“You make these often?” Booke inquired.
“Often enough. I’ll have my cash now if you please. Then you need to quit cluttering up my front room. I’m for bed, and if Stenton sends anybody else my way in the next eight hours, I may turn him into a toad.”
“The client or Geoff Stenton?” I wondered.
“Both?” The witch laughed as I paid her, counting out the cash. “Mind you, use those within forty-eight hours. The spell won’t hold its charge forever.”
“We’re on our way to the airport,” I assured her.
Shannon roused on the first try; it took longer to wake Kel, who was in his trancelike sleep. “Come on, you two. We have a plane to catch.”
The earliest flight left just before five in the morning, and we were only three away from that now. In short order, I hurried them out to the taxi and gave our final destination. I wished I could’ve spent longer in the U.K., but there were pressing issues elsewhere. In the taxi, I borrowed Shan’s phone again to email Chuch.
We’re heading for Laredo. Given travel times, it will be late tomorrow or the next day. Booke’s with me, long story. Tell you when I see you. Would mean a lot to him if you throw a party. Invite all your friends and relatives. Trust me when I say he has reasons to want to be surrounded by people. Including our arrival time in case you’re willing to give us a ride from the airport. That was a long enough message for a tiny phone keyboard in a moving vehicle at night. Satisfied with how I’d managed things so far, I hit send and gave Shan back her phone.
She stared at me in bemusement. “You seem . . . wired. Manic, almost.”
“I feel a little frantic,” I confessed softly.
There was no way I could confess aloud what I truly feared—that Booke would pass away in transit. But I think she knew. She put her hand on mine and squeezed. “You’re doing your best.”
“Hope it’s good enough,” I muttered.
The rest of the journey passed in a blur of lines and waiting. For the sake of efficiency, we got Booke a chair, which he hated. But it meant slipping the main security line for one more handicap friendly. We flashed our passports multiple times, but the real test of the charm around my neck would come when we entered the U.S. He didn’t need a visa, as British citizens could visit for up to ninety days on a tourist form. Given Booke would be lucky to have a month, let alone three, I didn’t figure immigration would pose a problem.
By the time the pretty, polite stewardess settled us on the plane, I was running on fumes. Shan sat with Booke in the first row, still grilling him more about the war. Since he didn’t appear to mind, I let it go. Maybe it was a relief for him to be able to tell his stories. I mean, if he had tried that with anyone on the Internet, they’d have been like, sure, you were in the Blitz. Because people that old didn’t know how to work the Internet machine. Actually, there probably were some, but my experience with the elderly was limited; I never knew my grandparents on either side.
Kel took the window seat, leaving me on the aisle. I didn’t mind. I was surprised, however, that he hadn’t poofed on me. But then, if he went back to report his failure to recruit me, Barachiel would order my death. That was another complication I didn’t need, amid everything else. My whole life was a wreck; gods only knew whether the workmen were still building my shop. Tia was old and frail. I had Chance’s apartment to deal with too. Fortunately, he’d paid the rent several months in advance, but who knew when those payments ran out? I hoped to hell the landlord hadn’t put all his things in the street. At the very least, I owed it to Min to collect them.
The thing about adventures that they never put in fairy tales? They screwed up your life in a royal fashion. Real-world business went unattended; bills didn’t get paid. My freaking El Camino had been abandoned on a remote mountainside in Oaxaca. True, I didn’t pay much for it, but I’d put money into repair work, and there was no way in hell I’d ever see that car again. In the first week of my sojourn in Sheol, I’d bet that my ride was jacked and possibly stripped. Or maybe, given that it was a solid car, somebody was just driving it around without the title. In a small village, nobody checked into that sort of thing.
To my left, Kel’s hands were clenched on the armrests as the attendants went about their business. They handed out masks, pillows, and blankets, offered cool or hot beverages. In the back of the plane, which I dubbed steerage, they were probably deploying the cattle prods. A ten-hour flight, like the one from London to Houston, would be absolutely miserable in coach. My inner skinflint had caviled a little at the cost of four first-class tickets, but I had the money. I was just reluctant to touch it, especially for such a fleeting experience.
Seeing Kel’s tension reminded me of the last time we flew together. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“It would help if you distracted me at least until we’re in the air.”
“What did you have in mind?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Talking works.”
“The only thing we have to discuss is how I’m not signing on for your boss’s cause. Did you tell him yet?”
“I did,” he said quietly. “And he’s ordered me to try to change your mind. I have clearance now to discuss your role, if you wish.”
If Barachiel truly thought I’d sign on with no information, like a dazzled Joan of Arc, he’d lost touch with humanity.
But I wanted to give Kel a fair shot, so I said, “It’s not at the top of my to-do list, but ignoring a problem never made it go away. So go for it.”
It was unlikely in the extreme he’d change my mind, for obvious reasons—for the first time, I had a clear picture of what I wanted for my future—but if it would take his mind off his fear of flying, then I’d listen. Unlike most of my breakups, if you could even call it that after one night, this parting had been bittersweet but amicable, and I considered him a friend. Even if he might try to kill me the next time I saw him. Gods, if there wasn’t even a small possibility I’d be reunited with Chance, wherever the hell he was? Then I’d let Kel do his job. But ultimately, that would be selfish, and he’d have to carry my death as he did Asherah’s.
“Barachiel wants you to rally soldiers to his banner. Your lineage makes you uniquely suited to persuading the people to rise up against demonkind.”