Agave Kiss cs-5

by Ann Aguirre

  Must’ve been a bug.

  The others joined us, rubbing sandy eyes. Booke shuffled out last; I was relieved to see him. Part of me had feared he would pass away overnight before he got the party we’d promised. Eva had Cami balanced on one hip. The baby was wide-eyed and alert, and absolutely gorgeous. In the months I’d been away, her tiny face had rounded out. No longer was she a red-faced, wizened little gnome. No, now she was a doe-eyed, long-lashed cherub . . . and if she resembled her mother, she would break all the boys’ hearts someday.

  “Is she on table food yet?” I asked.

  “She can gum a quesadilla. I already fed her, though.”

  Yeah, I hadn’t wanted to say anything, but Eva’s boobs did look different. Ah, the joys of breast-feeding. The guys sat down and dug in without waiting for an invitation, even Booke. After so many years of his own cooking, it must be nice to eat something somebody else fixed, even if that person was me. Unlike my first foster mother, my kitchen prowess was limited; she’d tried to teach me, but I was too grief-stricken to do more than blindly assist.

  “So I been thinking,” Chuch said, piling his plate high with scrambled eggs.

  I joined him, serving myself more modestly. “Oh?”

  “One of my cousins is dating a witch. She might know some way to help Booke.” He glanced over with an imploring air. “What could it hurt, mano? Nothing ventured and all that.”

  I already knew there was a way to help him, but Booke had vetoed the idea. So I waited to hear how he would respond.

  The Englishman laid down his fork in a very precise gesture, his lined face calm but curious. “Does it mean so much to you, old friend?”

  “Si, claro. There’s no way I can just let this shit happen.”

  “Then contact your cousin. Just be aware that I will not consent to any use of demon magick. If I’m to be saved, I won’t invite more darkness into my soul.”

  I guessed if I was knocking at death’s door like Booke, I’d care about my immortal spirit too. Chuch nodded, his expression brightening. As he went back to eating, he answered, “I’ll get on it right after breakfast.”

  “I love the new place,” I said to Eva. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It only took a firebomb to get him to remodel.”

  I winced. “Yeah, about that—”

  “Don’t even,” she told me. “You can’t be held responsible for what crazy people do. And from what I hear, that hijo de puta Montoya got his.”

  “They both did,” I said, remembering how Dumah had devoured them.

  Eva grinned. “And I got a sweet new house. It worked out.”

  Chuch and Booke carried the conversation, talking about things unfamiliar to me. They had been friends the longest, after all. It stood to reason Chuch would take Booke’s impending demise personally. He wasn’t the kind of guy who stood by and let things happen either. Deep down I hoped he could find a solution. Between crazy dreams of Chance and midnight visits from terrifying supernatural beings, I had enough on my plate.

  But that reminded me that I had a phone call to make. With a murmured excuse, I got my cell and went to the guest room. My hands trembled as I dialed Min’s number; she might well think I was nuts to interrupt her grief with such a ridiculous question. Yet I couldn’t resist the need to know if I was crazy or if I’d really seen Chance last night.

  She picked up on the fourth ring. “Yi Min-chin, Magical Remedies. How can I help you?”

  So the shop was open today. Life went on. I don’t know why it surprised me. I mean, it had been weeks since I called her that first time, and there had been no body to bury, no arrangements to make. Work probably kept her sane.

  But I was quiet a beat too long.

  “Who’s there?” she said.

  “It’s Corine.” I forced the words out of a tight throat, hating what I was about to ask. “This may seem strange, but this is important. Chance said to ask you about his first-grade lunchbox.”

  “It had Archie and Jughead on it,” she replied at once. “He hated it because it was a little rusty and so ‘uncool.’” I could hear her quoting him. “The thermos was broken at the bottom, but I held it together with duct tape. Chance had a lot of shame that year, but I told him it would be worse if he ended up in the free lunch program.”

  Given his tremendous pride, I could only agree. “Then I have something crucial to tell you.”

  “He’s not gone,” she whispered. “I hoped and I tried to trust Ebisu, but it has been so difficult.”

