She turns and walks back toward her room. Over her shoulder, she says in a shaky voice, “Please. Go home.”
I’m too shocked to move. I knew she was upset, but I didn’t think she’d kick me out. Grams grabs my arm and gives a gentle tug. The anger has drained from her face. Instead, she looks at me with pity. I yank my arm away and glare at her because I don’t need anyone pitying me. Ever.
“I’m fine,” I bark.
“I know you are,” she says.
I march past her and out the door. Behind me, I hear the click of the lock sliding into place, and moments later, the front porch light flips off. I stand alone in the dark, looking up at Charlie’s bedroom window. A warm light glows behind her sheer curtains, and my nerves fire. Maybe I should climb up and talk to her. But seconds later, the light snuffs out.
Hanging my head, I walk back to Elizabeth Taylor. Charlie is really upset, and I know now this isn’t just about the kiss. There’s something bigger going on. I think back through all the times she requested beautiful features. I remember how she immediately sought my opinion on her blonder, shinier hair, and how she asked if I knew what color her eyes were before changing those, too. And finally, in Vegas, when she asked if I thought she should ask for more beauty.
In every single instance, I practically begged her to fulfill the contract. And why wouldn’t I? At the time, all I cared about was finishing the job and getting my promotion. But now, all I feel remembering these last few days is shame.
Briefly, I try that putting-yourself-in-their-shoes thing I’ve heard about. I wonder how I’d feel if someone suggested I change my appearance. My face pulls together, and I wince. I’d tell that someone where to shove it. But like a sudden slap, I realize I’d also be hurt.
Starting the engine, I pull away from Charlie’s house and drive toward Wink Hotel. I never checked out, and even thinking about the bed makes me drowsy. Right now, I should turn around, charge up the lattice outside her window, and demand she speak to me. But maybe she’s right. It’s late. And technically, I still have three days to finish this assignment. Knowing how quickly Sunday will be here, my stomach clenches.
Fatigue overtakes anxiety as I park outside Wink Hotel and then let myself into my room. I have no idea what I’m going to do to protect her. I don’t know how I’m going to keep her from finding out who I really am. And I really don’t know how I’m going to do both without being cast into the ninth ring of hell.
These, and other equally lovely thoughts, are the last I remember as I succumb to sleep.
…
I bolt upright in bed and listen. I heard something. In fact, I think I’ve been hearing it for a while and am just now realizing it.
Cocking my head, I listen for whatever woke me. I’m about to accept that I’m imagining things when four quick raps sound outside my door. I glance around the room, attempting to pull myself awake and trying not to panic. It could be anybody. Just because someone’s outside my door doesn’t mean crap’s about to the hit the fan.
I slide off the bed and move toward the door, holding my breath.
“Dante, dude, it’s me. Open up. I know you’re in there.” Max’s words sound muffled through the steel door, but sure as hell I know it’s him.
I swing the door open, and he strolls past me into the room.
“Where have you been?” he says. “I couldn’t sense you anywhere for the last twenty-four hours. I thought you’d gone rogue and busted your cuff off or something. Committed demon suicide.”
I flip on the light, and Max pushes himself up on the dresser to sit.
“I had to take care of some stuff.”
“I bet you did.” Max acts like he’s slapping, then squeezing, someone’s rear.
Running a hand through my hair, I say, “Max, I need to sleep.”
“I bet you do.”
“Cut it out. I’m seriously exhausted.”
Max frowns. “It’s that Charlie girl. She’s got you whipped or something. You’re really pulling out all the stops to bring this one in. Taking her to parties. Flying her around the world.”
I freeze, then shoot a cold look at Max. The memory of the collector watching me pours over me like lava. Heat pricks my skin as I realize this collector…could be anyone. Very slowly, I ask. “How do you know we left Peachville?”
He points at me. “Busted! I knew it.”
Inspecting him closely, I wait to see what else he’ll say.
