While I did my best to keep my mind distracted, reloading my weapons, cleaning them, what have you, Rosa dug the plugs out of my body.

  After I’d threatened the passengers, she’d spoken softly to them and, one after another, they took their seats and hadn’t moved since. I’d like to say it was her charm, but after witnessing what happened to the marshal, stunned silence is probably more appropriate. And a healthy dose of her untapped powers, which I’d seen turn minds in the past even before we knew she was more than human. I’d take what we could get.

  Breaking the lock off the only door into the next cart and jamming it didn’t hurt either. “Contain the damage” was the name of the game. Nobody in to see what had happened to Ace’s car, or worse, to the marshal. Nobody out. And the conductor sure as shit wasn’t gonna stop after all the shooting back in Revelation.

  “That’s the last one,” Rosa said as metal clinked onto the floor. “I think.”

  I let out an audible sigh. “I’d know if it wasn’t. Thank you.” I pulled my pants up and buttoned them. The last one she’d removed had struck my thigh.

  She sat back in her chair, facing away from the gory remains of Marshal A.D. Wassel, no doubt on purpose. It was tough for me to look at too, and I hadn’t been the one responsible for the mess. Finally, she took her first opportunity since everything happened to breathe.

  Outside, rain crashed down so hard, the Devil must’ve been beating his wife. The next long stretch was spent in contemplative silence. As we pressed farther east, the plains gave way to hill country, giving us a small respite from repetition, though the terrain was the last thing on either of our minds.

  When I’d saved Rosa as a little girl, I hadn’t the foggiest idea she was anything more than someone who didn’t deserve Ace’s bullshit. Now, I realized there was good reason—even if I didn’t know fully why—for Heaven and Hell to both be after her.

  I’d told her plenty she was special. I was just now understanding how true that was. Special, powerful, deadly… a checkbox next to all the above.

  I cast a glance her way. She faced forward, eyes unblinking—a blank stare.

  “You alright?” I asked after what might have been half an hour or more.

  It was like I’d pulled her out of a trance. She jumped a bit, as if shocked to learn she’d been awake. I gave her a minute.

  “He’s never going to stop,” Rosa said, her voice soft.

  “Ace?” I couldn’t help shaking my head. After everything, her mind was still fixed on the monster from her past. “We’re free of him. For a while, at least. I know it’s hard, but try to relax. You’ve been through a lot.”

  “We both have,” she said, resting her hand on my leg.

  I flinched, not expecting it. She’d just rid my body of bullets, had touched nearly every part of me… this was different. Intimate. I cleared my throat and shifted in the rough fabric chair.

  “True enough,” I said. “I’m used to this. For you, it’s all new. Gonna take some adjusting.”

  Her gaze flitted over her shoulder, toward the marshal’s slop, her expression a mixture of horror and concern. “No one should be used to this.”

  She wasn’t wrong. It was a pretty fucked up thing to say out loud. And something I didn’t think about often. While I was mortal, I’d never given a second thought to vampires, werewolves, magic, and the like. They were just stories told around campfires. Over these past decades, it was all as common as canned beans.

  I thought carefully about how to answer her.

  “My life,” I started slow, “both before and after the White Throne, has been nothing but difficulties and impediments. Before…” I lowered my voice. “Before I died, I truly believed I was invincible. And I learned something the hard way. It’s believing you can’t die that inevitably gets you killed.”

  “Why’d you do it?” she asked.

  The question caught me by surprise, and though I thought I knew what she meant, I asked anyway, “Do what?”

  “Me and Mamá. Why us? I’m sure there were plenty of others that Ace tormented. Why did you finally decide to fight back?”

  I sighed. “Wasn’t just him.” I looked around, remembering that one time I’d watched Ace kill a man in a similar train car for a few bucks and done nothing. “I told you, I did my fair share of bad things too. Things I ain’t proud of. Not one bit.”

  “Yeah, but you changed. And isn’t that what all this White Throne business is about? Forgiveness?”

  Forgiveness. I thought that word over. Really didn’t think forgiveness had a damn thing to do with why I’d been made a Black Badge. I think it was because whoever was in charge up there knew I had the testicular fortitude—or stupidity—to do what needed doing without asking a lot of questions.

  Joke’s on them, I guess.

  But who could fault them?

  I’d spent a lifetime testing myself against the various and sundry would-be lethalities that crossed my path. The whole time, being devoted to following others. Giving in to their demands and commands. I wasn’t lying when I told Rosa I’d done bad things. I’d killed. I’d stolen. But never had I ever taken from a woman that which I didn’t earn or pay for.

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  “James?”

  “Oh, right.” I hadn’t even realized I never answered her. “I don’t know about that. I’ve got no hope of any real redemption. Turns out, Jesus saves everyone but Black Badges.”

  She looked stunned. “Jesús Christo? Is he…”

  I chuckled. “Naw. I don’t know. Not for sure. Honestly, I’d give one of my hands for good just to get a few answers. I’ve been doing this a long time, and still feel like a floundering babe.”

  “And now Ace works for them” Rosa said. “He’s like you.”

  “He ain’t a damn bit like me,” I said, trying hard to believe it.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah,” I said with a nod. “He’s a Black Badge. A Hand of God. A servant of the White Throne.”

  “Right.” She leaned back in her chair. “And you…” She looked down at the silver rounds peppering the floor. “Ace… you can’t die?”

  “Can’t, won’t. I don’t know exactly. Another one of those things I’d love an answer to.”

  “How do we beat a man who can’t be stopped?”

  “I reckon we’ll find out. I ain’t a wordsmith, but you don’t gotta be dead to be beaten. You just gotta outlast them. Heaven will tire of his antics, of that I’m certain.”

  “And then they’ll send another, won’t they? There are more Hands of Gods than you two, no?”

