Candy Vargo’s mouth was wide open. Tim’s eyes were huge. I was speechless. Gideon squatted down in the grass next to Shitty Ritchie and patted the tiny dude on the head.
“Keep going,” Gideon urged.
Shitty Ritchie gave Gideon a high five and did as requested. “They said to find vengeance and it will lead us to compassion and logic. We found vengeance. Fuckin’ Goober is vengeance. I say we dive back into my mind and beat the living shit out of Goober and make him tell us where compassion and logic are. I would enjoy dismembering It, skinning It alive, flogging It with Its legs and shoving Its head up Its ass.”
The brilliant Zen Shitty Ritchie was back to the batshit insane Shitty Ritchie. I realized in that moment, I adored both.
I scrunched my nose. “Not how it works,” I told him. “I don’t think we can beat the shit out of people in a mind dive.”
“Shitty Ritchie can,” he assured me. “Shitty Ritchie is a badass.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Candy Vargo slapped herself in the head and laughed. “I’m gonna say that Shitty Ritchie is vengeance. Them nut jobs at the diner said that the words vengeance, compassion and logic had three meanings. Right?”
“Right,” I said.
“It’s all in front of us,” she continued. “Three. Three Higher Powers. One is vengeance. One is compassion. One is logic. Together they work. Alone they fail.”
Gideon stood up. His eyes were glowing. “Shitty Ritchie is Goobers counterpart. Candy, didn’t you say that the Grumpys spoke of offing one’s counterpart to get the job done right?”
“I sure as fuck did,” she shouted. “And Shitty Ritchie already offed Goober! Hell to the yes!”
“I’m the man!” Shitty Ritchie screamed.
Candy tossed the little dummy about fifty feet into the air and caught him on the way back down. “You sure as fuck are.”
“Jennifer is compassion,” Tim said with an excited smile. “Chamuel’s counterpart.”
“Which makes Alana Catherine logic,” I said, feeling lightheaded. “Uriel’s counterpart.”
We were getting closer, but we were still far away. Knowledge was imperative, but action was necessary.
“Plan?” I asked.
“Not a clue!” Shitty Ritchie screamed as he walked around like he was drunk from the air toss. “I still think we should go back into my mind and beat the daylights out of Goober. And… if anyone would like it, I can eat Goober again. Shitty Ritchie is willing to take one for the team! YES!”
He was ignored. For being brilliant one moment, he was an idiot in the next.
“If we go off the advice from the Grumpys, that means Jennifer must end Chamuel and Alana Catherine must end Uriel,” Tim said with a concerned expression marring his face.
All of the elation I felt evaporated. There was a chance that Chamuel and Uriel already knew this. There was also a chance they didn’t. Goober hadn’t seemed to know, and Goober had been in charge for billions of years. However, Jenniferand Alana Catherine could be in a lot more danger than we’d thought. The need to jump out of my skin was real.
Life just kept getting trickier and more deadly.
Gideon caught my mood in a big way. He was brooding and his eyes were sparking red fire. “Tim,” he said gruffly. “If names matter, tell me the Angel who represents vengeance.”
“Hemah,” Tim answered with confidence. “That’s the first one that came to my mind, so I’m sticking with it.”
“Hemah,” Shitty Ritchie ground out, back to the brilliant side of his clearly split personality. “Hemah. It will be surprised like Rumpelstiltskin when we next meet. If Its name has power, It has lost because I now know it. Its power is MINE. Shitty Ritchie is the MAN!”
“Umm… great,” I said, searching my heart and mind for the next move. Glancing around wildly, my eyes landed on the motorcycles. Not very much happened in our world for no reason. If the bikes were here, we were supposed to ride them.
“Motorcycles. Now,” I ordered.
I didn’t have to ask twice. Candy Vargo was already on hers. Tim hopped on the bike to her right. Gideon straddled the one to her left. I gifted myself the brief second to acknowledge how damned hot he looked on a motorcycle. He was smoking hot. Instead of acting on the impulse of jumping the man and playing tonsil hockey, I grabbed Shitty Ritchie and plopped him onto the last bike and got on behind him. Shitty Ritchie was the ultimate lady-boner killer.
“Where to?” Tim asked as he revved the engine.
“Let’s go…” I started then gasped as the bike took over.
