Night In A Waste Land (Hell Theory #2) - Lauren Gilley Page 0,71
the broad hallways. “I know that you like her,” he said, “but don’t let that – some kinda jealous, dick-measuring shit get your head–”
“Do not lecture me about where my head is,” Lance said – ordered. “You haven’t been impartial where your own love life’s concerned, so don’t you dare tell me to be.”
Tris let out an unhappy breath, but didn’t respond.
The others entered the room, Gallo leading, rifle held at the ready across his body, goggles pushed up on top of his helmet. “All clear on the first floor. The stairs don’t look strong enough to hold anyone. We can get the grappling hooks out to check the upper floors.”
“No need.” Beck was bringing up the rear, wings trailing through the dust behind him like a cape, his tail crooked up in a loose hook at his hip. He’d smoothed his hair, and fixed his shirt buttons, his expression cool and removed. Calm and in control. “I’ll inspect them in a moment. Sergeant?” he prompted, arching a single brow and looking to Lance.
Lance allowed himself a darted glance toward Rose, equally composed, walking at Beck’s side. She had her knives and her sidearm, but not her rifle, nor even her helmet. They were no doubt sitting back in the meeting room they’d used at base, where she’d taken them off before seeking Beck out on the roof.
He swallowed, cleared his throat, and tried to focus on the task at hand. “I have a map, here.” He settled back in front of it, and Beck took up Tris’s place across the table – the long, once-polished dining table where Castor had hosted all his lavish dinner parties while the regular citizenry starved and shop-lifted scraps. “These are the places” – circled in white – “where heat signatures have indicated a concentration of conduit activity. Based on recon of the periphery of the city, heavensent production is at an all-time high, and probably a third of the city is taking it.
“We can confirm that there are two main factions of power feuding with each other, supported by smaller crime families and gangs. Timothy Shubert” – he touched the last-known headquarters of the kingpin, the infrared scan a blaze of bright light – “and Adam Lassiter.”
“Humans working alongside conduits?” Beck asked. “Or…?”
“Shubert – and he still calls himself Shubert – is an angel conduit. No one’s been able to determine which heavenly being is wearing his skin, but his behavior and motives are shockingly human.”
Beck nodded. “And Lassiter?”
“Hell beast.” He paused. “No offense.”
Beck grinned, quick and sharp. “I’m flattered you think I’m that dangerous.”
Gallo cleared his throat. “Um.”
Tris hissed his name.
“No, it’s okay.” Gallo patted the air toward him, a comically soothing motion, given the obvious contrasts between the two of them. “Um. I’m just curious – and I don’t mean any offense, obviously.”
Rose sighed. “Frankie, just ask.”
“Mr. Becket–”
“Beck, please.”
“Beck. How did you go to hell, but you aren’t a conduit now?”
“Oh my God,” Gavin deadpanned quietly. “He’s gonna get us all killed for real one of these days.”
Tris punched his arm.
“Ow!”
“It’s a valid question,” Beck said, seeming to take him seriously. He linked his hands together behind his back, tucked into the shelter of his wings. “I’m afraid I don’t know the exact science of it.” He cocked his head, thoughtful – almost scholarly, despite the black horns curving back sinisterly above his ears. “But I do know that I was very much alive when I was pulled under. That I was…” He hesitated, and Rose took a half-step closer, her expression pained as she watched his profile. “Tested, I’ll say. The urge to break was immense, as you can imagine. But I held on, somehow. Time had no meaning, and most of the time I didn’t know up from down, nor the extent of my own body. But I knew that I was me. And when the blue light appeared, and Derfel came – wraiths scattering from him like rats against a flashlight – I knew that it was me he was taking topside, and no one else. Not even a version of me.”
He grinned, close-lipped and rueful. “I suppose you’ll just have to take my word for it that I know my own mind, and I know that I am not a demon wearing this skin – do your conduits have wings?” he asked, rippling his own at the ends.
“No,” Gallo said. He didn’t exactly sound convinced.