“Simmer, man.” He raises his hands. “Like I said, I knew you were gone because I couldn’t sense you anymore. You know that unless we’re downstairs, we have to be pretty close to pick up on the cuff. I knew you were in Peachville because that’s where everyone said your assignment was, and when I couldn’t sense you anymore, I knew you’d left. Figured you’d taken a trip with your old lady.”
What he says makes sense, but suddenly, I can’t shake the paranoia. What if it’s him? What if he’s watching me? Most collectors would do anything to get the promotion I’m up for. Can I really trust Max right now?
I nod toward the door. “I think you should go.”
“Dante…” he says, and it sounds exactly the way I said Charlie’s name earlier.
“Max, get out before I make you get out. I’ve got three days to bring Charlie in. And like you said, I don’t want any of those pesky consequences for failing to deliver. I’m sure you understand.”
Hurt twists his face, but I’ve known Max for two years, and I’m certain if he wanted to, he could be an Oscar-winning actor.
Max’s eyes open with disbelief, and his head drops. Then he remembers himself and glances up. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”
I cross my arms as Max turns to go and fight the temptation to stop him. He’s been a good friend. No, a great one. And I can’t believe this assignment has made me into someone who can’t trust his best guy.
The door closes behind Max, and I sit down on the bed. For several seconds, I just stare at the brown-and-black damask carpeting, feeling like I just lost the only person who really knows me.
A sharp, high sound startles me, and I jump up, half-hoping that somehow it’s Max. If it’s him, I’m certain I won’t be able to send him away. But as I listen, I can tell it’s coming from farther away, and it doesn’t sound anything like him.
Opening the door, I hear the noise coming from the stairwell. It sounds like a woman screaming. I walk, then run, toward the shriek. Swinging the stairwell door open, I hear that she’s calling for help about two flights down. I jog down the stairs, wondering what I’m doing, why I’m running after a screaming lady.
When I see her just standing there, I reach out and grab her arm.
“Hey, what’s wrong—”
I stop.
Max is slumped over on the ground, holding his head. Blood, dark and thick, is running down the front of his face from beneath his hands. Beside him is a fire extinguisher, blood splattered over one end.
Chapter Forty
Secrets
My heart lunges as I move past the woman and pull Max up.
“It’s fine. He fell,” I tell her. “Go back to your room.”
“But—” she starts.
“Go back to your room,” I say, louder.
I sling Max’s arm around my shoulders and help him walk back to my room. When he moans about a killer headache, I know he’s going to be fine. We’re immortal, but it’ll still take time to heal.
Inside my bathroom, I sit him on the toilet lid, wet a towel, and push it into his hand. He presses it to his head.
“You okay?” I ask.
He nods, then smiles. “Look how scared you are. You totally love me.”
I shake my head, but he’s right. Seeing him busted up scares the crap out of me. “What happened?”
He pulls the towel away, inspects it, then pushes it back to his head. “I don’t know. I just got knocked the hell out.”
“With a fire extinguisher?” I soak another towel and hand it to him, but he pushes it
away.
“Guess so. Maybe I hooked up with some dude’s girlfriend or something.”
My jaw clenches. “Who tracked you down at the Wink?” I pause, watching him. “Do you…do you sense another collector besides me right now?”
He gives me a surprised look, then narrows his eyes in concentration. “No,” he says finally. “You think one of our own did this?”
I hesitate, then nod.
Max pulls the towel away, and I glance at his head. Already the wound has stopped bleeding.
I lean against the doorway, take a deep breath, and fill Max in on everything. Big Guy’s liberator. Trelvator. The collector following me. I leave out the part about me falling for Charlie and that I’m planning to go against orders.
Max whistles when I’m done talking. “Damn.”
“Right.”
“So you think this a-hole collector hit me tonight because I’m bros with you?”
I shrug. “Maybe. I don’t really understand his deal. All I know is, it’s getting worse.”
Max cocks his head, thinking. “I guess I did sense a collector when I was in the stairwell, but figured it was you since I was still so near your room. You know we can’t really pinpoint how many collectors are nearby.”