  “Wait, did you know something?” I hadn’t realized Min had been aware that her romance in Japan, which resulted in Chance, had transpired with a small god.

  “Not at first. But when he went away, he told me everything. That our son would face great trials, and that ultimately, he would rise.”

  Whatever that meant.

  “Not too specific.”

  “The spirits tend not to be.” She went on, “You have no idea how this sets my mind at ease, Corine. Did you . . . hear from him?”

  “I had a really vivid dream. I didn’t believe it could be real, but—”

  “You had to be sure.”

  I nodded, then realized she couldn’t see it. “He said to tell you not to worry. That he’ll find a way back.”

  “If anyone can, he will,” she said with quiet assurance.

  And madly, I believed her. The world had lost its luster without him. I’d managed to leave him once, but that was different; I’d known he was still out there somewhere, being Chance, doing Chance things. That made all the difference—this was stark, awful, and unbearable.

  “He said he needs my help to pull it off,” I told her, making a sudden decision. “And he has it. I won’t stop until he’s back. I can’t. I love him so much.”

  “I know you do. You always did.”

  “I’ll keep you posted. I have things percolating.”

  “Thank you, ddal.”

  My heart twisted. Toward the end of my first relationship with Chance, Min had started calling me that, which meant “daughter” in Korean. I’d never dared to call her Omma, as Chance did, but this moment called for a leap of faith, a promise that we’d one day be mother and daughter, as she had expected.

  “You’re welcome, Omma. I’ll call you soon.”

  As she rang off, I heard her sniffle. Hopefully it was a happy sort of crying. God knew I had done enough of that in the last few weeks. But if there was even a small possibility of a happy ending, I’d move heaven and earth for it.

  Before I rejoined the others, I had one more task to complete; I scrolled through my call directory to find Chance’s landlord. When he picked up, I greeted him in Spanish. “Good morning, sir. This is Corine Solomon, Chance Yi’s girlfriend. I was calling to find out the status of his rent. He’s . . . traveling right now, and I wondered when his rent will be due.”

  Señor Gomez made some noise, rummaging through his files, and then he came back on the line. “He paid in advance, so it won’t be due for another month and a half. Thanks for letting me know he’s not home. I’ll have the guard look in on the place now and then.”

  “I appreciate it . . . and so does Chance.” Or he would, I reasoned, if he wasn’t busy trying to crack a door between the planes. “Thanks for your time, sir.”

  “No problem. Have a good day.”

  Well, at least that much went right. He’ll have a home to come back to.

  Feeling bolstered, I went back into the kitchen, where everyone was wrapping up their breakfast. To my surprise, Cami reached for me. I’d held her more than once before leaving for Mexico with Chance, but she didn’t know me in the sense that most babies required before permitting cuddles.

  Eva shot her daughter a bemused look. “I guess she likes you.”

  “The little mite has good taste,” Booke said.

  From any other male, I’d have taken the remark as flirtation, but he was just being courtly. In person, he had the manners of a different era, which I found fascinat
ing, as I’d always interacted with him as if he were my age or thereabouts. I probably wouldn’t have spoken as freely as I had in our shared dreams if I’d known I ought to be treating him with the respect due an elder.

  I took the baby and propped her on my hip, as I’d seen Eva do. It didn’t seem as awkward as it looked, particularly when Cami curled into me. She gazed up at me with impossibly big, dark eyes—and then she pulled my hair. Aha. So it was the braid she wanted; I moved it so she could tug to her heart’s content. I might be bald by the time she finished but it was a small price to pay for a happy infant.

  “You shouldn’t let her do that,” Eva scolded.

  “Eh. Better my hair than my earrings. Did Chuch call his cousin?”

  “Yep. Ramon is bringing Caridad over this afternoon to see if she can do anything for Booke.”

  When I glanced over at the man in question, I noticed how bright his eyes were. He flattened his hands on the table, gnarled now, as they hadn’t been when Shan and I first entered his cottage a few days before. The knuckles were thick and swollen and I imagined it must be painful to hold a fork. If there was a spell that could reverse the ravages of aging, I didn’t know about it, other than the ritual Kel had mentioned, which involved Luren blood.

