Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll bring the silverware.
She had a sword? During our lifetime in Sheol, she’d become accomplished with a blade, and she had mentioned that she intended to continue fencing to keep her skills sharp. There was no doubt she’d keep Jesse jumping. He knew where we’d be, but there was no way he’d show, unless something horrible happened. He had to steer clear of breaking and entering; and that, I was sure, along with trespassing, would be the least of my crimes tonight.
“This is a bit absurd,” Booke said, as he drove toward the warehouse. “You’re setting up to cast a spell we don’t have.”
“We’ll have it.”
“How?” he demanded.
“Kel.”
A frown creased his brow. “Why didn’t you contact him in the first place?”
“He’s already playing bait to keep Barachiel off me long enough to do this. Problem is, I can’t do it without him. We tried.”
“And you were afraid if he stopped running, Barachiel would track Kel down and kill him.”
“Pretty much.”
“That’s why you asked for the spell to hide our whereabouts. It’s a gamble.”
I nodded.
“Corine, I don’t know whether my magick is strong enough to block a demon of his strength. He may have resources of which I’m unaware.”
“Then you see why I didn’t want to call Kel until it became unavoidable.”
“He was always your ace in the hole,” Booke realized aloud.
“Yep. I didn’t want to put him at risk more than he’s already offered, but there’s no choice now.”
“Needs must, devil drives.”
There was nothing more to say. The final minutes were up on the scoreboard, game winding down. When we arrived at the warehouse, it looked even worse than it had on Google. Easy to imagine shady doings here. Booke took the tire iron out of the trunk and whacked the rusty padlock on the back door until it gave. Inside, it was dark, dank, reeking of pigeon shit and the acrid tang of urine. Not a romantic locale for a long-anticipated reunion. I wandered around until I found a janitor’s closet; fortunately, there was a dirty broom amid the other abandoned supplies, so I swept a portion of the cement floor clear. There only needed to be room to cast a circle, but my mother’s power was gone.
You have to use the demon magick.
Though the thought revolted me, I’d do it. My vow limited its practice to life and death, and this qualified. So one last stain to serve my purposes, and then I would turn my back on that world forever. But what if it hurts the baby? Was demon magick like drinking, drugs, or too much caffeine? Shit. Who would I even ask? No doubt I had made some impossible choices in my life, but father of child versus child? Much as I hated it, I’d have to pick our baby over Chance.
But maybe there’s a solution. You haven’t even gotten the translation yet.
I dialed the panic down to DefCon 4.
While I’d been tidying, Booke had cast his spell. He brought me the statuette, placing it in my hand with a sober look. “If everything goes to hell tonight, it’s been an honor.”
“Seriously? That’s your pep talk?”
“I am British, you know.”
That was a joke. I thought. So I laughed, but the sound resonated with nervous tension. Booke rubbed my shoulder with gentle affection, evidently over his prior aggravation. It hit me then that he’d be leaving soon. Regardless of how this ended he’d be in the wind, living out his dream of seeing the world before he replaced Ms. Devlin at the arcane library beneath Wonder Lanes.
Gods, I’ll miss him.
I checked the time. “I’m calling Kel. Get ready.”
Booke knew without being told that he had only seconds to keep us from ending up with Barachiel right on top of us. Hopefully his blocker would last long enough to bring Chance back, and then I’d help Kel fight the crazy-ass demon that had him on a magickal leash. We all would. The whole crew would be assembled at that point and ready for a fight.
Bring it on.
I whispered the summons soft enough that Booke couldn’t make out Kel’s true name, and this time, I put a little demon magick in the call. Using it in this realm stung, like pushing up too fast through the ocean and taking a load of salt water up the nose. But it didn’t hurt like using my mother’s magick had—and that worried me. I noticed no response from the baby, no pain, no nausea.
Kel appeared before me a few seconds later, battered, bewildered. He was also filthy, exhausted, covered in half-healed wounds. Gods, what had he been doing for the past two weeks? Booke smashed the statuette at our feet, bringing up a cloud of dust that shimmered, settling gently on my skin. The blocker was on the job. We’d see how well it worked.
“What have you done?” Kel demanded. “I warned you, this is madness.”
“We have a little time at least. Booke’s got us covered. Literally.” I paused for Kel to sense the truth, and some of his tension and rage diffused. “I need your help. You’re the only one who can do this for me. Believe me, if there was any other way . . .” I shook my head. “We tried. This is it.”
Anyone else would’ve persisted in the questions, but he read my desperation. Kel ran a hand down my cheek, left the stickiness of his blood behind. Fortunately, I had no open wounds on my face, or I’d be high as a kite right now. Last time, I went tripping balls after a hit of his blood. That made me wonder if all demon blood had healing properties, or only the ones who had been magickally fooled into believing they came from angelic origins. Not a critical question right now, though.
“What do you need?” he asked.