Agave Kiss

“That makes sense. Thanks for the tip.” It also explained why Chuch and Eva remained unfazed by the strangeness that I routinely sprang on them.



Based on what I knew of Jesse’s romantic past, he was trying not to follow in his father’s footsteps. He must’ve seen how hard it was to keep a crucial secret, so he started looking at gifted girls when he was ready to settle down. I hadn’t been the one, but maybe Shannon was; given how crazy she was about him, I hoped so.



“You look thoughtful,” Ramon said.



“Is that bad?”



“You’re supposed to be having fun.”



“I’ll do better.” With some effort, I got into the party spirit. “I’ve been meaning to thank you.”



“For what?”



“Hooking me up with the trailer . . . and the Chevelle. I still need to repay you for losing it.”



He shrugged. “It was a lemon anyway. Chuch told me about your problem keeping cars.”



“He makes it sound worse than it is,” I protested.



“Really?” Ramon cocked a skeptical brow, and I fell quiet.



After him, I danced with a number of other cousins. Most of them had wives who didn’t mind parting with them for five minutes, and I put a good face on for the occasion. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Chuch’s primos, just that they were the wrong men. An hour into the dancing, I begged off and went to look for something to eat.



Eva’s food was a big hit; I loaded up my plate more than once. Since I’d helped make everything on the buffet table, I felt justified in savoring it. There were homemade chips and fresh salsa, guacamole and empanadas, plus more American standards, like deviled eggs and a cheese and fruit plate. There were multiple salads other women had brought in—my favorite was one with marshmallows, mandarin oranges, and plenty of whipped cream. It looked more like a dessert to me but I didn’t argue its placement in the food pyramid.



Once it got dark, Chuch fired up the barbecue, and Ramon kindled the strands of twinkle lights, which gave the yard a festive air. Booke came up beside me, as I was having seconds on the fruit and whipped cream salad. He had been dancing nonstop, enjoying his newfound vitality. His moves were a little old-fashioned, but the ladies seemed to find him charming.



“Having fun?” I asked.



“It’s fantastic. American women are astonishingly susceptible to the accent,” he told me. “If I’d known that in 1947, I’d have done a number of things differently.”



“I imagine,” I said drily.



He laughed, then his clever face fell into somber lines. “I don’t know that I deserve a second chance, but I intend to make the most of this one.”



“Where are you going first?”



He thought about that. “Shanghai, I think. I’ve always fancied a tour of the Orient. For a while, I thought our dreams were the closest I’d ever come to seeing the real world again.”



Yeah, about the dreams . . . “If you ever need me, don’t hesitate to contact me that way. But maybe . . .” I didn’t know how to put it.



It’s time to impose some boundaries . . . I don’t think you should be in my head anymore when I’m helplessly, impossibly in love with somebody else.



Fortunately, Booke was every bit as smart as he looked. “I understand. Emergencies only. I won’t wander into your dreams on a whim. I’ve other things to do now anyway.”



“You’ll be busy seducing susceptible American women,” I teased.



He colored, but didn’t deny the allegation. After all, he had been celibate a long time. Which was when it occurred to me . . .



“Um . . . okay, so I know you had Internet access—” Oh, God, why was I broaching this subject and not Chuch . . . ? Don’t be a wuss. He’s your friend. Yet my tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth, and for the life of me, I couldn’t get the safe sex lecture off the ground.



Booke interrupted my fumbling. “I’ve seen my share of pornography over the years, and I’m familiar, at least in the abstract, with the perils of modern courtship.”



By which I guessed he meant STDs and the like. I just nodded and mumbled, “That’s good. Wear a jimmy hat.”



He eyed me oddly. “Jimmy hat. Must Google that later.” Before he could say more, Dolores waved at him from across the yard, her face alight.



She had a prominent nose and receding chin, but nice eyes. And her style drew attention anyway, as she was draped with a load of flowing scarves and bangles, plus twelve rings on ten fingers, along with three ankle bracelets, one of which had bells on it, and a glimmering toe ring that complemented a pretty French pedicure.



Booke responded to her hail with a lifted hand, indicating he was almost through. “I expect this will be a lively overnight visit.”



Oh, man. He was going home with her later? Go, Dolores. For her sake, I hoped Booke remembered what to do with his equipment, but that wasn’t my problem. Inwardly masking my impatience, as I longed to apply myself to Chance’s return, I joined a group of wives who were chatting at the edge of the patio, children playing—or napping—at their feet, Eva among them. I listened to their jokes and stories, feeling more alone than I did in bed in the dark. Something about being surrounded by happy people made grief worse.



Still, the party was a success. Though it had started early, people kept arriving late, until the Ortiz house and yard was overflowing. The music got louder and more boisterous, until I thought it was a good thing they didn’t have close neighbors. I knew from personal experience that these shindigs could run until three in the morning. At least we don’t have a full mariachi band.



