“They’re going to come back here and make a new plan of action. Besides, explaining Charlie’s absence is getting complicated. June is worried sick.”
Heather nodded and sat across the table from me. “I spoke with Michael.”
“I prefer John Travolta or Darth Vader.”
She chuckled. “Fine. I spoke with John Travolta. He basically said the same thing. However, if they keep coming up empty, the army will be deployed—that’s a very last resort.”
“The Angels have an army?” I suppose it shouldn’t be shocking. They were certainly a violent group from what I’d seen so far.
“Nope.”
“They’re sending a human army out to hunt down an Immortal Angel?” I asked, getting more confused.
“Nope.”
“The cryptic shit is going to give me gas,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
Heather blew out a long slow breath and looked me in the eye. “The army is comprised of Demons. Using them is dangerous.”
“Dangerous as in apocalyptic?” I questioned.
“No. Not at all,” Heather assured me. “It can just be a bit problematic to have a few hundred Demons roaming Earth at the same time.”
I was living in a bad movie with no ending.
“Should I ask who leads the Demon army?” I inquired as my stomach roiled.
“Probably not.”
“Mmkay. I’ve become a rule breaker in my forties and I like to open and rewrap Christmas gifts early, then feign surprise Christmas morning. So unfortunately—for me, I’m sure—I’m going to ask. Who leads the Demon army?”
“Gideon,” she replied flatly.
Finding out new and interesting facts about the man I was in love with wasn’t always fun or good for my digestive system. The magazines had it all wrong. Researching your man was a shitshow—not info for a flirty conversation starter. Of course, I was dating the Grim Reaper and Cosmo didn’t exactly cover that.
“Awesome.” I pressed the bridge of my nose and promised myself not to ask questions I didn’t want the answers to anymore.
Good luck to me.
Driving blind was the old Daisy. My eyes were sparkly and wide open now.
It sucked.
“Let’s go back to a subject that isn’t going to make me hurl,” I suggested. “How am I not going to lie to the girls?”
Heather paled and began examining her cuticles with great interest. “Well… umm…”
“Out with it,” I demanded, thinking I’d possibly picked the wrong subject.
“I might have subconsciously planted a few facts in everyone’s minds.” She winced and scrunched her eyes shut.
“Define that, please.”
Heather suddenly found something very interesting on the ceiling. “Suffice it to say, you’ve already told them all about the Maine getaway, and you did tell Missy you were taking off before you left.”
I was stunned to silence, but not for long.
“That’s awful. I did no such thing,” I shouted as I jumped to my feet and knocked the chair to the ground. “Is bending the truth with magic a common practice with all of you Immortals?”
Heather blanched and lowered her head. “No. I’ve only done it one other time and that was hundreds of years ago.”
“Is it easy to do?” I questioned, wondering if it had been done to me by any of the Immortals I’d been in contact with… especially Gideon.
“No. It’s not easy and there aren’t many who can do it,” she admitted.
“Heather, this is bad. Lying is bad enough. Planting a revision of recent history in the minds of our best friends is freaking terrible,” I snapped, yanking the chicken salad sandwiches and the mini quiches I’d made for the luncheon out of the fridge and slamming them down onto the table. “You have to undo it. If I get busted, that’s on me.”
She shook her head and looked like she wanted to cry. “God, caring about people can be a shitty thing,” she muttered.
“Nope. Screwing with people’s minds can be a shitty thing.”
“That too,” she agreed. “I did it for you. I didn’t think it through—at all. There’s so much at stake right now, I knee-jerked a plan without talking it over with anyone.”
“My manners dictate that I say thank you, but I really want to head-butt you,” I said, reining in my anger. “Can you undo it?”
“It might be worse if I did,” she replied, running her hands through her hair in frustration. “It’s complicated magic. I would happily accept a head-butt even though it would probably break every bone in my body.”
I groaned and leveled one of my dearest friends with a stare that she met head-on. “As appealing as that sounds, it doesn’t appeal at all. Violence isn’t my thing even though you deserve it.”
“I do deserve it.”
“Well, at least