by Ann Aguirre
Taking a breath to brace, I related the gist of events since I’d talked to him last: how demons had kidnapped Shannon to draw me into a trap, at which point I followed her to Sheol, and a latent demon queen in my bloodline woke up, controlled me, staged a coup in hell, and then it all went sideways. My throat was hoarse by the time I finished, and I was choking back tears when I concluded with what happened to Chance. Shan had mentioned as much the night before, but she hadn’t provided context. I ended with, “And now my mother’s magick isn’t working. I think I burned it out with demon magick in Sheol. And I don’t know anything about using that for anything but summonings.”
While it was true that I still had Solomon blood, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to summon something to break the spell. It might have dreadful consequences, to say nothing of the cost to my soul. But if Booke asked that of me, well . . . at this point, what did it matter? He’d helped me so often . . . and without question, that I wanted to give back. Just . . . not like this. I had some training from Tia in witch magick, but I couldn’t use demon magick to break the curse; I could only summon.
“That’s a potential solution,” he said, after a long pause. I could see he was weighing the cost to me versus the benefit of ending his long incarceration.
But it wasn’t the price. Hell, other practitioners already thought I was a black witch. What was one more deal with a demon to help a friend?
“I have a contact, but I’d rather not call her, as she tends to . . . well, devour people’s souls.”
Unfortunately, I didn’t have Maury’s true name, or I could summon him to make a deal. But I didn’t know if he had the power to break the spell, and I was unclear on what kind of energy his mate, Dumah, could consume. I was positive she could eat human energy, but what about spells? It seemed like a bad idea to summon her until I did a little research. Fortunately, Booke had an impressive, if untidy, arcane library right at my fingertips.
“Take your time. It’s rather nice to have company after all these years.”
“You don’t mind if I do some reading?”
“Help yourself. Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
“You should eat.” Now he sounded how I imagined my dad would, if he hadn’t gone to Sheol in my place.
All my life, I thought my father abandoned my mother and me. Instead, he went to the demon realm in my place to protect me from the demons who wanted to use my blood. They’d tortured him in my stead, working to make the ultimate soulstone from the Solomon line; with it, they would’ve had the power to use it to open the gate to this world repeatedly. No limitations. So Albie Solomon bargained for my sake . . . and died in my arms once I freed him from bondage.
That was another loss, so many—too many. I didn’t welcome this heritage. Kel—a fast-healing, super-strong Nephilim who claimed to be God’s Hand—had said I was destined to be “important,” and I didn’t want that either. On two separate occasions, his archangel had assigned him to help or guard me, which meant the boss intended to use me in some spectacular fashion. There was only one future for me, one where Chance stood beside me again.
“Later,” I promised, stepping into the office.
The room was clean, despite the clutter . . . no dust anywhere. I imagined Booke had plenty of time for household chores. You could only read, pace, sleep, and eat so often. No wonder he was on the computer at all hours, looking for a chat or chess match. Poor Booke. I hoped the girl had been worth it.
Hours passed while I dug through his library. He had obscure spell books, tomes about demons, summoning treatises, whole volumes dedicated to various herbs. Unfortunately, I didn’t find anything helpful. According to the clock, it was late morning by the time Shannon joined me.
“My phone’s not working,” she said in greeting.
“Try it here by the desk. Stand on this side of the sigils. I think you should be able to call Jesse.”
It made sense that Booke would’ve selected this spot to imprint the circle that weakened the barrier, permitting contact with the modern world. Otherwise, he would have to cast a spell each time he wanted to make a call or use the Internet.
She stepped over the symbols on the floor. “Hey, two bars. Cool! Is this crazy or what?”
“I always wondered what his deal was, but this . . . ? I didn’t guess this. I thought he might be agoraphobic or something.”
Shan nodded. “Me too. I always wondered if he was young or cute. I thought he might have a thing for you.”
“Nah. He was just lonely. Dunno if you noticed, but he was just as happy to talk to you or Chuch or pretty much anyone who would IM him.”
