The Trouble with Twelfth Grave (Charley Davidson #12)(44)

“I’d always thought You created the god glass for Reyes. You’d built a hell dimension just for him.”

“Did I?”

“That’s what I’m asking.”

“Hell dimensions aren’t really My thing.”

My thing? His colloquialism surprised me.

“Then it’s true? You tricked him into creating it all the while knowing You’d lock him inside?”

“You forget the most important part.” He lifted a knee and planted an arm on top. “He created a hell dimension solely for you as well.”

“But he released me.”

“Ah, yes, when he realized he loved you. Is that how the story went?”

I knew I didn’t have a lot of time. God had to be a busy Guy. I wanted to ask my most important question, but I also longed to understand their relationship. The dynamics of it. The form. “If the story is true and Reyes creates hell dimensions, why do You have him do all Your dirty work?”

He didn’t take offense. He leaned back in mild interest. “We are gods, are We not? We create. We shape. We mold. Rey’azikeen is no different. He just thinks a little darker than most. He is a little darker than most. That darkness he embodies comes in handy.”

“Are You saying the darkness Reyes creates is truly from him? A part of his essence?”

“We all have Our strengths.”

Talking to God was as bad as talking to Michael. I sighed and said almost hesitantly, “I’m told we were once friends.”

“We were.”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember. Did You steal my memories?”

“That was part of the agreement. It’s all in the contract.”

My lids widened. “There’s an actual contract?”

He laughed softly. “No. And if there had been, you would’ve been in breach, wouldn’t you say?”

“Why?”

“Your job was to either tame My brother or devour him. It would seem you did neither.”

“Is that why You would send an army after Your own brother?”

“He must be stopped. You had your chance, so…”

“What did he do that was so bad?”

He lowered His head as though overtaken by sadness. “That is between Us.”

“I need more time.”

“I gave you a day. You’ve squandered it.”

“No. I just … I don’t know what to do. How to reach him.”

“It won’t matter either way.”

“You don’t know that.” I stood and started toward him. Michael appeared instantly, blocking my path with a steely arm.

“I’m not giving up on him. I’ll fight alongside him if You send Your army.”

His gaze traveled the length of me. Assessing. Analyzing. “You win. I’ll give you eternity.”

I narrowed my lashes. “There’s a catch.”

“Isn’t there always?”

“What is it?” I asked through clenched teeth.

“You won’t need an eternity. He’ll find what he’s looking for, and you’ll have a decision to make.”

“Okay, when will he find what he’s looking for?”

“Within hours. Unless you find him first.”

Before I could ask anything else—for example, what Reyes was looking for—He and Michael both disappeared.

I sank onto the bench again. I’d at least gained more time. Or had I?

*

Even driving back to Albuquerque as dawn broke over the horizon, the colors splashing across the sky like watercolors dropped from heaven, could not bring me out of my agitated state. I couldn’t decide if I should be depressed or in a full-blown state of panic.

Artemis, sensing my mental issues, sat across the console, her ass in the backseat, her head in my lap. She’d popped in to comfort me. The fact that her giant head made driving a little trickier than usual meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. She was a keeper. And thankfully, while my arms had to rest on said giant head, the steering wheel was not an obstacle. For her.

I scratched her ears. “We have to come up with a solution, girl. If you were an angry god, what would you be searching for?”

I had only hours before Reyes would find whatever that may be. I needed to know now. His finding it would force me to make a decision. Unless it was a nuclear warhead, I couldn’t see why I would have to make a decision. I was so bad at decisions. And decision fatigue was a real thing. I’d read about it.

“What would a god need? More power? We have a lot as it is.”

Artemis had deigned to clean my entire arm, licking me from wrist to shoulder. Because my clothes were no barrier against her tongue, a tongue that went on for days, she could lick me from head to toe unhindered.

When she went for the armpit, however, I had to put a stop to her ministrations. I had just put on deodorant. And I was ticklish.

“Maybe he’s searching for something we could never have access to. Like”—I grabbed my hair with one hand and pulled—“like what? What would a god need?”

The only thing I could come up with was the god glass, but it had been destroyed. He was searching for embers and ashes. Okay, so like the remains of a volcano? A nuclear explosion? A campfire?