Doomsday Can Wait (Phoenix Chronicles, #2)(4)

I blinked. "How do you know that?"

"It's in the Bible, Liz."

I waggled my hand back and forth. "Eh."

Oh, here and there a line about fallen angels, Satan, giants, and monsters could be found. In truth, the Bible was a scary, scary book, and that was before you even got to Revelation. But the whole story of the Nephilim— that had been left out.

"You've read the Book of Enoch?" I asked.

"Yeah." She shrugged. "I was curious."

Over the centuries, several sections had been removed from the Bible. Enoch had originally been beloved by Jews and Christians alike until it was pronounced heresy and banned. They did that a lot back then.

"In the interest of saving time," I said, "why don't you let me in on what you already know?" I had places to go, people to question, demons to kill. The brand-new story of my life.

"Certain angels were given the task of watching over the humans," Megan began. 'They were called the Watchers. But they lusted after them instead and were banished by God. Their offspring were known as the Nephilim."

"Some say they were giants," I continued when she didn't. "They devoured man and beast; they drank the blood of their enemies. Their strength was legion. They could fly. They could shape-shift."

Megan's eyes widened, and her mouth made an O of surprise. "You're saying—"

"Vampires. Werewolves. Evil, dark, creepy things. The legends of monsters in every culture down through the ages."

"Are all true?"

"Pretty much."

"The sons and daughters of the Watchers are still on earth," Megan murmured. "That explains a lot." . "It does?"

"Didn't you ever wonder how some people could be so purely evil? How they could do what they do to others and still be human?" Megan tilted her head. "It's simple. They're not."

She was handling this a lot better than I had. But then, she was Irish.

“Ruthie could see what these things are, even when they look human?" I nodded. "And now you can?" Another nod. That about summed it up.

"So what is she?" Megan jerked her head toward the center of the room, where we'd last seen the woman of smoke.

"Trouble," I murmured. But then what evil half-demon wasn't? I got to my feet. "I'm gonna have to go."

"Without telling me what she was?"

“You're better off not knowing."

Too much information could get Megan killed. As it was, I wasn't going to be able to come back here anytime soon—if ever.

"You're headed after her?"

"Eventually." First I needed to have a little chat with Sawyer—the man who'd given me the turquoise that had kept his mother from killing me.

Coincidence? I didn't believe in them anymore.

"So you're what?" Megan asked. "Superpsychic hero girl? Leader of some cult of antidemonites?"

"Close enough," I answered, then hesitated. Should I hug her, or shouldn't I? I was never quite sure about things like that. "Listen, Meg, if you need anything, call my cell."

She stared at me for several seconds. "You're not coming back this time."

"It's not safe for you if I'm around."

“I can take care of myself," Megan said.

'Thanks to me, you have to."

She let out an impatient sigh. "Let it go, Liz. I've told you before that Max's death wasn't your fault."

But I knew differently. If Megan died because of me, I didn't think I'd be able to go on. And I had to.

The fate of the world was in my hands. I headed home to pack a bag and get myself on a flight to Albuquerque. Since Sawyer lived at the edge of the Navajo reservation, which was hell and gone from the airport, I'd also have to rent a car.

It would certainly be easier to give him a call. Unfortunately, the man didn't have a phone. Sawyer was—

Hard to explain.

I pointed my Jetta north on Highway 43, hopped off when I got to the suburbs, drove west until I hit Friedenberg. What had begun as a tiny hamlet on the Milwaukee River had become the commerce center of a wealthy subdivision. I lived in the original tiny hamlet, where the buildings were old and the taxes reflected that.

The town was quiet and dark. The single stoplight flashed. Nothing ever happened in Friedenberg. At least until I had moved in.

I parked behind the combination business and residential two-story I'd purchased after leaving the force. A knickknack shop, understandably empty at this time of night, rented the ground floor.

After opening the outside door, then closing and re-locking it, I hurried upstairs to my apartment. A quick glance into the two rooms—one for living/sleeping/ dining and another for bathing—revealed I was alone. For now.

Quickly I changed out of my jeans, torn shirt, ugly vest and sandals into another pair of jeans, a navy blue tank top—July in Wisconsin was still July and the temps hovered in the high seventies long after the sun went down—then tennis shoes. Running in sandals never worked out very well, and lately, I ran a lot.

I threaded Ruthie's crucifix onto the chain with Sawyer's turquoise, then pulled the amulet from my pocket to take a better look. In the center of the circlet a five-pointed star had been etched. Carved into the opposite side were several words in a language I didn't know. Since my repertoire consisted of English, English, and then a little more English, it could be anything.