Agave Kiss

Falling Action

Sleep came in the shape of familiar nightmares.

I couldn’t count the number of times I’d watched Chance die over the past week. To make matters worse, I had to live with the fact that my choices had led me to that dead-end road. I saw Chance’s face; in my sleep, the knife pierced his chest again and again. His blood spilled down the stone ledge, opening a gate for us.

All along, I intended to die, if that was necessary to save Shannon. But it didn’t work out that way. Sometimes no matter how hard you tried there was no good outcome. I would’ve paid any price to see Shannon safe . . . I just didn’t realize it would come down to a choice between my best friend and the man I loved. In all likelihood, I should’ve seen it coming. A trip to Sheol wasn’t a walk in the park—and you didn’t return without dire consequences.

It was still dark when I gave up on sleep. The ticking clock hanging on the wall in the kitchen read 4:45 a.m. Soon, the dawn colors would light the sky; or at least, in the real world, they would. I didn’t know how day and night worked in this tiny pocket universe Donal Macleish had created with a curse.

I wasn’t entirely surprised when I found Booke already awake. He didn’t bear the appearance of a well-rested man. “Are you feeling better, Corine?”

That was so like him. He was the one dying of a slow, evil spell . . . and yet he worried about my state of mind. I didn’t see how I could fail to do as he wished, provided I possessed the means. Afterward . . . well, I couldn’t consider the necessary civil responsibilities. How would I even explain his existence? As far as the authorities knew, Ian Booke vanished in 1947. It would be difficult to explain how he’d turned up seventy-some years later, looking fifty years younger than he was.

“Not really,” I admitted. “But we’re here to focus on your problems.”

My issues weren’t just emotional, however. That morning, it was all I could to do keep last night’s sandwich in my stomach. The nausea I’d blamed on the train stirred again, growing sharper with each movement. I tried to cover how bad I was feeling, but Booke had sharp eyes, despite his age. He leveled a direct stare on me.

“Mine will keep,” he returned quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Now I understood why he had been so enthralled by the idea of traveling the world via my dreams. If he hadn’t gone anywhere before the curse hit, then he’d never seen anything but the U.K. I couldn’t imagine being trapped in the same small house for so many years—and likely it had been at least fifty before he got on the Internet . . . and acquired a social life that way.

I covered my nausea with a question. “How long did it take you to figure out how to summon a lesser devil in order to get a few amenities?”

“Ten years.”

So ten years of solitary confinement; ten years of starvation. He must have been weak and desperate when he cast the spell. Whatever his sins of hubris, whatever he had done with Macleish’s wife, Booke didn’t deserve this. He’d long since served his time for his crimes.

“I’m not okay with this,” I said then. “There has to be a way to get you out of this spell without all those years hitting you like a truck.”

He shook his head. “If there is a way, Corine, I’ve not found it. And it isn’t as if I haven’t been looking.”

“Yeah, I imagine so.” Curious, I went to the window, peering out into amorphous darkness. It wasn’t full night, nor were there any stars. Instead it was more of a charcoal mist, swirling endlessly.

“Does this view ever change?”

Booke offered a grim, weary smile. “Unfortunately not.”

“I bet those were long years between the first time you made a deal with that lesser devil and when you discovered the Internet.”

“You can’t imagine. I read the same books a thousand times. I paced. I talked to myself . . . and went a little mad.”

“How did you discover . . .” I didn’t know quite how to put it. “Modern technology, a window to the outside world.”

“Anzu. That’s the devil who keeps me connected. In making our deal, he agreed to keep me apprised of any changes in the modern world that could improve my standard of living.”

“What did you promise him?” As I well knew, the Birsael were shrewd bargainers, ever alert for the opportunity to take advantage of a desperate human.

Booke glanced away, unwilling to disclose that information. Which meant whatever it was, it was bad. What bargaining chips did you have when you were locked away with nothing but your shadow for company?

But I let it go; there was no breaking a demon contract, once it was signed. “So he brought your first computer and you used that weakening spell to draw the gear over to your side?”

“Exactly so.” He indicated the door to his office, and I followed him down the hall, studying the sigils etched into the wooden floor. “The barrier is thinnest here, which is what permits data to slip through.”

“Which means emails and voice can penetrate, but not your physical form.”

