Blue Diablo cs-1

by Ann Aguirre

  “I’m a handler,” I said at last, unsure whether she even knew what that was.

  Immediately she reached for my hands and turned them palms up. “Dios mio.” Eva crossed herself as she studied scars old and new. “What a curse.”

  I felt dumbstruck by her perspicacity. I almost never told anyone. People didn’t believe my claim, and if they did, it colored their view of me. If they romanticized such powers, they ranked me up there with sugarplum fairies, helpful brownies, and the good witch Glinda. If they demonized them, then I fell somewhere between the Wicked Witch of the West and something you summoned with blood at a crossroads.

  To my surprise, she didn’t ask about the scars. There are so few handlers out there; maybe she didn’t realize I’m unusual. If I’d been born with this ability, it wouldn’t work like this. It’s more common to petition a practitioner for a divination spell that will permit him or her to read the energies stored in an object, but like all divinations, the information produced can be double-edged and unreliable.

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “It’s not as much fun as it looks.”

  She regarded me with a soft look in her brown eyes. In a minute, she might call me pobrecita and try to tend my wounds. Clearly Chuch had himself a tenderhearted woman, whatever her foibles otherwise.

  “He’s using you to find his mother,” she surmised. “What a shitty thing to do, like you could say no—and you still half in love with him.” Tsking, she shook her head.

  “I am not!”

  Instead of arguing, she laughed, and that made it worse somehow. “Lies. You eat him with your eyes, Corine.” Then she did say it. “Pobrecita. Men can be such assholes.”

  I didn’t. Did I? Unhappy, I clutched my coffee mug, resolving not to permit any more visual binges.

  “Anyway. I handled the Buddha statuette his mother left behind and saw a white truck. Something Sanitation or maybe Something Salvation...” I trailed off, depressed at how slim a lead that offered.

  “Did you check the phone book?” At my blank look, she got up and went to the bureau just outside the kitchen door and returned with a directory in hand. “I guess that’s too obvious, huh?” Eva flipped the pages, first looking under sanitation. “Five listings. Would you recognize the truck if you saw it again?”

  I nodded. “Pretty sure. White with blue lettering, and I got a good look at the logo.”

  “So we can eliminate the Salvation Army trucks. Those aren’t white.” Double-checking the directory, Eva tapped a finger thoughtfully. “I’d rule out salvation altogether, myself. There aren’t any other listings.”

  Wow, she wasn’t half-bad at this deductive stuff. Maybe she should get her license if the forgery thing didn’t pan out. “Write down the addresses, and we can do a drive-by so I can check out the trucks.” A plan of action cheered me up some. “Let’s go tell the guys.”

  I’d forgotten about the chess game in progress. As Eva trailed me into the office, Chance said, “Check.” The pieces on screen meant nothing to me, but I didn’t want to interrupt. It didn’t take long for Booke to decide he was doomed, though, and after some gentlemanly cursing, he ceded the game, which Chance took with his next move.

  “I haven’t seen an opening like that since Pavel Blatny played Rasmussen in ’eighty-four,” Booke said, openly enthused. “Really unorthodox stuff, but—”

  Chuch mouthed a kiss to Eva while reining in his pet Englishmen. “Booke. A deal’s a deal, mano. Info now; deconstruct the game later.”

  “Oh. Right.” Booke sounded subdued, and I gathered the impression that this sort of thing comprised his primary social outlet. If I were computer girl, I’d message him sometime. Hell, I might do it anyway, provided I could figure it out. “Well, it’s clearly a variation on a summoning circle found in the Lemegeton Clavicula Salomonis.” I wasn’t the only one who went blank, but luckily I didn’t have to ask.

  “The what?” Chance looked at me like I ought to know, but I’m not a witch. I don’t use rituals. I don’t even look at the old books anymore, though I’d never throw them away. They’re all I have left of my mother.