“True enough. I don’t know how he’s not completely cracked.”
“Right? Can you imagine spending ten years alone, talking to yourself?”
She shivered. “Don’t even joke. Uh. We’re not stuck here, are we? Jesse is gonna think this is the most elaborate breakup scenario ever.”
I laughed despite myself. “No. Even if I can’t shatter the spell, Booke can weaken the barrier enough to let us out, like he did so we could come in.”
“I don’t want to leave him like this,” Shan said.
“Me either. But we’ll figure something out.” I closed the book on herbal remedies with a snap.
Nodding, she fell into a nearby chair with a casual grace I could never equal. “Let me ring the boyfriend, then. I can’t wait to attempt to explain this. He thought I was coming home as soon as we sorted out our passports.”
“We’re working on it,” I pointed out. “Making contacts anyway.”
“Yeah, but I think he expected me to stay out of trouble during the process.”
I arched a brow at her. “Does he know you at all?”
She grinned. “Point taken.” Shan spun, kicking her legs over the side of the chair as she dialed. A few seconds later, her voice softened. “Hey, you.”
Without making a conscious decision, I got up and left the office, giving them some privacy. The ache over having nobody to call throbbed like a toothache. But hell, I was still better off than Booke, who was trying to escape this noose just so he could fucking die. Under those circumstances, it seemed like I had little to complain about.
“Shannon’s talking to Jesse?” Booke guessed when I joined him in the kitchen.
He had a meal on the table, and by this point I was peckish. It was just cold sliced meat, cheese, and fruit, but I was glad of it. He was toasting bread the old-fashioned way when I sat down.
“No toaster?”
“I don’t like them,” he admitted. “I’ve adapted in most respects . . . and Anzu will bring me anything I ask for, but I just prefer the way it tastes from the skillet.”
“Fair enough.” At his gesture of invitation, I served my plate, and he joined me a few moments later.
“I suppose it’s too much to hope for that you’ve solved the problem.”
I offered a rueful smile. “If anyone knows what’s in your books, it’s you. I just hoped . . .”
“Me too.”
But sometimes the situation was impossible. There was only a dark night ending in the grave. Bleak thoughts filled my head as I ate in silence. Eventually it occurred to me that I hadn’t tried to use the touch since returning from Sheol. Maybe it could prove helpful in this regard, assuming it still worked.
“Do you have anything that belonged to Macleish?” I asked at length.
“I do, actually.”
“Let me see it?”
I was astonished when he brought me a gold tooth. Booke lifted his thin shoulders in a shrug. “I told you we fought.”
Metal was generally good about capturing a charge, but this had physically been part of Donal Macleish. I had never attempted to read a glass eye or a prosthetic limb. The fact that their last encounter had been the catalyst for the tooth’s removal might actually prove valuable. I braced myself when Booke dropped the chunk of gold into my palm.
After a bracing breath, I dropped
the shields that kept me from indiscriminately reading everything I touched. There came a flicker deep at the core of me, like this ability had gone dormant. At first I thought it wasn’t going to work, and then the flicker became a conflagration. Pain burned through me, a fire in my palm that seared my nerves all the way up to my elbows. Sweat broke out as the vision suffused me. My eyes went blank, and then superimposed images cascaded through my head, along with lightning-fast emotional impressions. Fleeting thoughts.
Kill him. No. Make him suffer.
Two men, struggling. The punches rained between them with unskilled ferocity. One would stagger back and attempt to invoke a spell, only to be interrupted by the other in a desperate charge. Both their faces were bloody, broken noses, split lips. The room reflected the same destruction. Books were strewn about, pages torn loose, spines snapped. Crockery lay in shards, and one chair had been smashed flat, the legs surrounding it like a denuded daisy in the throes of He Loves Me Not.
Bright blue energy streamed from Booke’s fingertips, but before he could complete the incantation, Donal slammed him headfirst into a wall. Which was when Booke lost the fight. I could see he was wandering in and out of consciousness, groggy as hell. Still, he lashed out with a final blow—and that was the one that knocked the tooth from Donal’s mouth.
