by Ann Aguirre
Half of them dialed 911, but since Jesse was already here, I guessed the police were already on the way. Unfortunately, it would be too late by the time the authorities arrived, and Jesse would have some hard-core ’splaining to do. As Barachiel lunged at the white-haired Luren, I wondered if this attack would be written off as cartel-driven, ascribed to Chuch’s past unsavory associates. That being said, I understood the need for damage control. Otherwise the paranormal world would come out in a big way, as a result of a Texas BBQ. Talk about bizarre cause and effect.
For once, I wasn’t in the middle of the fight. These four were trying to kill each other, not me, but it didn’t make it better. I didn’t like being the juicy bone between four hungry dogs; things almost never worked out well for the bone. And if the Luren won, they wouldn’t wait to drag me back to Sheol for a final accounting. As if he read my thought—could alleged archangels do that?—Barachiel cut me a mordant look, laced with warning. I took it to mean he wouldn’t be distracted long . . . because these demons didn’t pose a serious threat, no matter what they thought. He also seemed a little insulted that I’d even considered the possibility he could lose.
Either way, it was no comfort. No matter who won, I lost.
The Luren were fast for all their feral beauty; they encircled Barachiel. His broad sweeps with the sword kept them back, but everywhere he turned, there was a demon, waiting for him to weaken. He didn’t seem to tire, however. They exchanged a flurry of feints and parries while people ran for their cars, yelling incomprehensibly at Chuch.
The motion of their blades made me dizzy. I couldn’t track Barachiel’s movements; he wasn’t even pretending to be human. It was like a movie fight, sped up with special effects, only the slashes and blocks were real. Barachiel slammed his sword so hard into the tall Luren’s that the demon’s blade broke, splintering into a dozen shards. The archangel didn’t pull his next blow either. He took off the creature’s head, and it bounced in a spray of blood. Demon blood was a little thicker, a little darker, and the smell was unmistakable. The stench of sulfur and brimstone permeated the air, dominating the gentler aromas of mesquite and good food.
At that, the last remaining guests who had been frozen with shock and disbelief sprang into motion. I had no idea how we would keep something like this quiet. Surely everyone on the guest list couldn’t be in on the secret, so what the hell . . . ? But that was way low on my priority list at the moment. I had so many emergencies to tackle that I didn’t even know where to start.
“My odds just got better,” Barachiel observed, holding his swordsman’s stance.
“If I die here or in Sheol, it makes no difference,” the demon responded. “You remember the price of failing the knight who commands you.” The Luren paused, smiling. “No, perhaps you don’t. You’ve rewritten your own history, after all.”
So maybe what Ninlil said was true. There were no angels or demons. Just other sentient beings, who lived in an alternate realm, and whose division gave rise to alternate mythos. Both sides had been playing with humanity for eons, though. Neither could claim benevolence or altruism. To my mind, both factions wanted something, whether it was as simple as entertainment or as ominous as power.
“Lies,” Barachiel returned. “Designed to seed doubt from one who has already lost. Don’t grant them even that small victory.” So saying, he wheeled into the fight once more, his sword a blur of light slashing at his foes.
Where the hell is Kel?
At that point, Eva shouted something about getting the guns, which would’ve been reassuring if she hadn’t been talking to a woman who looked eighty years old. But when Eva came back with a couple of shotguns, she handed one to Chuch’s abuela, and the old lady cocked it like she knew which way to point it.
The crowd thinned as the two remaining demons lashed at Barachiel. They hadn’t landed a single hit when I heard sirens in the distance.
Jesse strode forward. “You’re all out of your jurisdiction. I already texted Twila, and she’s got people on the way. You don’t do business in the state of Texas without her express approval. Y’all will clear out if you know what’s good for you.”
“Yep,” Chuch said. “Plus, you went and pissed my abuela off. That’s not a good idea.”
