David, he wasn't improved by formal wear. He looked like a hoodlum who'd mugged a groomsman. "I was betting you'd be barbecued."
"Asshole," Cherise said. It sounded like she meant it for a change, and Kevin's perpetual slouch straightened a little. "Her wedding just got blown all to hell. You could at least not be a total wad about it. For once."
He sat up completely, brushed the hair out of his eyes, and looked a little less smug. "Sorry," he said, and almost meant it. "I mean, I knew it was going to come out the way you wanted it to. You wanted to draw the Sentinels out; you did it. Most of them got obliterated, right?"
"I don't know," I said. "The plan was to force them out in the open so we could identify them. That seems to be working pretty well."
"It wasn't just the wedding," Kevin said. "All the shiny pieces were here, right? Ashan? The Oracles?"
Yeah, as if I'd actually planned that part. "Sure. The better to get them to step out and show themselves. "
"So you got him. The old guy." He meant Bad Bob. I didn't answer. I poured another shot glass of tequila and downed it.
"You might want to leave," I said. "Because this isn't over."
Both Kevin and Cherise looked taken aback, looking around at the calm, orderly luxury of the penthouse. Out at sea, the storms were dissipating; there was still tension in the tectonic plates, but it was being bled off in harmless ways by the Earth Wardens. The Ma'at were all over the whole balancing problem. It all looked . . . calm.
"Leave," I said, even more softly. I poured two shot glasses and put the bottle aside. "Go now."
Kevin grabbed Cherise's hand and dragged her, still protesting, toward the door. I didn't raise my head to watch them go. I stayed focused on the silvery glitter of the alcohol in crystal, and when I heard the door click shut, I said, "You might as well show yourself. I know you're here." I could feel his presence now. I couldn't believe how it felt - how cold, how empty.
I heard the chuckle, and it was so familiar, so damned familiar it burned. I tried hard not to shudder, tried to keep my head up and my back straight. "Tequila, " Bad Bob said. "Always thought you were a scotch girl, Jo."
"I am," I said. "But I remember you always had a taste for the stuff." I took a shot glass and turned, holding it out.
Sure enough, on the other side of the room, Bad Bob stood watching me. He was wearing a tuxedo, too, or half of one, anyway; the pants were formal, the shirt untucked, the tie loosened. No coat. His suspenders were in a garish rainbow that brought to mind the early oeuvre of Robin Williams.
"Like it?" He snapped the suspenders with his thumbs. "Thought I'd help you celebrate the happy day. And it's a happy day, isn't it? You and David, all cozy and bound up together, till death do you part." Bad Bob grinned, all teeth and crazy blue eyes. "I'll take that drink now."
I levitated it across to him. He laughed and snatched it out of the air, threw it back, and blew the shot glass into powder in midair with a random burst of power.
"You know what I am, don't you?" he asked. He continued to grin, relentless as a shark, and ambled slowly around the room, poking and touching things at random. "You know why I'm so set on getting you."
"I know," I said. "I've killed three of you so far."
That snapped his head around fast, and the grin turned bloody in its intensity. "Don't flatter yourself," he said. "You used our own against us twice. That doesn't even count. Any fool Warden could have done it. But the last - ah, the last one was special. She was mine."
"I didn't think the Demons had family."
"I didn't say she was family; I said she was mine. I created her; I cultivated her. I set her on you. And you stood there and watched her die." His smile twitched insanely. "Poetic justice, I suppose, your Djinn pouring poison down her throat the way I did it to you in the first place. Never been much for poetry, myself." He stretched out a hand. The bottle of tequila left the bar and arrowed across the room to smack into his palm. He swallowed one mouthful, then two,