Sorrow lined his pale face. “Yes. It was a lifeline, often more than you know.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Bile rose in my throat. I wished it was directly related to how he’d suffered. This had been coming on since yesterday, however. Trust me to come down with a stomach bug at the worst possible moment.

“Why would you? I didn’t want pity. Though I won’t pretend to have enjoyed my imprisonment, it wasn’t unjust.”

“I disagree,” I muttered. “It’s not illegal to sleep with somebody else’s wife. Immoral, yeah, bad judgment? Absolutely. But this is crazy.”

“That’s what happens when you piss off a sorcerer.” For the first time, he showed a hint of the wry humor that had characterized my interactions with him.

“Well, you outlived him,” I offered, like that could compensate for a lifetime trapped as he had been.

“Corine,” he said gently. “I’m at peace. I don’t need comfort, though I appreciate the thought. I just want an end to this. That’s why I asked you to come. I thought you could unravel the spell, now that your mother’s magick is functioning.”

Shit. “That might be a problem.”

A frown furrowed his brow. “Why?”

That was when I lost control of my stomach. Shame burned up my throat in a hot ball as I raced for the bathroom. I slammed the door behind me and hunched just in time, tears trickling from my eyes. What the hell is wrong with me? Comedians were always talking about how bad English food was, but this? Really? As I rose to try to patch myself together, the strange face in the mirror haunted me. This woman was thin and sickly, her skin nearly green in its pallor. By sharp contrast, my red hair seemed out of place, like a whore selling her wares on the cathedral steps.

“Corine!” Booke rapped sharply on the door.

“I’m all right,” I answered.

By the time I opened the door, he was pacing. “Is this some residual sickness from your trip to Sheol? I’ve never known anyone who went . . . and returned.”

“Gods, I never thought of that.” Maybe I’d caught some demonic plague while I was there.

“How long have you been ill?”

“A day or so. I’m sure it’ll pass. Touch of flu.” Waving a hand, I dismissed the concern in his eyes.

He didn’t like it but he let me change the subject. “You were about to tell me about your magick, I think.”

Taking a breath to brace, I related the gist of events since I’d talked to him last: how demons had kidnapped Shannon to draw me into a trap, at which point I followed her to Sheol, and a latent demon queen in my bloodline woke up, controlled me, staged a coup in hell, and then it all went sideways. My throat was hoarse by the time I finished, and I was choking back tears when I concluded with what happened to Chance. Shan had mentioned as much the night before, but she hadn’t provided context. I ended with, “And now my mother’s magick isn’t working. I think I burned it out with demon magick in Sheol. And I don’t know anything about using that for anything but summonings.”

While it was true that I still had Solomon blood, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to summon something to break the spell. It might have dreadful consequences, to say nothing of the cost to my soul. But if Booke asked that of me, well . . . at this point, what did it matter? He’d helped me so often . . . and without question, that I wanted to give back. Just . . . not like this. I had some training from Tia in witch magick, but I couldn’t use demon magick to break the curse; I could only summon.

“That’s a potential solution,” he said, after a long pause. I could see he was weighing the cost to me versus the benefit of ending his long incarceration.

But it wasn’t the price. Hell, other practitioners already thought I was a black witch. What was one more deal with a demon to help a friend?

“I have a contact, but I’d rather not call her, as she tends to . . . well, devour people’s souls.”

Unfortunately, I didn’t have Maury’s true name, or I could summon him to make a deal. But I didn’t know if he had the power to break the spell, and I was unclear on what kind of energy his mate, Dumah, could consume. I was positive she could eat human energy, but what about spells? It seemed like a bad idea to summon her until I did a little research. Fortunately, Booke had an impressive, if untidy, arcane library right at my fingertips.

“Take your time. It’s rather nice to have company after all these years.”

“You don’t mind if I do some reading?”

“Help yourself. Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

“You should eat.” Now he sounded how I imagined my dad would, if he hadn’t gone to Sheol in my place.

All my life, I thought my father abandoned my mother and me. Instead, he went to the demon realm in my place to protect me from the demons who wanted to use my blood. They’d tortured him in my stead, working to make the ultimate soulstone from the Solomon line; with it, they would’ve had the power to use it to open the gate to this world repeatedly. No limitations. So Albie Solomon bargained for my sake . . . and died in my arms once I freed him from bondage.

