Agave Kiss

Safe Harbor

I slept most of the ten-hour flight to Houston. A shady past had taught me the ability to snatch rest whenever I could. When I woke, I was leaning on Kel’s shoulder. He didn’t seem as if he’d moved in all that time. At least he wasn’t rigid with fear, as he had been the first time we took a plane together.

“We’re landing soon,” he said.

Sitting up, I ran a hand through my hair. If I had been thinking, I would’ve braided it to keep it from turning into a snarled mess. “Did I bother you?”

“Many things do. You’re not one of them.” There was something in his voice, a nearly imperceptible regret.

Did he wish he could’ve stayed? Everything would’ve been different if he had. But then, maybe it would’ve shaken out so that he died in Sheol instead, if he could even die. I thought he had when we were fighting the warlock in Laredo, so pale and still, but then he came back. The same when they’d killed him in Sheol. I gave him mouth to mouth, revived him. So maybe even if he’d sacrificed himself to open the gate, his body would still come back online. That didn’t entirely make sense, however. If it required a sacrifice, it needed to be a permanent one, right? Whatever. The past was past. Dwelling served no purpose.

“Did you sleep at all?” I didn’t expect trouble, but it seemed wrong for him to function at less than peak efficiency. In a world like ours, you just never knew.

“Some.”

“What’s going on? You’re even more terse than usual.”

“Barachiel contacted me, asking for a progress report. He seemed anxious to learn how you reacted to his master plan.”

A chill rippled through me. The plane dipped, hitting a pocket of turbulence that unsettled my stomach to match my mental state. “What did you tell him?”

“That I was showing you the perks of cooperation.”

“Did he go for that?”

Kel turned his face away. “I don’t think so. From this point, we’re living on borrowed time.”

Just like Booke.

In my heart, it felt like Armageddon. Kel was a reminder of beauty lost as well as a looming threat. He was the Sword of Damocles. It would kill a sliver of his soul if he ended my life on Barachiel’s orders. Hell, it would ruin my week too. Maybe it was wrong to make light of the situation, but I was full up on despair. If I lost humor, then I’d forfeit the ability to move forward.

“Noted. But, Kel . . . if it comes down to it, I won’t fight you.” There was no point. I’d seen how damned resilient he was. “Just . . . make it quick, all right?”

His words came out terse, clipped. “Stop. You’ve moved on. Humans do. But for me, this is a cycle repeating, a way for Barachiel to prove he owns me. Again.”

“So . . . my life is a power play. I thought he wanted me for the coming war.”

“It’s a double-edged sword. If you accede, he gets what he wants. And if you don’t, he still gets something out of it.”

“A reiteration of your forced loyalty and compliance.”

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“Sounds like we lose, either way.”

Before he could reply, the attendant interrupted with final descent announcements. We were to turn off all electronics, stow tray tables, and return seats to an upright position; oddly, the chatter sounded more courteous, delivered in a crisp British accent. While we went about disembarking, I mulled over my predicament. Talk about a rock and a hard place—this was worse than when I was caught between two rival drug lords. This time, my enemy was a powerful supernatural being, who might’ve started as a demon, but over the long millennia had convinced his followers—and maybe himself too—that he was an angel with divine guidance. In my experience, fanatics were more dangerous than other enemies because they believed so fervently in the cause.

I didn’t see how this could end well.

Downcast, I collected my things and followed Shan and Booke off the plane. She steadied him down the aisle to the jet bridge, where an airline worker had a chair waiting for him. This time, Booke didn’t protest its use. He collapsed into it gratefully; and I wondered if I was really doing the right thing. But then, this was all his choice. He could’ve gone to Paris, Milan, anywhere he wanted, and I’d have made it happen. For his own reasons, he had chosen people over places. He wanted to meet Chuch and Eva, so there was no way I’d deny his request. Who could blame him, really? They were pretty great.

Shortly after we got off the plane, Kel disappeared; he didn’t need documents. When I first encountered him, Chance and I got him arrested, thinking he was a murderer, and Barachiel made him serve part of the prison sentence as a punishment for getting caught by someone like me. When the archangel deemed his mortification complete, Kel came after me . . . but not in retaliation, as I thought at first. No, he had been serving as my guardian angel for longer than I knew. Which made me wonder . . . was he the reason nothing irredeemable happened to me during those awful months, where I had been between permanent residences? Once, I felt terrible shame with how many men I’d used for room and board, how I’d traded sex for shelter without real hope of a loving relationship. I’d since made peace with the memories, but maybe I should thank Kel because that dark time ended fairly well.

The airline employee accompanied us to immigration, where the officer at the booth was tired and bored; she asked a few rote questions about Booke. Since I was listening, I heard the faint crackle in the machine when she ran our cooked passports; traditionally speaking, magick and technology didn’t play nicely together. There had been a small risk that the charm would short out the scanner, but the machine cleared us, and we caught our connection to Laredo without trouble. Kel slid on late, just before they closed the doors.

Booke and I sat together for the short commuter hop. It was a tiny plane, small enough that it freaked me out a little, and I didn’t have any particular fear of flying. I wondered how Kel was doing in the row ahead of us. Shannon was talking to him, so that much was good, but I couldn’t hear what they were discussing. I turned to Booke, studying his appearance. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he seemed to have stabilized around eighty.

“How do you feel?” I asked softly.

“I ache in a way I didn’t before you broke the spell. But I’m on a plane, going to meet friends. I count that as a smashing success.”

An hour and a bit later, we arrived at the Laredo airport. It was late, nudging toward midnight, but I texted Chuch as he’d instructed. He’d meet us at the curb. As we had no luggage to collect, it was a simple matter to deplane and make our way out. Again, we had help, but Booke seemed resigned to it. While he could walk, he wasn’t speedy, and I knew he was ready to get shed of airports. He wanted to hang out with friends for his last days, not spend them trapped in a winged metal tube.

As promised, Chuch was waiting in a restored 1980s Suburban. It had classic gold paint, trimmed in cream, and he beeped the horn to make sure we saw him. At this hour, the pickup lanes weren’t too crowded, so I had room to help Booke into the passenger seat. Chuch hopped out, then raised both brows at me, inviting the explanation I’d promised. He was a stocky fireplug, just starting to get a belly, but he was strong as hell. His features were rugged rather than handsome, but he had the kindest brown eyes in the world. Eva was lucky to have him. They had been friends since we ran into them in a wicker store while they were vacationing in Florida. Chance stayed in touch after our breakup. I hadn’t, mostly because I was running from all things Chance-related. Fortunately, Chuch and Eva didn’t hold a grudge.

“Shan!” he called. “Jesse’s gonna go postal when he finds out you didn’t tell him you’re home sooner than expected.”

She flashed him an impish grin. “I want to surprise him. Do you mind dropping me off at his apartment?”

“No prob. It’s on the way. Kinda.”

Actually, it wasn’t, but Chuch was that kind of guy. He’d empty his bank account for you, then claim it was