“Chuck – distract the Nephilim!” I yelled. “I’ve got to get people out of the garden.”
“What’s wrong with the doors?” I heard the question repeated over and over. Outside the windows, the Nephilim smiled. My heart thudded. Coffee Guy wasn’t with the other three anymore.
No sprinklers, and the doors to the outside don’t work. Nephilim in the garden, and probably more at each exit. They aren’t here to fight us. They’re here to make sure we burn.
Chuck headed toward the windows, drawing the three Nephilim toward him. I slipped out the side door, heading toward where I had last seen Mrs. Butler. We were locked in, on fire and under attack, so I had no idea how I was going to protect her, but I knew for Sorren’s sake – and for my own conscience – I had to try.
I went around the corner toward the small seating area where Mrs. Butler had shown me her photo album. Two dead orderlies lay like broken dolls next to the garden bench, and pages ripped from the album fluttered on the wind.
Coffee Guy held Mrs. Butler against his chest like a shield. Her eyes were wide and she still held her knitting in one hand. Mrs. Butler struggled harder than I would have expected for a woman her age, kicking at her attacker’s shins, but I knew she would be no match for the fallen angel’s strength.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” Coffee Guy asked.
“Let her go!” I said, as Bo’s ghost materialized next to me. I had my athame in my right hand, but I couldn’t get a clear shot at Coffee Guy with Mrs. Butler in front of him.
“Did you come to rescue Sorren’s pretty girl?” Coffee Guy taunted, tightening his grip on Mrs. Butler. “I’m glad you’re here. You can tell him how she died – before we kill him, too.”
“Leave Sorren alone!” Mrs. Butler yelled, and drove her knitting needles into Coffee Guy’s shoulder with desperate strength. The Nephilim howled in pain and threw her to one side with brutal force. I winced as she hit a concrete planter and lay still, her neck bent at an unnatural angle.
I had a clear shot and I took it, blasting Coffee Guy with the white-cold force from my athame, sending him slamming against the brick wall. Too angry to think about my own safety, I struck him again and again, pounding him against the bricks until his head was a bloody mess. Bo lunged at the Nephilim and his sharp teeth snapped shut on the fallen angel’s throat, bringing my attacker to his knees.
Eyes blurred with tears of loss and rage, I grabbed the nearest weapon, a heavy cast-iron lawn chair, and slammed it down onto Coffee Guy’s head, putting one of the legs down through his skull. The fallen angel’s corpse crumbled and vanished.
I ran to where Mrs. Butler lay, hoping against all odds. The truth was clear as soon as I knelt next to her. Her eyes were open and staring. I felt a surge of guilt and failure that had nothing to do with the Watchers, wondering how I would ever face Sorren when I had let him down so completely.
“Cassidy! Get out of there!” Chuck shouted. I ran back inside, and an instant later, the windows shattered, sending shards of glass everywhere; they lodged in the tables and the upholstered chairs, sliced through my skin and embedded themselves in the walls.
Chuck emptied the clip of magically-enhanced bullets from his gun into Blondie’s head and chest. From the recoil and the effect, I figured he was packing something larger than Detective Monroe had used. Silver-obsidian-iron-blessed bullets made a big difference, too. The fallen angel crumpled to the ground and vanished, but Baldy stepped from the shadows to take his place.
“Oh, that is so unfair,” I muttered.
“Bastards,” Mr. Thompson growled. His cane was made of gnarled ash, a yard-long athame. Blue light burst from its tip, enveloping Baldy in a cocoon of ice. Maybe Nephilim didn’t have hearts to freeze, or maybe they were just tougher than Old Man Thompson’s mortal victims. The ice held for a moment, but before either Chuck or I could attack, Baldy broke free with a savage growl. And Ginger was right behind him, and they’d added Painting Creep, plus Crow, the dark-haired fallen angel from Dueler’s Alley and Asian Dude, one of the bad boys we had fought at the Briggs Society. Damn.
“Take this!’ Nurse Judy muttered. She had no wand. Instead,