J.R. Ward - Envy

“You kill me,” Jim pointed out levelly, “and I can’t tell you where to go. You kill him”—he nodded in Ad’s direction—“and I’m going to strangle you with your own colon.”

There was a brief pause and then the gun pointed at him shifted no more than a millimeter to Jim’s left.

The SOB pulled the trigger and buried a bullet into the molding right by Jim’s ear.

“Who said anything about killing?” Veck subtly moved the muzzle lower. “Pain works wonders on tight lips. Besides, I’ll bet if I did a callback they’d pick up.”

Triangulating where the next bullet was going to land made Jim fear a new career as a falsetto—assuming he didn’t want to take for granted the whole bullets-can’t-touch-me thing. Then again, at least it wasn’t Adrian’s’nads on the line—given how much that guy could not sing.

“You might think this shit over, Jim,” the other angel muttered. “We know the guy’s got good aim.”

Jim shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re walking into, Veck.”

“Have I mentioned time is flying? God only knows what’s happening to her.”

“True, but she’s not the one I’m worried about.” Jim glanced over at Ad. “And I need to go with him. Any clue how I can do that?”

The other angel cursed softly. “That was Eddie’s department.”

“ No one’s coming with me,” Veck barked. “Or that woman is going to kill her. And will you stop wasting time —”

“Devina is not going to do shit to her! She needs you there, and Reilly alive is the only way to make sure you show up. Now will you give me a moment to think, asshole?”

As Jim began pacing, Veck started spouting off, all, “Stop moving or I’ll shoot,” but he ignored the guy—

The second shot went into the floor at Jim’s feet, and halted him. Pegging the Clint Eastwood motherfucker with a glare, he said, “That was, like, an inch from my boot, man.”

“Next time it’s your goddamn ankle.”

“Better than your balls,” Ad pointed out.

Jim turned to face the detective, ready to paint the true picture of Devina . . . when he happened to glance down at the guy’s bifurcated shadow on the tiled floor.

That pair of dark patterns looked like two trees in the forest . . .

And you could stand behind trees, couldn’t you. Hide behind them. Camouflage yourself to appear to be part of the environment such that anyone, like, say, your enemy, could look around . . . and notice nothing.

After all, Devina had seemed to suggest she couldn’t find him—but was he really willing to take a chance on something he didn’t quite get?

Except then he thought about that shit with the badge. Granted, it had nearly split his own self in two, but was there any other solution? Short of sending this pistol-packing, pissed-off sonofabitch into the showdown alone?

“I have to get inside you,” Jim said in a deep voice.

Veck frowned hard. “Sorry, you’re not my type.”

“We could put a wig and a dress on him,” Adrian suggested. And as he got the hairy eyeball from everybody in the room, the angel shrugged. “They gotta make that crap in tarp size, right?”

“And to think I’m actually glad your smart ass is coming back,” Jim muttered before refocusing on Veck. “I’ve got to come with you—and she can’t know I’m there. So if you’ll excuse me . . .”

Jim closed his eyes and instinctively let the corporeal part of himself go, shedding his suit of skin and bones until he was nothing but the light source that animated his body from within.

The dissolve went off without a glitch—it was exactly what he had done but hadn’t been able to control down in Devina’s lair when he’d exploded in fury at her.

“Brace yourself, big boy,” he said into the air.

Clearly, Veck heard him, because the guy recoiled, his eyes rolling around like peas in a jar at the prospect of being possessed. But this was the only way to protect him, and he must have known that because he didn’t run.

Given that Jim had no clue what the hell he was doing, he approached carefully. The last time he’d done this, he’d blown Devina apart—not exactly the happy ending he or Veck needed in this case.

Good news, though. As he pressed forward, Veck became nothing more than a sieve, offering only a passing resistance. Inside the shell? Jim fought for room in a metaphysical landscape that had nothing to do with the molecules that made the man, and everything to do with the space in between tm. And what do you know, he got a crystal-clear on why Eddie had said no-go for an exorcism. Veck was a goddamn Moon Pie, all half-and-half: Every inch of his soul was yin-and-yang, with good and evil spliced together.

No way to operate and excise. You’d destroy him.

Except two could play at this takeover game: on instinct, Jim suffused the man’s interior being, becoming a fog that turned it into a threesome situation. . . .

Man, that sounded dirty.

But the fact of the matter was, just as Devina’s “DNA” was pervasive, Jim became the same—and he hid not behind the good side, but the bad one. Better coverage that way—

Huh. From this vantage point, he could look out of Veck’s eyes.

“How’m I doin’?” Jim asked in his own voice—hey, he could talk out of the bastard’s mouth, too.

Across the way, Adrian shrugged. “Pretty damn good—I can’t sense you. But I gotta ask—the pair of you want a cigarette? Or are you going for a twofer?”

“Fuck off,” Jim and Veck answered at the same time.

Standing in his utility room, Veck felt vaguely nauseous, like he’d eaten a two-day-old Philly cheese steak, washed it down with lukewarm beer, and had a cherry slushie for dessert: too full of shit that didn’t get along.

And as for hearing Jim’s voice coming out of his own lips? He could do without that, thank you very much.

“So where are we going?” he asked.

Well, didn’t this give a whole new meaning to “talking to yourself.”

“The quarry.”

“The quarry ? For fuck’s sake, it’ll take forever to—”

“Get the cigarettes,” Jim said.

“Screw that, we need my bike—it’ll take us a half hour—”

“Come on, sport. Get the Marlboros—I’ll take care of the travel arrangements.”

Cursing a blue streak, he beat feet over to the kitchen table, grabbed the pack and the lighter, and shoved them in with the backup bullet clips.

“And take this,” Adrian said, unsheathing what looked like a glass knife.

“No offense, I’ll stick with bullets.”

“Silly subhuman.” The angel shoved the dagger into Veck’s belt. “You can trigger up anything you like—it’s for Jim.”

“Tell me this isn’t permanent?”

“No, you have to give me my weapon back at the end.”

Har-har, hardy-har-har. “I’m talking to Jim.”

“No, it’s not,” the angel answered from out of Veck’s mouth. “I can get free as easily as I got in.”

“You sure about that?”

“Nope.”

“Fabulous.” Veck looked around to meet Heron in the eye and realized that was pointless—without a frickin’ mirror. “So how are you going to get us—”

Next stop was the quarry. Literally.

And there was no bus ride or train trip or car crawl to compare: One moment Veck was in his house; the next he was in the center of the quarry’s long slope.

Don’t address me out loud , Jim said in his head.

Is this what schizophrenics experience , Veck wondered.

Couldn’t tell you. Just make sure you stay tight.

“Like I have a choice with you in here, too,” Veck muttered, as he looked around.

Wait, before you head in. There was a pause. Veck, this is your show. I’m just going to make sure you live long enough to have a shot—but everything is on you. I won’t interfere or intercede—we clear? You’ve got to make your mind up on your own. But you’ve got to do the right thing, whatever that is.