“Sorry bud. Cold steak it is.” I set the dish in front of Mittens.

  The cat wrinkled his nose, but began to eat the meat with delicate bites. I popped the cap on the beers and handed one to Juke.

  “Your mom’s neighborhood was attacked. Your neighborhood was attacked.” Juke took a swig of her beer. “It’s almost like they’re gunning for you, Alvaro.”

  “I’ve never met the plague demon,” I protested. “I’m pretty sure he’s not in league with Desiree, and she’s the only one of the three who has a reason to be gunning for me. The attack here? I am worried that one’s because of me.”

  “Don’t count out that the plague demon hasn’t got his eye on you. That warmonger either. You’ve got a reputation,” Juke said. “That whole thing at the press conference probably brought a lot of attention to you. Then there was what happened at the stadium with everyone watching on the big screens. Desiree could have talked. Those tax demons could have talked. Hell, for all you know, that Low of yours could have talked. I doubt you’re anonymous anymore, Alvaro. These demons probably know who you are and see you as a threat to their territories—a minor threat, but still a threat.”

  Fuck. “So you think the hits on Bea’s neighborhood and here aren’t coincidental?”

  She shrugged. “They could be coincidental, but I’m a cop and I’m suspicious of anything that shows a pattern. Let’s chug down these beers and go talk to your neighbors. This isn’t exactly my beat, but I should probably go ahead and file a report anyway. Save some other cop the time.”

  Ugh. I really didn’t want to talk to my neighbors. We’d had a love-hate relationship ever since I’d originally tried to claim this house under the squatter’s rights laws and failed. I’d needed to fight some dude for the right to live here and had lost, barely getting out of the neighborhood with my life. Then I’d been approached by the “leader,” the snow cloud leopard shifter, Kevin, and informed that I had earned the right to live here on the basis of my relationship with Bishop.

  I’m a feminist, but I’m also an opportunist, and I hadn’t turned down a sweet house just because some guy was trying to suck up to my angel boyfriend, so I’d moved in. They’d watched me like I was a clown-dressing serial killer until Isha had told them I’d freed the captive shifters who’d been forced to fight in the stadium. Suddenly I’d become their Protector in place of Bishop. I’d arrived home every day to find gifts of food, cosmetics, and booze on my porch.

  It had been a short-lived celebrity. After the press conference where our governor had been murdered along with Doriel, the Fallen Angel in charge of New Hell, as well as a Morgana, powerful sorcerer, the big cats of my neighborhood had decided that I was a risk they didn’t want to take. They’d returned the Protector title to Bishop, and were back to eyeing me with distrust and wary watchfulness.

  But Juke was right. Clearly something had happened in my absence, and as a resident here, I needed to ask about it, not hide in my house and pretend we hadn’t seen the destruction.

  We both finished our beers. I poured a bowl of fresh water for Mittens from a jug in the fridge, then Juke and I went outside.

  About twenty shifters were outside, watching us as we approached the house to the left of mine.

  “I’m Detective Juke and I wanted to ask what happened here,” Juke said to the woman who stood in her driveway.

  “Demons attacked us.” Her jaw firmed. “They always stayed away before. Two years ago when they first came to LA some tried to rob us, but we fought them off. The Protector made a deal with them, and we haven’t had any problems since then. Until now.”

  “What kind of demons were they?” Juke asked. “How many? Was there anything in particular they wanted?”

  “They wanted her.” She pointed to me. “There were about ten of them. When they found out you weren’t here, they attacked us. I don’t know what kind of demons they were but they had fire weapons, lightning, acid, and brutal physical attacks. They were harder to injure than shifters. And they didn’t seem at all bothered by what should have been mortal wounds.”

  “How did you manage to fight them off?” I asked.

  She glared at me. “Thankfully Kevin was here. He lead us in as a group and we pushed them out of the neighborhood, focusing on inflicting as many injuries as possible. There were ten of them and forty of us, so we prevailed. But four of us are so injured it will take them weeks to fully heal. We might be able to fend off a second attack, but a third will probably do us in.”