“So you can’t think who would be tailing me out of our team?”
He shakes his blood-caked head. “Not at all. I mean, everyone worships you downstairs. You’re Boss Man’s numero uno. But then who else could it be?” Max crosses his ankle over his knee, and his eyes fall to his cuff. “Sometimes I really hate this thing.”
I consider telling Max what I know and realize I have nothing to lose at this point. “Max,” I say, “I know how we got these cuffs.”
His eyes bulge. “What are you talking about? No one knows where these things came from.”
“Boss Man explained it while training me for my new position as Soul Director.”
I motion for Max to follow me out of the bathroom. We move into the room, and he sits across from me on the other bed. I fold my hands together and try to retell the story as I heard it. “Did you know that, back in the day, Boss Man was a high angel for Big Guy?”
Max laughs a quick, dry laugh.
“I’m taking it you weren’t a churchgoer before you died, either.”
“Uh, no. That’s kinda how I got this gig.”
“Right,” I say. “Okay, well, Boss Man used to work for Big Guy. But one day he decides he doesn’t appreciate the attention Big Guy gives to humankind. Boss Man feels like that attention should be on him. So in a jealous fit, he decides to overtake Big Guy, figures he’d look pretty awesome sitting on Big Guy’s throne. So he gets together with these other angels on earth, where they can conspire unheard, and plots to overthrow Big Guy.”
“No shit?” Max interrupts.
I nod. “So as Boss Man is plotting, he asks one of his comrades to fashion him a crown. That way he can wear it as soon as he’s ruler. But he doesn’t just want any crown, he wants one to rival Big Guy’s. So his comrade spends days seeking these particular sheets of gold, known to angels as dargon. It’s said that there are only two sheets of dargon in existence, and that Big Guy fashioned them when he created the world. They were meant to be used for a crown and throne for the future son he knew he’d have. Well, eventually Boss Man’s comrade gets his hands on one of the sheets of gold, but before he can fashion it into a crown, Big Guy finds out about Boss Man’s plan and tosses him and the other angels into hell.”
“So Boss Man never got his crown,” Max repeats.
“No, he didn’t get his crown. But he did make it out with a stolen piece of dargon.”
“So…what does that mean?”
“Well, after Big Guy learns about his angels plotting against him, he pulls every last one of them off earth and back into heaven. He decides that the only being who can step foot on earth again is his son—the person wearing the crown.”
“I think I know where this is going,” Max says, his face twisting with awe.
“Yeah. Right. Because Boss Man had stolen a sheet of dargon, he was able to walk the earth, too. But Boss Man was all vengeful, and he wanted payback. So he took his dargon, and he created six cuffs and chose six collectors to steal souls from Big Guy—figured he could do more damage that way.
“Now Boss Man just ensures he always has the cuffs on his best six people, those who had particular skills on earth.” I shake my head. “Not sure what’s better, working as a collector or retiring in hell.”
Max glances down between his shoes. “Why don’t they want us to know about this?”
“I think…” I say. “I think because Boss Man doesn’t want to appear weak to his collectors. Like, he doesn’t want us knowing that Big Guy tossed him out on his ass like that.”
“So you think Big Guy knows about us?” Max asks.
I think for a second. “Yeah, he knows. I think he’s known all along. But now he’s creating his own collectors—the liberators. And I think Boss Man knows he’s on Big Guy’s radar. That’s why we’re not allowed to hurt humans, because Big Guy would bring war, and Boss Man isn’t strong enough to take him.”
Max touches his head and checks his hand to see if there’s blood. “The cuffs. They’re why other collectors and Boss Man can sense where we are when we’re close by, right?”
I nod.
“And they’re also why we can shadow?”
I run my tongue over my teeth. “Yeah, I think so. I often wondered if…you know…we can do other things that we don’t know about.”
“Dude,” Max says. “Me, too. I always feel like I have big stuff bottled up, you know?”
