19
“And she just…told you?”
“Yep.” Rinaldo looked down at his watch. He was going to be late. They were chasing the necromancer’s tail as it was, even with the help Maggie had given them. “She’s on our side. Or at least hasn’t decided yet.”
“We cannot trust her. I know you like to have faith in others, as do I, but she is under the corrupting influence of Raithe. She needs to be contained. If you cannot do it, I will assign someone else.”
“But she’s helping us.”
“Or she believes she’s playing both sides, most likely. Which suits Raithe’s needs, as it keeps her close and content to have an illusion of control over the situation. Contain her, or eliminate her, Rinaldo. I’m sorry. It brings me no joy to issue these orders, but we have to do what must be done.”
Rinaldo felt his jaw twitch. It felt wrong. Very, very wrong. Sick-to-his-stomach wrong. “Maybe she thinks we’re even now. What with her setting the Vatican on fire, and us nearly killing her in a pointless gunfight.”
“Yes, yes,” the bishop sighed. “I can hear it in your voice already. You needn’t point out that taking him on in the cemetery was a bad idea. You’ve already said it many times.”
“As long as you understand how stupid it—”
“You’re going to be late for your flight, aren’t you, Father? You have your orders.”
Rinaldo glared at the gate to the plane. The stewardess running the desk was glaring right back at him. Ally was already on board, and they were waiting for him to get off the phone. “Yeah. Bye.” He hung up on his boss-and-religious-leader and slipped his phone back into his pocket.
At least the white square at his collar generally meant he got yelled at less than most people. Well, that wasn’t true. He got yelled at plenty. Just for different reasons. He couldn’t count the number of times he had to keep from bashing in the heads of people yelling at him about an atrocity committed by his church.
The atrocities were terrible. And he felt bad for every single one of them. But he could either work to make the church better or quit. He chose option one. Case in point was Maggie. If he followed Bishop Moretti’s instructions to the letter, she’d be dead. Therefore, Gideon would only have so many years before he died, if what he told the poor girl about his phylactery was true.
But it felt wrong. It felt very, very wrong. Killing a woman who had no choice but to go along for the ride while some undead megalomaniac dragged her behind him? No. That wasn’t what he signed up for.
The stewardess cleared her throat as he walked past her. “Have a good flight, Father.”
He rolled his eyes. “Sorry we’re a few minutes late. Holy business.”
“Mmhm.”
Climbing into the plane, he couldn’t help but notice the glances from the rest of the crew as they shut the door behind him. Fine, sure, he was the last person to board. But come on, they always left time in their schedule for jerks like him. They might have had to fly commercial this time, but at least the Vatican paid for first class.
He wondered if it was for his benefit or Ally’s. The demoness was sitting in her seat, already sipping a cocktail, a faint smile on her face as she glanced up from her book. “You always have to make a scene.”
“I didn’t do anything. I was talking to the bishop.” He shoved his bag into the overhead compartment then sat into the overstuffed seat with a grunt. It wasn’t a private jet by any stretch, but it still was halfway decent. “Stupid commercial flights.”
“You know why.”
“So Gideon can’t track us as easily. I get it. But he knows we’re coming.” Plucking his phone from his pocket, he turned it on airplane mode and put it back. Gesturing to the stewardess, he ordered a beer. Best take it slow to start.
“Do you really want a lich taking down a plane on the runway?” Ally huffed. “I don’t particularly want to return home to Hell in a burning ball of metal and jet fuel.”
“What’s stopping him from crashing a commercial flight? The innocents on board? Please.” He buckled his seatbelt. “Moretti is just punishing me for not having blown a hole through Maggie’s head like he told me to.”
“No, the bishop is simply hedging his bets. All our soldiers survived the confrontation in the graveyard. There’s only one reason that’s the case—because Maggie told him to spare our lives. There is no other reason he would have left everyone alive except that she’s pulling his strings. If she’d spare a bunch of soldiers who wanted to hurt her and were a direct threat to her, the chances are she wouldn’t let him take down an entire plane of innocent civilians.”
Damn it all, he hated when the demoness went off on a lecture. Namely because she was always right. “Life was a lot simpler before you joined the Order.”
“Simpler, but not nearly as much fun.” She reached out and placed her hand on his, smiling tenderly at him. There was no one else on board who would judge them. Well, not that he cared about. He picked up her hand and kissed her fingers before setting their hands back down on the armrest.
Lord above, how he loved her.
But it was forbidden. And not because she was a demoness. It was funny that it was their vows to God that kept them from being together, not the fact that in her true form, she had a damn pair of horns, a tail, and six arms. Six. Utterly excessive number of arms, in his opinion.
He’d only seen her true form the once. He hoped he’d never see it again. Not because she wasn’t stunningly beautiful in a terrifying way, but because she vowed to only ever take that shape on Earth if it were a life and death situation.