  I cringed, knowing this was because of me.

  “They’ll probably keep attacking until I deal with Desiree,” I said as Juke and I walked back to the house.

  Juke snorted. “These neighbors of yours seem like they can defend themselves. And next time you’ll be here to help them fight. That’ll go a long way towards regaining their trust.”

  Her words made me feel better. But how could I be two places at once?

  “Do you think…” I eyed the houses and dropped my voice to a whisper. “Do you think they might hand me over to Desiree? She’s got to be behind this attack and she made it clear this kind of violence will continue until she gets me. How much longer until the neighbors get fed up and give me up?”

  Juke shrugged. “I think that people are at the point where they’re pissed off and not about to be pushed around. Demands like that will just make them more determined to fight it out. Everyone remaining in New Hell right now is scrappy and ready to throw down. They wouldn’t turn over a neighbor. Not when they need the alliance of their neighbors to stay safe. Plus, if they give you up today, then someone is gonna give them up next time a demon makes demands.”

  “I used to be their Protector,” I mused. “And I think they still turn to Bishop for help. They’ve got to know Bishop won’t be pleased if they give his girlfriend to Desiree.”

  Juke nodded. “Rule one, don’t piss off an angel.”

  She was right. I thanked Juke again for the ride and watched her leave before heading inside to sit down with another beer.

  Plague demon. Warmonger. Desiree. Dragon.

  The demons who’d attacked Suerte had wanted to know where “she” was. And the ones who’d attacked here had clearly been looking for me. Was Desiree working with the plague demon? Had the attack on Bea’s neighborhood been a coincidence, or were they looking for me as well? The three places I was known to live at or frequent were attacked. Looking at the big picture, lots of other places had been attacked as well. But I still had a bad feeling that Desiree and the plague demon might have some sort of extradition agreement going on when it came to me.

  I’d never planned on approaching the plague demon with any sort of partnership deal, and Desiree was low on my list of potential allies as well. The dragon seemed like a terrifying long shot. But the warmonger…

  Or someone else. I remembered Juke fighting the demons outside Suerte. I needed allies, but maybe those allies didn’t necessarily have to be demons.

  I’d been underestimating the humans, even though I’d believed myself to be one up until recently. It was time to stop discounting the people who had the most to lose if New Hell fell into chaos.

  Finishing off my beer, I put on jeans and a T-shirt and my leather jacket. Then I got on my bike and headed south.

  Chapter 17

  Bishop

  I knocked on the door of a modest house in Juneau, Alaska, somewhat surprised when the archangel Raphael answered the door. I knew he was there. Raphael didn’t throw his power around like some angels did, but there was no mistaking his presence. What surprised me was that he answered the door, and that he was naked aside for neon-pink flannel pajama pants that were covered in images of frolicking otters.

  We did the guy stare, assessing each other. He wasn’t hostile, just…wary.

  “You’re Bishop,” he said.

  I wasn’t a question. “Yeah. I’m here to see Ahia.”

  “I don’t recognize you,” he went on, ignoring my statement. “What choir are you in? What are you called in Aaru?”

  “I don’t go by that name anymore, and I’m not affiliated with any choir.” I didn’t want to antagonize two archangels in one year, but my history was none of his business.

  “Bishop!” Ahia elbowed Raphael aside with a glare. “Stop swinging your dick and let him in.”

  The archangel stepped aside and Ahia dragged me in by the arm, hauling me along with her to a kitchen with a small table against one wall.

  “Sit,” she commanded. “We just finished breakfast, but I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

  Raphael had followed us, but instead of sitting down while Ahia poured coffee into three mugs, he went over to the sink and started to load dishes into the washer. Ahia kissed him and put his cup on the counter, carrying the other two over and sitting across from me.

