The petite woman swayed, tilting her head toward the sky, eyes half-closed. The wind rippled through her hair, the heavy, dark waves hanging to the small of her back.
“The air smells sweet tonight,” she said.
“Uh.” Matheus glanced at Alistair, who shrugged. “Sure.”
The woman looked at Matheus. She smiled like the Madonna.
“My name is Heaven,” she said. “We’ve met before.”
“Yeah, I remember,” said Matheus. He glanced around the circle of Grigori’s followers. “Is this a social visit, or was there something you wanted?”
Heaven looked upward again, apparently contemplating the universe. Matheus felt like he’d just been dropped into the recruit ceremony of aNew Age cult. The we-are-one-with-infinity act might have been more effective if Heaven didn’t have a blinking CITGO sign behind her head.
“Um, Heaven?” asked Matheus. What kind of name was Heaven, anyway? Maybe her parents had been hippies. He watched Heaven commune with the sky, and shivered. He doubted she’d been born in the sixties. Heaven had the same kind of stillness Matheus saw in Quin.