Crescent City had descended into even more madness than when I’d left. At least this time it wasn’t my fault, necessarily. I couldn’t have known what would happen when Rosa tried to commune with Willy… though I had warned her.

  Still, it was something witches and covens of all sorts had been doing for ages. Never resulted in a Hellmouth tearing through the fabric of reality. Not that I know of. What was it about Rosa? Chekoketh, Laveau, even back in Revelation—people kept seeing something in her.

  I forced it out of my mind when I caught a glimpse of her pale face. All she was now was a helpless, dying young woman caught in a feud between Heaven and Hell.

  I’d heard it said when elephants fight, it’s the grass that suffers.

  Guess it’s true.

  Judas and the others stuck to covered walks and storefront awnings—as distanced from sunlight as possible. His long cloak and hood seemed to do the trick of protecting him, though it couldn’t be comfortable wearing only wool between skin and agony. Luckily, it was a cloudy morning.

  Citizens fled the city, unable to be controlled by a police force I’d spread thin with my actions. Inhuman roars and human screams rang out from within. Some of the straggling beasts which poured out of the Hellmouth weren’t wasting any time hunting.

  Gunshots went off. Fires blazed. All accompanied by yet more screaming. Terror, everywhere.

  There’d be no hiding the existence of monsters after this. The cavalry would be called in to kill the stragglers and the bodies would be found. A peek for all mankind behind the curtain of an Underdark I dealt with daily.

  Maybe. The government would probably cover it up and spend decades studying the remains, only to never understand a goddamn thing. Might be for the best in the end. Make people more afraid of trifling with the unknown.

  Probably not.

  People are, by and large, two acres dumber than dirt.

  Still, it made it easy for us to traverse the city without anyone shoving their noses where they don’t belong, odd a group as we were.

  Glass shattered to my left as a man burst through carrying boxes, while the shopkeep fired at him with a shotgun.

  “Flee! Flee for your lives! The devil comes!” someone yelled.

  People hollered crazy shit all over. Looters had their fun. Homeless preachers spouting the typical “The end is near” or “Jesus is knocking on this or that.” That’s the thing about the darkness. When we don’t know what we’re seeing, all logic goes out the window. We revert to our primal selves. Hunting and gathering.

  Another time, I might have set the lot of them straight, but I kept on with Judas and his followers. We crossed the main throughway, a straight view down at St. Louis Cathedral. A stone gargoyle had descended from his perch and now stood on the steps, chomping on a disemboweled priest.

  “Jesus Christ,” I muttered.

  Judas stopped in his tracks and glared back at me.

  “Sorry.”

  “Mr. Crowley!” a voice shouted, having clearly recognized me. The Archbishop burst up through a cellar door on the east wall of the church. “Tell me—Blessed Mother, what happened to her?”

  I didn’t stop, and he kept pace with us. “She’s in bad shape. Laveau is dead. But thanks to her, this is better than it could’ve been.”

  He said something in Dutch or German, then crossed himself. “Who are your friends?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me,” I said. “Look, Padre, we’re in a hurry.”

  “Yes, yes. Right.”

  I handed him Harker’s shotgun. “Stay safe.”

  He looked down at the weapon, then expertly cocked it, and gave me a nod before turning back toward the gargoyle and blowing its head off in an explosion of chunks.

  “I can see why Shargrafein can’t tolerate you,” Judas remarked, eyeing me with contempt.

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  “The best Black Badges walk the path they’re instructed to, never erring. You walk the path, but your eyes remain elsewhere. You still see yourself as their peer.”

  “What is with you ancient things and riddles?”

  “Humans. You don’t look past them.”

  I grunted. “And I never will.”

  “Time will tell.”

  Judas led us into the city cemetery. Odd thing about Crescent City cemeteries, nobody’s buried underground. Standing crypts and mausoleums littered the place, arranged in sweeping paths almost like a corn maze. Baroque, marble decorations were everywhere.

