by Ann Aguirre
Oh. Shit.
“Barachiel,” I guessed.
“Clever monkey.”
Blerg. Distaste for the condescension in his tone permitted me to force down some of the abject terror. In response, I picked Butch up and cradled him in one arm; the dog did not stand down. Without my intervention he would’ve chewed the archangel’s ankles and pissed on his designer shoes. Barachiel seemed amused by the move, contemptuous of my pet and me.
“I’m still listening to the benefits.” So far as I knew, Kel was still stalling him. “I don’t make rash decisions.”
“I thought it might help if you got to know me.” He gazed into my eyes, apparently trying to hypnotize me.
Which might’ve worked if Butch hadn’t been biting my forearm. Good dog.
“I’m willing to listen if you want to state your case.”
Anything to get rid of you. This is. Not. Good.
The only way this could be worse was if I was in my panties, like I had been when I saw Chance. I so wasn’t prepared to fight an archangel or an ancient former demon—whatever the hell he was—tonight. Maybe I never would be, but it would be the apex of suckage if I got killed as Chance managed to find his way back to me. I wasn’t on board with such a Romeo and Juliet ending. No damn way.
So bullshit would form my defense matrix; fortunately, I was strong in the ways of BS-fu.
“I can taste the darkness on you, even now,” he whispered. “Whorls of smoke and brimstone. But it’s fading. You chose the bright path. You cut the demon out. I need someone at my side, one strong enough to resist temptation. Together, we can reshape the world. No more war. No more poverty.”
On the surface, it sounded great, but I remembered the vision Kel had shown me. The people who gazed up at me seemed brainwashed. Maybe the world was a shithole, but at least it was full of people who could call their minds their own. I didn’t want to create some totalitarian regime where this creepy fucker controlled our actions and opinions. The idea of being used in that fashion made me want to barf.
“I’m unclear on what you’re offering,” I said softly, buying time. “I thought I’d be some kind of a religious leader. But it seems like you’re inviting me to take a different role.”
Before he could reply, footsteps crunched over the gravel, heavy ones. They thumped over to the lawn, coming toward us. Kel was the only person big enough to make those strides. Relief surged through me; surely he could get rid of his boss.
“What’re you doing here?” Kel demanded.
“Checking up on you, Nephilim. It is my right.”
“If you frighten her away, then this failure is on you,” Kel said coldly.
His tats glowed with threatening power, and for a horrified moment, I wondered if they would duke it out on Chuch’s lawn. I held up a hand, almost too scared to speak, but somehow I got the words out.
“Please . . . take it down the road. Find an empty field. The winner can come find me. Just . . . don’t hurt my friends. Don’t hurt the baby.”
“There’s no need for violence,” Barachiel said silkily. “I always win. Isn’t that right, half-breed?”
The archangel raised his arm, and Kel’s body stretched taut, as if pulled on a torture rack. Then Barachiel slammed his palm downward; Kel’s knees buckled, dropping him into a humble, penitent posture. I’d never imagined a force strong enough to control Kel, but Barachiel’s power was undeniable. And terrible.
Kel mumbled something.
“I couldn’t hear you.”
“Yes, my lord.”
For interminable moments, I stood holding my dog while Barachiel forced Kel to demonstrate his utter helplessness. But I didn’t take the message from it he intended. Instead of seeing his potency, I saw my own death. Because now I knew for sure: Kel wouldn’t be able to stop his hands from tightening on my throat or running me through with a holy blade. Though he’d hate it, as with Asherah, he was helpless before Barachiel.
“I think that is an ample demonstration.” The archangel turned to me, his teeth alarmingly white in the dark. “You will find I am gentle and tender to those who please me.”
I heard the unspoken message as well. I am brutal and merciless to those who do not. Barachiel vanished as he had come, leaving Kel to stagger to his feet. I despised seeing him so reduced; it was obvious from his expression that he felt the deepest, most piercing shame. This night he had been stripped of his pride before me, left to grovel in the dirt at Barachiel’s whim. Maybe I was supposed to be impressed.
I wasn’t.
“I wish I could die,” he said hoarsely. “See an end to this at last. But even that, he will not allow.”
“What’s his hold on you? How can he—”
“If I knew, do you think I wouldn’t sever the cord? Once, I believed his power must come from divine right. What else could it be? But now . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I have no convictions. I am weary and alone.”
Part of me ached to hold him. But his problems were too big for me, and a hug wouldn’t do more than remind him things between us could never go further than that one night. In so many ways, he was alone. Maybe I could make it a little better, though. In some small way.
“That was awful,” I said. “But you saved me. I was about to wet my pants before you distracted him.”
That roused a reluctant smile. “Shameful cowardice.”
“You didn’t tell me he has that . . . death aura or whatever. It’s like he radiates I’m going to kill you and eat your liver in gaseous form.”
Butch yapped his agreement. I owed the dog too for refusing to back down, though one of these days the little goofball might get himself killed.
I went on, “So thanks. You’re not assigned to protect me anymore. You could’ve gotten worse for interfering.”
“That was nothing.”
Sadly, I believed him. “Come on. I’ll make you some breakfast.”
His micro-expression reflected bemusement in the subtle quirk of his mouth. “I thought you never cooked.”
“I can make eggs. And quesadillas. Which do you want?”
Kel looked a little less tormented already. It was good to know small pleasures like food could cheer up even a powerful Nephilim. “Can I have both?”
After the night we’d both had . . . “Why the hell not?”
I Know a Guy
I felt a little weird about rummaging in Eva’s kitchen, but I was quiet, and Kel was hungry. By the time dawn lightened the sky, I had a pile of quesadillas on the table, along with a huge crock of scrambled eggs. I made them a la Mexicana with diced onion, tomato, and hot peppers. In her fridge, I found some leftover green sauce and I set that out too. To my relief, my stomach seemed fine, and the smell of the food didn’t bother me.
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 fascinating, 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, wh
ich 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.