The vision dumped me on Booke’s kitchen floor. Well, that was new. I didn’t remember ever moving this way before, but I had been in the chair, and now I was on all fours, panting through my open mouth. And I had a new scar on my palm, the final evidence that I’d lost my mother’s magick in Sheol. Her abilities made the touch easier, somewhat less damaging, but that benefit was gone now.
Booke knelt beside me, looking fearful, concerned. “Is it always like that?”
I mustered a half smile. “Sometimes it’s worse.”
“That’s rather awful.” He stroked my hair gently, a paternal gesture.
“Trust me, I know.”
“Did you learn anything useful?” He couldn’t help the hopeful rise in tone. It was human nature to look for the way out, even after you accepted you were fully painted into a corner.
“If I still had my mother’s magick, I could use the tooth and my witch sight to unravel the spell. But since that’s not an option, I need to think about it.”
There might be no way out of this for Booke, apart from my summoning Dumah. And if that was the case, I’d bite the bullet for him. She could devour the spell—maybe—in lieu of our souls and should count it a worthy snack. I just hoped she didn’t want additional payment, as I had shit for collateral these days. Demons didn’t care for cash.
He helped me back into the chair, where we finished our lunch. Shannon joined us a few moments later, looking measurably happier.
“You got in touch with Jesse?” I asked.
“Yep. He’s not thrilled, but I told him we’d be home in a week or two. That’s probable, right?”
“I can’t imagine it would take that long,” Booke said.
The words sent a pang of grief through me. I can’t lose you too, I thought. But I didn’t say it out loud. Compared to some people, I was still rich in friends. I had Shannon and Jesse, Chuch and Eva. Even Kel counted, I supposed, provided I could find him.
You could call him, a little voice whispered.
Shit. Was that the solution? Instead of Dumah, I could call Kel. Maybe he could break the spell . . . without staining my soul in the process.
“You look like you just had an epiphany,” Shan observed.
“Maybe.” My tone was cautious. I needed to consider the ramifications.
An out-of-the-blue summons might get Kel in trouble with his archangel, but the alternative was dealing with a demon. Hm. He’d helped me a great deal, saving my life in the process, and there was definitely a bond between us. I didn’t think he’d mind helping me, if he wasn’t in the middle of some time-sensitive mission. Trouble was, I had no way to verify his status.
“I trust you’ll advise us of your plan before you implement it,” Booke said drily. “In case it is necessary to duck or take cover.”
“Hey, my plans seldom blow up in my face.”
“Seldom?” Shan eyed me.
I pushed out a sigh. “Yes, I’ll let you know when I decide whether I’m taking the high or low road. I can’t do this on my own, Booke, so it’s going to require outsourcing. But I have some options.”
He nodded. “You’ve no idea how grateful I am. I thought . . .” Booke trailed off, unable to articulate his fear.
You thought you’d die alone, an undiscovered corpse in a house full of rats and spiders. The possibility broke my heart. I could do this job, but I didn’t want to.
Every time I ran the odds in my head, success resulted in the loss of a friend.
No More Demons
Have you ever tried dealing with a dog’s bathroom needs when the outdoors isn’t really the outdoors? Butch showed a marked reluctance to venture into that gray mist, even provided we could get out the front door—and we couldn’t. Which left me holding him above the commode, trying to convince him this was a good plan.
To my surprise, he managed the job when I set him on the toilet seat. Then he cocked his head at me, as if to say, Oh, you can accept me spelling with Scrabble tiles, but this is too much for you?
Point taken, dog.
“What do you think we should do?” I asked, as I washed my hands.
He trotted off, and I followed him because he’d never steered me wrong. Oddly, the genius dog was the most normal part of my life. Ironic, when I desperately craved a white-picket-fence scenario; it didn’t look like that was in the cards for me.