  “You’re not planning on entombing her, are you?” I asked.

  He ignored me.

  I kind of preferred this to grass and crosses made of sticks. Even tombstones. It’s prettier, for one. Less maggots for another. And, if some Necromancers gonna bring the dead to life, better they come at me from straight on than below.

  Though graveyards do make it easy to see your enemy. In this warren of stone, there could be an ambush around every corner. Good thing my companion was the king of vampires who’d just taken on Chekoketh.

  We wove our way through all the honored dead. The place was devoid of life—literally. In the practical sense, I mean to say there was no one running around. I suppose a cemetery wasn’t somewhere anyone wanted to be during a city-wide crisis. Also, not anywhere anybody would look.

  Judas stopped in front of an unassuming mausoleum with Grecian columns out front. Those on either side were far more impressive, with a bit of gold filigree and veiny marble.

  Not this one. The gray stone was stained and cracked all over. Fitting for someone like me to be buried in. The only ascribing feature was a fleur-de-lis engraved into the solid stone at its front.

  Within the symbol, using its own lines so as to be nearly impossible to perceive, was an upside-down cross.

  Judas ascended the dais a bit slower than time permitted.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” I whispered under my breath.

  A shriek nearly made me back-step, then something darted from behind a column. Judas’s hand jutted out, caught the small flying imp by the throat and broke its neck without even sparing it a look. The bloated little blue body tumbled down to our feet, eyes still open and tongue lolling to the side.

  Judas calmly placed his hand on the fleur-de-lis, closed his eyes, and offered an Aramaic phrase. Stone shifted. Dust kicked off, and an arched door formed as a chunk of the stone sank back and rotated out of the way.

  “Come,” Judas said. Without another word, he stepped through the opening into the dark.

  I glanced at Chapelwaite, dumbfounded. “What does he have—hideouts all over the world?”

  “Wouldn’t you?” he replied.

  I grunted, taking Timp by the mane and putting my face to hers. “I’ll take her from here, girl. Thank you,” I said, talking about Rosa.

  She snorted and tapped her hoof twice.

  “I’d love for you to come, but see that door right there? You won’t fit. Crazy old girl.”

  I rustled the top of her head, then moved to take Rosa off her back. Chapelwaite gave me a hand, but I wouldn’t sling Rosa over my shoulder like a carcass. I cradled her across both arms like a groom holding his blushing bride, crossing the bedroom threshold for the first time… Some dream.

  I carried her toward the doorway. No footsteps followed.

  “You coming?” I asked Chapelwaite.

  He shook his head. “What happens beyond this point is up to you.”

  I sighed. “Ain’t it always.”

  Four of the knights had accompanied us, not including Chapelwaite, and they each took positions in front of the mausoleum.

  “Watch them, Timp,” I hollered. She blew out her nose. “I know you can take them.” I gave her a nod. Then, Rosa and I entered the crypt.

  “Wait, not you—”

  Damballah slithered through just before the stone shut behind us, leaving me in near total blackness. My enhanced vision let me make out some shapes and walls, but I needed at least some light source for me to see any more. Vampires, on the other hand, could see in any light.

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  “Apologies, I forget sometimes what it was like,” Judas said. A torch bloomed to life, and he angled it my way. “Careful of the steps.”

  Looking down, I saw that we were at the top of a tall staircase. Rough edges made waves, creating a disorientating effect. Not the best option for steps in my estimation, but this was an old place. Ancient.

  Damballah coiled at the top landing, staring up at me.

  “Alright, up you go,” I told her. “I don’t want any funny business.”

  As if she understood me, she slithered up my leg, around Rosa, and up to my shoulders. Judas then led me down. Unlike the stairs, the stone walls were impeccable. Not a crack. No cobwebs. Just smooth surfaces like polished marble. Even the air lacked that stale rankness death often toted with it.