  “Sorry,” Booke said. “It’s a rather famous grimoire. It covers a lot of ground regarding summoning, binding, and making deals with demons. Though I can’t be certain from her sketches, I do think the ritual involved the Knights of Hell. Caim, Balam, Murmur, and Foras most closely resembled the symbols, but none of them were a perfect match.”

  I cleared my throat. “Either my memory or my drawing might have been at fault. In layman’s terms, what does that mean, Booke?”

  The speakers crackled, and I could practically hear him weighing his response. “I’m not sure,” he said at last, “but I believe she used the Knights to enforce a bargain with those four men. Their oath against their souls, sealed in blood.”

  For a moment, I imagined Knights of Hell coming to collect on a bum deal. Heck of a way to make sure someone kept his word. Never mind how Min knew how to do so. “It must have been important.”

  “To say the least.” Booke sounded amused. “I’ll keep investigating the matter if you wish and e-mail Chuch if I find anything.”

  “That’d be great, primo. See what you can turn up on the four Knights she invoked, would you?”

  “Absolutely. Talk to you later, Chuch. It was lovely meeting all of you.” Booke’s teatime manners put a smile on my face even as I turned to face Chance.

  You’d think he might be used to bad news by now, but I guess it just never gets easier to hear that your mother knows how to conjure common household demons, never mind the Knights of Hell. Maybe his back hurt, or maybe the huevos rancheros sat wrong, but he looked like he was in serious pain. I wanted to go to him, but remembering what Eva said about eating him with my eyes, I waited for someone else to make a move. Anyone.

  “That sucks, huh?” Trust Chuch to reduce it to the simplest terms.

  Chance echoed Booke’s words with a faintly ironic inflection. “To say the least. But you two looked like you had news when you first came in.” He offered a half smile. “I hope it’s good.”

  I let Eva do the honors.

  Searching for a Needle

  Chance let me drive, a pretty good indicator of his mood.

  I caught him looking at me out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t speak, mostly because I couldn’t think of what to say. This was new territory for us. Usually I teetered on the verge of falling apart while he appeared cool and removed. Maybe if he’d shown more emotion when we were together—

  No. I still would’ve left. Near death experiences have a way of making you want to change your life.

  We had four addresses to check out, and then I’d meet the empathic cop for dinner at Logan’s Roadhouse. Given the realities of the job, his abilities must pretty much suck, I decided. Saldana must be exposed to suffering until he felt like one raw nerve ending. I wondered how he could maintain that aura of calm competence.

  Ignoring Chance’s second look proved harder than the first, and the third made me ask, “What?” in exasperation as we stopped at a red light.

  “Do you know what Lemegeton Clavicula Salomonis translates to?” He paused in expectation as I hit the gas, maneuvering into the left lane.

  “No. Latin isn’t one of my skills.”

  “I looked it up,” he said quietly. “It’s the Lesser Key of Solomon.”

  For a moment, it didn’t register since I was reading street signs, making sure we didn’t miss our turn. Shock streaked through me.

  “That has to be a coincidence.”

  If I didn’t consider myself much too young for such behavior, I’d pooh-pooh the notion. Maybe even tsk a little. My lineage does not include ancient kings. My dad, Albie Solomon, was a traveling salesman from Peoria, and he wasn’t even Jewish. He left when I was seven, and I haven’t heard from him since. The state tried to locate him after my mom died, but nobody could turn him up. Might be dead for all I care. If he didn’t love me enough to stay, then I want nothing
to do with him.

  I turned onto the access road that led to A&B Sanitation. If fortune favored us, their trucks would be outside in plain view so we could tick them off the list. We had four names, and I’d done some calling to narrow it down to that point. Sadly, when Chance read the list, he didn’t feel a particular magnetism toward any of the names, which meant we had to visit the four places with white trucks in their fleet.

  I’ve seen him do the trick before—it’s a little like dowsing—but that was the first time he ever came up empty. For my sanity’s sake, I refused to let myself worry what it meant. But damn, if his luck had left him, we were in big trouble.

  No need to articulate this fear because it must be eating at Chance as well. He knew my gift alone couldn’t carry the day. I needed him to help me find Yi Min-chin, just as he needed me. Was that codependence or symbiosis?

