I locked every muscle in my face into a look of careful neutrality. I would not out myself to Nicodemus. I'd come too damn far to allow myself to be drawn past the event horizon of moral decay that he represented.
"And this is Catherine Lenhardt," Hannah concluded with a dazzling smile, gesturing at me.
"Or Mac, as we like to call her," Nixon says with a conspiratorial grin. The smile lines around his eyes tightened and deepened as worry turned that smile down. I wasn't laughing or smiling. Not even a long-suffering sigh and a roll of eyes. He knew something was wrong. But then again, we'd been flirting with the idea of a relationship for months. He would notice it. Hannah didn't. I could only hope that Nicodemus would fail to be so insightful.
"The other two members of our organization won't be back until tonight. They're currently on mission," Hannah said. "I assure you they are as skilled as promised, but if you wish to see for yourself, we can wait until morning to go over your proposal. I know a place that serves excellent eggs and baked flounder."
"There is no need," Nicodemus said lightly. His voice was crisp and pleasant, with just a hint of a British accent. Hearing him speak was surreal. I'd have been less freaked if the poodle at the foot of a nearby table started spouting Shakespeare. "Your organization comes highly recommended by my associates."
Which of our clients was rubbing elbows with Nicodemus? I wanted to strike them off the list for good.
"Quit looming, Catherine," Hannah said, disguising a pointed look with a laugh and faux airy tone. "There's room at the table for one more."
The fifth chair that had been pulled around the square table was poised near the sharp corner and conveniently located to Nicodemus' left. There was some irony to be had there. The Latin word for left hand was sinister, for Pete's sake. And in stories, the Devil always approached from the left. I didn't want to sit at Nicodemus' side.
But Catherine Lenhardt should have no such objection. I could lie, come up with some reason. But there was no point. I had enough lies slung around my shoulders to have me stooping sideways. The best way to avoid getting caught in an untruth was to keep silent. So I sat. Reluctantly.
I brushed Nicodemus' arm as I sat, and a static current of shock ran over my skin where we made contact. He was unexpectedly warm, even through the dress shirt. This close I could scent the pleasantly woody cologne he wore, see a pulse thudding in the jugular vein, and just a hint of perspiration on his brow from the heat. It really struck me then.
Nicodemus was a man. Human, just like me or Hannah. More human than Nixon, Thorn, or Salem in some ways. He ate, he slept, he breathed. This man was the thing of nightmares, a boogeyman that was detailed in stories, the boggart in the closet, the monster under the bed. It seemed scarier somehow that he was just a man with a coin. All that evil had been done by a single man, warped and twisted by the Fallen. It was a sobering reminder that I was just a girl with a coin. No different, really. Maybe Anna was right.
"Have I once asked you to do anything against your conscience?" Lasciel said, at my ear at once. It would have been funny if weren't so damn depressing.
"I'm not dropping you, Lasciel," I told her with a sigh. "I still have goals to complete. You're safe until then."
I felt her relax with a motion reminiscent of a bird settling its wings. What I'd told Anna was true. I couldn't drop Lasciel's coin until my fight was over. That could be years. Fighting the Red Court often felt like trying to beat back a tsunami. Sometimes we could do enough to combat the damage that was coming, but often we were left cleaning up in its wake. I had a vague plan in place, something that might work to kill a goodly number of them. But it was black magic. Blacker than I wanted to go right now. I'd keep searching for solutions and there was no greater research partner than Lasciel.
My eyes slid unwillingly to Deirdre. She was tired if the faint circles beneath her eyes were any indication. Her hair was a little lank and tousled from travel. I was willing to bed that she'd slept on the plane here. I knew that her outward appearance was deceiving. She was at least fifteen centuries old. But she looked only a little older than me. Did that mean that I could look just as young a few thousand years from now?
If the brief contact bothered Nicodemus, he didn't show it. He leaned further back in his chair under the pretext of taking a sip of coffee and allowed me to settle myself in the chair beside him before he spoke again.
"Now that we are all here, I trust that we can get down to business?"
"Of course," Hannah said, saving me the chore of finding something civil to say to Nicodemus. "This mission is retrieval, not mercenary, am I correct?"
"A mix of both, perhaps. Some items I've been searching for came up for black market auction a month ago. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I was unable to obtain them. Nor have I been able to persuade the owner to part with his ill-gotten gain."
"Translation, the guy sniped me at the auction and now I'm pissed."
The words flew right past the filter of good sense that lay between my brain and my mouth and tumbled right out of my flapping lips. I was rewarded with a triplicate glare. One from Hannah and the others from Nicodemus and Deidre. I tried not to shrink into my seat, especially when Nicodemus' shadow tilted its head toward me a fraction, independent of the owner.
Anduriel was staring at me too. Great.
I shrugged, crossing my arms over my chest. "What? If you want our help the best thing you can do is cut the bullshit and tell us what you want. The guy outbid you, right? What is it that you want so bad you came to us?"
"Catherine-" Hannah began in a warning tone.
Nicodemus cut her off with the wave of one hand. He turned fully to face me, and the smile he wore was chilly.
"Candor can be useful at times, Miss Lenhardt, but I advise you to be judicious with whom you choose to apply it."
"In other words, don't sass me, little girl?" I translated.