The old woman fired a warning shot, but not into the air. Her round ate a divot in the yard, right near where the three were fighting. To my surprise, they froze. Why wasn’t Barachiel owning them with some impressive archangel magick anyway? The ready answer seemed to be that he wasn’t as powerful as he projected or that he was weakened somehow. I wondered if that had something to do with Kel. A fight with an angry Nephilim could really take it out of you, I guessed.
Which meant Kel might not have come back because he couldn’t. Dammit. Now I had two men to save.
Eva cocked her weapon as well, stepping up beside Chuch’s grandmother. Shannon had a kitchen knife in her hand, and while it wasn’t a sword, she could do some damage with it. Unfortunately, I was unarmed; I didn’t even have my athame on me, as I’d stopped carrying it when my magick stopped working. So I didn’t have its psychological reassurance while we faced down Barachiel and the two strongest Luren I’d ever encountered. But I had faith in my friends, which was better than any blade.
After a short pause, the two Luren stepped back. The blond one pointed his weapon at me. “This isn’t over, Corine Solomon. You owe Sibella a debt, and one way or another, it will be paid. You cannot hide forever.”
“As long as she’s in Texas, however, you can’t have her,” Jesse said flatly.
So if I go home, I’m screwed. Awesome.
Maybe Tia knew who ran Mexico City, however. Possibly I could apply for protection, swear fealty, something that would make it worth his or her while to keep the Luren away from me. But I wouldn’t be going home without Chance . . . and I needed to find out what had happened to Kel. The demons strode away, around the side of the house, but before they left my sight, a cloud of darkness swathed them, and when it dissipated they were gone.
“We’ll finish this dance another time.” Barachiel sheathed his sword. Then he turned to me. “I have shed blood on your behalf. That constitutes an agreement.”
Shannon glared at him. “My ass, it does. She didn’t ask for your help . . . you assumed she wanted it. Looked to me like you picked a fight with those assholes on your own.”
“I agree,” Chuch’s grandmother said in Spanish. “No compacts were made, spirit. You did not await her answer.”
Saved by a technicality. I might’ve asked Barachiel to step in, but we’d never know, now. His countenance darkened with fury, mouth pulling taut. For a few seconds, he couldn’t find the words. Then he spat, “In this war, you cannot sit on the sidelines. You must choose, and if you’re not my ally, you are my enemy.”
I thought, Bullshit, but had the good sense not to say it out loud. He was still laboring under the presumption that I couldn’t find a plan C. I had gotten pretty good at spotting unlikely solutions. His agenda wasn’t mine, but I needed to stall him a little longer while I figured out what happened to Kel.
Unlike the demons, Barachiel vanished in a shimmer of silver light. Chuch’s grandmother lowered her shotgun. After her prior moxie, I expected her to offer up a one-liner like, I’m getting too old for this shit, but she just sighed, rolled her shoulders, and shuffled over to a patio chair.
Eva collected the guns, presumably to hide them again before the cops arrived. Of the huge crowd, only Booke, Dolores, Chuch’s immediate family, Jesse and Shannon remained. It would help that Saldana was here to run interference, but I didn’t envy him and Chuch the task of making this attack sound remotely sensible.
Leaving them to manage damage control, I went into the house on a mission. Once I was sure I had sufficient privacy, I called Kel. With a capital C. He had said I didn’t have the power to compel him anymore, but if he was able, he would surely respond. Moments passed in tense silence. I hoped he would appear in the room, mildly
annoyed at my presumption.
He didn’t.
Barachiel was here, I thought. He’s getting impatient. I need you, Kel.
I didn’t want to, but I did.
A prickle stirred at the back of my mind. It wasn’t strong, like it had been when I heard his thoughts. This was like sitting on a hairbrush . . . in my brain—obviously uncomfortable, but nonspecific. Help me out here. Give me something.
I suspected just this much contact was draining him; a full connection might kill him, if Nephilim could die. Fear spiked through me like a gladiator’s gauntlet. Closing my eyes, I willed my energy through that tenuous connection, knowing that was more wishful thinking than true magick.
