I was less sanguine about facing monsters and death, but it was good he wasn’t whining, like the dog in my handbag. Butch had been emitting a high-frequency moan ever since he heard about the unknown beast that killed the last dude who went out there. Like me, he was ready to settle down to a normal life.
After taking the directions, I dropped a couple of twenties on the table. “For your time.”
“Don’t die,” the old man advised.
I offered a wry smile. “Will do my best.”
Butch was still whimpering, so I set him on the scraggly grass, where he peed again out of sheer nerves. Booke picked him up to comfort him as we returned to the Pinto. He was smiling as he slid into the car, face upturned to bask in the sunlight. He had the pallor of a long-term invalid, like he’d just woken from a ten-year coma. Maybe it felt that way to him too.
“First, the street market?” Booke asked.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t open until dusk. In daylight, it would draw too much attention.”
“That makes sense. I suppose the area clears out when all the businesses close.”
“Exactly.”
We ended up killing time over lunch, and then I took him shopping. Impossible to believe, but the guy had never been to a mall. By the time we came out, he was loaded down with purchases, mostly tech toys he was dying to try. Since it was expensive, energy-wise, he’d only had the Birsael demon deliver the most essential items required to keep him healthy and sane.
“Ready to rock?” I asked, as we locked his new gear in the trunk. Gods help me if he ever discovered the Sharper Image.
“Indisputably.”
The street market was much as I remembered it, hidden behind an abandoned warehouse. There was an unused parking lot, but the cars parked in the alley behind the building. There were a few merchants already doing business. To my surprise, the cell phone guy remembered me. “Need a hookup?” he yelled, making the universal “call me” sign with his thumb and forefinger.
Smiling, I shook my head, skimming the vehicles for a tan Malibu. Then I sighed. “Not here yet.”
“What if he doesn’t come?” Booke asked.
“Then I guess we wade in unprepared.”
“There’s a difference between ‘yen for adventure’ and ‘death wish,’” he observed.
I shrugged. “I can’t leave Kel hanging. Though I’m not the witch I used to be, and the touch won’t do me much good in a fight, I have to try.”
“That’s what makes you such a good friend.”
He put an arm around me and squeezed my shoulders in a friendly fashion. Though he looked younger, he felt like a favorite uncle. We didn’t wait long for Tan Malibu. Part of me wondered if he knew Chuch, but I didn’t want to drag the Ortizes further into this mess. Bad enough they had a crime scene in their yard. I watched as the dealer settled onto the hood, then I made my way over to his car.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Beto sent me.”
“Yeah, he gave me the heads-up that you’re okay. Otherwise I’d have to ask you to show me your belly.”
In case I was wearing a wire. Just to settle the issue for his peace of mind, I flashed some skin and raised each of my pant legs. “I’ll tell my friend to wait over there with my bag, if you’re really worried.”
At this suggestion, Butch popped his head out of my purse and growled. He didn’t like being banished from the action.
The guy laughed. “Nah, it’s cool. I see you got a guard dog. My auntie raises Chihuahuas . . . yappy little ankle biters.”
Butch’s growl went lower. I tapped him gently on the skull. “Pipe down, you know I love you.”
He shut up.
“Whatcha need?”
“A Taser and a good knife, for sure.”
He seemed a little disappointed. “You could buy that anywhere. I got some serious hardware up in here.”
“I know, but I’m not the best shot.”
“I’ll take a piece,” Booke said in his plummy accent.
The dealer’s face was priceless. “Really?”
I stifled a smile, letting Booke take the lead. “It’s been some years—” Massive understatement. “But I used to be quite a good shot. Let me see your hardware.”
“With pleasure.” The guy popped the trunk, revealing a dazzling array of weapons.
Some had obviously seen hard street use; others looked pristine, as if they’d just come off the factory floor. I didn’t ask questions, as that tended to piss off entrepreneurs like Tan Malibu. Booke leaned over for a better look and then he indicated what I thought was a Glock.
“May I?”
The merchant nodded. “Sure, it’s not loaded.”
Though I wasn’t the best judge of such things, Booke seemed to know what he was doing when he handled the gun. He held it two-handed with his fingers curled around for support, and it looked to me like he wasn’t exaggerating his experience. I’d love to know more about his past, but it wasn’t the time. I could hardly ask in front of GM when the story was so implausible.
“How’s the recoil?” Booke asked, along with a number of technical questions, before nodding. “I’ll take the nine millimeter.”
“I only have one type of Taser in stock,” GM told me. “But I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. And if you’re looking for a quick kill after you incapacitate someone, then this is the blade for you.” He demonstrated a few moves and explained where I should be stabbing.
That alarmed me, as he looked so
“Remember,” GM called as we headed out. “If you’re caught, it’s illegal to carry concealed and I never met you.”
I assured him, “We won’t flip.”
“Heard that before,” he muttered.
Butch yapped at him in disapproval, as a Chihuahua’s word was his bond. Funny, but even a gangly Englishman gained some swagger with a gun hidden beneath his coat. I teased him about it as I swung back into the car.
“Now you’ve got a total James Bond thing going on, only you’re cooler because you do magick. You’ll have to beat the ladies off with a stick.”
He colored, cutting his eyes to the stained floor mat in the Pinto. Lord, it was a good thing our outcome didn’t depend on image. The engine purred to life, however, a testament to Chuch’s good work. Someday, I’d love to have him restore a car for me, totally custom from bumper to bumper.
Then Booke changed the subject; clearly he didn’t want to talk about his own charms. “Speaking of magick, if you know of a shop, I need to get a few things. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with how hermetic tradition works—”
“No clue.” I figured I’d save him a few words. “Tell me how I can help.”
He nodded as I pulled onto the street. “I’m not as versatile as a witch. I need more preparation, and to use my spells in combat, I must store them in a focus object, which is destroyed in the process.”
“Gotcha. Yeah, I know a place. Shannon and I found it a while back when I was squaring off against the Montoyas.”
Caridad didn’t sell supplies; there was more profit to be made in offering spells only. But after this last stop, we should be ready to head into the wilderness to find Kel.