That was another loss, so many—too many. I didn’t welcome this heritage. Kel—a fast-healing, super-strong Nephilim who claimed to be God’s Hand—had said I was destined to be “important,” and I didn’t want that either. On two separate occasions, his archangel had assigned him to help or guard me, which meant the boss intended to use me in some spectacular fashion. There was only one future for me, one where Chance stood beside me again.

“Later,” I promised, stepping into the office.

The room was clean, despite the clutter . . . no dust anywhere. I imagined Booke had plenty of time for household chores. You could only read, pace, sleep, and eat so often. No wonder he was on the computer at all hours, looking for a chat or chess match. Poor Booke. I hoped the girl had been worth it.

Hours passed while I dug through his library. He had obscure spell books, tomes about demons, summoning treatises, whole volumes dedicated to various herbs. Unfortunately, I didn’t find anything helpful. According to the clock, it was late morning by the time Shannon joined me.

“My phone’s not working,” she said in greeting.

“Try it here by the desk. Stand on this side of the sigils. I think you should be able to call Jesse.”

It made sense that Booke would’ve selected this spot to imprint the circle that weakened the barrier, permitting contact with the modern world. Otherwise, he would have to cast a spell each time he wanted to make a call or use the Internet.

She stepped over the symbols on the floor. “Hey, two bars. Cool! Is this crazy or what?”

“I always wondered what his deal was, but this . . . ? I didn’t guess this. I thought he might be agoraphobic or something.”

Shan nodded. “Me too. I always wondered if he was young or cute. I thought he might have a thing for you.”

“Nah. He was just lonely. Dunno if you noticed, but he was just as happy to talk to you or Chuch or pretty much anyone who would IM him.”

“True enough. I don’t know how he’s not completely cracked.”

“Right? Can you imagine spending ten years alone, talking to yourself?”

She shivered. “Don’t even joke. Uh. We’re not stuck here, are we? Jesse is gonna think this is the most elaborate breakup scenario ever.”

I laughed despite myself. “No. Even if I can’t shatter the spell, Booke can weaken the barrier enough to let us out, like he did so we could come in.”

“I don’t want to leave him like this,” Shan said.

“Me either. But we’ll figure something out.” I closed the book on herbal remedies with a snap.

Nodding, she fell into a nearby chair with a casual grace I could never equal. “Let me ring the boyfriend, then. I can’t wait to attempt to explain this. He thought I was coming home as soon as we sorted out our passports.”

“We’re working on it,” I pointed out. “Making contacts anyway.”

“Yeah, but I think he expected me to stay out of trouble during the process.”

I arched a brow at her. “Does he know you at all?”

She grinned. “Point taken.” Shan spun, kicking her legs over the side of the chair as she dialed. A few seconds later, her voice softened. “Hey, you.”

Without making a conscious decision, I got up and left the office, giving them some privacy. The ache over having nobody to call throbbed like a toothache. But hell, I was still better off than Booke, who was trying to escape this noose just so he could fucking die. Under those circumstances, it seemed like I had little to complain about.

“Shannon’s talking to Jesse?” Booke guessed when I joined him in the kitchen.

He had a meal on the table, and by this point I was peckish. It was just cold sliced meat, cheese, and fruit, but I was glad of it. He was toasting bread the old-fashioned way when I sat down.

“No toaster?”

“I don’t like them,” he admitted. “I’ve adapted in most respects . . . and Anzu will bring me anything I ask for, but I just prefer the way it tastes from the skillet.”

“Fair enough.” At his gesture of invitation, I served my plate, and he joined me a few moments later.

“I suppose it’s too much to hope for that you’ve solved the problem.”

I offered a rueful smile. “If anyone knows what’s in your books, it’s you. I just hoped . . .”

“Me too.”

But sometimes the situation was impossible. There was only a dark night ending in the grave. Bleak thoughts filled my head as I ate in silence. Eventually it occurred to me that I hadn’t tried to use the touch since returning from Sheol. Maybe it could prove helpful in this regard, assuming it still worked.

“Do you have anything that belonged to Macleish?” I asked at length.

“I do, actually.”

“Let me see it?”

I was astonished when he brought me a gold tooth. Booke lifted his thin shoulders in a shrug. “I told you we fought.”

Metal was generally good about capturing a charge, but this had physically been part of Donal Macleish. I had never attempted to read a glass eye or a prosthetic limb. The fact that their last encounter had been the catalyst for the tooth’s removal might actually prove valuable. I braced myself when Booke dropped the chunk of gold into my palm.