  Time would tell.

  This street went nowhere except a series of warehouses. Ours was third, set alongside the scenic interstate. To my disgust, all the trucks must be parked inside or were out collecting rubbish. I parked and tried to decide on a good cover story.

  Got it.

  I glanced over at Chance, one hand on the door handle. “You okay?”

  “No,” he said. “Not even close. But let’s go. We have three more stops after this.”

  After shouldering my bag, I climbed out of the Toyota and headed for the business office. A small section of the warehouse had been sectioned off, holding a few desks and file cabinets, and a harried blond woman sat tapping her index finger against the phone. I’d guess she was on hold. The brown and gold nameplate on her desk read ANGIE CURRAN.

  “May I help you?” Her expression said she’d rather eat cut glass.

  So much for job satisfaction at A&B Sanitation.

  “May I take a look at one of your trucks?”

  “Why?” She sighed and put down the phone.

  I tried my best girl-to-girl smile. “Because a garbage truck T-boned my car but I didn’t get a clear look at the writing on the side. I just want to see if your trucks are white with blue letters.”

  “Oh, they’re not. Some bastard sideswiped you and drove off?” Angie shook her head as she stood up. “If one of our drivers did that, I’d get his ass fired. But sure, honey, you can take a peek to verify. None of our trucks are damaged. We have a couple in back that are scheduled for repairs, though, so have a look.”

  “Thanks. I’m visiting every sanitation company until I track the guy down.”

  We followed her through the “Employees Only” door into the warehouse proper. The space was mostly empty at this time of day, but as she’d said, there were a couple of trucks parked, waiting their turn in the mechanic’s bay. White and yellow trucks.

  “That’s all I needed. Thank you so much for your time.”

  As we went back the way we came, she whispered, “Your boyfriend’s cute but he doesn’t say much.”

  I debated with myself before deciding to let the misapprehension stand. “He has a lot on his mind right now.”

  “That’s too bad. I hope you find the guy who screwed you over. I love that you aren’t letting him get away with it, no matter how much trouble you have to go through.”

  Lady, you don’t know the half of it.

  Two more stops went more or less like that. Chance worried me with his silence. Usually he handled such situations by turning on the charm and watching resistance to whatever he wanted melt away. I was used to being background scenery, not the star of the show. But I managed.

  At the last place on the list, Southern Sanitation, I had no more than parked the car when I saw a white and blue truck pull out of the gated parking area. This legwork stuff worked. I needed to do something nice for Eva.

  I followed the vehicle for a moment with my eyes before saying, “That’s it. Whoever took your mom has ties to this company. Somehow.”

  Chance turned his head, and in the sunlight angling through the window, his eyes looked inexpressibly weary. “Thanks.”

  I tried to smile. “You’re welcome.”

  Jesus, I didn’t know what to do with this Chance. He frightened me with his intensity. Once, I’d believed he was all cool calculation, but I was starting to think that maybe he’d hidden a lot of what he felt. I just didn’t know why.

  “Nothing in the world is like I thought it was.” He paused before adding quietly, “Not even you.”

  I put the car in gear without responding. Just what did he expect from me? As I saw it, by accompanying him to Laredo, I’d already gone above and beyond the call as an ex. That was for his mother, though, and I suppose he knew it.

  Instead of taking the opportunity to rehash our relationship, I said, “We should put Eva on researching Southern Sanitation. Find out who owns it and, if possible, the parent company. The trail has to lead somewhere.”

  My brisk tone woke a similar response. “Good idea. We’ll get on that as soon as we get back to the house. What would you like to do for dinner tonight?”

  Uh-oh.

  “I already have plans.” I made a left onto highway 59, heading away from the city and toward Chuch’s house. “In fact I was hoping to borrow the car.”

  “What plans?”

  Here it comes.

  “I’m having dinner with Jesse Saldana.”

