Page 3 of Dead End

Ademir smiled in greeting. I hadn’t realized he was capable of it. “Morning, Kami.”

That was it! Kamikins from the prophecy department.

“I hate to bother you, Ademir, but there’s an issue at the salad bar involving two gods and one helping of croutons,” Kami said. “Would you mind?”

Grumbling, he vacated the booth. “Keep an eye on this one for a minute, would you? Make sure she doesn’t steal any cutlery.”

“No problem.”

As he lumbered away, Kami slid into the seat across from me. “Be ready,” she said in a rushed whisper.

“For what?”

Her face contorted. “I wish I knew.”

“Do I need a weapon? A spare roll of toilet paper?”

“I don’t know.” She sounded anguished.

“Listen, Kami. I appreciate the heads up, but how can I be ready if I don’t know what to be ready for?”

“They’re coming,” she said.

“Who’s coming? When?” My spirits lifted. Had Kane freed himself from Lucifer? Even if he had, I couldn’t imagine the demon would be foolish enough to come for me on his own. Paradise was the belly of the beast.

“I wish I could tell you more. You were here and then you weren’t. The vision was blurry.”

I leaned forward. “Do I escape?”

“Either that or you die. I’m not sure.”

The prophecy department didn’t seem like a worthwhile investment to me, but what did I know about running a multirealm company?

Ademir ambled back to the booth carrying a bowl and a spoon. “The only issue at the salad bar is that they replaced the spinach with kale.”

Kami scrunched her nose. “Huh. I guess they settled it amongst themselves. Sorry about that. I’ll leave you to your meal.” She fled the booth without a backward glance.

Ademir narrowed his eyes at me. “You didn’t give her a hard time, did you? She’s one of the nicer ones.”

“We didn’t exchange a word. She played Candy Crush on her phone. Kinda rude, to be honest.”

Ademir dug into his bowl of oatmeal topped with walnuts, apple, and cinnamon. It was a wholesome choice that reminded me of winter mornings with my grandparents. After my grandmother died, Pops and I reverted to cereal for breakfast, or the occasional eggs and bacon. I resisted the pull of memories. Now wasn’t the time.

Ademir scraped the remnants of the oatmeal from his bowl. “Last chance for food. I’m not stopping again before your meeting.”

“What’s the meeting for?”

“Do you think you’ll get a different answer from me this time? You know they don’t tell me anything.”

“Because you’re not a god?”

His silent glare spoke volumes. It seemed Ademir suffered from Posy Martell syndrome. The siren had complained more than once about her subpar treatment as a non-deity.

“Why not become an avatar?” I asked. “I hear they’ve got an elixir for supernaturals now.” I knew because I’d fought one of them—Belphegor, a demon with the power of a god but without having to share his body with the god’s consciousness.

His eyes turned to slits. “I see what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work. My head is impenetrable.”

“You’re thick skulled. Got it.”

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