“You look tired,” Jesse said, plopping down in a chair beside me.



He had been dancing with Shannon all night, so tender and sweet that it made me glad to see them together, even if things were a mess for me. I wasn’t such a selfish person that I couldn’t stand for others to be happy, even when I wasn’t. But apparently he didn’t feel like he needed to be tactful anymore either. No woman wanted to hear she looked like a train wreck, even at her worst.



“That’s not the right word,” I answered.



“What is?”



Part of me wasn’t sure if I was ready to confide in him as I had during the early days of our uncertain relationship. Once, it had been really easy to talk to him, but so much had changed. Everything, in fact. Before, I had been a roiling ball of doubt, unsure of what I wanted. Not anymore. But if I didn’t try, there would always be this awkwardness between us, and Jesse might always wonder if, no matter my claims otherwise, I harbored a smidgeon of resentment toward him.



“I’m just . . . tired of waiting. I’m glad for Booke, but for me, this party is something I have to endure before I apply myself to getting Chance back.”



From his expression, I could see I’d shocked him. “Corine . . . from what Shan said, he died. People don’t come back from that. He’s gone, sugar. I’m sorry, but he is, and you have to—”



“Normal people don’t,” I cut in. “But Chance wasn’t and neither am I. If she told you everything, then you know I had a demon queen running amok in my head. I ruled hell for a while. Didn’t do a particularly good job of it but that’s not the point.”



“What is?”



“That if I could go to Sheol and come back, Chance can cross back from wherever he is. His mortal body died, but he’s still out there. I talked to him.”



“Through Shan’s radio.”



Which only reached dead people. Yes, I knew that. Anger suffused me, and I opened my mouth to yell at him. Who knew what I might’ve said . . . because at that point, the demons arrived, and the party I wasn’t enjoying went from bad to worse.



Three extraordinarily handsome men strode around the side of the house, chiseled features, well dressed, and impeccably coiffed. One was blond, the second brunette, and the other one had a remarkable shock of white hair, though his face looked young. As one, the women sighed and mentally offered up their ovaries. I might’ve reacted the same way if I hadn’t recognized the stink of brimstone and sulfur on them—and if they didn’t move with a hint of awkwardness in their newly acquired bodies.



These weren’t just any old demons. They were Luren, drawn to beautiful victims and summoned in the most intricate of sex rites. God only knew what they were doing at Chuch’s backyard barbecue, but I couldn’t imagine it meant anything good. I headed them off before they could start an estrogen riot, as the female guests were staring like they couldn’t wait to get to know the new guests better, preferably topless. Maybe I was reading into the situation, but it seemed likely that this visit related to my recent sojourn in Sheol.



“What’re you doing here?” I demanded.



“We’ve come for reparations, Corine Solomon.” The taller one with the white hair did the talking for the diabolically sexy trio.



“What the hell—” Chuch started.



The demon ignored him. “You made a bargain with our knight, Sibella. Those terms were not met.”



“Because the Hazo staged a coup,” I said incredulously. “Not through any contractual failure of mine.”



He was right; I’d made a deal with Sibella. I was supposed to take seven days to learn the lay of the land in Sheol and then return to come to terms with whatever it was Sibella had wanted of me. Instead, the demon queen living in my head broke the terms. It appeared it was time for me to pay her bill.



Fantastic.



“You did not return to our stronghold in seven days, as promised. Instead you attempted to claim the city for your own. The original bargain was not met.”



“Good luck enforcing that.”



“That’s why we’re here. Unless you’re prepared to meet Sibella’s champion, you will deal with us, here and now.”



Uh-oh. It sounded an awful lot like they intended to wreck up the place. But how much damage could sex demons do? Some of Chuch and Eva’s family were gifted, but would they fight? I didn’t like my odds, three on one, and though Butch had the heart of a lion, he still had the teeth of a Chihuahua. Still, I had to try to minimize the collateral damage. I’d cost the Ortizes enough over the course of our friendship.



“Come with me,” I invited, “and we’ll have it out.”



Mostly I wanted to get them away from the rest of the guests. Fortunately, most women had downed enough booze to react with less intensity to the Luren appeal as they would otherwise. Still, some of them were looking for their husbands, initiating long, intimate kisses without understanding why. It helped that the Luren weren’t here incarnate; the draw was lessened in possession. Still, their human hosts radiated a raw lust that unsettled me. Jesse and Shannon had stopped dancing, and were mostly just grinding on each other. His face was a taut, erotic portrait, and she looked like she wanted to climb him. In two minutes, we’d be in the middle of an orgy, or somebody would be dead.



Tense, I waited to see if the demons would take the bait. Namely me.