get their stunned minds working long enough to formulate a now-what ? plan. Then they’d stumbled across the sleazy broken-neon wonders of The Lucky Star Motel. Refuge by the hour.
“There’s something that’s been bothering me,” Emmett said, his voice reeling Merri up from her mental wallowing and dark reflections. “Bugging the shit outta me, actually.”
Merri snorted and shook her head, her ponytail swinging against her shoulders. “Betrayal. Conspiracies. Memory-tampering. Imminent death. And something’s bothering you?” A smile tugged at her lips. “So spill, brothah. Give it to me.”
“All right. Here’s the million dollar question,” Emmett said. “How do we know our memories haven’t been wiped before? After each assignment?”
Those words hung like smoke in still air, goosing Merri’s pulse and icing her bones. A damned good question. “Well, goddamn.”
She stared at Emmett for a long moment, chewing on her lower lip, considering. Was it possible? Would her mère de sang, Galiana, be able to detect alterations in her mind? She’d have to find out.
Finally, she shook her head. “I guess we don’t know.”
“Ain’t that all kinds of yippee-hooray?” Emmett grumbled, more Louisiana creeping into his voice. “Appreciate the reassurance, Goodnight.”
Merri managed a wink. “Don’t mention it, Thibodaux. Just doing my part.”
“I guess the question now is, what do we do about it?”
“We keep alive and out of reach.” Merri pushed away from the door and crossed to the twin bed farthest away from the window. She plopped down onto the worn quilt, her nose wrinkling at the funky-ass stink of spilled whiskey, sweat, semen, and—what was that stale tomato tang?— ketchup assaulting her nostrils. “Whoo!” she breathed.
The Lucky Star Motel apparently didn’t figure their Rooms-by-the-Hour-and-Half-Hour! guests would have much need for clean bedding—or furniture, for that matter—given the poor excuse of a chair that Emmett’s long, lean-muscled body was draped over.
“Stay alive. Check. Keep out of reach. Check,” Emmett drawled. “What’s our next move, sistah? Go underground? How do we stay off a grid that spans the entire goddamned country?”
“We don’t,” Merri said. “They’re going to find us sooner or later. But maybe we can take control of where and when. I say we find Dante Baptiste.”
Emmett straightened in his chair. “Why the hell would we do that?”
“They wiped him and Damascus from your mind for a reason. We’re going to find out why.”
Understanding glittered in Emmett’s iris-blue eyes. “The fallen angel Stonehenge you told me about and the cave they ringed.”
Merri nodded. Images flashed through her mind, images that the SB had strip-mined from Emmett’s memory, images she now carried for them both.
A cave’s dark mouth stretches across the ground, an opening into the earth’s heart . . . Gleaming white statues of winged beings in various postures ring the cave . . . And something moves down in the darkness, something pale and thick, humping along the stone like a gigantic slug, singing, Holy, holy, holy. . .
Blue sparks flicker like fireflies over the white stone, skip along the butter-smooth wings . . . From within the white stone a heart flutters, the sound slowing . . .
Not statues.
Merri senses power in each stone figure, power that tingles against her gloved fingertips. She remembers tales of Fallen magic, whispers of angelic battles.
Her mère de sang ’s voice whispered through her memory: I have a suspicion that events beyond the scope of mortals or even vampires might be unfolding.
“Baptiste was there, Em,” Merri said. “He saw what happened, him and Heather Wallace both. We can find out what they know. What they witnessed. Galiana thinks something big might be coming down, a war among the Fallen maybe.”
“Sounds lovely. Christ. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that fallen angels
“There’s something that’s been bothering me,” Emmett said, his voice reeling Merri up from her mental wallowing and dark reflections. “Bugging the shit outta me, actually.”
Merri snorted and shook her head, her ponytail swinging against her shoulders. “Betrayal. Conspiracies. Memory-tampering. Imminent death. And something’s bothering you?” A smile tugged at her lips. “So spill, brothah. Give it to me.”
“All right. Here’s the million dollar question,” Emmett said. “How do we know our memories haven’t been wiped before? After each assignment?”
Those words hung like smoke in still air, goosing Merri’s pulse and icing her bones. A damned good question. “Well, goddamn.”
She stared at Emmett for a long moment, chewing on her lower lip, considering. Was it possible? Would her mère de sang, Galiana, be able to detect alterations in her mind? She’d have to find out.
Finally, she shook her head. “I guess we don’t know.”
“Ain’t that all kinds of yippee-hooray?” Emmett grumbled, more Louisiana creeping into his voice. “Appreciate the reassurance, Goodnight.”
Merri managed a wink. “Don’t mention it, Thibodaux. Just doing my part.”
“I guess the question now is, what do we do about it?”
“We keep alive and out of reach.” Merri pushed away from the door and crossed to the twin bed farthest away from the window. She plopped down onto the worn quilt, her nose wrinkling at the funky-ass stink of spilled whiskey, sweat, semen, and—what was that stale tomato tang?— ketchup assaulting her nostrils. “Whoo!” she breathed.
The Lucky Star Motel apparently didn’t figure their Rooms-by-the-Hour-and-Half-Hour! guests would have much need for clean bedding—or furniture, for that matter—given the poor excuse of a chair that Emmett’s long, lean-muscled body was draped over.
“Stay alive. Check. Keep out of reach. Check,” Emmett drawled. “What’s our next move, sistah? Go underground? How do we stay off a grid that spans the entire goddamned country?”
“We don’t,” Merri said. “They’re going to find us sooner or later. But maybe we can take control of where and when. I say we find Dante Baptiste.”
Emmett straightened in his chair. “Why the hell would we do that?”
“They wiped him and Damascus from your mind for a reason. We’re going to find out why.”
Understanding glittered in Emmett’s iris-blue eyes. “The fallen angel Stonehenge you told me about and the cave they ringed.”
Merri nodded. Images flashed through her mind, images that the SB had strip-mined from Emmett’s memory, images she now carried for them both.
A cave’s dark mouth stretches across the ground, an opening into the earth’s heart . . . Gleaming white statues of winged beings in various postures ring the cave . . . And something moves down in the darkness, something pale and thick, humping along the stone like a gigantic slug, singing, Holy, holy, holy. . .
Blue sparks flicker like fireflies over the white stone, skip along the butter-smooth wings . . . From within the white stone a heart flutters, the sound slowing . . .
Not statues.
Merri senses power in each stone figure, power that tingles against her gloved fingertips. She remembers tales of Fallen magic, whispers of angelic battles.
Her mère de sang ’s voice whispered through her memory: I have a suspicion that events beyond the scope of mortals or even vampires might be unfolding.
“Baptiste was there, Em,” Merri said. “He saw what happened, him and Heather Wallace both. We can find out what they know. What they witnessed. Galiana thinks something big might be coming down, a war among the Fallen maybe.”
“Sounds lovely. Christ. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that fallen angels
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