Raphael’s gray eyes met mine. “Malachi has not asked me for this information. Ever. He has had over seventy years to question me about what happens when a human is possessed by Mazikin. Why do you think he hasn’t?”

He was giving me such a knowing look, and I wanted to run from it. Or maybe punch it off his face. But it was a damn good question. “Maybe he knew you’d give him that bullshit not-what-you-want-only-what-you-need line.”

The smile didn’t leave his face. “But you said you thought he did need the answer. If that’s true, I would give him the information he needs. But only if he asks.”

Suddenly tired, I sank into the chair in front of the computer. “I don’t know why he hasn’t asked. I think it’s because … because he wanted to believe he was saving people. In his life here on Earth, he was powerless as everyone around him suffered and died, as his brother was killed in front of him. When he became a Guard, it gave him the chance to protect others. Even the ones taken by Mazikin. Even though they were lost and far away, he wanted to reach them. Do something for them. Help them.”

Raphael nodded. “Yes, I believe that’s what he wanted.”

Jim leaned in the doorway, his wounds standing out stark and grisly against his pale skin. “The human capacity for self-delusion is limitless,” he said softly.

Raphael turned to him. “Isn’t it, though?”

I went out to the front porch and sat on the swing to wait for my turn to be healed. Self-delusion. Jim was saying that Malachi had closed his eyes to the truth. My Lieutenant had chosen to trust in a lie to allow himself the luxurious belief that he was rescuing people.

That way, he didn’t have to face the alternative, which was that he was helpless in the face of all that evil.

It was a costly mistake. By killing the bodies Mazikin inhabited, he was giving them second chances. And third and fourth and fifth chances. If he’d only imprisoned them in the dark tower, or even in a cell at the Guard Station, he could have saved a few people. Maybe. The Mazikin would have sent more, but it still would have prevented their most powerful spirits from returning. Like Sil, Ibram, Juri. All of whom were either already here or had a chance to be, in part because Malachi hadn’t imprisoned them when he had the chance.

I scuffed my boots against the wooden slats of the porch, ignoring the throbbing sting radiating up and down the sides of my neck. Headlights turned into the driveway, and I recognized Laney’s car. She pulled to a stop behind the Taurus.

The one containing the dead hooker in the backseat.