“Okay,” I said. “Plan B.”
Booke gazed at me, astonished. “There’s a plan B?”
“Do you have a copy of the scroll pages?”
“Yes. Ms. Devlin asked the collector to CC me.”
“Then I need you to craft a spell that’ll hide our location for a while. Can you do that?” I knew less than shit about the sorts of spells he could create.
“I’ll need to pop by the shop, but yes. It’s of limited duration, and it applies only to magickal tracking and scrying. I take it that’s what you’re after?”
I nodded. “We don’t need to be invisible. I’ll find us a place to perform the ritual while you’re gone.”
“But we don’t have a translation.”
“Just get the stuff for the hide-and-seek spell. Leave the rest to me.”
He scowled at me. “I rather hate being treated like a minion.”
“There’s no time,” I snapped.
That ship had sailed. This was my last Hail Mary play, and if we dropped the ball here, well . . . As Booke left, I dug out my phone and dialed Jesse. He seemed surprised to hear from me, but not tense or awkward, which made me happy. Maybe one day, we’d get back to our old footing.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I need a quiet place with little opportunity for collateral damage, if something goes wrong. You can find out what buildings have been seized.”
“Shit. You’re asking me to use police resources for personal reasons. I could get fired.”
“This is the last favor I’ll ever ask of you. Promise.” Then I played the blackmail card without blinking; he had to know I wasn’t fucking around. “Frankly, I figure you owe me. You’d be in mourning if it wasn’t for me. I brought the woman you love back to you. Help me do the same for my man.”
“Goddammit.” That was the sound of him giving in. “Ten minutes. I’ll find you something. I don’t know what you’ve got planned, understand? Don’t tell me. Especially if it’s illegal.”
“I don’t think it is,” I said.
But likely there weren’t any statutes on the books about opening portals between worlds. I suspected Congress wouldn’t like it, but I didn’t plan to put the matter to a vote, so it was all good. It actually took Jesse twenty minutes, and he didn’t call back. Instead, he texted me an address. I borrowed Booke’s computer and looked at it on Google maps; the street view was incredibly helpful—disturbingly so, in fact. He’d found me a warehouse in the industrial district. By the graffiti tags and the broken windows, the buildings on each side looked to be abandoned.
“Perfect,” I said.
Butch sighed at me.
“You don’t approve?”
Negative yaps.
“You think I should play it safe?”
More negative yaps.
“What’s wrong, then?”
He stared at me pointedly. Right. I forgot that he couldn’t talk unless I got the tiles. So I fetched them, spread them out for him, and he told me:
ready to go home i miss tia
“Me too, pal. Me too.”
By the time Booke got back, I had packed our stuff. One way or another, I wasn’t coming back. This apartment had served its purpose, but I was ready to move on. The leg wrap made it possible for me to move without limping much, but the pain was constant. Hopefully my muscle strength would return after I completed the PT, but the injury wouldn’t keep me from doing what I had to tonight.
“You got everything for the spell?”
“Yes, and I’ve the focus object right here.”
“Wrap it all up. You can work it when we get to the warehouse.”
Frustration etched into his features, but we didn’t have time for me to lay everything out for him. I texted Shannon the address and let her know the shit was going down tonight. After the talk we had in the hospital, it couldn’t be otherwise. She’d never forgive me if I did this without her. Then, I remembered Booke’s lecture on asking for help. I didn’t think I needed backup, but who knew what, exactly, would happen tonight? If Ebisu sent enforcers through the gate to try and bring Chance back, well, I wasn’t in any shape to fight, between my bum leg and the bun in the oven.
So I sent the details and the time to Chuch and Eva as well. Eva pinged back with confirmation. I’ll be there, chica, dressed to the nines. Which I took to mean she would bring heavy weapons, just in case. I had Booke for magickal defense, Chuch and Eva for an old school throwdown. Ten minutes later, Shan got back to me.
Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll bring the silverware.
She had a sword? During our lifetime in Sheol, she’d become accomplished with a blade, and she had mentioned that she intended to continue fencing to keep her skills sharp. There was no doubt she’d keep Jesse jumping. He knew where we’d be, but there was no way he’d show, unless something horrible happened. He had to steer clear of breaking and entering; and that, I was sure, along with trespassing, would be the least of my crimes tonight.
“This is a bit absurd,” Booke said, as he drove toward the warehouse. “You’re setting up to cast a spell we don’t have.”
“We’ll have it.”
“How?” he demanded.
“Kel.”
A frown creased his brow. “Why didn’t you contact him in the first place?”
“He’s already playing bait to keep Barachiel off me long enough to do this. Problem is, I can’t do it without him. We tried.”
“And you were afraid if he stopped running, Barachiel would track Kel down and kill him.”
“Pretty much.”
“That’s why you asked for the spell to hide our whereabouts. It’s a gamble.”
I nodded.
“Corine, I don’t know whether my magick is strong enough to block a demon of his strength. He may have resources of which I’m unaware.”
“Then you see why I didn’t want to call Kel until it became unavoidable.”
“He was always your ace in the hole,” Booke realized aloud.
“Yep. I didn’t want to put him at risk more than he’s already offered, but there’s no choice now.”
“Needs must, devil drives.”
There was nothing more to say. The final minutes were up on the scoreboard, game winding down. When we arrived at the warehouse, it looked even worse than it had on Google. Easy to imagine shady doings here. Booke took the tire iron out of the trunk and whacked the rusty padlock on the back door until it gave. Inside, it was dark, dank, reeking of pigeon shit and the acrid tang of urine. Not a romantic locale for a long-anticipated reunion. I wandered around until I found a janitor’s closet; fortunately, there was a dirty broom amid the other abandoned supplies, so I swept a portion of the cement floor clear. There only needed to be room to cast a circle, but my mother’s power was gone.
You have to use the demon magick.
Though the thought revolted me, I’d do it. My vow limited its practice to life and death, and this qualified. So one last stain to serve my purposes, and then I would turn my back on that world forever. But what if it hurts the baby? Was demon magick like drinking, drugs, or too much caffeine? Shit. Who would I even ask? No doubt I had made some impossible choices in my life, but father of child versus child? Much as I hated it, I’d have to pick our baby over Chance.
But maybe there’s a solution. You haven’t even gotten the translation yet.
I dialed the panic down to DefCon 4.
While I’d been tidying, Booke had cast his spell. He brought me the statuette, placing it in my hand with a sober look. “If everything goes to hell tonight, it’s been an honor.”
“Seriously? That’s your pep talk?”
“I am British, you know.”