Redemption Song (Daniel Faust #2)(77)

She squinted over her glasses at my scribble on the pad. “Why?”

“Because that’s how we’re going to get a crew inside Lauren Carmichael’s house. This is the endgame. In one single night, we burn everybody down.”

? ? ?

As the sun set over the suburbs, the street outside Emma and Ben’s house sprouted cars like steel weeds. The neighbors probably thought they were throwing a dinner party. Close enough.

In the living room, Emma helped me set up a display easel while Melanie laid out trays of finger sandwiches on the dining room table.

“You should go out with your friends tonight,” Emma told Melanie. “You can stay out past curfew, just this once. It’s all right.”

“I want to be here, Mom.”

Emma frowned. “You don’t need to be involved in this—”

Melanie slammed a plastic tray on the table.

“Damn it, Mom, stop sheltering me! Look, I’m not stupid, okay? When the Redemption Choir started causing trouble back east, the Flowers started wiping out all the cambion they could find. Now the Choir is here, and one thing I know is that history repeats itself. Prince Sitri could do the exact same thing the Flowers did.”

“He won’t,” Emma said.

“He could. And if the Choir gets a foothold here, he probably will. And I won’t get a special exemption just for being your daughter. As long as the Choir’s here, I’m not safe, and neither are my friends. I have a right to know what’s going on.”

Emma sighed and looked across the easel at me. I shrugged and pitched my voice low.

“She’s your kid,” I whispered. “Your call. But she’s got a point. If we can’t shut this whole thing down tomorrow night, eventually everybody’s going to have to step up and fight.”

Emma nodded and looked back over her shoulder.

“Finish putting out the sandwiches,” she said. “And you listen during the meeting, don’t talk, got it?”

Melanie pantomimed locking her lips and tossing away the key, then snapped her hand up in a military salute.

Bentley and Corman were the first to arrive. They were more than a little apprehensive at meeting the Loomis family—even if I hadn’t warned them in advance, they’d have sniffed out Emma’s and Melanie’s true natures on the spot—but they softened a little when Emma put a vintage Miles Davis record on the stereo.

“Daniel tells me you two are scotch men,” she said. “What would you say to a glass of twenty-five-year-old Glenlivet?”

“I’d say please and thank you,” Corman told her. Bentley still bristled, keeping Corman between him and the demon in the room, but he stayed unflinchingly polite and accepted a glass—a small one—with a nod of thanks.

Mama Margaux and Jennifer arrived together, squeezing into Jennifer’s Prius for the drive over. They weren’t any more comfortable than Bentley and Corman at first, but I drew them into some small talk over by the sandwich spread and set them at ease as best I could.

“Don’t know why we couldn’t have done this at the Tiger’s Garden,” Mama grumbled, glancing over at Emma.

I shook my head. “Garden’s for magicians only, Mama. Half the guests wouldn’t be able to get in, or even find the front door. And much as I hate to admit it, we need more than just our little family this time. It’s going to take all hands on deck to fix this mess.”

Jennifer, meanwhile, showed off her sleeve of ink to an enthralled Melanie. Emma watched disapprovingly from the sidelines. I wasn’t sure if her frown was because she knew what Jennifer did for a living, or because she didn’t want Melanie to think about getting a tattoo. Probably both.

The next arrival brought two surprises of his own. I’d invited Nicky Agnelli to the meeting, but I didn’t expect him to walk in with Justine and Juliette hanging on his arms. The twins promptly cooed, breaking left and right, exploring the living room like a pair of fashionista locusts. I tugged Nicky aside by the sleeve of his Hugo Boss jacket.

“I thought I asked you to leave them at home,” I said.

“I tried, man! They followed me.”

“This music is old!” chirped Justine, pointing at the stereo.

Corman shook his head. “That’s called a classic, young lady. Miles Davis never goes out of style.”

“This person is old!” echoed Juliette, pointing at Corman. To his credit, he just rolled his eyes and sipped his scotch.

“Do you really think this plan is going to work?” Bentley asked me, keeping his voice soft.

“Lot of moving parts,” I said. “Too many for my taste, but you work with the tools you’ve been given.”

The doorbell chimed again.

“I’ll get it!” Justine and Juliette cried in unison.

“I don’t like the risk you’re taking,” Bentley told me.

“Well, that’s leadership, right? The guy with the battle plan’s supposed to be the one up on the front lines. Besides, we won’t get an opportunity like this again.”

“Oh, wow, your glasses!” I heard Justine cry. “They’re amazing! You’re, like, a hipster. And hipster is totally dead as a fashion statement, which makes it ironic, which makes you totally hipster!”

“Uh, thanks?” Pixie said.