We sat down and I grabbed a breadstick from the woven basket. “Do you want some?” I held the basket out so he could reach it easier.
“No, thank you.”
I put it down. Started breaking little pieces off my breadstick and tossing them into the water. We sat there until Raoul decided I’d calmed down enough for us to talk like reasonable human—uh—Eldhayr. I jacked my arm back and threw the rest of the breadstick into the ocean.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
What kind of question is that for somebody whose broken neck you once repaired as easily as if it was pieced together with buttercream icing? I mean, Raoul, every time you and I meet I have to face the fact that we have our own classification. You could at least avoid reminding me that I was the only one who agreed to come back to fight. That Matt preferred paradise—or whatever—to me.
I said, “I’ll be okay.” I badly wanted to shuffle through my poker chips. When I found them in my dream pocket I nearly cheered, but since Raoul knew what that was all about I satisfied myself with grabbing one and holding it tight between my fingers while I faked a relaxed expression. “It’s so great that you showed. I wanted to ask you about—”
“I need a favor.”
“Oh?” I looked at him a little closer. He seemed as controlled as ever. But I realized his knee was bobbing up and down under the table like he was trying to run one of those treadle sewing machines you occasionally see in antique stores. And every once in a while he would tap the base of his water glass with his forefinger, until he caught himself and made himself stop.
He said, “I wonder if I could borrow Astral.”
I felt my eyebrows shoot up. If I let the cat go I wouldn’t just temporarily lose access to all the information she stored. I’d be loaning out my scout and backup arsenal. “How long do you need her?” I asked.
He looked over his shoulder. I did too. If he thought somebody else could follow him into my dreams I sure as hell wanted to know who.
He said, “I’ll tell you. If you promise to keep it to yourself.”
I said, “Okay.” He waited. “Oh! I promise not to tell anyone,” I finished.
He lowered his voice. “Remember the woman we discussed a few days ago? The one with the shiny lips?”
“Yeah. What was her name? Tina? Thea?”
“Nia,” he said.
I nodded. “Right. Nia with the intimidating lip gloss. Did you make with the chitchat?”
“She’s coming over for lunch.” He slid toward the edge of his chair, like I was about to send him off on a vital errand.
“You smooth talker, you!”
“Yes. Well, no. I wrote everything down first and memorized it.” He took a breath through his nose and blew it out his mouth. I could see the stress drop away as the corners of his mouth lifted. “Spending my life in the military did not prepare me to converse with women.”
“You’re talking to me.”
“You’re different.”
Okay, we’ll stop before you tell me I’m just another guy, okay? That way I won’t have to club you over the head with this flower vase. I asked, “So where does Astral come in?”
“Nia mentioned that of everything in life she had to leave, she missed her cat the most. So I thought…” Mischievous smirk. Gosh, it seemed that even higher beings needed props to get to second base.
So I guessed the question was, should I steer Raoul away from the shiny-lipped cat lady or get comfortable with a Diet Coke and a bowl of popcorn? Well, he had interrupted one of my favorite dreams. “Astral will make the trip okay?”
“She’s a robot.”
I’ll take that as a “yes.” “Then you can have her. But—” I raised my hand before he could shower me with thanks. “I’m going to need some payback.”
“Anything.”
Oh, no, Raoul. Tell me you haven’t got it this bad. I said, “Kyphas is going to betray us.”
“Naturally.”
“Can you find out what she can do with the Rocenz if she gets her hands on it? I mean, beyond the obvious political gain she’d receive by returning it to hell? We know what it’ll do for humans. But she hinted that it works differently for demons, and I’m worried that someone’s gonna lose his soul if we don’t head her off quick.”
Raoul nodded. “You make an excellent point. I’ll get busy with that.”
“Okay. And next time I wake up, I’ll send Astral through the portal. I should warn you, she’s developed some funky habits since Jack accidentally blew her head off.”
Raoul nodded. “Good. That will be a great icebreaker.” He leaned over and took my hand. “Thanks, Jaz. I really appreciate this.” I looked down at his fingers, long and bronzed by endless days in the sun. And watched them change into shorter, broader digits that wrapped around my own with familiar strength.