  We leveled out and the space opened like a great hall. It wasn’t ostentatious, still all stone, but dozens of paintings hung upon the four walls. They all had a classical feel, like ones you might find in a church. Many depicted Jesus, of course. The famous Last Supper of him and his disciples was straight ahead. The crucifixion beside it.

  To the right, taking up most of the wall, was a painting of a lone tree. A noose hung from it, barely visible in front of a dark sky. To my left, Romans cowered in the face of a volcanic eruption. I found myself drawn most to this after hearing Chapelwaite’s story.

  “It is important we remember our history,” Judas said. “To embrace our mistakes. To learn from them. To understand our true selves.”

  “Yeah, and which do you consider your mistakes?” I asked.

  “My considerations are mine alone.”

  “No judgment. I’m just trying to wrap my head around all this.”

  He waved the torch over a closed sarcophagus right in the center of the space. Could’ve been a table. On one side of it lay a heart. Didn’t take long for me to realize whose. Black veins crisscrossed over it, a soft glow of dull, dark red flashing between the spokes.

  Tourmaline’s demon-heart.

  “Was she one of your mistakes?” I asked as I hauled Rosa over and gently laid her down. Her head came to a rest right by the heart. Felt wrong to me, so I reached out to move it.

  Judas snatched my wrist. “You mustn’t touch it.” He took it himself and moved it into an unlit fire basin.

  “I’ve handled worse,” I said.

  “It would distort your thoughts, and you must have total clarity here.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “And I do not have to.” He paused for a breath neither of us took, then said, “Though I will. When I presented her with freedom, it was not a mistake. She was kind. Altruistic. Brave. Even after being burned at the stake by men she had helped—simply for being who she was. The last person I would imagine to be selected by the White Throne. Perhaps that is why they did.”

  “Now, betrayed by her maker,” I noted.

  In a flash, Judas had me by the jaw and lifted me off my feet. Veins went dark around his eyes. Damballah hissed and bore her fangs. Judas’s glower whipped toward her and her jaw snapped shut.

  “Not everyone is suited for eternity, James Crowley,” he growled, glaring back at me. “She lost her way. Lost her spark for life and turned to chaos.”

  “Says you.”

  “Do not presume it easy to take the life of one’s child.” He let go and circled around behind me. “Death was a mercy. And necessary. I have all my children to consider, and I weigh none above the others.”

  “Parent of the year.” I placed my hands on the sarcophagus and leaned over. “Look, I don’t care what you’ve done with you and yours. I’m here for Rosa.”

  “Yes, the girl.” He said it like he’d almost forgotten she was right there in front of us. He blinked once, then looked down. “I am no healer, but I have been around a long time. I have seen every ailment there is, natural and unnatural.”

  “So, you can help her?”

  He placed his hands on either side of her head and bent over, putting his ear to her forehead. “Perhaps.”

  I punched the stone. “That ain’t good enough!”

  “The truth rarely is.” He walked across the space to a bookcase set within the stone. There, he started to thumb along the spines.

  “If this is some sort of test of loyalty or whatever, just tell me,” I said. He ignored me, opening one of the tomes and flipping pages rapidly with his eyes darting side to side. Could he really read that fast?

  He deposited that tome, then opened another and did the same.

  “Would you hurry up?” I demanded.

  “Patience is a worthwhile companion.”

  “Yeah, and whiskey makes a poor shot,” I barked back. “I’m getting sick of proverbs. She’s dying.”

  He acted as if I’d said nothing. I squeezed my fists. What else could I do but wait? A man who could read that fast would know more than I could imagine. He was her best chance at surviving this.

  I moved to her side and knelt, taking her hand in mine. I couldn’t feel how cold her skin was, but I knew it. We’d left Hell, yet somehow, Hell wasn’t done with her. She shouldn’t have tempted the other side like this. It usually felt good to be right. That was no comfort this time.

  “Damn you, Rosa,” I whispered to her. “Damn you for having a heart.” I craned my neck over her and pressed my head to her chest. I rested there an overly long moment. This, with her so near death, was the closest we’d ever been or possibly would ever be. The thumping of her heart was slow, barely perceptible.