Butch met me in the hall, my bag clenched between his teeth. Since it was almost as heavy as he was, he was towing it with adorable Chihuahua grunts. I knelt to get out the Scrabble tiles, as I suspected that was what he wanted. Sure enough, as soon as I scattered them on the wood floor, he went to work with his little paws. When it came, his advice was succinct.
no more demons
“You’re probably right,” I said.
But that left only Kel as an option for breaking the spell. No matter how much information I found in Booke’s library, it was useless to me. I’d had the shortest career imaginable as a witch. Still, I spent another hour among the books, looking for a way that would permit me to solve the problem. Unfortunately, I only had the touch.
By dinnertime, I had given up. As Shannon and Booke put together a meal, I withdrew to the privacy of the guest bedroom we’d shared the night before. Butch slipped in behind me, but since he wasn’t whining, I couldn’t be in mortal danger. I’d take that as an indication that I had made a good choice. No more demons, indeed.
Mentally, I braced myself. The last time I’d seen Kel, who initially scared the hell out of me, because I thought he was a murderer, he had been kissing me good-bye. Obviously, things had changed between us during our time together in Peru. But however sweet and tender those moments, I’d known from the beginning that he wasn’t a viable option for a happily ever after. Most notably because he was Nephilim—half angel—and bound to serve. Unlike humans, he lacked free will.
It felt a little wrong to summon him to do my bidding, but I told myself it wasn’t for me. This is for Booke. So I took a deep breath and spoke the words: “Kelethiel, my true friend, son of Uriel and Vashti, on the strength of your sacred vow, I call thee!”
And nothing happened.
The last time I called him, I’d pulled him out of Sheol itself, a feat that boggled the mind, now that I’d actually been there. Maybe you got the words wrong. I tried again, a couple of variations, but still nothing. I supposed the curse might be hindering him, but I didn’t see how a decaying spell, cast by a mortal practitioner, could block an ability that had crossed dimensions before.
Confused and disappointed, I opened the bedroom door, Butch trotting at my heels. After setting out a dish of food for the dog, I ate in silence along with Shannon and Booke. At least t
he food stayed down, as had lunch. They could tell I wasn’t in the mood to chat, so they kept the conversation alive on their own. Shannon asked a lot of questions about the war and the Blitz; it was intriguing to get a firsthand account from someone who was still coherent.
As Booke opened a tin of cookies, the air changed, gained electricity. And Kel appeared in the kitchen. He was still tall, bald, and pale; icy-eyed with impressive muscles and arcane tatts that sometimes kindled with magickal light. I stared at him, utterly confounded. That was not how it had worked before. Before I could frame any of the questions bubbling at the forefront of my mind, he took my arm.
“I have an urgent need to speak with you.” He’d never been much on manners or pretending to be normal.
So this didn’t surprise me at all. With a muttered excuse for the others, I let him tow me into the other room. “You’re here.”
A pang of bittersweet memory went through me, but to my astonishment, it wasn’t attached to anything stronger. We’d shared a lovely interlude, but I had no desire to spin it into something else or build impossible dreams around him. The only man I wanted was beyond my reach. Kel studied my features in silence for a moment, and then he inclined his head, as if he read the truth in my face.
“I’m very relieved you called me, Corine.”
“Called,” I repeated. “Not summoned?”
“That’s why I need to talk to you. Do you remember in Catemaco when I said you held the potential for heaven and hell and that you had not yet chosen?”
I recalled the scene well. We had been on the lake, stranded in the lancha, surrounded by feral monkeys. “Yeah, why?”
“Because you have chosen.”
“Surely I would be aware of something like that,” I said skeptically.
“When you fled Sheol, you rejected the demon inherent in your line. Did you not feel it when Ninlil left you?”
There definitely had been pain when I dove through the gate, returning to the mortal realm. But Chance had just died, and I was injured. I hadn’t been entirely sure whether I’d imagined that wrenching pain. To my shame, my head hadn’t been clear while I was in the demon realm. I’d made an unholy bargain to save my friends, which resulted in the demon queen, Ninlil, using me as a meat puppet, doing terrible things while I watched in horror.
