Kjeldgaard, Ace Ryker’s handler, hadn’t been overly enthused that he’d let Crowley get away alive. Ace didn’t mind. From the start, he’d had a feeling the White Throne only wanted him for this sole reason. That after Crowley was dispatched, he’d be sent barreling toward Hell. Can’t say he didn’t deserve it.

  And sure, the thought had crossed his mind to string the angels along for as long as he could, just so he could guarantee more time on this here Earth. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t care about eternity. No, he wanted Crowley to suffer. To be on the run, fearing for his own life and the life of that woman he loved.

  And that damn horse.

  It’d been too easy. Heaven sending him here to discover Crowley just after his betrayal. That wasn’t any fun. Ace wanted to relish the hunt, to put the fear of God into his old compadre-turned-rival. He wanted to stare straight into Crowley’s eyes while he destroyed everything the bastard cared about.

  Then, the angels could do whatever they wanted. Ace wouldn’t go down without a fight, of course, but he wouldn’t feel slighted.

  He puffed on a cigarette as he stood in the entry drive to a run-down, old plantation house. Smoke went in, smoke went out. No burn or tingle in his throat. No little dance in the heart as the tobacco filled his lungs. No peace for his brain. Nothing. He was only starting to get used to the numbness, and it sure as hell didn’t make staying around on Earth worth it.

  Things moved in the shadows as he approached. His guns were loaded up with silver, but he didn’t even bother reaching for them. This was business. You pull iron too early in a dealing, and it’s sure to go south.

  Vines crept up every inch of the facade. Shattered glass from countless windows peppered the grass, porch, and awnings. The kind of get-up he’d bring the Scuttlers when the heat was on. As he reached the top of the front steps, nobody inside made a move. Though the shadows remained.

  A stinging sensation bloomed in the center of his chest, behind the mark the angels bequeathed upon him without his say so. Meant something not intended for this world was nearby. Neph—something. He wasn’t quite caught up on the lingo yet, and when that angel droned on through mirrors, it was hard not to doze off.

  What did he care about a war between above and below? His war was here.

  He adjusted his collar, then rapped on the big wooden door a few times.

  No answer.

  “Nothing’s ever easy,” he grumbled.

  Restraint could wait. He was immortal. Pulling his pistol, he gave it a twirl. It came to rest with his hand around the barrel, and he used the butt as a hammer, banging the door with it as hard as he could.

  “You gunna make me come in shootin’?” he hollered.

  “Try it,” came a voice on the other side, deep and guttural. “Walk away while you can, cowboy.”

  “I ain’t no cowboy.”

  “No. You’re dinner.”

  Wolves growled and Ace spun, gun flipped back and ready. Only they weren’t wolves. Two of the things closed in on him from the driveway, lean, towering beasts that were half-man, half-wolf on two legs, with fangs as long as hunting knives. Saliva glinted in the moonlight. They were hungry.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Ace said, grinning. “You things are real. Uglier than I imagined.”

  They growled and moved closer. As a sign of good faith, he slotted his pistol back into his holster, raised his hands halfway, and turned his back on the approaching monsters.

  “I reckon your pack ain’t as big as it used to be these days!” Ace said loudly, so whoever was behind the door would hear. “I’m supposin’ I know who the cause of that is.”

  “You chose the wrong house,” one of the werewolves snarled behind him. His big nails scraped across the bottom step. Ace couldn’t feel its foul breath, but it was enough to make his collar flap.

  “Nope. I’m right where I ought to be,” Ace said, standing firm.

  The beast stepped between him and the door and leaned in, its giant, angry maw stretching open right in front of his face. He ignored it, strafing to one side so he could speak through the door unhindered.

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  “I hear you have a bone to pick with James Crowley,” he said. “I’ve got more than a few too.”

  The wolf didn’t dare get any closer. First, there was silence, then the pattering of small feet. The front door unlocked and swung open with a pained whine.

  “Move,” the newcomer said to his pack mate.

  The creature obeyed without question. Now standing before Ace was a refined beast, if it could be called that. Regal-looking, even though one eye was badly damaged, half of it missing and the rest shriveled up in a deep socket. A thread hung from it as if he were in the middle of having it stitched up.

  Ace palmed the dog’s nose and turned its head so he could look square into its good eye. He winked, then backed up a few paces before turning on his heels. “Thought so.”

  The werewolves at his back blocked the stairs. Turned out, monsters get to posturing just like men when they’re in a weak position. And gangs don’t live in a place like this if they’re strong. Hideout, sure, but not this. He couldn’t help but be disappointed.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” the werewolf asked.

  Ace looked over his shoulder. “Oh, so you wanna talk? Good doggie.”

