Concrete Savior (19 page)

Eran shook his head. “We’ve got a patrol car covering that.”

“We saw how well that worked with Mireva the day she took off and went to a Cubs game,” Brynna reminded him.

“Yeah, but she supposedly had a little otherworldly help from that Gavino guy.”

“As Casey might.”

Eran glanced at her, then frowned. “Really.”

It wasn’t a question and she looked at him blankly for a moment as she let his words sink in, let the meaning underneath play itself out and finally register. “For God’s sake, Eran, after all the shit that’s happened the last couple of months, you still don’t really believe, do you? You think I’m—what do you humans call it? Pulling your leg. I told you that Gavino was a demon and to stay away from him. I told you that Lahash was worse than Gavino, and
still
you don’t believe. I don’t fucking believe it—it’s like I’ve been talking to a wall.”

An instant later, Brynna didn’t know what dismayed her more: his startld expression or just how snappish her own tone was. On the flipside of that was a basic understanding of herself and why she was reacting this way, what she felt. She was still a demon, yes, but being in this female body had also given her some very human traits: she wanted to be listened to, she wanted to know that the man she cared for—yes, Redmond—had faith in her and believed what she said. She wanted to be treated as someone of
value
. Did Eran listen? Yes. Did he
hear
what she said? Not always. Not much. And the fact that he had seen her in one of her true forms and could still question what she said . . . it was just damned infuriating sometimes.

“Brynna—”

“Don’t placate me,” she said sharply. “I am not like the human women that the males of your kind have tried to hammer into submission over tens of thousands of years.” Her aggravation made her rise from the chair and move to the juncture of where the two desks faced each other. In front of her was a window, while the glass wall and door separating the tiny space from the rest of the station office was at her back. Eran’s expression made it clear he was going to try to calm her down but he had no idea what she was upset about to begin with. That he couldn’t figure it out was even more annoying. Before he could open his mouth again, she held her closed fingers in his direction, then unfurled them one by one. His mouth snapped shut at the sight of the two-inch flames dancing at the ends of each fingertip. Brynna turned her hand and the flames curved into a single, sizzling red ball. With a twist of her wrist, she smothered it in her palm. “You will not find me submissive and resigned to being disregarded.”

They stared at each other for a long time without saying anything, then Eran inhaled and nodded. “You’re right, and I apologize. In my own defense, I’ve never had to deal with the kinds of things you’re talking about. I never knew they even existed. My world is black and gray and red. The black and gray is right and wrong, and the red is what people do to each other. It’s hard enough to handle this reality, and now I’m being forced to accept that it’s really a whole lot worse than I thought it was. Why? Because there’s some kind of magic in it, angels and demons and creatures that can do things that if I really want to be honest, I probably can’t do a damned thing to stop. Is it really that hard to understand why I’d want
not
to believe?”

Brynna lifted her chin and thought about it for a second. “No, I suppose not. On the other hand, not thinking about it, not
accepting
it, isn’t going to make it go away.” A sudden black thought crossed her mind and it was out of her mouth before she could stop it. “It’s my fault, Eran. I’m the one who brings all this into your existence, just because I’m here. If I had gone on my way when you let me out of jail—”

Eran shook his head so hard his glasses slid halfwaydown his nose. “Don’t go there, Brynna—don’t you do that. You’ve saved lives, helped people in bad situations, brought hope to folks who thought things could never get any better. There’s so much I would’ve missed out on if you hadn’t let your reflexes get the best of you and whacked me in Walgreens that day.” He didn’t keep going, but the way he was looking at her said he could take this into a much more personal and intimate arena.

Brynna stared at the floor and didn’t reply. Everything was so complicated now. She hadn’t exactly thought finding redemption on Earth would be easy, but she hadn’t expected it to be so hard, either. The truth was she hadn’t known
what
she might have to do. Sometimes being in Hell seemed easy compared to life in the realm of mankind. The emotions in Lucifer’s domain were clear and geared toward one goal: please Lucifer by tormenting the souls trapped there, and find more souls to feed his never-satisfied hatred of mankind. There was no right and wrong, love or hate, if this, then that. You just did what you were supposed to, and you did it all the time. Period.

But here . . . wow. There were things like love, like, despair, hope, rejection, hatred. There was right, not so wrong, downright despicable, and all manner of levels in between. If love was a good thing, why couldn’t one woman love more than a single man, even if she was married? If killing was a bad thing, why was it okay to sacrifice one man to save many? There was the reason Eran had used the term
black and gray
instead of
black and white
.

And then you threw yourself into the mix, added someone you’d come to care about, like Eran, and gave it a good, hard shake.

“Well, I’m here now,” was all she finally said. “I don’t know if I’ve done as much good as you think, but I guess we do the best we can.”

“I thought we were doing all right,” Eran said. “Yeah, I’m still resistant. I don’t know what to tell you about that other than I’m trying. I guess it’s going to take a while for me to completely absorb everything. To believe everything.”

Brynna nodded. “Just don’t disbelieve to the point where you get yourself killed.”

Eran gave her a wry smile. “That’s certainly not my intent.”

It never is, Brynna thought, but she kept that to herself. “So what are we doing now?” she asked, hoping to get off the topic. “Did you find anything?”

