Smiling, I shook my head, skimming the vehicles for a tan Malibu. Then I sighed. “Not here yet.”
“What if he doesn’t come?” Booke asked.
“Then I guess we wade in unprepared.”
“There’s a difference between ‘yen for adventure’ and ‘death wish,’” he observed.
I shrugged. “I can’t leave Kel hanging. Though I’m not the witch I used to be, and the touch won’t do me much good in a fight, I have to try.”
“That’s what makes you such a good friend.”
He put an arm around me and squeezed my shoulders in a friendly fashion. Though he looked younger, he felt like a favorite uncle. We didn’t wait long for Tan Malibu. Part of me wondered if he knew Chuch, but I didn’t want to drag the Ortizes further into this mess. Bad enough they had a crime scene in their yard. I watched as the dealer settled onto the hood, then I made my way over to his car.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Beto sent me.”
“Yeah, he gave me the heads-up that you’re okay. Otherwise I’d have to ask you to show me your belly.”
In case I was wearing a wire. Just to settle the issue for his peace of mind, I flashed some skin and raised each of my pant legs. “I’ll tell my friend to wait over there with my bag, if you’re really worried.”
At this suggestion, Butch popped his head out of my purse and growled. He didn’t like being banished from the action.
The guy laughed. “Nah, it’s cool. I see you got a guard dog. My auntie raises Chihuahuas . . . yappy little ankle biters.”
Butch’s growl went lower. I tapped him gently on the skull. “Pipe down, you know I love you.”
He shut up.
“Whatcha need?”
“A Taser and a good knife, for sure.”
He seemed a little disappointed. “You could buy that anywhere. I got some serious hardware up in here.”
“I know, but I’m not the best shot.”
“I’ll take a piece,” Booke said in his plummy accent.
The dealer’s face was priceless. “Really?”
I stifled a smile, letting Booke take the lead. “It’s been some years—” Massive understatement. “But I used to be quite a good shot. Let me see your hardware.”
“With pleasure.” The guy popped the trunk, revealing a dazzling array of weapons.
Some had obviously seen hard street use; others looked pristine, as if they’d just come off the factory floor. I didn’t ask questions, as that tended to piss off entrepreneurs like Tan Malibu. Booke leaned over for a better look and then he indicated what I thought was a Glock.
“May I?”
The merchant nodded. “Sure, it’s not loaded.”
Though I wasn’t the best judge of such things, Booke seemed to know what he was doing when he handled the gun. He held it two-handed with his fingers curled around for support, and it looked to me like he wasn’t exaggerating his experience. I’d love to know more about his past, but it wasn’t the time. I could hardly ask in front of GM when the story was so implausible.
“How’s the recoil?” Booke asked, along with a number of technical questions, before nodding. “I’ll take the nine millimeter.”
“I only have one type of Taser in stock,” GM told me. “But I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. And if you’re looking for a quick kill after you incapacitate someone, then this is the blade for you.” He demonstrated a few moves and explained where I should be stabbing.
That alarmed me, as he looked so normal, but it wasn’t like killers went around with signs around their necks, or tattoos on their foreheads. That would make life so much simpler. In the end, I bought all three, plus some ammo for Booke’s gun, and a shoulder harness that he slipped on under his jacket.
“Remember,” GM called as we headed out. “If you’re caught, it’s illegal to carry concealed and I never met you.”
I assured him, “We won’t flip.”
“Heard that before,” he muttered.
Butch yapped at him in disapproval, as a Chihuahua’s word was his bond. Funny, but even a gangly Englishman gained some swagger with a gun hidden beneath his coat. I teased him about it as I swung back into the car.
“Now you’ve got a total James Bond thing going on, only you’re cooler because you do magick. You’ll have to beat the ladies off with a stick.”
He colored, cutting his eyes to the stained floor mat in the Pinto. Lord, it was a good thing our outcome didn’t depend on image. The engine purred to life, however, a testament to Chuch’s good work. Someday, I’d love to have him restore a car for me, totally custom from bumper to bumper.
Then Booke changed the subject; clearly he didn’t want to talk about his own charms. “Speaking of magick, if you know of a shop, I need to get a few things. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with how hermetic tradition works—”
“No clue.” I figured I’d save him a few words. “Tell me how I can help.”
He nodded as I pulled onto the street. “I’m not as versatile as a witch. I need more preparation, and to use my spells in combat, I must store them in a focus object, which is destroyed in the process.”
“Gotcha. Yeah, I know a place. Shannon and I found it a while back when I was squaring off against the Montoyas.”
Caridad didn’t sell supplies; there was more profit to be made in offering spells only. But after this last stop, we should be ready to head into the wilderness to find Kel. Hopefully it won’t take forty days and nights.
Then it occurred to me to ask, “How did you learn to shoot? I thought the U.K. had much stricter gun laws than the U.S.”
“Not for soldiers,” Booke said quietly.
Mentally, I did some math. He had been thirty-six in 1947, which meant he could’ve fought in World War II, but he’d said he had been with his lover for eight years, which would’ve taken place during wartime. But maybe they were separated until it ended . . . ? As I pulled into traffic, I decided to find out.
“Did you fight?”
“Yes. Perhaps that’s why the romance seemed so much more desperate, more doomed . . . and therefore, more important. Ironically, by the time she told her husband everything, I was a different man. War changes you.”
It had started as an indulgence of his ego, ended in tragedy. “So those eight years, it was off and on . . . all the stolen moments you could snatch.”
“Precisely. I lived for those hours when she could sneak away . . . or I was on leave. Though toward the end . . .” He lifted a shoulder in a weary, self-deprecating shrug. “I loved her, but she wasn’t the woman I wanted her to be.”
I made a left turn, heading toward the highway. The directions fluttered on the scrap of paper on the dash, lifted by the vent, while Butch paced in the backseat. If he had his Scrabble tiles, he’d be Han Soloing all over the place, with a bad feeling about this. He wasn’t the only one, but Kel was my friend. I never left people behind if I had a choice. Just one more errand, and then we’d see how bad the opposition was.
“I get it. Love is worth fighting for.”
His face went pensive. “Sometimes I think it’s the only thing that is. That’s why you mustn’t give up on your young man, no matter what.”
The lump in my throat surprised me. “I won’t. I’m facing some pretty steep opposition, maybe even going up against nature itself, but if hell didn’t stop me, death won’t either.”
Booke gave a half smile. “Remind me never to cross you.”
Unlikely Heroes
The arcane shop where Booke bought his supplies was housed in an Oriental Home Furnishings shop. Or that was the front. If you had the fortitude to shake off the aversion spell, you progressed to the real goods in the back. This time, I couldn’t see the runes pulsing, but I felt them; and without my mother’s magick, I had a strong inclination to get out before we ran into the creepy old woman again.