Her car purred to life. Moments later, houses blurred in the small slices of windows I could barely see beyond the face that took up the majority of the screen. “Begin with your deities. Who do you work with?”
I bit my lip. I rubbed my arms against the church’s dilapidated chill. “Hell, I guess? And a little Heaven? A couple of the Greeks…a few Nordes…the Phoenicians, now…”
She kept her eyes on the road as she spun the wheel, merging onto whatever interstate would take her to our crumbling chapel. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop. Those are conflicting pantheons. Who isyourdeity?”
“The Prince of Hell,” I said, somewhat uncertainly.
She made a face. “Which court?”
I shook my head.
“The Infernal Divine? The Draconian Court? The—”
“Oh, um.” I stepped into the shadows, leaning against the interior wall as my imposter syndrome grew. “Xuân, I’m going to be honest with you: I have no idea. I barely knew there were other courts until the Prince told me. I’m not a witch. I didn’t even believe these things existed until they showed up. But…” I chewed on my lip. “I don’t know a lot about wards, but I don’t think I should say much more over the phone. Can you and this Priscilla person get here as soon as possible? And…how are your…what are they called? When you can see things?”
“Clairabilities.” Xuân frowned, disapproval heavy on her face.
“I see and hear everything. I always have, but…maybe that part of the story doesn’t matter now. I have a sigil for true sight that I’ve given a few of my friends.”
“Sorry, hang on,” she said, cutting me off. “There’s something on my windshield. It’s a bug.”
I waited patiently for her to clear the insect, then heard a thump over the receiver. Then another, then another.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I heard Xuân’s brakes screech. “I think—”
The thumping was so loud now that I could scarcely hear her over it.
“I think they’re locusts?! What the hell?!”
I looked over my shoulder to see if anyone had heard what Xuân had just said.
A six-foot-something silhouette appeared in the doorway between the annex and the sanctuary. Beige and whiteleathers barely distinguished themselves against the shadows.
“Heaven’s mad, all right,” Silas muttered.
I looked back at the screen. “Those might be my fault…can you see enough to drive?”
“What do you mean,your fault?! You sent a goddamn plague? Explain yourself!”
I winced. “I’m trying. I’m not sure how you feel about deconsecrated churches, but…the sooner you’re here, the sooner you’ll be safe.”
“Safe from who!” she shrieked.
I looked at Silas. “Are they in danger?”
He sighed. “Not yet. But they’re about to be.”
“One of theplaguesjust attacked her. How can you say that she’s not already a target?” I demanded.
“This sign from Heaven wasn’t attacking her,” Silas said. “It was threatening you. The phone was an open channel, and you were staring into it. That said: The closer people get to you, the more in danger they’ll be in.”
I covered the receiver, staring at him as I asked, “Is it immoral for me to include them?”
His voice was distant somehow, as if he were a ghost of himself, as he answered, “Wars need soldiers, and soldiers mean sacrifice.”
“That doesn’t feel right,” I said.
“What’s not right is losing before we even get a chance to fight. We win our battles one man at a time, knowing they might be injured.”
