Doomsday Can Wait (Phoenix Chronicles, #2)(20)

However, she was still dead—something he'd pointed out to me often enough—and all the regret in the world wasn't going to bring Ruthie back. Neither would Jimmy killing himself.

"Don't do it, Jimmy."

"I can't." He sounded disgusted. "And not because I'm gutless, but because of what I am, how I have to be killed."

“Twice in the same way," I murmured.

"Every time I manage the first death, I lose consciousness; I die, and then I can't kill myself again. I wake up completely healed." His eyes met mine. "Someone's going to have to do it for me."

"Not me," I blurted.

He shrugged. "I know someone who will."

I opened my mouth to tell him that I needed him. That I couldn't win this fight without him. That he couldn't die and leave me alone with the monsters.

Before I could, the room spun, lights that weren't there flashed. My stomach rolled.

Not now, I thought.

But as soon as I closed my eyes, I had a vision.





CHAPTER 8


A small room full of people holding hands and chanting. Candles flickered; the faces did, too.

Woman, wolf, woman. Man, wolf, man. Over and over the human guise gave way to that of a beast.

I stared so hard my head began to ache, trying to remember the appearance of each and every one, but there were so many.

"Kill them all," they whispered as one. "The earth will be ooouurrss."

The last word became a howl, and this time when their faces went wolf, they stayed that way. Their bodies contorted. Hands and feet became paws, spines crackled and shifted, fur covered every inch of skin.

I'd seen werewolves before, killed them, too. Silver bullets worked as well as the legends said.

However, werewolves were bigger than their animal counterparts, with glowing yellow eyes and creepily human shadows. These wolves looked just like wolves, except I'd seen them shape-shift and knew better.



Luceres.

The word whispered through my head. I'd never heard it before, didn't know what it meant beyond a name for the Nephilim I was seeing.

The beasts began to mill around the room, agitated, revealing as they paced what made them different.

They didn't have tails. That oughta make them easy to spot.

Suddenly, the largest of the group leaped through the window, and glass rained down. The others followed, springing gracefully through the now wide-open portal.

Beneath a moon-drenched sky, the luceres ran as a pack. I'd hoped for a nice open field, no sign of a house or a town. Maybe even a sign that read: nowhere, Wyoming—population 3. But nothing was ever that easy.

Instead, the wolves raced through suburban streets. The houses had been recently built; bicycles, tricycles, and Flintstones cars cluttered the driveways.

"Where are you?" I muttered.

As I watched, fireworks exploded in the distance, illuminating a familiar skyline, the resulting thunder rattling the earth.

Then I was falling out of the vision, waking up on the floor of the cave nauseous, sore, and dizzy. My clothes were still soaked, cool against my flushed skin. My shoes squelched when I wiggled my toes. The earth beneath me shook with thunder, the sound reminiscent of the fireworks I'd viewed hundreds of miles away near the— "Sears Tower," I muttered.

"Chicago."

Summer leaned in the doorway. I stayed right where I was, too out of it to sit up. From prior experience I knew the dizzy nausea would pass; I just had to keep my head still for a few minutes.

I received information in one of three ways. Ruthie spoke if a Nephilim came near; she told me what they were in visions like the one I'd just had; and she also came to me in dreams to answer what questions she could. There were rules about ghost whispering, and some information she couldn't reveal—usually what I really needed to know.

Visions always left me weak and loopy, but they also imparted the most useful information.

"Ever heard of a lucere?" I asked.

Summer came closer, then sat on the ground and drew up her legs so she could rest her chin on her knees. I wondered if she'd practiced that adorable pose in front of a mirror.

Rain trickled into the pool, pinging against the surface with a quick rat-a-tat-tat. Outside it was pouring, yet Summer was as dry as the desert in July.

"A lucere is a type of lycanthrope," she answered.

"I got that when they changed from people into wolves."

Her blue eyes narrowed. "You want the information or you want to be a smart guy?"

I didn't answer because obviously I wanted both, and after a few seconds, she went on.

"Luceres roved near Rome. Some call them 'lucumo-nes,' derived from loco."

"So they're crazier than the average werewolf?"

"Yes. In ancient times luceres would form tribes or packs and wipe out entire villages."



Kill them all.

"I think they're still following that plan," I murmured.

"Luceres shift following a ceremony." Which coincided with what I'd seen in my vision. "Once they decimated an area, the land, the homes, the businesses became theirs. They'd send a part of the tribe on to the next town they coveted, forming a new pack, blanketing entire areas with their kind."