“Back? Hell, I was never like this before. I feel … I feel…”

“I know. It’s delicious, isn’t it?”

“Yes it goddamn well is.”

The caller paused. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“You know there’s no going back?”

“Shit, don’t try to scare me with burned bridges, Uncle. I’m ready to light the match.”

They both laughed quietly about that. Vox, perhaps, laughed a little bit louder.

“Then let it all burn down,” said Father Nicodemus.

Chapter Ninety-two

Chapter Ninety-Two

Arklight Camp

Outskirts of Tehran

June 16, 3:04 a.m.

We had a quick strategy session during which Lilith told Church that he could have Arklight teams to assist with the refinery raids. He accepted without hesitation. While they began working out the details, I moved outside, needing some space to process everything.

Violin found me in the shadows outside of the warehouse. We stood together looking at the stars. Then she said, “This must be so hard for you. So strange. You, an American soldier … fighting monsters.”

“Since I joined the DMS last year, nothing has been normal. I’m not sure I even believe in that concept anymore.”

“This is normal for me,” she said. “This is all I’ve ever known. I was born into this world.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. It is what it is. Perhaps someday I’ll find another kind of normal.”

“Maybe I can help you look.”

“Maybe you could.”

“About the Sabbatarians,” I said. “You guys seem to hate each other worse than the Dodgers and the Giants. But you’re both kind of on the same side, right? So what gives?”

“‘Same side’?” she snorted. “Hardly. They know that most of us were either breeding stock for the Upierczi or born from those forced matings. The Sabbatarians, in their great Christian mercy, consider us Satan’s whores. The dhampyri doubly so.”

“Jesus.”

“They long ago named us enemies of God and marked us for extermination.” She shrugged. “We have responded in kind.”

“Then I’m glad we put a bunch of those assholes down.”

Violin nodded but said nothing.

Above, the Milky Way pivoted around us.

“You know, one of the things that’s eating at me here,” I admitted, “is Nicodemus. Who the hell is he?”

A haunted look flashed through Violin’s eyes. “As long as there has been a Red Order there has been a Father Nicodemus associated with it. My mother thinks it is the same man, but I don’t believe that. I don’t believe in ghosts or demons; I think it’s part of the propaganda the Red Order has always used. Besides, it’s probably a title passed down from one person to another, much in the same way that ‘Scriptor’ is passed down through the LaRoques.”

“Don’t priests sometimes take new names when they take holy orders?” I asked. “Biblical names?”

“Not as frequently these days,” said Violin, “but yes.”