  “The cop. You’re really going to dinner with the cop who won’t let us look at my mom’s purse, the purse we’ll probably need to bribe someone for you to handle?” His voice sounded tight, but I didn’t risk a look at him.

  There was a special circle in hell reserved for me. I should tell him the truth; I knew Saldana only wanted to talk about my gift.

  “Like I said before, maybe I can change his mind.”

  “You sure this is a good idea? How do you know we can trust him?”

  “I don’t.” After turning into the driveway, I put the car in park. Angled my body to face Chance. I hated that he looked so good in the late afternoon sunshine. “There is no us. I’m doing this for me.”

  He flinched as he climbed out of the Camry. I wanted to think it was his back, but I knew better. “You’re right. Of course you can borrow the car. Just be careful. I’ll talk to Eva about Southern Sanitation so you can get ready.”

  Why did I wind up feeling like I’d kicked a puppy anytime I tried to put some distance between us? I am not still half in love with him.

  It didn’t help that whenever he got that look in his eyes, I wanted to brush the dark hair away from his forehead. I wanted to press my cheek against his and let him lean on me. Shit, who was I kidding? Even with his back torn up I wanted to take him to bed and make him forget about his troubles for an hour or two.

  Instead I went inside and got ready for my “date.”

  More than One Way to Skin a Potato

  To annoy Chance, I spent more time getting ready than I needed to and headed out smelling of frangipani.

  I’d borrowed Chuch’s computer long enough to print out a map to Logan’s Roadhouse, so I just needed to follow it. All the way back to town, my conscience jabbed me. I could have told Chance why I was going. I didn’t know why I hadn’t, except I wanted to keep this part of my life separate from him. Disastrous things happened when I let myself get too wrapped up in him.

  Typical of its kind, the restaurant possessed lots of heavy wood and neon, metal buckets of peanuts for people to munch on and then throw the shells on the floor. I supposed it added to atmosphere but I wouldn’t want to be the one sweeping up at the end of the night. I got a booth near the bar and waited.

  The waitress, whose name tag read Betsy, beamed a gigawatt smile at me. I decided she must’ve had her teeth capped recently. “Evenin’. Are you waiting for more?”

  Well, I’d told the hostess somebody would be joining me, so, “Yes.”

  I hate repeating myself.

  “Well, then. I’ll get you started and then let you be. We have loaded baked potato soup and chili tonight, hon. You want a drink? Ma
ybe start with some nachos or some Texas onion petals? Some potato skins?”

  “Diet Coke with lime, please.” I must admit, it was a little strange to order in English. I didn’t know what Saldana would want, but the skins sounded good. “And potato skins to start. We’ll order after he gets here.”

  She made a few notes and wove through the crowd, looking like every other server in her Logan’s shirt and jeans. I wished I could have a something with tequila in it but I was my own designated driver, dammit. One plus about such a noisy place: nobody would overhear us. The waitress brought my Diet Coke and, later, the potato skins. Still no cop, though.

  “You sure you don’t want to order?”

  I shook my head. Betsy just thought I didn’t notice the pitying look she slid my way as she headed back to the kitchen.

  Nerves jangling, I fiddled with the pail of peanuts until Saldana arrived, a full half hour after the appointed time. He slid into the booth opposite me, offering a smile. “Sorry I’m late. Work stuff.”

  “It’s all right.” But I’d begun to wonder if he would show.

  “Jesse,” the waitress said with evident delight. “Don’t you know it’s not nice to keep a lady waiting?” She flirted shamelessly.

  If he really was my date, I’d be pissed. Since he wasn’t, I sat back with a smirk and let him deal with Betsy. I helped myself to another potato skin while he ordered an iced tea.

  Then and there I decided my next boyfriend would be a big, cuddly teddy bear type. No more watching other women devour my men with their eyes. But I enjoyed the kind way he managed to dismiss Betsy without hurting her feelings.

  “Sorry,” he said again when he’d gotten rid of her.

  “It’s not a problem.” My smirk became a grin.

  Saldana arched a brow. “You think this is funny?”

  “I do, actually. Serves you right.”