Ignoring the outburst of theist gratitude from a demon of his stature, I shouted over the din of battle, “I have about five hundred of these Firstborn-killing weapons. Are you ready?”
He nodded briskly. “Where are they?” he asked.
I motioned toward Jaelin and the big plastic container. “They’re all in that bin there, ready to go.”
“Excellent,” the General replied. Apparently he’d regained his composure. He turned away for a moment to bark out the names of four of his captains. He gave them what must have been some kind of prearranged signal and pointed toward Jaelin. “If you want to join in the fight,” he advised me, “you had best get yourself a weapon now.”
I nodded solemnly. “I’ll follow your lead, General,” I said. “Let’s send these bastards packing.” He gave me a brief, distracted smile and I jumped back to Jaelin’s crate.
“So?” she asked. “What’s the plan?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “But I’m sure Gavsot has it under control. We could use your help, though,” I added, glancing meaningfully toward the pile of weapons.
She smiled and reached into the bin for a curved dagger. I opted for a longer sword. “You ready?” I asked.
“Hell yeah,” she said. She was genuinely excited. “You’re scared.” She wasn’t asking.
“Fuckin’ terrified,” I admitted. “Which is weird, considering I’m already dead. And considering that I’ve already died once since dying and it didn’t seem to matter.”
She smiled at me reassuringly. “If it’s any consolation, sir,” she said, “I’ve got your back.”
I believed her. I think we’d finally bonded.
“Holy shit,” I breathed, staring at the chaotic melee before us. “This is actually going to happen.”