Agave Kiss

When I turned, I stifled a scream because a man stood behind me. I stumbled back a couple steps as Butch lunged between us, his teeth bared. He rumbled out a warning growl, deceptively fierce for his size. In the moonlight, the stranger’s features were divinely beautiful, capped with a shock of silver hair, but his eyes burned like black holes, cold and pitiless as the grave. He wore a dark trench coat, his hands tucked into the deep pockets, which should have reassured me.

It didn’t.

“Can I help you?”

“You know you can.” His words flowed in a silken tenor, playful, but I had never been so terrified in my life.

I had no idea why, but it was all I could do not to cower or piss my pants. “Uhm. I think I’ll go in now.” Stumbling back a few steps toward the house, I gauged him, wondering how fast he could move.

Other than appearing like a creeper in the dark, he hadn’t actually done anything threatening, hadn’t said anything scary. So what the hell . . . ?

“You find my aura alarming,” he observed. “If you would comply with Kelethiel’s request, it will cease to affect you.”

Oh. Shit.

“Barachiel,” I guessed.

“Clever monkey.”

Blerg. Distaste for the condescension in his tone permitted me to force down some of the abject terror. In response, I picked Butch up and cradled him in one arm; the dog did not stand down. Without my intervention he would’ve chewed the archangel’s ankles and pissed on his designer shoes. Barachiel seemed amused by the move, contemptuous of my pet and me.

“I’m still listening to the benefits.” So far as I knew, Kel was still stalling him. “I don’t make rash decisions.”

“I thought it might help if you got to know me.” He gazed into my eyes, apparently trying to hypnotize me.

Which might’ve worked if Butch hadn’t been biting my forearm. Good dog.

“I’m willing to listen if you want to state your case.”

Anything to get rid of you. This is. Not. Good.

The only way this could be worse was if I was in my panties, like I had been when I saw Chance. I so wasn’t prepared to fight an archangel or an ancient former demon—whatever the hell he was—tonight. Maybe I never would be, but it would be the apex of suckage if I got killed as Chance managed to find his way back to me. I wasn’t on board with such a Romeo and Juliet ending. No damn way.

So bullshit would form my defense matrix; fortunately, I was strong in the ways of BS-fu.

“I can taste the darkness on you, even now,” he whispered. “Whorls of smoke and brimstone. But it’s fading. You chose the bright path. You cut the demon out. I need someone at my side, one strong enough to resist temptation. Together, we can reshape the world. No more war. No more poverty.”

On the surface, it sounded great, but I remembered the vision Kel had shown me. The people who gazed up at me seemed brainwashed. Maybe the world was a shithole, but at least it was full of people who could call their minds their own. I didn’t want to create some totalitarian regime where this creepy fucker controlled our actions and opinions. The idea of being used in that fashion made me want to barf.

“I’m unclear on what you’re offering,” I said softly, buying time. “I thought I’d be some kind of a religious leader. But it seems like you’re inviting me to take a different role.”

Before he could reply, footsteps crunched over the gravel, heavy ones. They thumped over to the lawn, coming toward us. Kel was the only person big enough to make those strides. Relief surged through me; surely he could get rid of his boss.

“What’re you doing here?” Kel demanded.

“Checking up on you, Nephilim. It is my right.”

“If you frighten her away, then this failure is on you,” Kel said coldly.

His tats glowed with threatening power, and for a horrified moment, I wondered if they would duke it out on Chuch’s lawn. I held up a hand, almost too scared to speak, but somehow I got the words out.

“Please . . . take it down the road. Find an empty field. The winner can come find me. Just . . . don’t hurt my friends. Don’t hurt the baby.”

“There’s no need for violence,” Barachiel said silkily. “I always win. Isn’t that right, half-breed?”

The archangel raised his arm, and Kel’s body stretched taut, as if pulled on a torture rack. Then Barachiel slammed his palm downward; Kel’s knees buckled, dropping him into a humble, penitent posture. I’d never imagined a force strong enough to control Kel, but Barachiel’s power was undeniable. And terrible.

Kel mumbled something.

“I couldn’t hear you.”

“Yes, my lord.”

For interminable moments, I stood holding my dog while Barachiel forced Kel to demonstrate his utter helplessness. But I didn’t take the message from it he intended. Instead of seeing his potency, I saw my own death. Because now I knew for sure: Kel wouldn’t be able to stop his hands from tightening on my throat or running me through with a holy blade. Though he’d hate it, as with Asherah, he was helpless before Barachiel.

“I think that is an ample demonstration.” The archangel turned to me, his teeth alarmingly white in the dark. “You will find I am gentle and tender to those who please me.”

I heard the unspoken message as well. I am brutal and merciless to those who do not. Barachiel vanished as he had come, leaving Kel to stagger to his feet. I despised seeing him so reduced; it was obvious from his expression that he felt the deepest, most piercing shame. This night he had been stripped of his pride before me, left to grovel in the dirt at Barachiel’s whim. Maybe I was supposed to be impressed.

