I threw my palms up. “Maybe if I knew who Becky was—”
He stared at me, appalled. “My sister.”
“Oh! Right!” I said, going for the save. Who knew Demon Child would have such a normal name? I expected something exotic like Serena or Destiny or the Evil One That Comes in the Night to Make Us Chilly.
Taft’s radio squawked out something I found completely incoherent. As he strolled toward his patrol car to talk in private, my cell rang out. It was Cookie. “Charley’s House of Excruciating Pain,” I said.
“Janelle died in a car accident.”
“Oh, man, I’m so sorry. Were you two close?”
After an annoyed sigh, she said, “Janelle, Charley. Janelle York? Mimi’s friend from high school who died recently?”
“Oh, right,” I said, going for the save again. I seemed to be doing that a lot lately. “Wait, a car accident? Mimi told Warren Janelle was murdered.”
“Exactly. According to the report, she’d been ill. They think she passed out at the wheel and crashed her car into a ravine off I-25. But it was ruled accidental.”
“Then why would Mimi say she was murdered?”
“Something had her spooked,” Cookie said.
“And maybe it’s connected to our murdered car dealer.”
“That would be my guess. I think you need to have that other talk with Warren soon. Find out why he was fighting with a man only days before said man was found dead.”
“Great minds think alike, baby. I am so on it.”
“Is that Cookie?”
Strawberry had appeared at my side. I closed my phone and looked at her. “The one and only. That was fast. Did you find Rocket’s sister?”
“Of course.”
Awesome. I never knew if she really existed or if she’d been a figment of Rocket’s imagination. I waited for more info. Like forever. “And?”
“She’s blue.”
Blue? Well, she did die of pneumonia. Maybe the lack of oxygen turned her blue. “Okay, besides that.”
She did the crossing-of-her-arms thing. If it weren’t so cute, it would be annoying. “You’re not going to like it.”
“Does she know where Reyes’s body is?”
“No. She went to look. But she said Rey’aziel should not have been born on Earth.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“He’s very powerful.”
“Yeah, I figured that out a while ago.”
“And if his human body dies, he will become what he was born from the fires of hell to be.”
Okay, that was new. “Which is?” I asked, my voice edged with a wary dread.
“The ultimate weapon,” she said as if she were ordering an ice cream cone. “The bringer of death.”
“Well, crap.”
“The Antichrist.”
“Damn.”
“He is more powerful than any demon or any angel that ever existed. He can manipulate the space-time continuum and bring about the destruction of the entire galaxy and everything in it.”
“Okay, I get it,” I said, holding up a hand to stop her. I suddenly found myself fighting for air. I just had to ask. It couldn’t have been something easy, something non–world destroying. Oh, hell no. It had to be all apocalyptic and ghastly. Well, this sucked ass. I had no idea how to fight that. But finding Reyes’s body suddenly became imperative. “You found out a lot in that five minutes.”
“I guess,” she said with a shrug.
I switched gears, dropped down into neutral, then shifted myself into denial before looking back at Strawberry. “So, did you find out Rocket’s real name?”
“Yep,” she said, running her fingertips over the sleeve of my sweater. It was disturbing.
I waited. Like forever. “And?”
“And what?”
“Rocket’s name?”
“What about it?”
Deep breaths. Deep calming breaths. “Pumpkin head,” I said, calmly and deep-breathily, “what is Rocket’s name?”
She looked up as if I were insane. “Rocket. Duh.”
My teeth slammed together again. If it weren’t for her large, innocent eyes, the perfect pout of her bowlike mouth, I would have exorcised her right then and there. Well, if I knew how. I lowered my head instead, played with an errant string on my jeans. “Is Rocket okay?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, he’s just a little scared.”
Damn it. Reyes could be such a butthead. Freaking Antichrists. A thought emerged. “Hey, so what’s his little sister’s name?”
Her mouth dropped open before she glared up at me. “Do you even listen?”
What the heck did I do now? “What?”
“I already told you. Her name is Blue.”
“Oh, really?”
She nodded.
“Her name is Blue?”
She crossed her arms—again—and nodded, slowly, apparently so I would understand.
“Does she have a last name, mayhap?” Smart-ass.
“Yep. Bell.”
I sighed. Another nom de plume. “Blue Bell, huh?” Well, that wouldn’t bolster my investigation any. Rocket Man and Blue Bell. Wonderful. No, wait. Now I had a Rocket Man, a Blue Bell, and an alleged Antichrist. Never let it be said that life in Charley Land wasn’t interesting.
“So, why won’t Blue Bell come out to meet me?” I asked, slightly hurt only not.