  I took a sip, eyeing Raphael. The archangel was slowly and carefully rinsing off each piece of silverware individually. Obviously he wanted to linger and overhear our conversation. Not that it mattered to me. Of all the archangels, Raphael was probably the least likely to get his shorts in a knot over what I was planning.

  “So, what’s up?” Ahia said with a warm smile. “Do you need our help in LA after all?”

  “I need your help, but not necessarily in LA.” I leaned back in my chair, mug warming my hands. “What you said about humans and magic is true. That’s their only chance to be able to stand up against the demons. We can’t do this alone. There are too many demons, and we just can’t fight them all without the humans having the ability to help.”

  She nodded. “Did you find a sorcerer willing to help? Will your mages band together?”

  “A…friend is working on getting the mages to help,” I told her, reluctant to let her or Raphael know about Eden’s existence. Eden didn’t need a hoard of curious angels popping into LA to gawk at her and speculate on her parentage. “What we really need is a large quantity of magical weaponry, anti-magic guns and ammo.”

  She grimaced. “You can buy that stuff, but it’s gotten ridiculously expensive, and there’s a waiting list. Even if you’ve got billions lying around, by the time you get the weapons, most of your humans will either have fled or been killed.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m not going to buy it. I’m going to steal it.”

  Ahia laughed and nearly choked on her coffee. Raphael wasn’t even pretending to wash dishes any more. He’d shut the sink off and was openly staring at me, an amused gleam in his eyes.

  “The main supplier of magical weaponry is a company owned by the sorcerer Gareth. It’s headquartered in Florida, and their company defensive and surveillance systems are magical,” Raphael said. “I think it’s pretty close to impossible to break in to the facility, let alone try to sneak anything out.”

  “I’m not stealing from the manufacturer. I’m stealing from their customers,” I told him.

  “But most police departments only have one, maybe two, anti-magic guns, and few have any of the other stuff,” Ahia said. “You’d be hopping around to thousands of locations all over the country, picking up a piece here and another piece there. Within twenty-four hours, they’d have an alert out and every police department in the world will have their magic stuff hidden away behind illusion spells and wards. You’d be lucky if you managed to grab a few dozen before the gig was up.”

  “I’m not stealing from local police departments, I’m stealing from the U.S. military,” I said.

  Ahia’s eyes widened. Raphael burst out laughing. “You’re right. I do like this guy.”

  “Do you know where they store the magic stuff?” Ahia asked. “There are military depots all over the country. You’d need to find out where they keep everything, how it’s guarded, and the best way to get it out of there.”

  “Which is why I need help.” I looked from her to Raphael, then back again. “Ideally I’d like to teleport everything out. Grab and go. But I don’t have enough knowledge and don’t want to go in blind. I need one or more partners to help me pull this off, and I don’t have time to plan a detailed heist.”

  “This is crazy, you know,” Raphael told me. “Which is why you can count me in.”

  “Me too.” Ahia grinned. “Robbing the government sounds way more fun than going to that craft fair by the docks or hiking. The only problem is that I don’t know anything about the military, and I doubt my one former-military friend could be convinced to help us with this caper, even if she did know where they’d store magical weaponry.”

  I’d been hoping Ahia would know someone with all the air force and army bases in Alaska, but it was a big state, and she’d spent most of her life with natives and shifters.

  Glancing over at Raphael, I raised my eyebrows. “How about you?”

  “I’m not exactly an expert on military logistics, security, or high-stakes burglary,” the archangel said. “But I know a guy who’s pretty good at theft. And if he’s not an expert at the other stuff, I’m willing to bet he’s got experts on speed dial.”

  “How much does this guy cost?” I mentally calculated the sum of my various checking and investment accounts.

  “For a gig like this?” Raphael grinned. “At most a few nights of babysitting.”

  Chapter 18

  Eden

  South LA didn’t look much better than the rest of the city. I took the scenic route, avoiding the freeway that had been so torn up by the demons that it was down to one lane in sections. Weaving my way west, I rode past the airport and turned south once more, toward where the Disciples had their stronghold.