After a bracing breath, I dropped the shields that kept me from indiscriminately reading everything I touched. There came a flicker deep at the core of me, like this ability had gone dormant. At first I thought it wasn’t going to work, and then the flicker became a conflagration. Pain burned through me, a fire in my palm that seared my nerves all the way up to my elbows. Sweat broke out as the vision suffused me. My eyes went blank, and then superimposed images cascaded through my head, along with lightning-fast emotional impressions. Fleeting thoughts.

Kill him. No. Make him suffer.

Two men, struggling. The punches rained between them with unskilled ferocity. One would stagger back and attempt to invoke a spell, only to be interrupted by the other in a desperate charge. Both their faces were bloody, broken noses, split lips. The room reflected the same destruction. Books were strewn about, pages torn loose, spines snapped. Crockery lay in shards, and one chair had been smashed flat, the legs surrounding it like a denuded daisy in the throes of He Loves Me Not.

Bright blue energy streamed from Booke’s fingertips, but before he could complete the incantation, Donal slammed him headfirst into a wall. Which was when Booke lost the fight. I could see he was wandering in and out of consciousness, groggy as hell. Still, he lashed out with a final blow—and that was the one that knocked the tooth from Donal’s mouth.

The vision dumped me on Booke’s kitchen floor. Well, that was new. I didn’t remember ever moving this way before, but I had been in the chair, and now I was on all fours, panting through my open mouth. And I had a new scar on my palm, the final evidence that I’d lost my mother’s magick in Sheol. Her abilities made the touch easier, somewhat less damaging, but that benefit was gone now.

Booke knelt beside me, looking fearful, concerned. “Is it always like that?”

I mustered a half smile. “Sometimes it’s worse.”

“That’s rather awful.” He stroked my hair gently, a paternal gesture.

“Trust me, I know.”

“Did you learn anything useful?” He couldn’t help the hopeful rise in tone. It was human nature to look for the way out, even after you accepted you were fully painted into a corner.

“If I still had my mother’s magick, I could use the tooth and my witch sight to unravel the spell. But since that’s not an option, I need to think about it.”

There might be no way out of this for Booke, apart from my summoning Dumah. And if that was the case, I’d bite the bullet for him. She could devour the spell—maybe—in lieu of our souls and should count it a worthy snack. I just hoped she didn’t want additional payment, as I had shit for collateral these days. Demons didn’t care for cash.

He helped me back into the chair, where we finished our lunch. Shannon joined us a few moments later, looking measurably happier.

“You got in touch with Jesse?” I asked.

“Yep. He’s not thrilled, but I told him we’d be home in a week or two. That’s probable, right?”

“I can’t imagine it would take that long,” Booke said.

The words sent a pang of grief through me. I can’t lose you too, I thought. But I didn’t say it out loud. Compared to some people, I was still rich in friends. I had Shannon and Jesse, Chuch and Eva. Even Kel counted, I supposed, provided I could find him.

You could call him, a little voice whispered.

Shit. Was that the solution? Instead of Dumah, I could call Kel. Maybe he could break the spell . . . without staining my soul in the process.

“You look like you just had an epiphany,” Shan observed.

“Maybe.” My tone was cautious. I needed to consider the ramifications.

An out-of-the-blue summons might get Kel in trouble with his archangel, but the alternative was dealing with a demon. Hm. He’d helped me a great deal, saving my life in the process, and there was definitely a bond between us. I didn’t think he’d mind helping me, if he wasn’t in the middle of some time-sensitive mission. Trouble was, I had no way to verify his status.

“I trust you’ll advise us of your plan before you implement it,” Booke said drily. “In case it is necessary to duck or take cover.”

“Hey, my plans seldom blow up in my face.”

“Seldom?” Shan eyed me.

I pushed out a sigh. “Yes, I’ll let you know when I decide whether I’m taking the high or low road. I can’t do this on my own, Booke, so it’s going to require outsourcing. But I have some options.”

He nodded. “You’ve no idea how grateful I am. I thought . . .” Booke trailed off, unable to articulate his fear.

You thought you’d die alone, an undiscovered corpse in a house full of rats and spiders. The possibility broke my heart. I could do this job, but I didn’t want to.

Every time I ran the odds in my head, success resulted in the loss of a friend.