greed, depression, murder, and lies ‘peaceful.’” Reed tipped his bottle back and drank deeply. “Complete destruction of humanity isn’t the goal. They need mortals for entertainment.”
“Lovely.” She exhaled sharply. “You mentioned a queue?”
“There comes a point when an Infernal crosses the line one too many times.”
“They have to cross a line first?”
“We’re not vigilantes,” he said, chuckling. “We can’t go around whacking the bad guys for the hell of it. There’s a balance to everything. A yin and a yang, if you will. Orders have to come down. Once that happens, all bets are off.”
“And then what?”
“The Mark nearest in location who has the necessary skills is dispatched to take them out.”
“Who makes that call? God?”
“The Lord assigns Cain directly. The seraphim manage everyone else.”
Her lips pursed and he could practically see her curiosity. When she finally said, “Tell me how it works,” Reed’s answering smile was indulgent.
“Relating it to the human judicial system might make it easier to understand. Every sinner has a trial in absentia and the Lord presides over every case. Christ acts as the public defender. Clear so far?”
“I watch Law and Order.”
“Okay, good. If there’s a conviction, one of the seraphim send the order down to a firm to hunt the Infernal.”
“A firm?”
“Think of it as the bail bond agency. An archangel becomes responsible for bringing them in—like a bail bondsman. They don’t actually do any hunting. The Marks do the dirty work and they collect a bounty, just as a bounty hunter would, only in this case the prize is indulgences. Earn enough and you’ll work off your penance.”
“Bring them in? As in dead or alive?”
“Dead.”
“Blood-and-gore-dead? Or some kind of magical-dead?”
“There’s nothing magic about it.” He set his hand atop hers, trying to offer what little comfort he could. “Sometimes it’s dirty, sometimes it’s not. You’ll learn the difference. Training is intense and thorough.”
“Training in Infernal hunting?” She shook her head. “No thanks.”
“Some Marks think the work is glamorous.”
“My idea of glamour is drinking champagne and wearing a little black dress.”
Reed’s mouth curved. “Can’t wait to see it.”
“How do I get out?”
“Of the dress? I’ll help with that.”
“Jeez. Not the dress. This bounty-hunting gig.”
“Not possible.”
“Bullshit. I want to talk to someone else.”
His smile turned into a grin. “My superior?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“You’ll meet him soon enough. In the meantime, class should begin shortly. You’ll be notified when it’s time.”
“Class?” Eve stared across the table at Reed and hated the fact that she didn’t have a buzz, yet felt light-headed anyway.
Her gaze moved beyond his shoulder. She straightened. “Heads up. We’ve got company.”
Reed didn’t even flinch. “About time he showed up.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Alec barked, stopping at their table.
“Waiting for you,” she replied, kicking out a chair for him.
Alec caught the back and dropped into the seat. He looked at Reed. “What do you want?”
“Good morning to you, too.”
“I want to know how to get rid of the mark,” Eve said.
“I haven’t figured it out yet,” Alec said grimly, “but I’m working on it.”
“It’s impossible,” Reed scoffed.
“Listen.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t subscribe to the ‘impossible’ school of thought. Anything is possible. We just have to figure out how.”
“You don’t even know what’s involved with the job yet, babe.”
“She’s not your babe,” Alec snapped.
Reed smiled.
Eve glared at both of them. “I know I’m not about to get pissed on and provoked every day of my life. I have a job I love, a home I worked damned hard for, and a life that suits me, even if it’s not perfect. I don’t want to hunt demons and nasties.”
“Pissed off,” Reed corrected.
“What?”
“You said ‘pissed on and provoked’ not ‘pissed off and provoked.’”
“I know what I said! And I meant what I said. I was out running errands while Alec was napping and ran across a gargoyle with a rotten sense of humor and a large bladder.”
Alec froze. “A gargoyle?”
“What did it look like?” Reed asked.
“Like a gargoyle,” she said dryly. “Made of gray stone or cement, small wings, big mouth. This one was kind of cute, with a face like an Ewok.”
“No,” Alec said. “What did its details look like?”
She frowned. “It didn’t have any.”
“It had to have some kind of designator,” Reed argued. “They’re marked just like you are.”
“Then he hid his details up his ass or something, because I saw every inch of him, even the bottom of his feet. He was bouncing around, spinning circles, and laughing like an idiot.”
“Maybe your sight isn’t working yet,” Alec suggested. “They can’t