  “Why couldn’t you just let go?” I asked. “Why couldn’t—” My words caught in my throat. My tear ducts had been clogged ever since I was reborn, but I still have memories of crying. Even when Big Davey died trying to protect me—trying to protect Rosa, I hadn’t shed a tear. Albeit I didn’t have much of a chance while dodging Ace Ryker’s bullets before finally taking one to the chest.

  While I rested my head against her chest, my mind raced, considering those I’d lost and those who’d lost me. I still remember the day I got the news my mama had died. We were never close, not really. Weekends and most nights were spent at that church in Granger’s Outlook. She told me I was better off there, that I’d get fed and not have to worry anymore. I didn’t know what she meant at the time—I was just a kid.

  Then one day, I left. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t leave a note. Just gone—off to follow Ace into a life of boozin’ and floozin’.

  I went back once. Don’t know why. We were in the area, looking to score a hit probably. Stupid as I was, I was kinda excited to see her. Though I thought I was a grown man, I was just a teenager. I stepped up onto that old stoop, knocked—but no one answered.

  Figured I’d give Father Osgood a visit, see what he knew. Maybe they moved? Who knew.

  He was an old man by then. Wasn’t pissed I left. Even his smile at the sight of me was real. When I asked about my mama, he told me the truth, hard as it was for him. I could remember the man, used to delivering sermons and speaking with poise, stuttering over his words when he told me my pa beat her to death for forgetting to pick up a bottle of gin from the market.

  Wouldn’t tell me what came of Pa—probably thought I’d just seek revenge. He was right.

  Didn’t cry then either.

  Last time I remember crying, I’d just come home from a long day of hunting. Empty-handed. Pa was waiting for me, bottle tight in his grip as always. My dog—a mutt called Juniper—she was glad to see me. Stood on the porch barking, just waiting for me to join her. My pa had had enough and kicked her hard down the stairs. When I came running to collect her, he met me as if nothing happened.

  Poor girl broke her leg stumbling down them steps.

  I gave him lip, and he swelled mine. Still didn’t cry. Wouldn’t give him the benefit of seeing it. When he asked me where dinner was, I told him I had no luck. Fury raged in his eyes. He bent over and scooped up Juniper. Told me we’d eat her. That was when Ma came out and distracted him. They went inside, and I don’t wanna know what for, but that gave me a chance to get away.

  I don’t remember what we ate that night. All I remember was trying and failing to help my dog get better. She died a couple of weeks later.

  Phantom tears rolled out of my eyes then. A relic of overwhelming sadness. Damballah stretched out her limber body, holding it there so that her head was above Rosa, watching quizzically.

  “If only you had some of Laveau’s gifts,” I said to her. “Maybe it’s good you don’t. She lost control. Let Hell in.”

  Damballah hissed softly.

  “Relax. I’m not blaming her. Rosa did what she wanted and that’s that. It was me who introduced them.”

  A fact I’d have to live with for eternity if Rosa wasn’t able to be saved from her supernatural coma. My attention returned to Rosa’s hand, which I squeezed a little harder.

  “That’s why you can’t die like this,” I said. “Don’t put that on me, Rosa. I’m too weak for that. But you’re stronger than Hell. You have to pull through.”

  A gust of air blew her clothing as Judas reappeared, standing by her head. He had one hand on either side of her temples and his ear to her forehead.

  “Learn anything?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer, just shifted his hands to feel under her chin.

  “You want me to promise I’ll join you?” I said. “Done. I don’t care what happens to me. Let Heaven come.”

  He climbed onto the sarcophagus to listen directly to Rosa’s heart. “You cannot promise that,” he said without looking up.

  “I can.”

  “Promises only bind the weak.”

  Words caught in my throat. I’d heard that before recently, from Laveau.

  “How’d you know?” I asked.

