17

“I REALLY HOPE THIS RELIC IS SOMEWHERE THAT’S air-conditioned,” I mumbled as I threw my duffle into the backseat of the pickup truck we’d rented.

Will rolled his eyes, smiling. “We’ll stop at a gas station on the way and get you a battery-powered fan.”

I made a pleased little noise of approval and hopped into the passenger seat. “You have to drive, though. I’m not taking on the responsibility of dodging armadillos on the highway.”

He rounded the front of the truck and got into the driver’s side. “I’m pretty certain there aren’t any armadillos in Arizona.”

“Why would you know that?” I asked him, looking at him like he had a third eye. “Armadillos should be in Arizona. And Michigan. They’re so cute.”

“You are so weird.”

“Just drive. No complaints.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

We headed east from the airport on the 202 loop and took the exit toward Apache Junction. We drove around downtown and the surrounding neighborhoods to try picking up any trace of the relic’s or its guardian’s energy. The town seemed entirely normal and we could sense no reapers, angelic or demonic, and certainly no relics. By the time the sun began to set, I’d already lost my patience.

“How certain was Ava that there was a relic here?” I asked Will, looking over at him.

“She might have only marked the largest nearby town.”

I groaned. “This is like looking for a needle in a haystack. or rather, a needle in a desert. Let’s head to the more rural areas.”

He glanced at the GPS on the dashboard. “How about we take 88 out of town and go north through the mountains toward Tortilla Flat?”

“Why not?” I rolled down my window and let in the fresh air. “The heat’s not too bad at night and the stars are incredible. It’s nice out here, huh?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Lots of sun during the day. Good place to hide a powerful relic. The sunlight makes this place more unpleasant for the demonic.”

I sighed. “Always the practical one. Do you ever enjoy something just to enjoy it? Besides root beer floats and playing music, I mean.”

“Not really.”

“If there is one thing I’ll teach you, it’s to enjoy the little things.”

He flashed me a beautiful smile. “We’ve still got a ways to go. Teach me now.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll take that challenge. Roll down your window.”

He eyed me suspiciously, but lowered the window anyway. “And?”

“Stick your elbow out. Like this.” I propped my elbow on the door and hung my head out my open window. “Feel the warm wind in your hair? The dusty smell of the desert? There’s some good tunes on the radio. There’s no traffic or anything way out here. It’s a nice night, you know?”

He took a deep breath and let the wind catch his dark hair. He gazed up at the stars for a few moments and then he looked back at me. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s a nice night.”

I smiled and closed my eyes, soaking in everything my senses could hold—and that was when my senses picked up something I didn’t expect. There was a hum of electricity on every inch of my exposed skin, much like the static on a television set.

“Will,” I said, watching all the tiny hairs on my arms rise straight into the air. “Will, turn off at the next road.”

Without question, he took the next right onto a narrow and rocky road. I gripped the door handle as the truck nearly bounced me out of my seat. The presence grew stronger the longer we stayed on this road, as if whatever emitted the energy called to me. I was certain whatever I’d detected was a relic. There was too much power here for it not to be. I prayed that we’d found the Pentalpha.

It took a couple miles of rolling through the empty desert before the headlights shone on a trailer home that looked like it had been sitting in the dust for way too long. The roof sagged a bit and the handrail of its tiny porch was broken and hanging off. The worn and beaten front door hid behind a battered screen that swung on its hinges, and the windows were covered with a thick layer of dirt. Honestly, the place looked abandoned.

“It’s there,” I said to Will.

There was no visible driveway, so he pulled off the road in front of the trailer, driving over rocks and scrubby plants. His game face was on as he shut off the truck.

“Should we knock on the door?” I asked, unsure of how we would proceed.

“That doesn’t matter,” he replied. “The guardian already knows we’re here. Be prepared to fight just in case.”

I nodded but hoped we wouldn’t have to. As we climbed out of the truck, an angelic reaper appeared through the door of the trailer and stepped down the creaky stairs. Will moved ahead of me, approaching carefully. The reaper wore clothes much cleaner than the state of his house, and his hair was shorn close to his scalp. His eyes, a soft plum color that glowed a little bit in the darkness, studied us curiously. He seemed to have concluded that Will was also angelic, but the way he rubbed the whiskers on his chin made me doubt he knew who I was.

“State your business,” he said, his voice carrying a light, unusual accent. “I don’t like people showing up at my door. And get rid of the girl. I don’t allow humans.”

“This is the Preliator,” Will announced, and the reaper’s eyes shot wide. “I am her Guardian. We’ve come to investigate the relic in your possession.”