It wasn’t in the cards.
I found Shannon watching TV, the remnants of room service on the table. Tension I hadn’t noticed before eased from my neck and shoulders once I saw she was safe. But before I clued her in, I filled Butch’s collapsible food and water bowls and set them down. He hopped out of my purse and crunched his kibble with gusto.
“Did you learn what you needed to know?” She clicked off the TV.
“Yes and no,” I said.
While Butch ate, I provided the succinct version of our day. Shannon listened with full attention, and when I was through, she asked, “This witch wasn’t able to tell you anything about the sorcerer?”
I raised a brow. “Why do you call him that?”
“I’m not ignorant,” she told me with a roll of her eyes. “You fought a warlock before, right? Well, I’ve done some reading on Area 51 since we got wireless and found out that warlocks are defined in two ways. In the first, a warlock is a male witch turned oath breaker, revealing coven secrets for money.”
“Like hiring out to the cartels,” I said. “But Nathan Moon was related to Montoya by blood.”
“Which made him the other kind. There’s an older definition from the Old Norse: varð-lokkur, or ‘caller of spirits.’ ”
That tracked with what I knew of Nathan Moon. He’d been the most powerful necromantic practitioner I’d ever heard of or encountered. “So what makes you think we’re dealing with a sorcerer?”
“What you said about the demons. See, sorcerers use malevolent magic. The Templars were accused of sorcery and demon worship. So if this person is setting demons on you, it only tracks that—”
“Yeah, got it.” If nothing else, a label might prove helpful. I wished we’d discovered more, but I had to be content with what we’d accomplished. Stomach growling, I went to the phone and paused, receiver in hand, angling a look at Kel. “You want something to eat? I’m ordering.”
I was pretty sure he could; I just didn’t know if he needed to. But he’d lost a fair amount of blood today between wounds and self-inflicted harm. Replenishing fluids sounded like a good idea either way.
“Sure,” he said. “A burger and a beer.”
That took me aback, but I asked for the same thing when the kitchen staff picked up. The spicy Veracruz pasta and shrimp tempted me, but it would be ill-advised to order an adventurous meal the day before a road trip. Mostly, I wanted to go home. The trouble was, I couldn’t stay in Mexico City until I solved this problem. Montoya knew where I lived. He’d sent a package to my store and put a gunman on the roof.
So, on the surface, going back at all might seem foolish, but I had a plan. If we lured the next gunman into taking a crack at me, Kel could capture him. I had no doubt the guardian knew some effective interrogation techniques. So we’d return only long enough to put this plan into effect and then take the fight to Montoya.
“Shower,” I said, snagging my backpack.
The bathroom possessed an austere charm, marbled but lacking in decorative touches. I turned the tap to hot and stepped into the tub as steam swirled in the room. After today, I had a lot to wash away. Plus, showers were great for thinking things through, and by the time I got out, I felt sure Kel was going to argue my scheme. That could prove problematic, as he had the car keys.
I dried quickly, spritzed my hair with leave-in conditioner, combed it out, and dressed. When I emerged from the bathroom, the food was waiting; it didn’t take long to grill some meat and slap it on a bun. Kel opened the balcony door and pushed the small table outside. With someone else, I would’ve taken the move as a romantic overture. In this case, I couldn’t imagine his intentions.
Nonetheless, I grabbed the tray and carried our food out while he brought the chairs. I took the one facing the playground, though the swings were quiet. The reason for this tête-à-tête became clear when he shut the door. Right, he wanted to talk about something in private. At that point I was too hungry to care what he had to say before I’d eaten, so I dug into my burger. He followed suit.
Sunset over Lake Catemaco defied description. The colors melted into the water, but the sunlight went fast. There was very little transition, and no city lights to stave off the dark. Gnats buzzed around the window; we wouldn’t be able to stay out here long. This time of year, they flew in clouds.
When we had only fries left on our plates—and I was more picking at mine than really eating them—he broached the subject. “We can’t go back to Mexico City.”
So he already had an idea of what I had in mind, and he wasn’t on board. That was less than ideal, since he played a vital role in capturing the next guy they sent to kill me. I couldn’t manage that alone.
“Then what do you suggest? I have a girl and a dog depending on me for their livelihood. If we—”
“Stop,” he said. “It would be best if you sent Shannon away until the dust settles. I’m sure her father would take her in.”
