Dante stepped forward. He was over six and a half feet tall and swarthy, and his Latin looks lived up to his name. He extended his hand. A ring identical to the one Scott had tossed into the ocean fit his index finger snugly. It glowed blue and wild, and the light seemed to skitter behind my eyes even after I’d shut them. “The Black Hand told me this would happen if he died,” Dante explained. “Scott’s right. It’s a sign.”
Scott said, “That’s why I was released. The army is in pandemonium. Nobody knows what to do.
Cheshvan is almost here and the Black Hand had plans for war, but his men are restless. They’ve lost their leader. They’re starting to panic.”
I waded through this information. A thought struck me. “They released you because you knew how to find me—Hank’s next in line?” I guessed, eyeing Dante and Tono warily. Scott might trust them, but I had yet to make up my own mind.
“Like I said, these guys are clean. They’ve already confessed loyalty to you. We have to get as many Nephilim behind you as possible before this falls apart. The last thing we need right now is a coup.”
I felt light-headed. Actually, a coup sounded pretty appealing. Someone else wanted this job?
Fine by me.
Dante spoke again. “Prior to his death, the Black Hand notified me that you agreed to take on the role of commander upon his death.”
I swallowed, not having expected this moment to arrive so quickly. I knew what had to be done, but I’d hoped for more time. To say I’d been dreading this moment was an understatement.
I looked all three of them in the eye in turn. “Yes, I swore a vow to lead Hank’s army. Here’s what’s going to happen. There isn’t going to be a war. Go back to the men and tell them to disband. All Nephilim who’ve sworn an oath of fealty are bound by a law that no army, no matter how great, can overthrow. To go into battle at this point would be suicide. Fall en angels are already planning retribution, and our only hope is to make it clear we aren’t going to fight them. Not this way. It’s over