When I bent toward him, his eyes snapped open. Despite myself I stumbled back a step, out of his reach. His eyes just weren’t right.
“We’re here,” I said stupidly.
“Thanks. I’ll be all right in a few minutes.” He made no move to get out of the car, though, so I just left him there. I had enough to worry about.
Chuch met us at the front door, evidently alerted by Butch’s impressive watchdog performance. “Dios,” he said. “Look at you two. I guess you found my stash, huh?” He took in the rifle dangling from Chance’s hand. “Let me put that away for you, primo.” His eyebrows almost shot off his forehead. “Man, this is going to be some story. Why don’t you guys rinse off some of the blood and then tell me what the hell’s been going on?”
That sounded like a great idea. I took a five-minute shower and Chance took his turn next. We all met up in the kitchen, where Eva simmered some bean soup that smelled like heaven. She greeted me with a great big squeeze that hurt my ribs. “You okay, cariño?”
Tears filled my eyes as I hugged her back. I hadn’t realized just how much I cared about her until this moment. “Yeah. I’ll be sore in the morning, but I’m all right.”
Her love hurt, though. Whatever I said, I had about a dozen wounds that needed tending. The bite on my shoulder might fester if it wasn’t treated.
Chuch took a seat at the kitchen table and drummed his fingers on top. “You want to fill me in? Why is there a tattooed dude asleep in the Mustang? Why did you need all that hardware? And where did the creepy Chihuahua come from?”
After pouring us both tall glasses of iced tea, Chance sat down and let me tell the story. Butch whined until I picked him up, and he sat with his chin on the table, overseeing the proceedings. The tale took the better part of an hour, and by the time I finished, both Chuch and Eva regarded us with astonishment.
“You mean those loco dreams were true?” the mechanic asked finally.
With a nod, Chance answered, “More or less. When we destroyed the foci that held you, your souls were free to follow the silver cord back to your physical bodies.”
Chuch ran a hand through his long, dark hair, looking grim. “What about the guy outside? What’s his deal? Did you hire a merc?”
Damn. I’d hoped to avoid discussing Kel.
“Not exactly. He, ah, showed up last night, claiming God sent him to help us rid the world of a great evil.”
Eva gave me a long look. “And you didn’t think he was crazy? Your first impulse was to arm him?”
“Well, it wasn’t my first impulse. . . .” I tried a smile. God knew what she’d say if she found out who he was.
“Wow.” She shook her head. “So you went off with a nut job and you took out the warlock. You didn’t even have Chuch’s good stuff. He has a real cache of weapons hidden better than that. You know, just in case.”
“When you find Montoya, I’m going with you to rescue your mama and take him out,” Chuch said quietly. “You’ll need the extra firepower . . . and he crossed the line when he let his goon mess with my wife.”
I expected Chance to protest but he simply stared at Chuch for a minute. As if making a judgment based on something he saw that I couldn’t interpret, he simply nodded. “We need some rest. It’s been a tough twenty-four.”
To say the least.
“Eva, can you put your mad investigative skills to tracking down something about this Diego Montoya?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’ll start with the Internet and work from there.”
“Let me make some calls,” Chuch said. “I know some people who might be able to tell us something.” He glanced at Chance. “It may take some bribe money, though, primo. They won’t cross these people for nothing. We got to make it worth their while.”
“How much? I can get my hands on ten grand, maybe. It would take longer to—”
Chuch laughed. “Relax. You could get these guys to kill their own grandmothers for a thousand dollars, let alone talk some shit.”
The clearing of a throat drew our eyes toward the kitchen doorway. Kel stood there under his own power, blood soaked but ambulatory. “May I use the shower?”
I exchanged a glance with Chance. Should we tell them the whole story? He slowly shook his head.
Eva recovered first. “Sure. It’s just down the hall. Towels are in the closet to the right.”
“Let me show you.” Bone tired, I pushed away from the table and led the way to the bathroom after getting him a clean blue towel from the linen closet. “Do you need some help? I can bind up your wounds afterward if you want.”
In answer he pulled his filthy shirt off and presented me a back crisscrossed with scars. Some must be old and puckered the pale skin, but the wounds he’d taken today, just hours ago, showed livid purple. Already healed.
Seeking proof, I reached out and almost touched my fingertips to his skin before remembering who and what he was. I pulled back. “How is this possible?”
“God takes cares of His own,” he told me, and shut the door in my face.
As the water hissed on, I returned to the kitchen in time to hear Eva say, “Well, he’s a weird one. You know he has angel names tattooed all over his head?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of hard to miss,” I said.
Eva fussed over me and then Chance, daubing at us with various medical supplies and antibiotics. My jaw practically cracked on a yawn. The bean soup wouldn’t be done for hours, and I wanted sleep.