  Out of the question.

  But people had been looking for the Fountain of Youth for centuries. Maybe somebody had found it. If it was as simple as ordering a potion off the Internet, I would be forever grateful. But I imagined that wasn’t the case. Like Chuch, however, I understood refusing to give up; that was what I was doing with Chance, after all.

  Cami gave my plait a painful tug. “Yeouch. What?” The baby offered me a stern look, as if I should know what she wanted. “Sorry, kid. I can’t read minds.”

  Then I smelled it and gave her back to Eva. “I’ll handle that when I have my own, not a minute sooner.”

  “Is that in the cards?” she asked over her shoulder, heading for Cami’s room.

  “Maybe,” I murmured. “Someday.”

  Chuch and Booke occupied the day with a chess match, somewhat less than thrilling for the rest of us. I could tell Chuch was spending as much time as he could with his old friend, putting off the restoration work in his four-bay garage, just in case the worst came to pass. Kel disappeared, probably to take a nap. He was still sleeping off the energy he’d burned in breaking the curse that held Booke captive.

  It occurred to me . . . if magick could hold Booke hostage so many years, was it possible with Kel? Maybe he did have free will; he just didn’t realize it. If he’d been ensorcelled with obedience binding from birth, it would permit Barachiel to pretend the Nephilim were born to serve. But how would I discover the truth? There was no way to resolve the matter, so I focused on the pressing problem.

  Booke. I hoped Chuch’s cousin Ramon was a good lover; otherwise, with the favor we were requesting, it would take a year on the installment plan to pay for services rendered.

  I’d find out when she arrived.

  Ramon and Caridad were punctual, arriving at 3:00 p.m. on the dot. She was a tall, slender woman with a mass of streaked dark hair. Her highlights were done in purple and silver, lending her a dramatic, witchy look. Likewise, her style suggested her profession, as she wore a long black dress that swirled around her legs in layers of lace. Chunky silver jewelry completed the ensemble. All told, she was attractive, but she didn’t look like a comfortable woman to be around. High-maintenance, I decided.

  Ramon, on the other hand, resembled Chuch, though he was a little taller and had a slightly smaller waist. He radiated the same humor and goodwill, however. He greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and a hearty hug. I thought we’d met on several occasions, but at the moment, my head was a little foggy. So I just hugged him back, which put a smile on his face.

  “This is my girl, Caridad,” he said, by way of introduction. Ramon named the rest of us for the witch’s benefit, I suspected.

  “Mucho gusto,” she said, extending her hand as if she expected me to kiss it.

  I contented myself with a polite shake, and the others followed suit. Eva’s mouth held a slight pucker, not as if she wanted to kiss Caridad, but more like the bruja was a sour taste she couldn’t wash away. As hostess, she led the way into the living room, comfortably appointed with two couches and a love seat. I adored the angled ceilings and the long, arched windows letting in the afternoon light. I took a seat in the single armchair, running a hand nervously over the pretty striped damask. It was smooth and silken to the touch, and I wondered how this furniture would stand up to baby Cami in a few years. Still, it was a lovely room, bright and elegant.

  Once we had settled, she folded her hands in her lap, assuming a businesslike demeanor. “Ramon tells me you wish to hire me. Ordinarily, you understand, you would need to make an appointment.”

  “Thank you for making an exception,” Booke said. “It’s very kind of you, as you must see I haven’t much time.”

  Her brow furrowed; and for the first time, she set aside her air of consequence. Visibly troubled, she leaned forward. Her eyes slipped to half-mast, which I recognized as a hint of someone using witch sight rather than normal vision. She scanned Booke top to bottom, several times, then sat back in her chair, gnawing on her lower lip.

  “I’ve never seen a maldición like this. Madre de Dios, it’s strong.”

  “Can you fix it?” Chuch asked.

  My heart fell when she shook her head. “Twila is the only person in the entire state who could handle something like this.”