Eran turned back to his computer, and she had to think he was probably just as happy to move along as she was. “I did some cross-referencing on the Whitfield woman and the tailor shop, came up with her full name—Georgina Whitfield—and her address. Nothing more than the standard data like her driver’s license and whatnot. No record. Just like the Anlon kid—not even a traffic ticket. Two little model citizens.”

Brynna went back around to Sathi’s desk and sat down. “That’s not much.”

“No.” Eran frowned at the computer, then pressed a key. “Here’s something kind of interesting. I checked the public records and it comes up that a Nevada marriage license was put into the files about a month ago. Looks like she and some guy named Vance Hinshaw went on a weekend jaunt to Las Vegas.”

Brynna sat up. “So there’s the husband I saw when I touched her.”

“Looks like it.” He began typing again, a little more forcefully. “Not much on him, either. Wait—his name comes up in regards to North Park University. Looks like he’s a trainer in the athletics department.” Eran scratched his head. “That’s odd. School’s started already. If the guy’s gone missing, why hasn’t anyone filed a missing person’s report?”

“Because she’s making excuses for him,” Brynna said. “She’s telling them he’s sick or something.”

“Could be. There’s no way for me to find out if he has other family without really digging deep and I’d have to explain myself on that. I don’t have any reason to back up queries like that.” He was silent for a minute, then he said, “It might be worth the risk, though. The guy who cracked the list from the jewelry store is always looking for an excuse to step over the information line. He likes walking the edge.” He stood, and Brynna did the same. “Come on. Let’s go pay a visit to the tech department.”

BHERU WAS WAITING FOR
them when they pulled up in front of Casey Anlon’s building a couple of hours later. He was standing against the building just to the right of the overhang above the main entrance, where he was unlikely to be noticed by anyone who looked out a window. After Eran parked, he and Brynna got out of the car and walked over to him. As he always did, Bheru looked calm and cool, as if nothing in the world could bother him. His black eyes were inscrutable as they focused on Brynna then moved to meet Eran’s gaze, but Eran didn’t believe for a minute that Bheru was fooled by anything. Through the years a lot of perps had foolishly mistaken that quietness for an inability to thoroughly understand what was going on around him. Mry stoften than not it was an assumption they ended up regretting.

“Miss Brynna,” he said politely, then directed his attention toward Eran. “Casey Anlon has not left the building,” he said. He inclined his head toward the sky and both Eran and Brynna automatically followed his line of sight. Eight stories above them was the small, shallow balcony coming off Anlon’s living room; the temperature had stopped in the mid-seventies and the double doors were open about a foot. The above-street-level breeze made a white curtain flutter in and out of the opening at regular intervals. “I’ve seen Mr. Anlon come to the railing several times.”

“Excellent,” Eran said. “It’s time to go up and have a conversation with him.”

Bheru’s expression was steady. “Now would also be an excellent time to explain exactly what is going on with this young man, and why we are so interested in his comings and goings. As far as I can tell, he has done nothing to even stretch the law, much less break it.” Bheru was a handsome man with rich, coffee-colored skin; when he lifted one finely arched eyebrow, it made him look almost regal, like some sort of king who did not understand the statement an underling had just made. “I have not forgotten your words about stopping him from rescuing anyone else. You can understand why I believe that’s rather irrational.”

Eran frowned. “I said that?”

“You did,” Brynna said.

“You’re not helping.”

She shrugged. “Fact is fact. It’s not my job to cover for you.”

“And what
is
your job here, Miss Brynna?” Bheru’s head turned in her direction. “Mr. Anlon speaks perfect English, so no translation is necessary. That means you must be here to assist my partner, or us, in some other way.” He folded his hands placidly in front of himself and glanced pointedly from Brynna to Eran. “It is very difficult to do a good job at something when you aren’t given all the details of the assignment.” When Brynna didn’t respond right away, he continued, “I am inclined to believe that, as there was with your involvement in ultimately locating Cho Kim, there is more going on here than you have shared with us.” His gaze cut to Eran and hardened just enough to make him shift uncomfortably. “Or perhaps just with me.”

Brynna hesitated, glancing at Eran before she answered. There was only so much she could say that wouldn’t push belivability too far into the wrong side of the court, where to Bheru it would then begin to sound like . . . well, craziness. Bheru had always been more receptive to things out of the ordinary, but how far would that receptiveness go? She always had this dilemma when trying to decide how much to reveal to Bheru, and she always ended up at the same conclusion. As it had been with Eran, he probably couldn’t go nearly as far as he needed to unless there was visual proof to back it up. For some reason, providing that sort of thing felt flamboyant, almost boastful, and she liked to keep it to a minimum as much as possible. It was like having the chicken that could lay golden eggs. The fewer people who knew about it, the better.

“It’s hard to explain,” Brynna finally told him, “but I believe that someone is giving Casey the names of people who are supposed to die because if they don’t, terrible things will happen.” It wasn’t very logical, but it was the best she could do.

Bheru’s expression didn’t change. “I see. This explains why you made the statement yesterday that you would try to stop him before he rescued someone else. But why would someone want to do such a thing—assuming, of course, that they were somehow able to come upon this information?”

Eran saved her on that one. “No one has the answer to that. For fun, or just because they can—pick one, it’s probably the other. This kid”—he inclined his head toward the upper floors again—“is just a well-meaning wannabe hero. He thinks he’s being a white knight and fighting the good fight. Every time this woman gives him a name, and apparently a time and location, he runs right over to save the day. He has no idea that there might be consequences,
bad
ones.”