Agave Kiss

Last Call

Three days left. By this point, I was a total knot of anxiety, but when Booke’s phone rang, I froze. Hope stirred, but it was faint and unfamiliar, a tremulous shadow on the wall cast by someone else. He moved off down the hall toward the bedroom, speaking in low tones. I strained to overhear, but he was a master at turning his body so the sound didn’t carry.

What the hell, Booke.

Of course, maybe it was one of his lady friends. At this point, he was one of San Antonio’s most eligible gifted bachelors between his courtly, old school manners, his giant throbbing brain, and the accent. He probably had other assets as well, but I wasn’t placed to appreciate them. Pushing off the couch, I edged closer. He caught me trying to eavesdrop, as he was already off the phone . . . and vibrating with excitement.

“Good news?” I asked.

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, should this last effort prove fruitless, but that was Ms. Devlin.”

I raised a brow. “You still call her Ms., after . . .” At his pointed look, I shook my head. “Never mind. Go on.”

“She found a copy of the scroll and someone who might be able to translate the text for us.”

“Fast enough?” I demanded.

There, he paused. “It’ll be a near thing, Corine. It’s a rare language . . . and we can’t pay the fees that would cause a professor to put aside his other responsibilities. We can certainly offer an honorarium that makes it worth his time, but the sort of people who go into dead languages don’t tend to be motivated by money anyway.”

“You mean there’s not huge profit in ancient Babylonian? Huh. Never would’ve guessed.” Kel could read and translate this ritual, but he was busy protecting me from Barachiel.

As a last resort, I’ll call him.

“May I borrow the car?”

“I dunno, it’s a pretty sweet ride. Can I trust you not to do doughnuts in it?”

“I don’t even like doughnuts,” Booke said.

Right, though he’s kept up with some of the world via the Internet, he’s still not 100 percent current. So then I had to explain the joke, which eliminated all humor. But he promised me soberly not to do anything that would impact the life of the tires, so I agreed. I stayed behind, cuddling Butch and fretting more.

When he returned, he said, “Ms. Devlin has called in a few favors for us. The collector agreed to send copies of the scroll to the university in Cairo.”

“I wish we knew enough to start gathering supplies.” I didn’t mean to sound snippy, but his face fell.

“As do I. I feel as though I haven’t been nearly useful enough, particularly since you delayed your quest to help me.”

“I delayed it for Kel too. Those were my decisions, nobody else’s. And I don’t regret either of them.”

I might, if we ran out of time, and I lost Chance forever, if my kid grew up never knowing his father because of choices I’d made. But I hadn’t realized that the ritual had an expiration date or that the other realm would strip away his ties to the mortal coil. It made sense, but there was no way I could’ve acted based on information I didn’t have at the time. In that case, it would’ve been a tough call, as I had never been one to walk away from a friend in need. I remembered too clearly how it felt to have your back to the wall and nobody in your corner.

“Anyway,” I went on, “we’re not down to the wire yet.”

Two days later, we were.

It had to be tonight . . . or I lost everything. And we still didn’t have a translation of the ritual. Booke had been on the phone, bitching at the professor in Cairo, who was sorry, but he didn’t have the fluency necessary for a detailed translation such as we required, plus the pages from the scroll appeared to be in dialect. While he might be able to work out an approximate meaning, that would take months, not days.

A voice in my head said, That’s it, then. It’s over. I screamed silently to drown it out. Even if it controverted all logic, I wouldn’t give up one second before time ran out and the buzzer went off. After all, love itself was a defiant shout in the face of a bleak world. It was saying, I know things are terrible, but I believe this person will always be there for me. I believe I have a chance to be happy.

I believe.

Maybe it was just too Tinker Bell of me, but I clung to the faith that on the other side, Chance was working just as hard, pushing to be ready when the veil thinned enough for this to be feasible. He wouldn’t let his father convince him there was no point in trying. If we failed, it would be because I couldn’t open the way on my end. I imagined Chance gathering his strength, gaining power from Daikokuten’s worshippers, not to rise as the new incarnation of a god but to use in returning to me.

“Okay,” I said. “Plan B.”

Booke gazed at me, astonished. “There’s a plan B?”

“Do you have a copy of the scroll pages?”

“Yes. Ms. Devlin asked the collector to CC me.”

“Then I need you to craft a spell that’ll hide our location for a while. Can you do that?” I knew less than shit about the sorts of spells he could create.

“I’ll need to pop by the shop, but yes. It’s of limited duration, and it applies only to magickal tracking and scrying. I take it that’s what you’re after?”

I nodded. “We don’t need to be invisible. I’ll find us a place to perform the ritual while you’re gone.”

“But we don’t have a translation.”

“Just get the stuff for the hide-and-seek spell. Leave the rest to me.”

He scowled at me. “I rather hate being treated like a minion.”

“There’s no time,” I snapped.

That ship had sailed. This was my last Hail Mary play, and if we dropped the ball here, well . . . As Booke left, I dug out my phone and dialed Jesse. He seemed surprised to hear from me, but not tense or awkward, which made me happy. Maybe one day, we’d get back to our old footing.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I need a quiet place with little opportunity for collateral damage, if something goes wrong. You can find out what buildings have been seized.”

“Shit. You’re asking me to use police resources for personal reasons. I could get fired.”

“This is the last favor I’ll ever ask of you. Promise.” Then I played the blackmail card without blinking; he had to know I wasn’t fucking around. “Frankly, I figure you owe me. You’d be in mourning if it wasn’t for me. I brought the woman you love back to you. Help me do the same for my man.”

“Goddammit.” That was the sound of him giving in. “Ten minutes. I’ll find you something. I don’t know what you’ve got planned, understand? Don’t tell me. Especially if it’s illegal.”

“I don’t think it is,” I said.

But likely there weren’t any statutes on the books about opening portals between worlds. I suspected Congress wouldn’t like it, but I didn’t plan to put the matter to a vote, so it was all good. It actually took Jesse twenty minutes, and he didn’t call back. Instead, he texted me an address. I borrowed Booke’s computer and looked at it on Google maps; the street view was incredibly helpful—disturbingly so, in fact. He’d found me a warehouse in the industrial district. By the graffiti tags and the broken windows, the buildings on each side looked to be abandoned.

“Perfect,” I said.

Butch sighed at me.

“You don’t approve?”

Negative yaps.

“You think I should play it safe?”