  The question was, could we afford her? Chance had given her something in exchange for her services, and he’d never explained to me how that went down. She always asked for something precious in payment—and I wasn’t sure I was qualified to strike a deal with her, but with both Booke and Chuch staring at me, I made a quick decision.

  “Fine. If you lend me a car, I’ll take Booke to San Antonio.”

  “If this doesn’t work,” the older man said softly, “then we call it done, yeah? I won’t have my last days ruined in a series of wild-goose chases. I wish to enjoy my freedom, such as it is.”

  “Be back in time for the party tomorrow,” Eva reminded me.

  “We will, no worries.”

  Chuch was muttering, “What do I got that’s road-ready? Come with me, prima. I have a couple of options for you.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t help,” Caridad told Booke. “But it would’ve cost a great deal, if I had been able to.”

  Ramon cocked his head. “But I told you, he’s like family to Chuch, amor. That means he’s kin to me too.”

  Her dark eyes hardened, and she gave her hair a haughty toss. “I don’t give my talents away. Doesn’t matter who the client is.”

  I hurried out to the garage before I could get tangled in the argument, where I found Chuch studying two cars. One was an old Charger, and the other said it was a Maverick. Either looked okay, but the Maverick seemed more finished. The Charger still had some problems in the paint, not that cosmetic issues mattered. Finally Chuch handed me the Charger keys.

  “This one’s better under the hood. I want you two to get there safe.”

  “Thanks, papi,” I said with just a hint of sarcasm.

  “Hey, somebody’s gotta look out for you.”

  I softened. “I know . . . and thank you. I’m glad you and Eva are all right.”

  “Better than ever. I never wanted to be a dad before I met Eva, but . . .” He paused, rough face charming with the goofy love he had for his wife and daughter.

  “You’re one of the good ones,” I agreed.

  He didn’t ask if I meant husband or father. Clearly, it was both. And when Cami came of age, she would get the coolest, safest car ever. I envied her a little, all those father-daughter moments I had missed. It wasn’t enough knowing my dad saved my life; I wished he could’ve shared it too.

  But at least we got to say good-bye.

  “I think Shannon’s planning to bring Jesse o
ver for dinner. I heard Eva talking to her on the phone earlier.”

  “Tell her where I went, then. And why.”

  “Will do.” Chuch favored me with another squeeze; then he went to tell Booke we were rolling.

  I climbed into the driver’s seat, familiarizing myself with the setup. Good thing the car was automatic. Though I’d driven stick, I wasn’t expert, and I tended to grind the gears. Chuch wouldn’t thank me for burning out the clutch on a vehicle he was trying to restore to classic status and then sell at an awesome markup. Collectors paid a pretty penny for a muscle car in cherry condition.

  A few minutes later, Kel helped Booke out to the car. The Englishman moved at a shuffling pace, and his balance wasn’t the best. Seeing him so hurt me. In my mind’s eye he was the calm, competent scholar. Not old. Not feeble. I’d imagined him as ageless, an immortal guardian of all knowledge, arcane and otherwise. This felt like learning that Athena, the goddess of wisdom, wore false teeth.

  “Shotgun,” Booke said, as if I’d make him ride in the back.

  Then I realized Kel meant to accompany us. Well, he did have to keep up appearances. If the archangel spied on him again, it wouldn’t do for him to be caught chilling in Laredo while I took a road trip to San Antone. Even an overconfident tool like Barachiel might realize he was being played, then.

  So in response, I pulled up the passenger seat to let Kel climb in. “Sorry it’s a little tight.”

  “I’ve had worse,” he said.

  Of course, he claimed that about a lot of things. It hurt a little, knowing I couldn’t make it better, but I’d made my choice.

  So I just nodded. “Then let’s rock and roll, boys.”

  Bitter Bargains

  Twilight hadn’t changed since the last time I was there, still housed in a nondescript building with a small, unassuming neon sign marking its existence. The neighborhood was still deceptively downscale, with drunken college students roaming around the seedier clubs in the vicinity. Inside, it was a combo of brothel and roadhouse with velvet and wood accents. Per usual, the jukebox was banging away with a Dropkick Murphys tune; this time it was “Kiss Me, I’m Shitfaced.”