Page 62 of Heart and Soul
“Um, let’s see, the language of exorcism? Yeah, I think I do.”
“Awesome,” Russo murmurs again.
Oh my gosh, can she be a little more obvious with her flexing? Matt’s right—she’s got it bad for Russo. It might be a little cute, if her flirting weren’t so brutal. Matt’s inside her head, probably laughing his ass off at the confounded look on my face.
We approach the gate. It’s locked with thick chains, and the bars are too close together for my fox to slip through. Can’t climb it, either. Too high. Jay will break his neck falling from that height.
“You got night vision. Read me the inscription,” Hillerman says to me.
I press my face to the bars to get a clear view. “Looks like two parts. The first part…Imperium…Immortal?”
“Immortalis?”
“Okay, yeah.Imperium Immortalis.”
“And the second part?”
“Easier.MarcoandDeus.”
“Imperium Immortalis, Marco Deus?”
“That’s it. Meaning?”
“‘Immortal power, banner of the gods.’”
“Oh, is that all? Underachievers.”
“Basically.” Jay adds, “It says ‘Necromancers wanted, apply within.’”
Hillerman turns to Russo. “That means you. Got that business card?”
He pulls it from his coat pocket. “This gate, though. Unless somebody brought bolt cutters…” His voice trails off when the thick chains go slack, then fall from the bars. The gate swings open with a low, ominous creak.
Russo takes a deep breath. “After you guys.”
“The card was given to you, Detective Russo. Only you.”
“Tough titties,” I say. “We’re not letting him go in alone, are you kidding? You. You’re the demon expert. You’re going in with him.”
“Out of the question. You’ve seen how demons react to me. I hardly think I’d be welcome. We can’t risk it. I’m sorry, Detective Russo. Would I? Yes. Should I? No.”
“Just Danny,” he says. “Call me Danny.”
Kicking absently at a weed growing out of the snow, she says quietly, “All right. Danny.”
“Talk to me. What do I do?”
“Simple. You walk right up to the front door. After that, I’m sure the way will present itself, just like this gate opening. Another possibility is instruction. It’s likely you might hear voices, like whispers in your mind, telling you what to do.” The idea seems to appall Russo, so Hillerman moves on quickly. “I can tell you that we know of at least one person who came here, and he was just fine.”
“Who?” I ask.
“King Paul. He swore fealty to East Side and wielded the power of necromancy. At some point he must have come through here, and he was fine.”
“Sure, yeah, he wasdandy, except for the part where he was a psychopathic serial killer, and now he’s dead.”
“Yes, except for that. Thank you. You’resohelpful.”
“No worries,” Russo says. “If Charlotte says it’s fine, it’s fine.”