  “About your private talks with the Voodoo Queen, or that you already promised your angel you would kill me?” He glanced up with a smile. “I have ears everywhere, Hamsa. I served the angels for a long time, James Crowley. I know they would not have wanted you helping her, and yet you did. Oh, the things we Hands tell them just to get a hint of balance. I do not blame you.”

  “Then you know what I said was bullshit.”

  He put his hand on Rosa’s stomach and pushed gently in a few directions. “I am not going to issue you an ultimatum. It is your choice. But I fear…”

  “What?”

  He just moved back toward Rosa’s head and felt beneath her neck.

  “What!” I demanded.

  “I fear what you will do when I tell you the truth,” he said, almost a whisper as he stared at Rosa.

  “I’m all out of bullets,” I said. “Ain’t much I can do to something like you. Though I suspect you know that.”

  He exhaled slowly and shook his head. “I cannot help her.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Whatever happened placed her in a supernatural rest. The very energy of Hell overtook her to open that rift. Her life is in the hands of fate now.”

  “Don’t tell me about fate!” I barked. “You and I existing breaks the laws of nature. Now you help her, or I swear to God.”

  I drew my silver-coated knife. He didn’t even humor me by trying to place more distance between us. Like I was nothing to him but a gnat.

  “Perhaps the White Throne could, but you have already broken your oath to them,” he said calmly.

  My grip tightened. “I can still kill you.”

  “No. You cannot.”

  I didn’t even see it happen. One moment, the knife was in my hand. The next, he had it by the hilt in front of his face, studying it. Even Damballah didn’t get a chance to hiss.

  “Such a barbaric tool,” he remarked. The blade started to vibrate in his hand, and only a second later, the metal shattered into countless pieces, drifting to the floor as dust.

  “I…” Despite all I’d seen this day… hell, despite all I’d seen period… I’d never been left so speechless.

  “Eternity teaches us many things, James. You are an infant in the grand scheme of things. Threats and posturing… you will learn they can only get you so far. Being brash may win the American West, but it is not true power.”

  “What do you want from me, dammit?”

  “A decision.”

  “I’ll do whatever you want if you just help her!” I was damn near begging, and I hated the sound of it. Just couldn’t stand the thought of losing her.

  “And I already said I cannot. Your choice must be independent of her. For she is mortal, and you are not.”

  “You’d have made a damn fine angel,” I said. “Useless when it matters.”

  “Some truths are inescapable.” He paced the length of the sarcophagus, letting his finger trace a line along its edge. “You see, you can choose to become one of my children. Then you will be free to travel the world, searching for someone who can give her aid. Though that could take a long time and it is impossible to say how long she has left. Or you can try to kill me. Most likely, you will not succeed. But if you do, then perhaps you could beseech the White Throne to save her as a courtesy to you. They might listen. They might not.

  “The angels are many things, but fools they are not, and this woman’s very existence cripples your ability to serve them. Which they would know, so they would not help her unless it meant cutting your service short. Of course, you would agree to that for her. But you are far more valuable to them than a mortal over which they have no control. Which means…”

  “They won’t help her.” A chuckle slipped through my lips—couldn’t help it. “Are you done rambling?”

  “I do not see the humor in your predicament.”

  I jutted out a finger. “It’s not that; it’s you. You talk about freedom, yet your daughter got out of line, so you killed her. You talk about freedom, while you outline every reason why my only good choice is to tuck tail and serve you.”

  “I do not ask for your service.”

  “Just my good behavior.” I laughed again. “You’re as much a hypocrite as they are. I’d be trading masters for a prison warden. What kind of choice is that?”

  Judas closed his eyes. His chin sank to his chest. Looked like he’d just lost a poker hand even though he’d had an ace up his sleeve.

  “I hoped you would be different, James,” he said. “What great things we could have accomplished together.”

  “Oh, I am different.” I stepped right on up to him. “You see, you left one option off the table.”

  His glare hardened. “And what’s that?”

  “Take Rosa.”