I wasn’t.

“I wish I could die,” he said hoarsely. “See an end to this at last. But even that, he will not allow.”

“What’s his hold on you? How can he—”

“If I knew, do you think I wouldn’t sever the cord? Once, I believed his power must come from divine right. What else could it be? But now . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I have no convictions. I am weary and alone.”

Part of me ached to hold him. But his problems were too big for me, and a hug wouldn’t do more than remind him things between us could never go further than that one night. In so many ways, he was alone. Maybe I could make it a little better, though. In some small way.

“That was awful,” I said. “But you saved me. I was about to wet my pants before you distracted him.”

That roused a reluctant smile. “Shameful cowardice.”

“You didn’t tell me he has that . . . death aura or whatever. It’s like he radiates I’m going to kill you and eat your liver in gaseous form.”

Butch yapped his agreement. I owed the dog too for refusing to back down, though one of these days the little goofball might get himself killed.

I went on, “So thanks. You’re not assigned to protect me anymore. You could’ve gotten worse for interfering.”

“That was nothing.”

Sadly, I believed him. “Come on. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

His micro-expression reflected bemusement in the subtle quirk of his mouth. “I thought you never cooked.”

“I can make eggs. And quesadillas. Which do you want?”

Kel looked a little less tormented already. It was good to know small pleasures like food could cheer up even a powerful Nephilim. “Can I have both?”

After the night we’d both had . . . “Why the hell not?”

I Know a Guy

I felt a little weird about rummaging in Eva’s kitchen, but I was quiet, and Kel was hungry. By the time dawn lightened the sky, I had a pile of quesadillas on the table, along with a huge crock of scrambled eggs. I made them a la Mexicana with diced onion, tomato, and hot peppers. In her fridge, I found some leftover green sauce and I set that out too. To my relief, my stomach seemed fine, and the smell of the food didn’t bother me.

Must’ve been a bug.

The others joined us, rubbing sandy eyes. Booke shuffled out last; I was relieved to see him. Part of me had feared he would pass away overnight before he got the party we’d promised. Eva had Cami balanced on one hip. The baby was wide-eyed and alert, and absolutely gorgeous. In the months I’d been away, her tiny face had rounded out. No longer was she a red-faced, wizened little gnome. No, now she was a doe-eyed, long-lashed cherub . . . and if she resembled her mother, she would break all the boys’ hearts someday.

“Is she on table food yet?” I asked.

“She can gum a quesadilla. I already fed her, though.”

Yeah, I hadn’t wanted to say anything, but Eva’s boobs did look different. Ah, the joys of breast-feeding. The guys sat down and dug in without waiting for an invitation, even Booke. After so many years of his own cooking, it must be nice to eat something somebody else fixed, even if that person was me. Unlike my first foster mother, my kitchen prowess was limited; she’d tried to teach me, but I was too grief-stricken to do more than blindly assist.

“So I been thinking,” Chuch said, piling his plate high with scrambled eggs.

I joined him, serving myself more modestly. “Oh?”

“One of my cousins is dating a witch. She might know some way to help Booke.” He glanced over with an imploring air. “What could it hurt, mano? Nothing ventured and all that.”

I already knew there was a way to help him, but Booke had vetoed the idea. So I waited to hear how he would respond.

The Englishman laid down his fork in a very precise gesture, his lined face calm but curious. “Does it mean so much to you, old friend?”

“Si, claro. There’s no way I can just let this shit happen.”

“Then contact your cousin. Just be aware that I will not consent to any use of demon magick. If I’m to be saved, I won’t invite more darkness into my soul.”

I guessed if I was knocking at death’s door like Booke, I’d care about my immortal spirit too. Chuch nodded, his expression brightening. As he went back to eating, he answered, “I’ll get on it right after breakfast.”

“I love the new place,” I said to Eva. “It’s beautiful.”

“It only took a firebomb to get him to remodel.”

I winced. “Yeah, about that—”

“Don’t even,” she told me. “You can’t be held responsible for what crazy people do. And from what I hear, that hijo de puta Montoya got his.”

“They both did,” I said, remembering how Dumah had devoured them.

Eva grinned. “And I got a sweet new house. It worked out.”

Chuch and Booke carried the conversation, talking about things unfamiliar to me. They had been friends the longest, after all. It stood to reason Chuch would take Booke’s impending demise personally. He wasn’t the kind of guy who stood by and let things happen either. Deep down I hoped he could find a solution. Between crazy dreams of Chance and midnight visits from terrifying supernatural beings, I had enough on my plate.

But that reminded me that I had a phone call to make. With a murmured excuse, I got my cell and went to the guest room. My hands trembled as I dialed Min’s number; she might well think I was nuts to interrupt her grief with such a ridiculous question. Yet I couldn’t resist the need to know if I was crazy or if I’d really seen Chance last night.