Redemption Song (Daniel Faust #2)(48)

“Just what I needed,” I said, sliding over my empty mug. “Guy at the filling station said this place is world-famous for its pancakes. That right?”

The girl smiled. “Don’t know if they’re talking about us in Paris, but the food’s good and we serve breakfast all day long.”

“Good enough for me. I’ll have a full stack with a side of sausage, please.”

I nursed my coffee and watched out the window, not sure how nervous I needed to be. The heart of Utah was a long way from anything I called home.

The pancakes came out piping hot and dripping with butter. I drizzled fresh maple syrup over the fluffy stack and dug in. Bliss. After hours on the road, a gourmet meal served by a team of celebrity chefs wouldn’t have tasted better. The sausage links were plump and juicy with a sheen of grease.

The door jingled. I looked up to see a couple of college-age kids in pressed white short-sleeve shirts, black ties, and crisp black slacks. Mormon missionaries out to save the world. I didn’t give them another thought, until they sat down across the table from me like they belonged there.

“Sorry fellas,” I said, “don’t need my soul saved, just here to eat.”

“I’m Mack,” said the bigger of the two, his tight shirt showing off a weightlifter’s build. He gestured toward his pal, a pale kid with razor-cut ginger hair. “This is Zeke. We’re here to show you the road to salvation.”

I paused, my fork halfway to my mouth. Most Mormons I’d met were nice folks who didn’t go heavy on the preaching once they knew you weren’t open to it. Apparently the locals here took a harder line.

“Sorry, like I said, not interested. I’m trying to enjoy my meal here, and I’m sure the owners of this place don’t want their customers getting pestered, so—”

I started to wave for the waitress.

“Call that girl over here,” Zeke said, “and I’ll gut her like a fish.”

I put my hand down.

“Something tells me you two aren’t the finest of the Latter-day Saints.”

“Call it protective camouflage,” Mack said.

I stretched out my senses, slowly, trying to get a fix on the situation. Both of the men were human, but there was something off-kilter, like a dark blotch on their auras square above their hearts.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t see you coming?” Zeke asked me.

“Depends entirely on who ‘we’ is.”

“It is our honor,” Zeke said, “to serve the court of the great Prince Malphas.”

“You’re both human.”

Zeke nodded, his chin high. “Our prince enjoys using human servants on Earth. We can go places that others can’t, unseen and unnoticed. Our work is part of our oath in service to our infernal master, Satan.”

I nearly dropped my fork. “Say that again?”

“Human servants, so we can go where—”

“No, not that, the second part. The stupid part. You guys are actually Satanists? Like real, no-kidding, play your heavy metal album backward and bark at the moon Satanists?”

Mack blinked. Zeke looked like he was fantasizing about killing me.

“It’s not stupid,” Mack said. “We have a place of high honor awaiting us—”

“Yeah, it is. It really is. So this is how Prince Malphas ropes you dopes in. Don’t suppose he’s told you that nobody’s even seen Lucifer in over a thousand years? He took a walkabout and never came back. Hell had a civil war when he left, geniuses. How do you think the whole feuding-courts thing came about?”

“That’s not true,” Mack said.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Zeke seethed, opting to change the subject. “We know who you are, Faust. You’re Sitri’s lapdog. This is Night-Blooming Flowers territory. You don’t belong here.”

I shook my head. “Technically, it’s not. This is the no-man’s-land between declared boundaries. Seeing as I’m driving right into the heart of Malphas’s turf, though, I’ll be nice and tell you that your information’s outdated. Sitri and me are quits.”

“That’s not what we heard,” Zeke said. “We heard you’re his hound’s f*cktoy.”

I kept my face stony. I had a role to play and a lie to sell.

“We’re quits, too. I’m persona non grata in Vegas right now. I’m looking for more gainful employment. Fact is, with all the blood on my hands, I’m as damned as a soul can be. So before I shuffle off this mortal coil and fall to the Great Downstairs, I need a new patron watching my back.”

They gave each other uncertain glances.

“Go ahead,” I told them. “Go tell your boss. I’m sure he’s got ears out west. He can verify everything I just said.”

If they did check, they’d hear I’d been run out of town on a rail, lucky to escape with my life. Sitri would make sure of it. Only he, one other person, and I knew the truth of the plan we’d hatched last night. Everybody else would be clued in when the time was right.

“We should still bring him in,” Mack said to Zeke, pitching his voice low.

Zeke clutched a knife at his place setting. Just a butter knife, but he held it like someone who knew how to use it.

“We should just kill him right now and be done with it,” Zeke hissed at his partner. Mack was smart enough to be worried. Zeke was blood-hungry. I’d have to take him down first, if it came to it.