“I think it’s time for bed, Jazzy. How about you?” I raised my eyes to Matt’s. Such a clear blue I could imagine sailing around the world in them.
“Okay,” I whispered.
He pulled me to my feet. Slid his arm around my waist, slipped his fingers under my shirt so he could brush them along the sides of my ribs. I shivered with anticipation. “Let’s get married right away,” he said. “Can we get the whole thing planned in a month?”
I caught my breath. “Why are you in such a rush?”
He pulled me closer. “I’ve always wanted to be a dad. What do you think? Soon?”
I smiled up into his eyes, part of me dancing as I imagined the future unfolding ahead of us. But even deep into sleep I couldn’t push away the voice that said, Hold tight to this moment, Jaz. Because two weeks from tonight the dreams die with him.
I woke feeling more exhausted than I had when I’d fallen asleep. My hand went to my face, trying to brush away the drool that must’ve dried on my chin while I was out. But it was too thick for spit and too smooth for upchuck. Then I realized it was on my upper lip too. I sat up and looked down at the T-shirt I was wearing. It was one of Vayl’s. Plain white cotton that made him look like a bodybuilder but hung to my knees. I’d bled all over the front of it. I checked the pillowcase. Soaked. Geez, how do you sleep through a gushing nosebleed like that?
Maybe when you spend the whole time dreaming backward instead of looking forward.
I ignored Granny May, who was staring at me with uncharacteristic concern from behind her embroidery hoop. Because I still had to deal with the aftermath. Not as big a deal as you might expect, because I’d already done cleanup twice before, and I was starting to develop a process.
I showered and then spent another half hour in the tileriffic bathroom. With gallons of cold water, a little soap, and some scrubbing, I got all the blood out. I hung everything but the pillow over the shower’s curtain rod, and that I just set on the toilet lid. At the end of that time I finally admitted to myself that the race was on now. If I couldn’t carve Brude’s name on the gates of hell before he blew my circuits for good, it wouldn’t matter much what century Vayl thought we were living in. Because he’d be trudging through the rest of it without me.
I returned his cane to my trunk and motioned to Astral. “Time for breakfast, girl. What do you eat, like, bolts and oil or something?” She looked up at me and blinked a couple of times. “No patience for stupid questions, huh? See, that’s why you’re a sucky pet. Now, Jack? He thinks everything I say is brilliant. You can tell by the way he wags his tail. Have I told you lately how much it bites that he’s gone? And so, pretty much, is Vayl?” I stopped, shoved my palm against my chest. Amazing how it literally hurt from time to time. Maybe people really could die of broken hearts.
“But not in this getup, right, Astral?” I looked down at my sun-colored T-shirt and couldn’t help but feel cheered by the grinning superhero posing on the front, who was pretty much all straight white teeth, pointy-edged face mask, and flowing red cape. He had his hands on his hips as he gazed bravely off into the wild blue. The caption read IMAGINE WHAT I COULD DO IF MY TIGHT
S WEREN’T STUCK UP MY CRACK!
I’d found it in a package outside my door just before going downstairs and had immediately decided to change clothes. It had come with a note: You’re the best. Happy Birthday! Cole
I also wore a pair of denim cutoffs that hit me just above the knee and black running shoes. I left my hair down and shoved the yellow-framed sunglasses Cole had also bought me on top of my head for later. Grief needed a place to hide, which wasn’t a big deal now that the temperature hovered in the mid-sixties. I threw on my white jacket from yesterday, made exclusively for gun-toting babes like me. Lined to hide the dark contours of my holster and gun, it was still made of material that breathed like cotton. It might begin to look slightly awkward when the temperature rose to eighty-five or so. But that was where my country of origin saved me. People just seemed to accept weirdness from Americans.