  I bit my lip, then nodded. While I couldn’t answer with any specifics—Shar always withheld those—the world is a big old place with more regions to control in the White Throne’s name than simply the American West. Assumptions had to be made.

  “I’m in this until the end, Rosa,” I assured. “I’ve been through it. You saw my hand. Same thing happened to my head. I’ve been buried alive. Taken more gunshots than the whole Confederate Army. All I know is that if I do somehow run out of luck, my only two options are Hell and nothing, and I don’t plan on taking either.”

  She sucked in a gasp. “I can’t imagine what nothing looks like.”

  “Me either. Almost makes Hell sound like a good plan.” I laughed, but there wasn’t much joy in it. “I suppose then I’d be able to give old Lucy a piece of my mind.”

  “Lucy?”

  I laughed again. “Lucifer. The devil. Satan. Call him what you will. Guess for you, it’d be el diablo, right?”

  She nodded. “My whole life, I’ve wondered if the Heaven and Hell Mamá taught me of was real or just lies made up by people more powerful than me.”

  “Don’t think anyone’s more powerful than you.” It was a joke, if barely. I looked up at the bloody stain on the ceiling, and she followed my gaze back there. This time, our eyes lingered. That was something far beyond the skills and abilities of any mere Black Badge. I may’ve been an agent of Heaven’s Throne, but she was something else entirely.

  “What does it feel like?” I asked. A mistake, maybe. She was rattled, but sometimes it takes embracing the dark side of things to realize that everything’s got a dark side and we gotta take it as it comes.

  “I don’t know,” she said softly.

  “Try.”

  She swallowed audibly as she stared down at her quaking hands. “It’s like… this wave ripping through me. I feel it everywhere. I think it’s rage, then Mamá is there and my heart feels like it’s going to explode. I don’t even see what happens, and then…” Again, she regarded the marshal and winced. “It’s done. It’s like it wasn’t even me and I’m weak from something more powerful than I can imagine working through me… Something that can… dios mio… That can bend the very universe. Is that normal in your side of the world?”

  I chuckled grimly. “Nothing’s normal for me. Being honest, never met a Nephilim or witch with such a range of power. I do know that even the most chaotic of them learn to control it. You will too.”

  “What I can do… It’s scary…”

  “I know, sweetheart. I know.” I pulled her head to my chest and hugged her. What else could I do? I’d always been a sap for a lady in distress, though she was no damsel. Far from it. She was, however, in distress.

  After who-knew-how-long, Rosa looked up at me with her eyes all glazed over.

  “What do they want with me?” she asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

  And for the hundredth time, I was left without a sufficient response.

  I held her at arm’s length. “Doesn’t matter. They ain’t getting you.” I hoped my confidence would ooze on over to her. It was a veil I wore, sure. I had no clue where or how this ended, but at least having a true destination kept my spirits buoyed. We’d transfer at Golden River—where this train was headed—then off to the capital.

  “Alright, we should get our minds off of this,” I decided. “Shall I sing you a song?”

  Rosa laughed. Just the response I was hoping for. “Mi amor, you couldn’t carry a tune if it had handles.”

  “A knife to my heart,” I said, joining in with laughter as I patted my chest. “How’s about this… We’ve had enough bad for today and a long ride ahead. Your turn for story time. Tell me your happiest memory.”

  She crossed her arms and slumped in her chair. For a moment, I thought she was acting the part of petulant child. Turns out, she was thinking. After a few seconds, a smile crept across her lips, and it was one of the most refreshing sights I’d ever seen.

  Suddenly, she sat up straight and, dare I say, a smidgeon of excitement entered the woman.

  “When I was young—perhaps fifteen—mi mamá took me to this beautiful orchard. It was far up in the hills. We’d borrowed a donkey from our neighbor, and she didn’t tell me where we were going.

  “When we got there, I was stunned. For miles upon miles, it was nothing but apple trees. Beautiful, full, green apple trees. I don’t know how she afforded it, but the owner—a kind man whose face I could recall to the freckle—let us pick a bushel.”

  “That’s nice,” I said, but she wasn’t through.

  “Until that day, I’d never had an apple. Fifteen years of age, and I’d never had an apple. I tried them all. Green, yellow, pink, red… I had no idea a single fruit could have so many different tastes. I liked the pink ones best. The greens were too sour for my tongue.”

  Hearing her speak of apples had me longing for those days when my gustatory abilities were still intact. Her eyes were aglow with wonder. There’d been scant many times I’d seen her happy, and after today’s events, what a relief.

  “When we’d had our fill, and the basket was overflowing, we took them home,” she went on. “Mamá baked so many treats that week—apple pie, little pastries with piping hot, gooey apple-flavored syrup inside. She even made savory dinners using them. My favorite was the pork loin—which we’d also gotten from our neighbor.”

  In an instant, sadness overtook her. A tear trickled down her cheek, trailing over her beauty mark. She didn’t wipe it away. I watched it fall into her lap and soak into her skirt.

  I gave her the moment.

  “A month later, she…” The words got caught in her throat.

  “It’s okay,” I told her. “You don’t—”

  “No. I’m fine.” She took a deep breath. “She died. It started with a cough, but eventually, her breathing quit, and…”

  She really didn’t need to say more. I’d lost my ma too. Though I wasn’t around for it, I’d gotten the news from Father Osgood. It wasn’t the same, though. Rosa had a special relationship with her mother—who wouldn’t after what they’d been through?

  “Cherish what you had, Rosa,” I said. “Most of us’ve got scum and worse for parents. It ain’t unlucky just because you struggled to get by.”

  “Wise words.” Her head bobbed in approval, then she smirked. “For an outlaw.”

  I puffed out my collar. “I’ve got my moments.”

  “More than a few, James Crowley. More than a few.”