But maybe, maybe it was enough. Because a place popped into my head, or rather, the image of one. Unfortunately, I had no idea where it was. From the surrounding countryside, it was probably on the Tex-Mex border, scrubland full of broken mesas and dry as dust.
Then even the prickle left me.
I got a piece of paper before the image left my mind’s eye. Though I wasn’t much of an artist, I captured the shape of the rock. I hurried out to the patio, where Jesse and Chuch were talking to some uniformed officers. Three squad cars had turned up, and since there was a dead body on the premises, they’d call the crime scene unit out too.
“. . . dunno who they were,” Chuch was saying. “Never saw ’em before.”
“You had trouble with the Montoya cartel, correct?” At Chuch’s nod, the officer made a note.
I could already see who would get the blame for this. It would probably be the first severed head in Texas that the Montoyas could honestly say they had nothing to do with. The two surviving brothers weren’t running the op anyway. A second in command had stepped up, from what I heard, and eventually it would be known as the Ramirez cartel, once he consolidated power. Not my business. I was finished with the cartels. I wanted to be done with angels, demons, and decapitations as well.
It took hours for them to gather all the witness statements and wrap up the scene. Since the criminals never entered the house, it minimized the inconvenience to the Ortizes, at least. Jesse stayed, overseeing the process, and offering plausible theories whenever another officer picked a hole in Chuch’s story. I was grateful to have him here.
At two a.m., the last of the city officials finally left. I touched Eva on the arm. After all the drama, I hated to bother her, but I intended to get moving as soon as I had enough information. “Who would know the famous rock formations nearby?” I asked.
Her jaw dropped. “You want to go sightseeing? Tonight?”
“No.” I hastened to explain, then showed her the drawing I had done.
“Oh. So you’re looking for Kel. You think he’s trapped?”
“I’m afraid he is.”
“Honestly, my mind’s a blank. Let me sleep on it. I’m sure I can come up with a local expert in the morning.”
That was frustrating, but it wasn’t like I could do anything about it. If I’d known where to look on my own, I’d already be asking to borrow the Charger. In their shoes, I didn’t know whether I’d loan me a ride, as I had a history of losing them. Over the past few years, I had gone through three vehicles; only the Mustang had withstood my reign of terror, and technically speaking, that belonged to Chance. Which was probably why it had survived.
So many problems to solve and I had so few resources. I closed my eyes on a sigh, resting my head on the back of the couch.
“That was more excitement than I’m used to,” Booke said, breaking my reverie. “Well, in person at least.”
Dolores laughed. “Stick around, you’ll get used to it.”
“If you get the chance, bid the others bonne nuit for me, will you?” He offered a cheery salute. “Oh, and don’t wait up.”
The slender woman blushed a little, and swatted at him with one of her myriad scarves. But she didn’t dispute his assessment of the situation. The two strode out to her car, entirely in charity with one another. Apparently Dolores only cut and ran if the spatter got on her outfit, which was a pretty impressive line in the sand. Otherwise, like most of Chuch’s relatives, she was rock solid. Of course, maybe she’d be more upset if the deceased had been fully human.
“We ID’d the host,” Jesse said, coming to the doorway a few minutes later. “Gigolo out of Vegas who went missing a few months back.”
“Is it possible for the Luren to take an unwilling host?” I asked.
“I’m not the expert, but I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure they can only be summoned into a willing body via sex magick.”
That sounded right, based on what I remembered from Sheol, but my time there was becoming vague and fragmented. Since I hadn’t been driving most of the time, that made sense. And sometimes the memories sneaked up on me like a sudden kick in the face. Then horror suffused me, and I worked to bury it all over again. Some of those things I said and did . . . how did I handle it? Denial wasn’t a solution, but I just couldn’t deal with everything at once.
One step at a time, right?
“I’m guessing the guy didn’t imagine the demon would use his body to go up against Barachiel, though.”
“Probably not.” Jesse didn’t sound sympathetic, though.
