Agave Kiss

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.”