Well, my mouth already tasted like foot. I might as well see if I could gag myself with it. What was he going to do? He couldn't kill me until the mission was over. And I didn't think that Lasciel would let him if he tried.
Amusement flickered in the depths of those pitiless dark eyes. The smile thawed into something that was still unpleasant but a little less hostile. I fought not to shudder. I didn't like being the sideshow attraction in this little scenario.
"Out with it. What are we going to steal?"
Nicodemus reached into the pocket of his starched shirt and sheaf of polaroid pictures. He handed them to Deirdre, who passed them to Nixon for examination. He shuffled through them before handing them to Hannah.
"These pictures are of the buyer's compound and the items respectively. I have digital copies that are of better quality, but they'd be quite useless to you, I'm afraid."
Hannah squinted at the last picture. "What's this supposed to be? It just looks like a square of cloth."
"An artifact of historical interest only."
Yeah, I didn't buy that for a hot second. Nicodemus wasn't the sort of man I could picture having hobbies. Hostages, maybe, but not hobbies. There was something going on here. Something he wasn't going to reveal to Hannah if he could help it.
Hannah shrugged and passed me the sheaf of photographs. I bypassed the compound photos in favor of the artifact. I wanted to know what old Nicky-boy was after.
What I saw on the film made my breath catch. I was pretty sure that I would have known what this was even without Lasciel's equally nonplussed reaction. Her shock was quickly replaced with a sharp-edged sort of excitement as we both stared down at the picture.
It was a square of purple cloth, mottled with red-brown stains. Beside it was a small earthen cup and a handful of etched dice. They were old, dingy with age and a little larger than modern dice.
"Holy shit," I said, drawing the vowels out long, my eyes flying open wide. I should have kept quiet. Shouldn't have given the game away. But I couldn't help myself. The words just sort of...slipped out. Because, really, how couldn't they?
"What is it?" Hannah asked, reaching to snatch the picture back. "What's going on?"
"It's the robe," I whispered.
"The robe?" she echoed. "What robe?"
"The Seamless Robe of Christ. The one they put on him to mock him during his trial. And the dice are the ones used by the soldiers to cast lots for it. Holy shit. This thing is..."
"Priceless?" Hannah ventured with a small, eager smile.
"You have no idea. Every bishop in St. Peter's Basilica would cream themselves if they knew this thing was still out there."
"I didn't know you were Catholic," Hannah said, a hint of wry amusement in her tone.
"Lapsed, obviously." I kept the pendant of Saint Jude hidden between my breasts at all times, just in case. Too easy to lose it in battle otherwise. Of the Reverists, only Nixon had seen it up to this point.
"Price is not an object," Nicodemus cut in. He was frowning at me again, his gaze flat and unfriendly when he turned it on me. "I can increase your usual fee by an order of magnitude."
I pushed away from the table and stood, backing away from the little gathering.
"Not enough money in the world, Archleone. I'm not in the mood to be smited today." I paused, screwing up my face in thought. "Smitten? Smote?"
"I urge you to reconsider, my host," Lasciel began carefully, tiptoeing around the metric ton of brittle eggshells that surrounded the topic. "The mission will be difficult. Do you truly wish to send your friends in without the benefit of your help?"
I scowled. Lasciel was as sharp as a freaking scalpel, cutting me where she knew it would hurt. I backed up further still.
"I don't get to play God, Lasciel. I can't dictate to them. If they want to do it, they can."
"But if you could keep the robe from his hands-"
"Double-cross Nicodemus? No effing way, Lasciel. I can't imagine the backlash that's going to bring. I'm sitting this one out. End of story. Are you going to make me?"
"Of course not."
"Good, then we're going home. I think I pissed Anna off. I want to see if we can kiss and makeup."
I made it precisely six steps before Hannah called after me.
"Don't go, Catherine. We need you on this and you know it."
"You said I could opt out of any mission. I'm opting out."
Hannah's expression flickered between guilt and hard determination, finally settling on the latter.
"I'm calling it in."
"What?"
"That favor you owe us. I'm calling it in. You promised on your magic that you'd owe us a favor for saving your life. Well, here it is. You can walk away, but your magic will take a hit. Are you willing to do that?"
Of course I wasn't, and she knew that better than anyone. Magic was the blade we'd used to carve out some sort of meaningful existence after our worlds had been upended. I needed every drop I could get. It was the reason I still clung so tenaciously to Lasciel. In this world of monsters might made right and the weak died. When she'd wrested the oath from me in the Starbucks months ago, I hadn't realized it would lead me here. Lead me to do this.
"You bitch," I whispered.
She didn't look happy but she nodded. "That's a yes?"
In answer I crossed over and slumped back into my chair and only half-listened as Nicodemus went over the proposed plan, wondering how I'd managed to land myself in so much trouble.
I was in a car with its breaks cut, with a fallen angel as an annoying backseat driver, a half-dozen unwary passengers counting on me to keep them alive, careening down the highway to hell.
AN: Sorry if I end up channeling Skin Game in these chapters a little. I promise not to lean into that too hard. But I thought it might be an interesting take on things, especially since we know Nic is searching for holy relics and I didn't see this one mentioned. Anyway, thanks so much for reading. :)