  SoFi stadium looked unoccupied. I went by the old school that the gang had been using for distribution and it looked abandoned as well. Uncertain as to the gang’s other haunts, I finally pulled over in the parking lot of an adult bookstore, and called Piers.

  “What?”

  I smiled at the curt greeting. “Demon problems, Piers?”

  “I don’t have time for chit-chat, Eden,” he snapped. “And I can’t help you with any bullshit you’ve got going on.”

  “I might be able to help you with your problem,” I replied.

  I counted five seconds of silence before he responded.

  “What problem?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Warmonger? Rolling into your neighborhoods and fucking shit up? Disrupting your supply and distribution businesses? Clearly picking a fight because they want you to meet them on their version of a battlefield?”

  “And how are you supposed to help with that? Another troll? I still haven’t washed off the stench from the last one.”

  “Meet with me and find out.” That was greeted with another long silence, so I went on. “I’m looking to do a deal. A supply of anti-magic guns and ammo to help you fight off this asshole and in return, you help me deal with the asshole up in the Valley, and Desiree.”

  “How many guns? How many bullets?” he demanded.

  Shit. I had no idea what quantities Bishop was going to return with and I wanted to hold enough back for the police and others in the Valley. I never thought for a second that the angel would return empty-handed, but a dozen guns would give me a whole lot less to bargain with than a thousand.

  “Let’s meet so we can talk face-to-face and discuss a deal,” I countered, thinking I’d do a better job of selling this in person than over the phone.

  “You got a sample on you? So I can see what we’re trading for?” Piers asked.

  “No. Right now I just want to talk possibilities.” I was totally dancing around this.

  “Can’t do a drug deal without a sample of the goods, and the same goes for guns. I don’t got time for possibilities, Eden. We’re neck-deep in shit right now,” he grumbled.

  “Let’s talk, and if we work out a handshake deal, I’ll help you handle any immediate problem,” I offered.

  He snorted. “You’re one hell of a fighter and you’re gutsy, but I can’t see how an extra pistol is going to make any difference here. Call me when you’ve got the guns in hand, and we’ll talk. If we’re all still alive, that is.”

  “Wait,” I said before he hung up. “I can help. I’m not…I’m not human, Piers. And I’m proposing an alliance. My help for yours. I’ll outfit your fighters. I’ll help, if you help me.”

  “You a shifter or something?” he asked. “’Cause you’ll need to be a Godzilla-shifter to take this guy out.”

  “I’m a Demon.”

  That was greeted with silence that oozed disbelief.

  “How do you think I took those guys out in the customs warehouse?” I asked. “And escaped Desiree? How do you think I survived fighting in that gladiatorial ring? How do you think I managed to live with a huge tax debt and bounty hunters on my ass? There’s only so much luck a gutsy human fighter can have, Piers. I’m a demon.”

  Piers barked out a laugh. “I knew there was a reason I shouldn’t be trusting you. But I’m a desperate guy, and desperate guys do stupid shit. There’s a liquor store near the corner of Rosecrans and Inglewood,” he told me. “Tell the guy behind the counter that you’re looking for a pint of Crown Royal for Emmanuel’s wedding. He’ll lead you to a back room. Wait there for me.”

  He disconnected the call. I stared at my phone, hoping that I could deliver what I intended to promise. Then I pulled my bike out of the lot and drove to Rosecrans and Inglewood.

  I circled the block three times before I spotted the liquor store among the boarded-up shops and burned-out shells of concrete that constituted the other buildings. The liquor store had no signs or the usual alcoholic beverage posters. It was a heavy metal door next to a plywood-covered window. The only indication that this place sold liquor was the name “Boris’s Booze written in small, black-Sharpie’d letters under the door handle.

  Years ago I would have assumed this was a money laundering front that didn’t really give a shit whether they sold any booze or not, but this was a different world we lived in. There was no need to launder money, and anyone who wanted liquor in this neighborhood probably knew where this place was without the need for any signage.