“Yeah.”
Max lets out a long sigh, and his face pulls together, like he just thought of something. “Why do you think Boss Man wants Charlie so bad? I mean, other than avoiding the whole peace-on-earth thing.”
I shrug. “I have no idea.”
He turns and faces me. “Have you heard of the soul scales?”
“The gauge thing?” I tick my finger back and forth.
“Yeah. The whole thing where if either side gets too many more souls than the other, heaven or hell will break open, and all the angels or demons will spill out onto Earth?”
I stand up. “Holy crap. Charlie. She’s going to sway the scales. Max, you’re a genius.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, that’s totally where I was going with that.”
It makes sense. If Charlie can really bring a hundred years of peace, it could turn the tides for heaven. But she could still do that through her charity without a soul, couldn’t she? Which means Boss Man may be trying to claim her soul before taking more extreme measures. Maybe collecting her is just the first step.
“But why would Big Guy even want that?” Max asks. “He doesn’t want angels on earth anymore.”
“No,” I say. “That was then. Things are different now. His new liberator is proof of that.”
“So if Charlie lives, she’ll be the reason angels can walk earth without dargon.”
My breath catches, and a bolt of fear shoots through me. “And if she dies…”
Max’s face whitens. “Oh, man. If she dies, does that mean hell may eventually gain the advantage? Like, without her, we’re headed toward a world where demons walk freely?” His eyes gloss over. “Boss Man is going to try and kill her, isn’t he?”
“I’m not sure. All I know is right now he’s focused on collecting her.” I turn to Max. It’s time he knows. It’s now or never. “I’m not going to let him have her soul, and I’m definitely not going to let him hurt her.”
He physically pulls back like someone gut-punched him. “Dante,” he says. “You’re talking about treason.”
I hold his eyes and nod once, a quick acknowledgement.
Max stands and moves toward the door in a daze. He spins around and faces me, his skin pale. “I can’t hear this. I can’t…I can’t know this.” He reaches up and absently touches his head. “He’ll send us
after you. You’re my best friend, and I’ll be forced to hunt you. And when the collectors find you—and you know they will—they’ll drag you back downstairs, and Boss Man… He’ll torture you, Dante. You’ve seen what happens down there. He’ll put you through every part of hell and deposit you in the ninth circle. I mean, what are you even thinking? Are you out of your freaking mind?”
I square my shoulders and raise my head higher. This is the first of many challenges I’ll have to face over the next thousand or more years. If I can’t have conviction before my best friend, I don’t stand a chance. “I won’t get caught.”
His face falls to the side, and his eyebrows pull together. “You will,” he says gently.
I turn away, because I know he could be right. Behind me, I can feel his eyes burning into my back. “She’s worth it, Max.”
His words boom when he speaks again. “You’re wrong. She’s not worth my best friend. I don’t care what kind of peace she’ll bring if it means seeing you imprisoned.”
I turn and take two long strides toward him. “You don’t see what I see. You don’t know how freaking pure she is in here.” I jab myself in the chest. “I know we’re trained to only care about ourselves. But if you felt what I do right now, you’d have to try and protect her.” My voice drops. “I can’t lose any part of her, Max. I don’t expect you to understand that.”
My friend’s jaw tightens, and his eyes lock on mine. “Don’t act like I don’t know about loss. You may find this hard to believe, but I had love once.” He nods. “Yeah, I had a girl. She was my everything. Her hair, her skin.” He touches his neck and, catching himself, quickly drops his hand. “We were going to get married, man. Married.” Max loosens his jaw and works it back and forth. “But she died.”
“Max,” I say, because I don’t know what else to say.
He shrugs. “So yeah, I know about losing people. And if it meant fighting the king of hell himself to bring her back, I would. But she’s gone. And Charlie, she’ll be gone one day, too. And you’ll be locked down there. With him. So don’t do this. Finish the assignment, and get your placement on earth. Then you can spend every day with her until—”