“No worries, prima.”
By this time, it was full dark. Time to go.
“Stay,” I told Butch, who whined at me.
At Chuch’s request, I took the bottom, though I suspected he was doing most of the lifting. Chuch backed down the steps and we had the dead demon in the trunk before I saw a curtain twitch. This wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where people stared out their windows in search of trouble. Around here, most were just trying to make ends meet and keep their own problems at bay.
I climbed in the car, belted in. My body functioned on automatic, as I had come so far past shock that I didn’t know what to call it. Chuch cut me a sympathetic look as he backed the car onto the street, but when he spoke, it wasn’t about the mission at all. “You still have the Pinto, I see. I should’ve sold you a POS before.”
“Yep. It’s like the cheap sunglasses you never lose.”
He laughed, angling our route toward the desolate country out near the border. He didn’t volunteer information. In his line of work, that was smart, but it also worked my already frazzled nerves. His driving was competent, confident, right at the speed limit. Chuch obeyed all traffic laws to the letter; no way he was giving a cop the chance to pull us over. The he was a demon, trying to steal my unborn child defense would probably only qualify me for an insanity plea.
We had been on the road for ten minutes when I couldn’t take it anymore. “You know a place, I guess?”
“Don’t ask me any questions or I’ll have to blindfold you.” Though Chuch was one of my closest friends, I wasn’t 100 percent sure he was joking until he laughed and added, “Relax, peke. You’re wound so tight, it can’t be good for the baby.”
“Wouldn’t you be in my shoes?”
“Well, since I’d be a woman, pregnant, and trying to get my lost man back, si. Even one of those things would pose a huge problem for me.” Chuch’s grin widened, making it impossible for me not to share his amusement.
The laughter boiled out of me until I felt near hysterical, but it was such a welcome change from hovering on the verge of tears that I didn’t try to stop it, even when it came in noisy, giggly spurts. Chuch just kept driving. Eva had really trained him well; he was equipped to deal with any emergency a woman could have.
Eventually we got off the highway, but drove away from the rock formation where I’d found Kel. Once, Chuch checked the coordinates in his GPS, made another turn. Then he said, “We’re almost there.”
“There” turned out to be a rocky stretch of nowhere, kind of the point, I supposed. Once more, I helped move the body. Not something I ever thought I’d do. I felt guilty that this guy’s family would never know what happened to him, but most likely he was lost to them by the time he ended up as a Luren host. Drugs, maybe, or a permissive lifestyle took the blame, and his family had already written him off.
I’d tell myself that anyway.
Chuch got the shovel.
“Can I help—” I started to ask, but he cut me off with a curt gesture.
“I’ll take care of it. Get back in the car, please.”
I’d never heard quite that tone from him before. Gone was the laughing, gentle man who adored his family. This was the guy who took care of business, who could smuggle any weapon you wanted and not get caught. In response, I slid back into my seat, quietly closed my door, and watched the proceedings in the side mirror.
He dug a shallow trench, unwound the tarp, then rolled the body into the furrow. With quick capable rakes of the shovel, he smoothed sandy soil over the top and then he tossed a number of rocks to cover the signs of recent digging, not that I expected anyone to stumble across the grave site. To my surprise, he put all the supplies back in the trunk.
As he got in, he read my look. “I’ll sterilize everything and put it away. Since there’s no connection between me and the vic, the stuff’s safer in my garage.”
That made sense. If he left the tarp here and somebody found the body, there might be trace evidence left behind. Since neither of us had handled the corpse with our bare skin, there shouldn’t be anything left to find. I’d bet there were all kinds of people buried out here in shallow graves.
“Thank you. It’s not enough, but—”
“You’d come if I needed you, right?”
“Of course.” So far, I was the troublesome friend, however, and the uneven balance bothered me. My friendship had cost the Ortizes so much while giving back relatively little.
Chuch went on, “And you promised to look after Cami, if somebody ever comes gunning for me.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” I whispered.
Even if it did, he had a huge extended family. I suspected he and Eva had chosen Chance and me for the honor of godparents just to prevent infighting between their massive respective clans. But if the worst came to pass, yeah, I’d take Cami. Get her out of the country and keep her safe, no matter what. Just like I would for the peanut growing in my belly.
His expression grew stern in the starlight. “Friends don’t keep a score sheet. You should know that.”
“Yeah, but they don’t take advantage either.”
“It’s been a rough few years for you, granted. But things will level out . . . and then it’ll be time for you to pay up in free babysitting when Eva and I desperately need to go on a cruise to remember what it’s like to sleep past five a.m.”
“Deal,” I said. “Anytime you want.”
Chuch grinned. “You say that now. It’ll be a different story in a year when I call and you’ve got one of your own.”
“I’ll still help you out. Promise.”
“Don’t think I won’t hold you to it either.” By his tone, he was dead serious.
