Agave Kiss

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