Well, of course. Jim Cheney had moved out of Kilmer just a few weeks after we left. He hadn’t even waited to sell the house. Now settled in Oklahoma City, he sent Shannon regular cards and e-mails; they spoke on the phone every Sunday night. He had a good-size two-bedroom rental house; I knew because he’d sent us pictures of the place. He’d put a daybed and a computer desk in the second bedroom, so he could also use it an as office. From Shannon’s other comments, I knew he was doing handyman work and basic carpentry.
No wonder Kel had wanted to have this conversation out of earshot. She wouldn’t be pleased, especially not when she’d just started to feel safe with me. We had a good thing going, and she fit in pretty well in our neighborhood, considering she was a white Goth girl living in Mexico.
I swirled a fry in catsup and then ate it to buy time, considering the pros and cons. It would be good to know she was safe. I wasn’t sure if physical safety was worth the emotional damage, though. I didn’t want Shannon to think I didn’t trust her to pull her own weight or value her enough to believe she could help. After all, she wasn’t a kid—and that made up my mind.
“Look, I appreciate your concern, but she’s my worry, and I’m not sending her away. She’s my friend . . . and besides, we might need her.” At his doubtful look, I explained how she’d helped in Kilmer, what she could do, how she’d invented a portable personal protection charm—otherwise known as Tri-Ps—and repaired Chance’s luck, at least while he held the clay tablet inscribed with runes similar to those found on the public library building where my phone had worked.
He considered my words with a somber look and then asked, “Did she bring the radio with her?”
The balcony door slid open in answer. Shannon stood in the doorway, arms folded across her chest. “Of course I did.”
So much for a secret discussion.
Kel glanced over at Shan and seemed to register her determination. “Then forget it. I’ll do my best to protect both of you.”
“Thanks,” she said softly. But she was talking to me, not him, and the quiet pleasure in her face rewarded me far better than anything I’d known prior.
I grinned at her. “Let me guess. You’re a champion eavesdropper.”
“Yep.” She shrugged. “There wasn’t a lot to do in Kilmer.”
Obviously there was no point in staying outside, and with the gnats swarming, it was smart to head in. I let Kel bring the furniture while I carried the tray; Shannon rang the kitchen to tell them we had dishes outside to be collected. Afterward, she and I sat cross-legged on our bed, facing him, with the TV running for background noise. I’d always found it comforting—like nothing bad could happen in a house protected by a laugh track.
“You want to go back to Mexico City so you can sell those,” Kel said, indicating the salt and pepper shakers with a tilt of his head.
I laughed. Already he knew me better than I’d expected, but he couldn’t read me like a book. Not like Chance. “Well, of course I’ll give them to Señor Alvarez while we’re there, but no, that’s not my primary motivation.”
“What is?” Shannon asked.
I laid out my plan, and Kel shook his head. “Montoya will send someone. Before we got Nalleli to remove the tracking spell, the sorcerer would have relayed our new location, at least in general terms.”
“The tracking spell went out on the island,” Shannon put in, “but you told me Nalleli said they wouldn’t be able to scry her.”
“So our last known location is here. Or nearby,” I finished, annoyed with myself. People had hunted me often enough—through means both magickal and mundane—that I should be well able to predict their movements. “If we stay put, the next hitter on Montoya’s list will come to us.”
Fortunately, we had a killer of our own.
Kel nodded. “That seems likely.”
“That’s good, right?” I considered the interrogation aspect of my plan. “We’ll have ample chance to question him.”
The corners of his mouth curled. “You’re a formidable woman.”
“I don’t like being threatened,” I said. “I like it even less when people make good on those threats and try to kill me.”
Most likely we could expect Montoya’s man to burst into our room in the middle of the night. Instead of running, like sensible people, we hoped for that development as the best possible outcome. How f**ked-up was that?
With a faint sigh, I picked Butch up. After dinner, he needed a bathroom break before we could retire for the night. The dog nestled into my arms as I opened the door. Kel followed me like he thought I might be in danger every waking moment, and based on events to date, I couldn’t say he was wrong.
“Lock the door,” he told Shannon.
Worry dawned on her pale face, as if up until this point, it had all seemed like a game. I didn’t want her traumatized, but a healthy amount of fear offered a certain value. Though I’d come up with this plan, anxiety thrummed through my veins. Butch caught my mood and stood up in my arms, licking my cheek with his little tongue.