Redemption Song (Daniel Faust #2)(60)

“Who’s ‘we’? Gary’s a schmuck, and your DEA guy—what’s his name, Lars? He’s about as magical as a dead car battery. You can’t tell me that either one of them has any idea what’s really going on.”

I had to gamble that Harmony didn’t know Gary’s real nature or that he was a quadruple agent working for her, Lauren, Sullivan, and now me too. If she’d figured that out, he was useless to me.

“I file two reports on every case,” she said. “One to my superiors in Seattle, and one to a office in Virginia with no windows and no number on the door. And that’s more than you need to know.”

I hoped she was lying. The idea of a sorceress going into law enforcement, a lone wolf, was a lot less scary than the idea of Uncle Sam figuring out which end of a pentagram points up. I prefer my government the same way I prefer my cops: clueless, helpless, and out of my way.

“Sounds ominous,” I said. “Do you get a cool code name, too?”

“No, but I have handcuffs—”

“Kinky.”

“—and a gun.”

I shook my head. “There you go, ruining the mental image. Nonetheless, I’ve got a present for you. I know we don’t see eye to eye on much, but we agree that Lauren Carmichael’s a problem, right?”

“That’s like calling a stalled engine on a 747 a problem. She’s a menace. What do you know about the Enclave?”

She calls it the Engine, Gary had told me. A ripple of nervous tension shuddered down my spine.

“It’s some sort of occult undertaking on a massive scale,” I said. “Maybe unprecedented. I’m pretty sure it’s not designed to spread rainbows and rescue kittens, either. What do you know about it?”

She shook her head, looking like she’d bitten into something rancid.

“Not much more than you do. Carmichael’s not thinking long-term, though. I was doing an investigation into her corporate ledgers. At the rate they’re burning through cash, the parent company in Seattle will be bankrupt within a year. Every dime they make is being pumped into Carmichael-Sterling Nevada, to support the Enclave’s construction.”

“Problem there,” I said, “is Lauren’s a strategist. A damn good one. If she’s not thinking about the long term…”

Harmony finished my thought.

“Then there isn’t going to be a long term.”





Thirty

“You said you had something for me,” Harmony said. A Corvette, its bright blue paint flecked with desert dust, cruised past us on a hunt for an open parking spot. We both stepped to the side and waited quietly until it rounded the next bend and its taillights winked out of sight.

“First, information. Does the name Redemption Choir ring a bell?”

She nodded. “A cult of cambion who want to be human. I think they originated out of St. Louis or Detroit. They’ve been migrating westward, but we’re not sure why.”

Good. Whatever sources of occult intelligence Agent Black and her mysterious pals had to draw upon, they didn’t extend to the depths of hell.

“Their boss calls himself Sullivan. Nasty piece of work. He’s an incarnate, so watch yourself.”

Harmony’s brow furrowed. “What’s an incarnate?”

Music to my ears. She had skill, I could tell that much from the raw power ebbing off her protective trinkets, but she wasn’t nearly as clued-in as I feared. I thought about a quick change of subject, but the angel on my shoulder told me I’d better throw her a bone. If she went up against Sullivan thinking he was just another halfbreed, he’d rip her to pieces. I wanted Agent Black off my back. That didn’t mean I wanted her dead.

“It’s a trick only major demons can pull off. They build a body for themselves out of their own raw soul-stuff, held together with willpower and spite.”

“That’s impossible,” she said. “Demons can only enter our world by possessing a human or an animal.”

“Suffice to say I’ve got a little more experience than you on this subject. Anyway, it’s a tradeoff. Kill a hijacker’s host body, you just send the demon back to hell to lick its wounds for a while. Kill an incarnate—and I mean, utterly destroy its body, down to ashes—and you kill them for good. You won’t get the chance, though, because incarnates are fast, and they’re strong.”

“How fast and how strong?” Harmony said. She was in full recon mode now, and I knew every word I said to her would end up in a memo on some faceless bureaucrat’s desk.

“Ever see The Terminator? Arnie’s got nothing on a pissed-off incarnate.”

“Numbers?”

“Numbers?” I repeated, not sure what she wanted.

“How many, Faust? How many are out there, disguised as American citizens?”

I shrugged. “None. As far as I know, Sullivan’s the only one in the States right now. Until recently I thought incarnates were just an urban legend, but I’ve seen him in action. The stories are true.”

The best lies are always grounded in truth. If she accepted everything else I’d told her at face value, she’d probably accept that too. They already had Caitlin’s photograph. I wanted her off Harmony’s radar entirely.

“So I realize you’re hot to arrest somebody,” I said. “But Sullivan’s not going to let you take him in. Try it and you, and everyone with you, are gonna get very dead very fast.”