Agave Kiss

Booke handed Kel his phone. “A precise translation, if possible.”

Kel skimmed the pages with quick cognition. Then he handed the cell back. “It’s a spell to part the veil. Not to Sheol. Elsewhere. But it won’t work unless you have help from the other side.”

“I do,” I said. “Can you lay it out for me? What do we need to cast it?”

Without protest, Kel made a shopping list for Booke, who took the keys to the Pinto and hurried off, muttering, “They’re going to love us at the shop.”

“You don’t have to stay,” I said to Kel. “Just write down what I need to do. I’ll take it from there.”

“Barachiel will find me,” he replied wearily. “The wizard’s spell will slow him, but the ending is inevitable. Knowing the truth, I cannot swerve. We’ve played cat and mouse for days.”

Judging from his injuries, Kel had been the mouse. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Everything ends, dadu.”

This time, I didn’t forbid the endearment. While he was constant, he was also an immortal half-demon, bound to a maniacal creature that believed it was an archangel destined to rewrite the world. It had been working toward that until I stumbled into the mix. With a combination of Chance’s backlash luck and my own stubbornness, I fucked up Barachiel’s life; he didn’t take rejection well either.

“Seriously, I don’t want you here if Barachiel shows up. I’ll have backup.” Whether Booke, Shannon, Chuch, Eva and I could take out an ancient demon, I had no idea. But Kel would die if we didn’t. “Just write the spell down.”

I handed him a notebook from my purse, along with a pen. Kel heaved a sigh, but he wrote in his lovely, old-fashioned hand. A few minutes later, I took the pad from him, scanned the steps.

“That doesn’t look too bad.”

“What you’re not seeing is that all great workings require a sacrifice.”

“Shit. Like a life? If I cast this spell, it might kill my baby?”

Oh, gods, no. No. Fate couldn’t be so cruel. I’d gladly die to give Chance the life he wanted in this world, but I couldn’t kill our child for him. He wouldn’t want me to if he knew that was the price.

“You choose the sacrifice before you cast.”

“So it wouldn’t just randomly take my kid?”

Kel shook his head. “Generally, it’s a magickal sacrifice, an artifact or a foci brimming with power.”

“It’s not death magick, then.”

“Not usually, though death magick would serve as a workable substitute.”

“Dammit. I don’t have any—oh. I could give the spell the touch . . . and what’s left of my demon magick.” I gazed up at him, anxious. “Would that be enough?”

“I don’t know. It depends how much power your partner brings to bear on the other side.”

“It’s all I have to offer,” I whispered. “I’ll try.”

The ritual would leave me a normal human. That wasn’t a deterrent, however, as that was all I’d ever wanted, my whole life. If this didn’t work, I’d end up a single mom, just like my mother. It has to work. I was in no way strong enough to follow the example set by Cherie Solomon. All those years, she knew where my father had gone—and that he was never coming home.

Chance is. He promised.

Kel went over the ritual with me with tireless patience, drilling until I felt sure I had memorized all of the steps. By the time the others started arriving, I’d recited the incantation eighteen times. Shan got there first, sword in hand. Tonight, she eschewed her usual Lolita-goth gear; she was practically garbed in black leggings and a fitted black tee, no loose fabric to interfere with her movements or allow an opponent to grab hold of her. Likewise, she’d bound her black hair back into a tight French braid. Her makeup was still Shan: eyes heavily lined in kohl, ivory pale cheeks, and a blood-red mouth. She looked like a poster of a vampire I’d seen once; I didn’t say that, as she was so over the undead.

“You nervous?” she asked, giving me a one-armed hug.

“Kinda. If I let myself think about what I’m doing for more than two seconds.”

“Semper fi.” She threw some complicated hand gestures at me, which could’ve been military, or they might’ve been gang signs.

I ignored them. “Isn’t that the Marine Corps motto?”

“That’s not the point. What does it mean?”

Though I didn’t speak Latin, I actually knew this. “Always faithful?”

“Yep.” She flashed me a triumphant grin. “And that’s you.”

My heart gave a little squeeze. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Where’s the dog?”

“Cowering in my purse. I’m thinking of charging him rent.”

Butch gave an indignant yap and trotted out to greet her. He wagged his tail hard enough to shake his whole body when she rubbed him just the way he liked. Sadly for the dog, it couldn’t last. She moved off for some practice swings, and her arcs with her sword were beautiful to behold.

Next, Chuch and Eva rolled up, looking like they could star in an action movie. Both had dressed in dark, nondescript clothing. Eva was strapped with a 12-gauge shotgun and a handgun in a thigh holster. Chuch had automatics, plus a duffle bag bulging with other goodies. If shit went down, he’d make it real. I squinted, realizing that was the same bag he’d carried the tarp in the other night.

Night had fallen while I memorized the ritual, a dark and starless night earmarked for Chance’s return. Inside the warehouse, it was gloomier still, but Eva had foreseen that eventuality. “Storm lamps,” she said, setting them around the circle I was drawing in chalk. She activated the batteries one by one, so the squalor was more evident. In the far corner, three rats skittered toward a crack in the wall.

Eva made a face. “Not exactly pretty, is it?”

“No, but if things go hideously wrong, we won’t take out a city block either.”

“There is that,” Chuch said, joining us.

I smiled, but didn’t pause in sketching the circle. My thigh hurt, the way I was crouched on the cement, but I ignored the pain. “Thanks for coming, all of you.”

“It wouldn’t be a welcome back party if the gang wasn’t all here,” Chuch said.

Well, everyone except Jesse. And he wouldn’t show unless things went catastrophically wrong. Here’s hoping I don’t see Jesse Saldana tonight.

Booke returned last, but he had everything I needed. And he wore a harried look. “I may have scraped another car getting out of downtown.”

“I’m not worried about it,” I told him frankly.

“But I’m an outlaw now. A felon.”

“You didn’t mind leaving the country on a fake passport and a charm,” I pointed out.

“That was before I realized I’d be here to face the consequences.”

I laughed. “Quit fretting, granddad, and show me what you got.”

With a grumble, Booke handed me various dried herbs and powders while Kel reminded me when to use each one. Soon this will be over. That became my mantra as I prepared the site with the spell components. From that point, I ignored the others; my focus had to be complete, the ritual flawless. The susurration of their voices rolled over me in waves, but the snippets didn’t penetrate. Finally, I had everything in place, and I was ready to begin.

“I need you all to step off. I’m not exactly sure how big the gate will be—”

“Then shouldn’t you back up as well?” Chuch wondered.

“I have to stay close to the circle. Theoretically, it should contain the energies and keep the portal from spreading to alarming proportions, but . . .” I shrugged. “Just move, okay? And keep a sharp eye out for trouble.” Demon magick was notorious for rebounding in powerful, unexpected ways.

“On it,” Shan said.

Since I would be using the touch—and sacrificing it, plus the remainder of my demon magick—I got out the athame I had carried with me from Sheol. In this realm, it didn’t look as ominous, so possibly the trip back had stripped it of some of its power. But it still didn’t look harmless. I whispered the words in ancient Babylonian as I