Envy (Fallen Angels 3)

He was not one to waste time in the heat of battle, however, and as he reengaged, the others of him fell into fighting stances and then made good on the preparation, engaging the minions.

"Now 'tis fair," Colin murmured as he shut himself back in the garage and resumed his perch at the window.

It was a full-blown melee down below, a ground war of proper dimension with well-matched combatants. The minions snapped out their expandable limbs, their fangs flashing white in featureless, noir faces whilst they sought for purchase upon angel arms and legs. And in return, the Adrians engaged with no less aplomb, striking with vicious accuracy and a kind of brutal elegance of movement, that humble farming tool transformed into a most worthy weapon. As time passed, the angel brigade lengthened their territory, cutting off any avenues for rear-flank dominance, and then they began to conquer their foes, squeezing the minions into a wedge as they closed in from the sides, leaving contorted bodies underfoot.

'Twas so very satisfying to watch, but even better to be a part of, Colin thought with envy.

Up above in heaven, this war was of grave importance, yes, but there was a staunch lack of visceral feel. Here ... this was where it was happening.

Here was where he wished he was.

Abruptly, he thought of Nigel and wondered whether the archangel was correct. Colin had long seen himself as a logical being, rising above all base emotion - and that was a big part of what defined him.

He had passion in his gut, however. Deep rivers of it.

And it made him want to fight, not play witness.

Alas, he wanted to be in Adrian's combat boots ...

Chapter 44

As Reilly sat at her desk and stared at her phone, she didn't think de la Cruz was going to pull it off.

Yes, he was the only person she could think of who could get into a sealed juvenile file that was fifteen years old and no doubt buried in the basement of some suburb of New York City. But that was a tall order, even for a miracle worker like him.

For one thing, "sealed" meant "lose your job" if you went there. For another, most old records were tossed after a number of years, given that computerized files were not all that prevalent in the nineties, especially in smaller municipalities. And finally, the guy hadn't worked in Manhattan for years and years. Who knew if he had any contacts left down south?

Still, it had been a relief to lay everything out to the detective, even the stuff about Bails: She didn't like feeling crazy all by herself. And at least he didn't seem to think her suspicions were totally unfounded.

Glancing at the clock across the office, she knew that he wouldn't be getting back to her tonight ... so it was probably time to go home before she ossified in her chair.

Rising to her feet, she stretched hard - which was less about loosening her body and more about finding an excuse to look behind herself. Again.

Man, you knew panoia was bad when you had to make excuses for it to yourself.

After shutting down her computer, she picked up her coat, pulled it on, and grabbed her purse. Before she left IA, she checked her gun in its holster under her arm and got out her cell phone.

Just in case.

As she stepped out into the hallway, she looked both ways and took a listen. Off in the distance, past Homicide, she heard a vacuum running, and down below in the foyer someone was using a floor buffer.

She glanced behind her. There was no one around.

Walking fast for the main stairs, she reminded herself that even though it was after hours, the lights were still on everywhere and there were twenty or thirty night-shift people working in the building -

When her phone went off, she nearly dropped the damn thing. And then almost lost it again when she saw it was de la Cruz. Accepting the call, she whispered, "Don't tell me you found the juvie record?"

"That's what you asked me to do."

Her feet slowed. "My God ..."

"My brother-in-law's cousin's husband, actually."

"Tell me."

"Truancy. That's it."

She stopped at the head of the stairs, and kept her voice low. "What do you mean 'that's it.' "

"The Garrison County records department has a single listing in 'ninety-six for a Thomas DelVecchio Jr. He was brought in for skipping school repeatedly."

"And there is no other reference? No psych evals? No - "

"Nothing. The backlog of cases were digitalized in two thousand five - and they saved ten years of files, so we just made it inside the safe zone. DelVecchio was fourteen at the time he was brought in - and if he'd had earlier trips through the justice system, they would have been noted in that entry."

"And there was nothing afterward."

"Not a thing."

There was a long silence. And then she felt compelled to ask, "There is no way something was missed?"

"If for some reason he got into trouble in another jurisdiction, well, then yeah. But real estate records show that his mother owned a house in the same town for twenty years and I know Veck's resume's been vetted - and he has on it that he graduated from the Garrison County High School in two thousand. So I think it's safe to assume he stayed in that area."

Reilly put her hand on her head as her mind reeled. "He's being framed."

"Sure looks that way."

"Goddamn it."

Now she got moving, racing down the stairs, her heels clipping loudly on the marble.

"Another thing," de la Cruz said. "While I was waiting for the callback, I got on that Facebook page that you sent me the link to."

"And you saw Bails?"

"Yup, I think that's him, too. Where are you?"

"Just leaving the station house. I'm going over to Veck's right now."

As she passed by the housekeeping thinf, she watched her footing on the wet marble and then shot down the back hallway.

"There's only one problem," de la Cruz said. "We can't use the juvie record to prove anything. We should never have gotten this information."

She punched the bar on the rear exit and burst out into the night. "I have the Bails images on Facebook - I took screen shots of them in case they get taken down and I found the alias he's using. I think we have enough to get a warrant to force Facebook to give us the account details and the Internet service provider. We can link him that way."

"Proving that he's a fan of DelVecchio Sr. isn't enough."

"It's a start."

"Agreed, but there has to be something more. And before you ask, yes, I'll call the sergeant - unless you want to?"

"I'm going to be busy with Veck. Maybe he'll have some ideas."

"Roger that - "

"I don't know how you pulled this off."

"Officially, I didn't."

"Well, I really owe you. You're a lifesaver."

She ended the call and got out the keys to her unmarked -

"Actually, that's not quite the word I would have used."

Reilly didn't get a chance to spin around. A hand grabbed the back of her head and slammed her face-first into the car's hard contours, the top of the door catching her right at the browline.

As her lights went out and her knees buckled, all she heard was Bails's voice in her ear: "You really should have looked behind you."

Adrian slayed the last minion with an arcing slice that went from high to low, the pitchfork's tines piercing an oily black chest, all knife-through-butter.

At least ... he thought he was the one who did it.

As the body fell to the ground with a wet thud, he looked around ... at all the others of him. Who, at the very same moment, turned and looked in his direction.

He spun the pitchfork around and stabbed the ground - and the other dozens of himselves did the same thing a mere split second later.

If Eddie were here, he thought, the guy would have been pissing in his pants. Too many openings for a good assslapping.

Shit, Eddie ... why hadn't he been the one with the nine lives?

At that moment, the face of every Adrian grew tight, those mouths that he knew so well flattening out, those pierced brows lowering ... until he was surrounded, literally, by his own grief.

The sound of slow clapping brought their collective faces up and around. Colin had come out of the apartment and was standing on the top landing of the stairwell.

"Well-done, lad, well-done."

"I had help."

Huh. None of the other Adrians spoke up, so this had to be him - and what a thing to be relieved about.

For f**k's sake, this shit was going to give him a disorder.