Walking downstairs for the fourth day in a row didn’t feel any more habitual. I still marveled at the exotic feel of Monique’s riad, a house so old that even the dirt lodged in the carved curlicues of the stair balusters had become valuable. While we stepped in and out of the rays of sunshine slanting through classically arched windows, Astral played a song she’d overheard in the Djemaa el Fna the day before, one that a group of musicians with flutes, drums, and a couple of brass instruments had been belting out with more enthusiasm than talent. It felt like a fanfare as I reached the front door.
“So you know where you’re going?” I asked her. She looked up at me. I slapped my chest. “Jump up here.” She sprang into my arms. “I’m sending you to spend some time with my Spirit Guide, Raoul. Be a good girl.”
She launched into a terrific cover of Cyndi Lauper’s hit “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” Which made walking her to the end of the block where a plane portal stood between a fruit seller’s souk and a shoe repair shop somewhat awkward—because I had to pretend to be belting out the words as she sang, “Oh, Mother, dear, we’re not the fortunate ones. And girls, they wanna have fu-un.” By the time we were done with the song, we’d gathered a small crowd, who clapped politely and gave me a handful of euros for our performance.
“Thanks,” I said, waving goodbye to them as they moved on down the street. I glared down at the cat. “You are a pain in the ass, you know that?” I held my finger under her nose as she opened her mouth. “Don’t. Sing. Don’t talk. Just act like a damn cat for a second.”
I stood watching the portal, the flames that framed its rectangular entry flickering from blue to orange and back again as I waited for Raoul to open it from his side. A car slowed down and a grinning old man with hair sprouting from his ears leaned out the passenger door. “Hello, pretty lady!”
“Get lost!” I yelled.
Come on, Raoul. I have now done a cappella karaoke and convinced the natives I’m a prostitute, all so you can get a date. Open the damn door!
The shadowed entryway swirled and then cleared. I looked straight into his penthouse, a tidy black-and-white-themed bachelor pad located high above the rooftops of Sin City. He stepped into view, his boots polished to a gleam, his trousers and jacket creased so sharply if you looked at them too long they’d give your eyeballs paper cuts. He held out his hands and I stepped forward just far enough to set Astral into them.
“She’s in a musical mood today.”
He nodded, his clear blue eyes busy taking in my T-shirt. When he laughed out loud I nearly fell off the curb. Relaxed Raoul was a whole different guy. Like somebody you’d want to go bowling with, because between frames you knew he’d have you rolling with stories about when he and his buddies had once hung a gigantic sign lined with old-lady bloomers from the high school roof that said NOW WE KNOW WHY NOBODY BAKES LIKE GRANDMA!
I said, “One thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I still haven’t figured out quite what you are, but I know you deserve the best. If she doesn’t treat you right, move on.”
Still smiling, he said, “I’ll go one better. If she breaks my heart, I’ll sic you on her.”
I nodded. “Works for me.”
He lifted Astral, who’d been rubbing her paws against his buttons, as if she was fascinated by their shape and texture. “Thanks for this.”
“You’re welcome.”
He looked over both shoulders. Touched Astral on the forehead and whispered, “Some celestial interference, if you please.”
Astral yawned widely, but her mouth didn’t close again. If any sound was coming from it, I couldn’t hear. But suddenly I felt… tense. “Raoul?”
“My scouts have discovered information that not everyone thinks you should be privy to. They fear, if you knew, you would throw this mission and run back to America. They don’t know you as well as I do, but they have more power.” His voice went even lower. “So listen closely and be careful who you repeat this to. What you asked me about before? About the… tool and what the demons could do with it?”
I swallowed past the sudden dryness in my throat. “Yeah?”
“Don’t allow the demon in your party to get ahold of it. If she did, she could turn any one of you into spawn as well.”
“How?”
“They’re still questioning the informant, so I can’t be sure. I only know she’d have to use her own blood and another item, the source of which we haven’t pinpointed yet.” He looked around again. “You’ll be careful?”
“Of course. And thanks. For everything. But I should really go. Because I’m sure it looks like I’m talking to myself in the middle of the sidewalk in Morocco. And I think I’ve pulled all the weird stunts this neighborhood can handle for one day.”