  The werewolf growled. “You cowboys are all the same.”

  Ace turned slow. The rest of the pack closed in, forcing him into the home. Inside was as shitty as the outside. Glass broken everywhere, the remnants of a one grand hall now in ruins. Little shadows darted out of the back doors as he entered. They cackled like children, though the sound rang a tone more beastly. He, however, was focused on the werewolf who’d answered the door. At first, he’d thought it would be one of the lemmings, but no. The man himself had received Ace like royalty.

  He was bigger than the others by a foot, his coat grayer. There was more expression in his face. Thought himself something special, he did.

  Some fat little demon sat on the railing, nothing but his belly covering his cock and balls.

  The werewolf marched toward the demon and sat down on the stairs, obviously returning to his former activity. The demon grunted and set back to work sewing sutures over the pup’s eye socket. Sharp claws dug into the wood of the stairs each time the needle went in.

  “Who are you?” the werewolf asked.

  “Does it matter?” Ace said.

  “I’m trying to decide if I should feed you to my children or not.”

  “Not sure the taste would suit them.”

  The wolf’s laugh become a howl, and his nails dug in deeper.

  “Quit moving!” the little demon barked, losing his grip on the needle.

  “Enough, Fazar!” The werewolf clutched the imp around his oversized waist and squeezed.

  Fazar gasped for words until he was released, toppling off the railing and landing with a thud.

  The werewolf rose back to his full impressive height and cracked his neck, thread still hanging from the gash around his missing eye—an endless chasm juxtaposed against his remaining eye, yellow as a hunter’s moon.

  “You’re not afraid, are you,” the werewolf said, more statement than question.

  “Don’t take it personally,” Ace replied. “Fear’s always been a stranger to me.”

  “You’re one of them,” Fazar said from behind the railing posts. The little creature was smart, hiding like that. “Two in a week. This is too much. Angels used to be lazy.”

  The werewolf stomped closer and used a single nail to stretch aside Ace’s shirt to reveal his Hand of God marking. A low, angry growl resonated from deep down his gullet.

  “You really shouldn’t have come here,” he said.

  “I come in peace. You have my word.”

  “Just get rid of him, Roo!” Fazar said. “They ruin everything.”

  “Roo, huh?” Ace stepped to the side and examined an old silver candlestick. “Sorry, I’m still picking up the pieces of what went down. What exactly did Crowley ruin?”

  “What do you want, cowboy?” Roo asked.

  “Only what you want,” Ace said. “The end of James Fuckin’ Crowley.”

  Roo smiled. “Well, now. Perhaps we could talk.”

  “Tell me, Roo. What did that piece of shit do?”

  Roo snarled. “We had a place here, just for things like us. Out of sight. Underdark’s mostly empty now except the few who don’t feel like running. Army crawling all around the city after what he did down there and above. Not safe for us anymore.”

  “What a pity—”

  Roo ripped the candlestick away and shoved Ace against the wall, pinning him between two claws. His breathing was ragged, savage. His eye went dark with pure rage.

  “He took something more personal from you, didn’t he?” Ace said calmly.

  “Kill him,” Fazar said.

  Ace leveled his gaze on Roo’s single eye. “Something more than an eye or a chunk of flesh. Someone dear to you.”

  Roo roared loud enough to rattle the broken glass. He let Ace go and stormed back in the other direction. “You don’t know nothing about it!”

  “And I don’t need to.” Ace wiped the slobber from his nose. “But he’s made himself an enemy of the White Throne. My enemy. The way I see it, you got no reason to stay here. You do got every reason to help me end that son of bitch for good.”

  “He’ll poison you with lies,” Fazar said to Roo. “It’s what they do.”

  “Quiet!” Roo snapped, causing the little demon-thing to retreat even farther behind the stairs. Then he came to face Ace again. “My children will eat his beloved horse in front of him. I will dine on the woman he loves.”

  “Great minds.” Ace snickered. “So, we’re square?”

  Roo turned his head so only his grisly wound showed. “You should have asked before you opened the door.”

  “One or two, I like to look a man in the eye before I agree to partner up.”

  “Oh, we aren’t partners, Black Badge. Just two hunters on the same trail.”

  “Fair enough.” Ace’s lips split into a wide grin. “Then let’s get to hunting. But one rule…”

  “Don’t test me,” Roo warned.

  “Only one.” Ace stuck a finger up, then strode right up to Roo and used it to poke him in his hairy chest. “You can have his horse. His lady. But when we catch him, I get to put him down. And if you so much as think about getting in the way of that, I’ll shove silver so far down the throats of all your children, your ancestors will shit it out in Hell.”