Agave Kiss

Breathless, I handed him my phone. “Call your mother.”

Fond Farewells

Min was incoherent when she heard Chance’s voice. For the first ten minutes of the conversation, it was just her sobbing and him reassuring her. Eventually, she said, “I love you. I love you. Tell me where you are.”

I said quickly, “Have her meet us in Mexico. Give her Tia’s address.”

Chance complied. Then he added, “I’ll see you soon. It’s all right, I promise.”

More joyful tears, and I joined in, while the big trucks rolling by shook the Pinto’s windows. “Put Corine on the phone,” she eventually demanded.

With a surprised look, Chance gave back my cell. “Here.”

“Yeah, Omma?”

That surprised him again. He laced our fingers and brought my hand to his lips, thanking me silently for honoring his mother. But I’d always loved Min, even when he and I were apart. But from his expression, you’d think I had given her a chalice of solid gold. Since they’d had only each other for so long, in a way, I had.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you, ddal.”

“I have even better news for you,” I said then.

“Impossible. Nothing could be better than this. Nothing.” Her voice was strong, certain, but also shaky with repressed tears.

“Not even your first grandchild?”

The silence held for almost thirty seconds, and then she deafened me with incoherent, joyous shrieks. When she found the words at last, she said, “I was wrong.”

As she rang off, Min was mumbling about buying plane tickets. It seemed we would see her soon. Chance didn’t let go of my hand as he pulled back onto the highway. Our fingers clung for the remainder of the drive, and he didn’t release me until he had to in order to open my door at the Ortiz place. Inside the house, I got hugs from Chuch and Eva, but Booke wasn’t in the front room to greet us. I caught him packing. When I came into the bedroom, he folded the shirt in his hands meticulously and then faced me. As soon as Barachiel’s body hit the ground, he must’ve been booking travel arrangements. I didn’t blame him. He had only eleven months of freedom left. I hoped Twila treated him well upon his return, but that was his issue to deal with; he’d made the bargain freely, after all.

“I’m sorry about Kel,” he said softly.

“He chose his fate. Not everyone is so fortunate.” But it still hurt.

In my mind’s eye, I saw him fighting Barachiel, fierce and magnificent. I remembered what he’d said in his last moments. The future lies before you, dadu, but I have outlived my purpose. I choose to die a free man. Tears welled up in my eyes. Loss was inevitable; I couldn’t have saved everyone, no matter how I wanted to. I’d freed Booke, rescued Kel once, but his ultimate fate wasn’t mine to decide. At least I had given him that much. The wound in my thigh burned like righteous fire, a reminder of what my fate would have been without the half demon who had not been ordered to protect me, that last time. That ritual would’ve killed me.

He chose his path.

“Speaking as one with experience in adaptation, I think he never quite got over the shock of learning his whole existence had been constructed on a lie. He couldn’t adjust . . . and so, in those final moments, he thought only of surcease.”

“He seemed to be at peace.” But those were only words, what people said in order to comfort each other. Yet I hoped Booke’s interpretation was accurate.

And I hoped, unlike the full-blood demons in Sheol, that Kel hadn’t simply ceased to be. Perhaps his human half meant he had a soul, so there was an afterlife or reincarnation waiting for him. Those were the most cheerful thoughts I could muster, and they didn’t stem the tears. Booke hugged me, his hands gentle on my back. Soon, I got myself under control and stepped away.

“That wasn’t what I came to talk to you about, actually.” I put on a cheerful expression, as I had so many reasons to be happy . . . and grateful.

“Sorry I saddened you.”

“It was the circumstances, not you. The edge will dull in time.”

He nodded. “All things do.”

“I came to find out when you’re leaving. Have you made arrangements yet?”

“I’ve arranged a flight to South Africa, as you suggested. I’m taking steps to secure a legal identity.”

I grinned. “As your own son. How very Connor MacLeod of you.”

“In my case, there can be only one as well, I think. It’s best for the world.”

“So you don’t plan to get married and settle down?” I teased.

“Not for years, if ever. I was forcibly tied to one spot for so long that I can’t imagine anything more heavenly than being a nomad.”

“For eleven months. Then you have to come back to work for Twila.” I wondered if I should give him a heads-up about her romantic inclinations, but no. She wouldn’t thank me for it, and I was sure she would take no for an answer, should Booke be disinclined to her pursuit. Personally, I thought they would make an awesome couple, once he got done sowing his wild oats.

“Don’t fret. It won’t be as onerous as you seem to fear.”

That wasn’t my concern at all. I’d seen the library and it would be a good fit for his abilities and interests. “So when are you leaving?”

“On the red-eye.”

“We’ll take you to the airport.” This was kind of a delicate question, but . . . “How are you fixed for money?”

“I have an account that’s been untouched, earning interest, for some years. If I can get them to release the funds, I’ll be set. That will probably require a forged will.”

“But until then . . . ?” I didn’t know how he’d afforded the fare to South Africa.

“I crafted some spells and sold them. Apparently hermetic tradition is rather rare here in the Southwest. They fetched an excellent price. I expect I shall have no trouble moving more arcane accoutrements to fund my travels.” He patted the smart phone in his pocket. “I can always ask on Area 51 for prospective buyers if there are no shops handy.”

“I had no idea there was so much money in what you do.”

“Nor did I, but it stands to reason. The spells can be used by anyone, which makes them invaluable, once I imbue a focus object with the power.”

“Oh, wow.” Such things would be priceless to the right parties.

“I can take things from here, my darling girl. Don’t trouble yourself further.”

“By which you mean, leave me alone already.” I smiled to show I was joking.

“Never that,” he said soberly. “I’ve been alone far too long ever to take good friends for granted. I’ll email when I can, but don’t look for me on chat.”

“Duh. I expect you to have awesome adventures. I’ll tell the baby all about you.” Unable to believe I’d spoken those words in that context, I pressed a palm against my belly, but I wasn’t showing yet. In three months or so, I’d have a bump, and a bit after that, I should be able to feel movement.

Silently, I worried; I mean, this kid had been conceived in Sheol while his father was a demon queen’s consort, and I wrestled with Ninlil, trying to keep her from doing crazy evil shit twenty-four seven. Moreover, my full-on Solomon Binder heritage had been in play, and Chance had still been a godling. There was no telling what I was incubating, though all early tests showed a healthy pregnancy against all odds. Which meant this peanut was a fighter. With Chance and me as parents, he or she would need to be.

“I’ll come when the baby’s born. Promise.”

“Twila might not let you. You’ll be starting your indenture around that time.”