I figured he thought the dude should’ve known better than to rent his body out to a Luren. All kinds of things might’ve been promised in payment, none of which the guy would ever enjoy. No matter how foolish he’d been, I couldn’t be utterly unmoved by his fate. I hadn’t wanted to think about it until now, but that was a human being who lost his life in Chuch’s backyard.
Dammit.
“I don’t envy the detective working the case,” I said then.
He shook his head ruefully. “Me either. He’ll be looking for normal connections between the vic and killer, but there won’t be any. He’ll spin his wheels for a week and get nothing, even with our descriptions of the attackers. That’ll really stick in his craw.”
“You sound like you’ve been there.”
“Not under these circumstances, but yeah. And sometimes I wonder if a crime is demon-touched, if that’s why I’m coming up empty.”
A sudden thought struck me. “Is there an underground gifted network within law enforcement? To keep things hushed up?”
He smiled down at me. “Good question. It’s kinda nice to get back to the old footing, Corine. I’d almost forgotten I’m supposed to be mentoring you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes. Weird tales would be in all the papers, not just the tabloids, if we didn’t do our part.”
“It must be pretty hard sometimes. Do you ever wish the gifted could come out to the world?”
He shook his head. “We tried that. It didn’t end well.”
“The witch hunts?” It was incredible to realize that for every name on the rolls of the dead, it had probably been a woman like me. Not evil. Not possessed by the devil, just a person with a strange gift and no ability to blend in.
“Yep.”
“Listen, Corine, if you have more questions, text me. I have work in the morning, so I need to get to bed.”
“That’s my cue,” Shan said.
She leaned down to give me a hug, and I squeezed back. Gods, I was so freakin’ proud of her. Two girls from Kilmer got out, I thought. And we’re both doing all right. Frankly, her success ratio was higher than mine. Despite the whole talks-to-dead-people thing, she didn’t seem to attract trouble the way I did. And I was incredibly tired of it.
I said my good nights. Then I checked on Butch. When the fighting started, he’d hidden and hadn’t come out since. He was cowering behind a flowerpot on the patio when I found him, ears down, paws over his face.
“It’s going to be fine,” I promised him. “Things are a mess right now, but I’ll figure it out.”
Butch whined at me; then he offered two yaps. No. Whether he doubted my promise or the likelihood of my finding a workable solution, I wasn’t sure. Bending down,
I picked him up and cuddled him to my cheek, whispering reassurances. I only wished I believed them.
The dog didn’t even pretend; he knew bad things were coming, and as usual, they had my name written all over them.
Dream Lover
This time, there was no period of disorientation, no confusion when the dream came. I recognized the field of jonquils and the perpetually sunny day immediately, and I ran through the flowers in the direction Chance had come last time. But instead of Chance, I met an unfamiliar man by the river. The water was clear and fast-moving, rippling over the pretty polished stones lining its bed. As for the man, he was middle-aged, Japanese, with a softly rounded belly and a balding pate. His dark eyes held a merry twinkle, and when I met his warm look, I understood why Min had succumbed to his charms.
“Ebisu,” I whispered.
I had no freakin’ idea how one greeted a god, even one present in dreams. Should I drop to one knee, curtsy, genuflect . . . ? While I agonized over what gesture of respect to offer, he held up a hand, smiling.
“Today, I greet you as my son’s father, though I would not mind if you wished to pay proper respect at a shrine after we conclude our discussion.”
“I will,” I managed. “Sir, I’m sorry—”
He held up a hand. “No apologies. I have wanted to meet my son, and he chose his manner of ascension in the style of a true hero.”
“Ascension?”
“That’s why I wished to speak with you.” His friendly face took on a rather forbidding air. “I am not sure how familiar you are with my story.”
“Not very,” I admitted.
“In the scrolls, I am paired with Daikokuten, the god of wealth, and in some variations, we are father and son.”
Uh-oh. I had a feeling I knew where this conversation was headed. I only offered a nod, encouraging him to go on, when I feared the conclusion of his revelation.
“Chance has shed his mortal skin and dwells among the gods now. He will assume the mantle of Daikokuten, as he was always meant to do.”