On the way back to the apartment, I fell asleep. Chuch woke me as he pulled into the drive, a gentle touch to my arm that left me feeling like a narcoleptic. I was eating as well as I could manage, but stress and worry took their toll, and I didn’t do well alone in a strange bed at night. That was when all my fears played knick-knack on my head.
“Is Booke coming back tonight?”
I shook my head. “But I’ll be fine.”
There was still one Luren in the wind, but I had my Taser and a watchdog. It was unlikely I’d sleep anyway. All factors suggested that I wouldn’t get much rest until this thing played out. Even if the ritual didn’t end as I wanted it to, at least I’d have my answer: Chance or no Chance. Either way, I had to get back to my life.
“I don’t like leaving you alone. Eva would be pissed.” From his expression, though, he was ready to get home.
So I offered a small lie with a clear conscience. “I’ll call Booke. Get him to wrap his evening up early. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
“Thanks, prima. Now I can tell Eva I left you in good hands.”
Chuch came to the door and walked through to make sure I had no more unwanted visitors. I hoped the Luren intelligence network, which included the damned hospital orderly, took a while to notice White Hair’s failure and send the last Luren to handle me. No question they wouldn’t be social this time around. Barachiel killed the first emissary in a throwdown, and I offed another—well, nearly, anyway. I served him up for Twila, so I was an accomplice for sure. The gloves would come off in the final round, and I had no clue how to fight back.
Butch had been penned up, so I took him for a short walk around the neighborhood after Chuch left. It was dark enough to be creepy with a few broken streetlights, and I felt like somebody was watching me the whole time. The atmosphere got to the dog as well. He peed really fast and whined to go inside. He didn’t have to tell me twice.
The constant napping had screwed with my schedule, so I couldn’t get to sleep. I puttered in the apartment, vaguely creeped out by the memory of the dead thing on my kitchen floor. Dammit. At this rate, I won’t doze off until dawn. Eventually I laid on the couch and listened to the radio. There was no TV or stereo, and the analog music solution was so old that Shannon might be able to use it to talk to the dead. More to the point, it still worked, so I played it softly, so it wouldn’t drown out an intruder. Butch curled up on my stomach, keeping the baby company. My ears strained for footfalls, and around two a.m., I heard someone creeping toward the front door. Butch froze too, his ears cocked. He couldn’t seem to make up his mind if we needed to panic or not. Such indecision was unlike him. After rolling off the couch, I ran for my Taser. Gods, this was getting old. I missed safety and the right arms to hold me, having someone to lean on when I needed them most. Right then, I felt incredibly alone. But I was poised to strike, do what I had to do, as Chuch put it. Then I heard the jingle of keys.
Booke. It must be Booke.
As he stepped into the apartment, I wilted with relief, lowering the stun gun. He moved closer and I smelled a hint of alcohol. Is that why Butch didn’t greet him with excited tail wagging? In his defense, the Englishman wasn’t unsteady on his feet, but I could see he’d enjoyed a wild night.
“I thought you weren’t coming back until the morning,” I said quietly.
“Was worried about you. Also, Ms. Devlin’s not keen on sleepovers.” A faint softening of his vowels was the only sign he’d been drinking, nothing to worry about.
His motion didn’t seem impaired, and he hadn’t driven home, so no trouble in that regard. So why was Butch staring at him so intently, ears back, tail still?
My dog seemed suspicious—and if he was, then I took him seriously. He’d saved me too often for it to be otherwise. I took a cautious step out of Booke’s reach.
“There’s something wrong.” It wasn’t a question.
“I wish you hadn’t noticed,” Barachiel said.
Booke opened his mouth. Blood poured out. He managed one word. “Run.”
I woke in a cold sweat.
Butch was at my feet, snoozing away. Sunlight streamed into my face from the spotty windows. Though my neck was stiff and I’d had nightmares, that was actually the best sleep I’d had in weeks. These I could shrug off as mere bad dreams, not omens. Given the mess my life was in, it was understandable that I was scared. I’d have to be an idiot not to be. Mostly I tried not to think about everything that could go wrong, how many factors needed to align in only a few days.
Booke came home for real as I was eating breakfast. Crackers and tea first to make sure I kept my food down. Then half an hour later, I had yogurt and frozen berries. To make my doctor happy, I ate a spoonful of peanut butter for protein and took my vitamin. He looked content and exhausted, glowing with the enjoyment of personal freedom. I had a hand in that, I thought.
“Good night?” I asked.
“The best. She’s a wildcat.”
“Eh, you can stop there. Really.”
He grinned, pouring himself a cup of tea from the pot I’d steeped earlier. “And what did you do last night, Ms. Solomon?”
“Killed a demon, buried the body. The usual.”
His first sip choked him. “Tell me you’re joking.”