to attack and bite him all at once. I’ve negotiated for eight arcenciels to help us, the way they were supposed to in the fight against Titus, but I haven’t heard back. If Shimon has an anode nearby, he might be able to capture them. In fact, that might be what he wants. Or worse, maybe the time circle he’s had going somewhere is being powered by trapped arcenciels rather than witches. Arcenciels who’ve been trapped for so long that they don’t know about the new spell that frees them. And maybe his plan is to rule over time forever with the arcenciels under his magical thumb. And maybe he knows a counterspell and can keep them trapped. Shimon’s been around two thousand years. This might be a brand-new way to use arcenciels, to ride them through time.”
“You’ve been thinking about this.”
“Yeah. I have. Thinking is all I’ve had to do while I was trying to die. Thinking the long game, the way Leo used to, is hard. It’s like 3-D chess with four sets of pieces—white, black, red, and green. I suck at it. But I can see part of the boards. And all of them are deadly. And honestly, I can’t see how we’ll win against him.”
“We’ll win,” Evan said, sounding too confident.
Molly agreed. “In a direct confrontation with fangheads, with time to prepare, witches always win.”
“His brother could walk through time. Probably Shimon can too,” I said. “Time always wins when pitted against magic. And I can’t promise I’ll live through another timewalk long enough to kill him.” They still looked unconcerned. “He has witches at his disposal, or maybe even arcenciels. In a time circle.”
“And we’ll save them once we finish with the mustache twirler.”
“The what?” I asked.
“The evil horror,” Molly said placidly, “who wears a black hat, twirls his mustache, and says mwahahahaha, as he dips the good guy in acid or in a tank filled with hungry alligators.”
I frowned. The Son of Shadows was like that. Pure evil all the way. The creature had no redeeming qualities at all. Even Hannibal Lecter had been erudite and intelligent. Dexter had only tortured the bad guys. All bad buys had something or someone they loved or something they were passionate about, even if it was only their own bodies and needs. But Shimon was allowing himself to be altered, giving himself an exoskeleton that would likely be awfully ugly, awfully quickly. But . . . names. The names of the Flayer all meant something. I felt a chill, knowing I had missed something. Something important.
“What?” Molly said. “What are you thinking?”
“There was the dark blur with the flash of red in the background at the Regal.” I texted Alex to go over the tapes, see if he could spot the dark blur and identify it. I got back one line.
I’m like, 30 feet away, you know.
The kids are sleeping, I texted back.
As I read his reply, Molly got a phone call. And staggered. “Are . . . Are you sure?”
Big Evan tapped the cell onto speaker, mouthing, Our neighbor.
“Everything is burning, Molly. I’m so sorry. I called the fire department as soon as I saw the smoke, but . . . your house was mostly gone by the time they got there.”
CHAPTER 17
I Don’t Eat Family
“Shimon burned your house,” I murmured. Guilt punched me in the chest and opened a dark pit inside me.
Molly walked away and talked for another five minutes, getting particulars. But none of it really mattered. Shimon Bar-Judas had burned my BFF’s home. Molly had lost her orchids. Her big Aga stove. Evan had lost his home studio and all his instruments. The kids had lost all their toys. Molly was crying. Evan looked as if all his blood had pooled in his boots, face too white against the red of hair and beard.
The pit of guilt inside me grew wider and deeper.
As Molly was getting off the call, Evan’s cell rang. It was Molly’s mom. Frowning, he tapped his cell on too, and answered, “Hey, Bedelia, what’s going on—”
“The working got through the wards. The whole place lit up in seconds, a flash fire.” Molly’s mother was crying. “We’re okay. But only because of the old root cellar. We went down and through it and out on the creek side. We’re okay,” she repeated, whispering, “but the house is in bad shape. Lots of fire and smoke and water damage.”
Molly took Evan’s phone and tapped off the speaker. Privately, to her