He nodded. “I’ll be in touch.” The image of his place grayed out, and I turned back to the riad before I was, once again, staring into a black hole. It just felt like I was doing too much of that lately.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Monique Landry had probably been born smiling. In fact, I’d never met a person I believed more when she said, “I’m delighted to know you!” This was a lady who ran a hotel because she’d be lost without company.
She almost never talked about herself, but Bergman liked to know as much as he could about the people inside his comfort zone. So he’d fast discovered that our hostess had been born in Paris to a family with money so old it reeked of mildew and rotten grapes.
Similar story with her husband, who’d spent most of his youth jumping off cliffs and out of airplanes because, apparently, the guy couldn’t get enough thrills driving his Jaguar at full throttle. When he finally landed badly and broke his pelvis he met Monique, who’d decided to fill her boring days with a career in physical therapy. They had two kids, now in college. And he’d died less than two years ago while attempting to relive his youth. Turned out the guy who’d packed his parachute had been drunk at the time.
Monique rarely mentioned Franck, though she did say he was the one who’d hired Chef Henri. And good on him for finding such an excellent cook. Every morning he spoiled us with a bounty of home-baked breads, herb butters, freshly squeezed orange juice, and mint tea. Which was probably why I’d gained a couple of pounds despite the stress related to my current mission.
In fact, as I stood at the door where the lounge entered the courtyard, my mouth was already watering from the smells Henri had risen early to tempt us with. But as soon as my foot hit the tiles I lost my appetite. Because laced with the aroma of homemade goodness was the psychic scent of a newcomer. Wouldn’t Vayl just ride the smug all around the block to know his always-be-prepared lessons had saved me yet again?
The source of my change in breakfast plans sat in the shade of the gazebo. He was tapping his fingers against his thigh to a rhythm only he could hear while he watched Monique put the finishing touches to the breakfast buffet. She lined up the elegantly folded napkins, futzed with flowers so yellow they made me blink, then poured a couple of glasses of juice and joined him.
I should too. I knew that. Casually, like my heart wasn’t trying to make a break for the
street. Instead I stepped through the open door, silent as Astral on her best day. Five quick steps took me to an enormous banana plant, one leaf of which could’ve wrapped all the way around me. Which wasn’t a bad idea. Because despite what I’d told Cassandra, I wasn’t ready to see Sterling, much less talk to him.
But by the way he sat, long legs stretched out in front of him, his bare feet crossed at the ankles, it looked like I couldn’t count on him leaving anytime soon. He set his glass on the table and linked his fingers over his flat stomach. His piercing black eyes moved from Monique’s to the serenity of the pool and back again as they talked quietly and waited for me to show.
Part of me (one guess which) blew out a sigh of admiration. Something had altered in him since last time. Though his hair was just as black, long, and flowing as I remembered, he looked… grown up. His heather-green shirt was unbuttoned far enough to reveal a silver chain holding a black onyx amulet that looked like dozens of midnight-tinted lightning bolts had fused at a single point. At their center a silver sphere glittered so brilliantly it gave the illusion of rotation. He still wore the wide bone bracelets that had made him famous. Their color complemented his khaki cargo pants, which hugged hips and thighs with the long, slender shape reserved for an endurance runner. My old adversary might spend his weekends jamming with his buds, but it looked to me like Monday morning found him pounding down the miles at his local track.
I couldn’t even get my feet to move. Because, you know, what if I pissed him off? Again? I knew exactly what he was capable of pulling off these days. And I hadn’t lied to Cassandra when I said I’d changed. Now it did matter what happened if he decided to reach into one of his pockets, pull out a pinch of shawackem dust, and wait for me to turn my back before sprinkling it on my toast.
He rose from his seat, slow and lazy, just another guy who’s ready to nap after a good meal. But I knew he was a cheetah. If the mood took him he could tear territorial intruders into pieces so small even the vultures would snub them.
Monique stood too, looking confused. He put her at ease with his let’s-share-stories grin. “We have company,” he said.
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