Free Rusty Nails (The Dade Gibson Case Files) by Jason Brannon

irrational at times. But, despite the old man’s idiosyncrasies, Dade would have never expected to hear his father ask him to kill a twelve-year old kid. And yet, the face of a young sandy-haired boy was what stared back at him from the Polaroid.
    Could this case get any weirder?
     
     

 
    Chapter 15
     
     
    Liz knew that Dade would be furious with her if he found out what she was about to do. But she couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. She didn’t consider herself to be as good an investigator as Dade was, but she had been with him long enough to pick up some skills of the trade. Following threads of logic was one of those skills, and there was a very definite thread involving angels where Louise Hartwell was concerned. That’s why she had put on a black party dress and pointed her LeBaron toward The Zodiac Club.
    Inside, it seemed the party had already started.
    Two azure-winged seraphs held down one of the smaller angels in the middle of the dance floor. A crowd had gathered around to see what was going on. The industrial beat inside the club was strong, and the music had a harsh, grating quality to it. The seraphs nodded their heads to the mechanical rhythms as the cherub struggled beneath them. At first it was difficult to tell what they were doing, and then she saw the clippers. Like a sheep, they were shearing the little angel, denuding him of all his feathers. He screamed as the plumage floated lazily through the air. It wasn’t pain in his voice exactly, but a sense of humiliation. The essence of an angel was his feathers, and they were taking that away from this one, reducing him to a curiosity.
    Liz turned away, embarrassed for the cherub.
    “Those two do that every now and then,” a unfamiliar voice whispered in her ear.
    Liz whirled around to face a powerfully built angel with a unnatural gleam in his eye. He was high on something, and it showed.
    “Don’t let it scare you off,” the angel added, winking. “I’ve seen a lot worse from those two.”
    “I’m really not here for conversation,” Liz said.
    “Nor am I,” the angel replied, not bothering to hide the needle marks on his arms. “My name’s Pyriel, and I’m here to help you. Only I can’t really even seem to help myself at this point. So we both may be in trouble.”
    “I’m Liz Desmond. And why, may I ask, are you here to help me?”
    “We need to get out of here. There are those of my kind here who would like to use you as leverage against the man in your life. We should go. You aren’t safe here.”
    “Why should I go with you?”
    The angel seemed to struggle with this question, cocking his head to the side like a dog listening to an ultrasonic whistle. “Look, Ms. Desmond. Let me explain this the best way I know how. I’ve been doped with a very powerful street drug called Rusty Nails. The drug is used to chase away guilt. Right now, I feel absolutely no remorse. In my current state, I could do very terrible things without so much as a second thought. Those who fight against your cause did this to me in hopes that it would complicate matters. I'm doing my best to battle against the effects of the drug right now. At the same time, I’m trying to look out for you. You should understand it’s not easy. I’m at war with my own sinful nature right now, and it’s all I can do to keep myself in check.”
    “So you’re high?”
    “In a manner of speaking, yes. But you still need to come with me. There are eyes everywhere in this place. Something bad could happen to you here. Something regretful.”
    There was an underlying hint of menace in his voice, and Liz knew a threat when she heard one.
    “This is a very public place,” Liz reminded him. “You wouldn’t do anything to me in front of all of these people.”
    Pyriel smiled. “It’s not my intent to harm you, but as I said, the drug has its hooks in me. I would feel no guilt for causing you harm right now, yet I’m determined not to. However, I think I’m