“We don’t have time for a road trip,” Hudson said. “We can send someone else.”
I pressed my lips together. We had to make time. Rachel wouldn’t have risked visiting me if it wasn’t important. According to her note, there was a huge death toll happening, and we were oblivious to it. The news cycle hadn’t picked up on it, but then again, it was hard to break past the loop of the many supernatural “experts” showboating how the rest of humanity were only now catching on to the fact that the spooky shit was real. It was a great time to commit a murder, with the public’s attention focused on conspiracy theories and the authorities too overwhelmed responding to incidents they had no code for.
“Uncle,” I drawled. “A little help?”
Lucifer appeared in the dining area. The ghosts collectively shrank back, pressing against the wall and abandoning their TV show.
“You rang, Niece?” he said with a signature smirk as he strode toward me.
Hudson offered him the note, and Lucifer’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t believe I’m aware of this.”
Now, that was a problem. Either Rachel had fed me a lie, or something was happening under the radar of the devil, whose job entailed registering each and every soul, regardless of their final destination.
“We should check it out,” I said, hoping he would teleport us to save us the actual trip due to being invested.
“We should, but we also need my brother.”
Ugh, no, not Daddy Dearest. Give me Satan over my snooty archangel father, who had been absent most of my life butnow enjoyed sticking his nose into my business and making judgements of my every decision.
“Abbadon, get your ass down here. We’ve got a soul discrepancy,” Lucifer demanded.
“How does that work?” Rebecca asked. “You just shout to each other across dimensions?”
“We can do it because we are linked through celestial blood,” I said. The house groaned as the weight of Heaven pressed against it.
“Going for the dramatic entrance, I see,” Dave mumbled, folding his arms.
A wash of golden light skimmed over us, and the spirits in the sitting room gasped when the angel of death appeared, a smug look on his face at being summoned. “I was at Harrods in London, not a different dimension.”
“Ooh, I love Harrods,” Rebecca said with a wistful look on her face.
What was Harrods? Ugh, never mind.
“What is the problem?” my father asked.
Lucifer passed him the note. “This.”
A frown crumpled Abaddon’s face as he read it. “You are right.”
I opened my mouth, but the words melted on my tongue as the world contracted around us, darkened, and spat us back out into a dimly lit rainy alleyway with the distinct smell of cheap roasted meat and sewage wafting from the vents.
“I hate New York,” Lucifer grumbled.
“It was better in the 20s,” Abbadon agreed. Their eyes both glazed over while they basked in a shared memory.
Rebecca snapped her fingers. “Hey! Since when am I part of the investigation gang? You know I’m a home bird.”
Abbadon blinked and focused on the vampire princess. “You were in the general vicinity.”
Rebecca huffed. “I would have gotten changed into my badass warrior princess outfit.”
“Save it for Ezra,” I advised with a wink.
Hudson and Dave stalked down the alleyway toward a dinged red metal door. I could sense that death had occurred, and the shifters could smell it.
Rebecca’s nose twitched. “Bloodshed,” she decided. “A lot of it.”
Great.
