“Well, I don’t think this is a good idea.” He was playing with the air-conditioning vent, the sprinkling of potential along his chin and above his upper lip giving him that almost-a-man look. He had rich brown eyes with thick eyelashes and a square jaw any cholo would be proud of.

“You might be right,” I said, turning back to a motorcyclist with a death wish, if his swerving in and out of traffic was any indication. “He might not lead us anywhere, but it’s all I’ve got at the moment and I really want to jump on this.”

“No, you. Going to see him.”

Angel had never taken to Reyes. He didn’t seem able to see past the whole son-of-Satan thing. “Why do you say that?”

He sighed in annoyance, as if he’d already told me a thousand times. “I’ve already told you a thousand times. Rey’aziel is not what you think he is.”

The mere mention of Reyes’s otherworldly name sent a tingle over my skin. “Hon, I know what he is, remember?”

He looked out the window for almost a mile before saying, “He’s really mad.”

I nodded. “I know.”

“No, you don’t.” He turned back, his huge brown eyes narrowing seriously. “He’s angry. As in disrupting-the-universe angry.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but okay. “He’s that mad, huh?”

“I didn’t even know he could do that shit, that he was that powerful. I just don’t think now is a good time to go see him.”

“I did bind him, Angel.”

He looked at me pleadingly then, worry drawing his brows together. “And you can’t undo it now. Please, Charley. If you set him free … there’s no telling what he’ll do. He’s so pissed.”

I chewed my bottom lip a moment, guilt assaulting me. “I don’t know how to anyway,” I admitted.

“What?” he asked, surprised. “You can’t unbind him?”

“No. I’ve tried.”

“No! No, don’t.” He waved a hand as though erasing the notion. “Just leave him. He’s already causing all kinds of crap all over the world. Who knows what he’ll do if you unbind him?”

“What do you mean? What crap is he causing?”

“You know, the usual. Earthquakes. Hurricanes. Tornadoes.”

I tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “Angel, those things are happening all on their own. Reyes has nothing—”

“You really don’t know?” He looked at me like I was part blithering and part idiot.

“Angel, how can Reyes affect the weather?” I’d never taken Angel for a conspiracy theorist. Who knew?

“His anger is throwing everything off balance, like that ride at the fair that spins and turns at the same time. Haven’t you noticed?”

Ah, yes, many a child had lost his lunch to that ride. “Honey—”

“Did you know there was an earthquake in Santa Fe? Santa Fe!” When I started to argue again, he held up a hand and said, “Just don’t unbind him, whatever you do. I’ll go follow this pendejo doctor.”

He was gone before I could say anything else. I couldn’t possibly give credence to his claims. What he suggested was impossible. Reyes’s anger causing natural disasters? I’d made a few people angry in the past, but not enough to cause an earthquake.

I picked up my phone just in case and called Cookie.

“What’s up, boss?”

“Question, was there an earthquake in Santa Fe?”

“You didn’t hear about that?”

“Holy cow. Where the hell was I?”

“You totally need to watch the news.”

“Can’t.”

“Why?”

“It’s too depressing.”

“Right, because hanging with dead people isn’t.”

Well, that was just rude. “So, really?” I asked. “An earthquake?”

“The first one of that magnitude in over a hundred years.”

Crap.

4

Lead me not into temptation. I can find it myself.

—T-SHIRT

I flashed my ID at the guard standing duty at gatehouse of the Penitentiary of New Mexico. He waved me through and I parked in visitor parking, close to level five, the maximum-security unit of the prison. The minute I stepped inside the turquoise-trimmed building, Neil Gossett walked up to me, took the coffee out of my hands, and threw it in a wastebasket. Right. Bad idea.

“Hey,” I said breathlessly, butterflies dive-bombing the lining of my stomach, “what’s up?”

Neil and I went to high school together, but we didn’t hang in the same social circles and we certainly weren’t friends. He’d been an athlete, which only partially explained his asinine behavior toward me throughout our high school careers. Not that it was entirely his fault, but blaming him was healthier for my self-image.

I had trusted my best friend Jessica Guinn when I was a sophomore with my most prized secrets, not the least of which involved the words reaper and grim, and not necessarily in that order. I should have known better. It shouldn’t have been such a surprise when she blabbed it to the whole world and dropped me like a hot potato—when I was clearly much more the couch potato variety—and branded me a freak. I didn’t argue that point, but neither did I appreciate my sudden reputation as a leper. And Neil had been right in the middle of it all, joining in on the harassing and name-calling and eventual shunning.