Page 178 of Hell Bent

“I don’t think he is,” Alex said slowly. “What have you been doing for the last week, Tripp?”

“Just playing video games. Watching old episodes of Ridiculousness. Sleeping a lot.”

“What have you been eating?” Dawes asked, her voice strained.

“Bugs mostly. But they’re a delicacy in some countries, right?”

“What if we didn’t kill him?” Alex asked.

“You have to be kidding,” Turner exclaimed. “He’s a loaded weapon.”

“He’s barely a squirt gun.”

“It could all be an act,” Darlington growled.

“Should I put on some tunes?” Tripp asked. “I have this amazing Red Hot Chili Peppers double album—”

Maybe they should kill him.

“He’s…” Alex wasn’t going to say harmless. “He’s Tripp. Maybe he got the personality right along with the life force.”

Darlington shook his horned head. “Or it’s all an act and he’s contemplating killing us all.”

“Are you?” Dawes asked.

Tripp winced. “A little bit?”

But an idea had taken root in Alex’s mind. “Tripp, call your seabird.”

Tripp licked his knuckles, and a silvery albatross rose from behind him, circling the room, with a bright, piercing cry.

“It’s still there,” marveled Dawes. “How can that be?”

The bird dove straight for Darlington. Alex slid in front of him, dragging her tongue over her wrist and letting her snakes snap out.

For a moment the rattlers and the albatross seemed to face off, and then they receded.

“Tripp’s salt spirit did what it was supposed to do,” said Alex. “It tried to protect his life, and when it couldn’t do that, it stayed with him. It protected his soul.”

Darlington still didn’t look convinced.

“Look,” Alex said, “we did this to him. We took him to hell. We put him in harm’s way. He’s our responsibility. Without him we never would have gotten you back.”

“Didn’t you say he did it for cash?”

“Well,” said Tripp, “I didn’t want to mention it, but my rent is—”

“Not the time, Tripp.”

“Alex is right,” Dawes said. “He’s … still him. And he might be useful if we’re going to go after Linus Reiter. We could find a way to place him under some kind of prohibition if we’re worried he’s going to … act out.”

After Michelle, after Anselm, after Darlington’s parents, they needed this, a small victory to carry out of this nightmare.

Darlington threw up his hands, claws receding, a handsome young man in a fine wool coat once more. Alex felt her own flames recede. Their powers were connected now. Bound by hellfire.

Turner holstered his gun. “If he murders someone, I’m not taking the heat.”

Darlington jabbed a finger at Dawes. “You’ve gone soft.”