Hoped what? That Jim slipped in the shower and hit his head hard enough to wake the fuck up? Hell, if there was any chance of that, I’d cock him upside with a two-by-four myself. But let’s not kid ourselves. The savior’s no longer in this game, and I don’t think he’s coming back—even if Nigel threatens to rip him a new one.”

Colin curled his hands into fists, like he wanted to do a little swinging himself. “Jim is the sine qua non . There is nothing we can do to turn him over, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Like I want the job?” Ad laughed harshly. “Are you fucking me.”

“That is not why you came?”

“I want to win. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

Colin lifted an aristocratic brow. “You are actually engaged in the war. Quite a shift for you, is it not.”

“We can’t lose this.”

“Because of Eddie?” When he didn’t reply, the archangel frowned. “One need not apologize for loyalty to the dead, and in truth, if it makes you focus, I shan’t complain.”

“Give me the name of the soul. That’s all I need.”

Colin didn’t seem surprised, but then again, he wasn’t an idiot. Unfortunately, he also wasn’t prepared to break the rules: “You know I can’t do that.”

“We’ll keep it between the two of us.”

“Don’t be daft. And no, it’s not Nigel I’m concerned with. I have some sway over him. It’s the Maker, dear boy.”

“Then get down to Earth and intercede with the soul yourself. Jim isn’t going to—and this obsession he’s got going on is gonna kill us all. Who the fuck gives a win away?”

“Were you unaware of his intentions with the flag?”

“Of course I wasn’t! I’d have done something to stop him—my buddy’s soul is on the line.”

“I’d wondered.”

Colin plugged his palms into his waist and walked around, his bare feet leaving a pattern in the silt by the river’s edge.

“Tell me who it is,” Ad prompted, “and I’ll take care of it.”

“You cannot intercede, any more than I’m allowed to.”

“Okay, fine, give me the soul and I’ll figure out a way to put Heron in front of him.”

The old Adrian would have push-push-pushed into the silence, but the logic was sound, and spoke for itself—and Colin was the rational one in the group. Always had been.

“I can’t get involved,” Colin said under his breath.

“Then let me.”

“That isn’t done either, I’m afraid.”

Great. “So what’s our goddamn option? Sit around and watch Jim blow this whole cocksucking thing?”

When nothing but silence came back to him, he began to get really worried. “Colin, you gotta help us. Not to go Star Wars on your ass, but you’re our only hope.”

“Star Wars?”

“Forget about it. Just … fucking do something, would you?”

The archangel was silent for a very long time. “I can’t take you all the way.”

“You don’t have to. Point me in the right direction—that’s the only thing I need. But know this. You boys up here keep doing the hands-off shit? We’re going to lose this. I’ll put what’s left of my balls on it.”

Alex Hess’s office at the Iron Mask was just like the woman herself—stripped down to its most functional components, with a lot of hard corners. As Duke waited for his knock to be answered, he jacked up his jeans.

The door opened inward, and the guy on the other side was the only thing Duke would ever take a step back for: Alex’s husband was tall as a basketball player, built like a boxer, and had the kind of physical confidence only trained killers had.

Mortal combat wasn’t just a video game to him.

As they passed, Duke nodded, and John Matthew, as he was called, did the same—and that was the extent of it. No one had ever heard the SOB say a word, but by the same token, anyone built like that didn’t have to talk.

“Sorry to bug you,” Duke said as Alex sat down in the chair behind her desk. Her eyes were on the departing hubs, lingering at a level that suggested she was checking out his ass. “Where do you want me? Can’t find Big Rob.”

“Out front.”

That was where they usually put him, although God only knew why. He was more barbed wire than velvet rope.

“Any special instructions?”

Now she looked at him, that dark gray stare narrowing. “Nope. Just do you.”

Lucky him. That was the only thing in his repertoire.

Striding back out into the hall, he pushed through the staff-only door into the club proper, and on the far side, the Goth clientele was a total snore for him. He’d long ago lost interest in women who wanted people to be interested in them: After so many push-up bras, bustiers, and sprayed-on leather pants, the ready-for-anythings formed a composite identity that just spelled desperate and easy.

They liked him, though, their eyes locking onto him like Alex’s had to her man—and wasn’t that the eternal conundrum of sex: Chicks who needed attention only got hot and bothered over men who didn’t notice them. The good news, he supposed, was that when he did want sex, there were always volunteers.

Outside, he took position next to a guy named Ivan who was built like an SUV, and faced off at the line that had already formed. The rule was two of them at all times—because you never knew what could—

“… fucked my sister! You did! You fucked my sister, you cocksucker!”

Exactly.

“I got this,” Duke said, breaking rank and striding down all the antsy, stamping, pre-drunk, ante-stoned, chilled-to-the-bone people.

“… did not fuck her! I let her blow me—”

Crack!

Apparently the brother didn’t appreciate the fine line between a suck off and coitus.

And then it was a case of cue the hysterics. The woman in question, a lovely little beaut with Marilyn Manson features, mime makeup, and your friendly neighborhood stripper’s version of a wardrobe, got right in between the men.

“Danny, listen to me! I—”

Before Duke could reach them, the pair of men locked onto each other—and the sister got shoved right into the road, her high-heeled boots failing to find purchase on the sidewalk, the curb, then the payment.

Duke let her go. One of two things was going to happen—she was going to land on her ass and rip that skirt, or she was going to get mowed down by a car. In either event, it was off club property, and not his business.

What was part of his job was the fact that her boyfriend or fuck buddy or whatever he was to her was all about the payback—so what you now had were two guys in New Rocks shoving each other in a china shop of other people who were jonesing for their fix of drugs, alcohol, or sex.

And therefore likely to hit back.

Given that humans one-on-one were dumb enough, but in a group they could be truly stupid, he knew he had to take control. Jumping in between the two, he strong-armed both at the collarbone.