No such luck.

The dark-haired one was becoming alert to the potential in the situation, both for feeding and chaos. He smiled with beautiful white teeth. “I think not. Perhaps we’ll take payment from your friends and loved ones instead.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” I said. “Sibella made the deal with me. Any breach—and I am not admitting there was one—must be addressed with me.”

“She’s right,” a silky voice said.

Oh, gods, it only needs this.

I turned slowly, hoping I hadn’t identified the speaker correctly. Barachiel stood at my shoulder, cloaked in radiance from head to toe. No lie, he was actually glowing a little bit, and the light show hinted at great white feathery wings unfurling at his back. Then I blinked and the suggested shape blurred into the line of his jacket, but I knew better than to believe it was a trick of my tired eyes. Barachiel did everything for a reason.

“Corine has aligned herself with the host,” he told the Luren. “Should you choose to pursue this debt, it will be tantamount to an act of war. Are you content to begin the battle tonight?” He tilted his head, visibly charmed by the idea. “I am.”

“No. This is not happening. I’m not the catalyst for the end of days or whatever.”

“Are you sure?” Barachiel asked.

I wasn’t.

Inwardly, I quaked in terror. This was too much, yet another choice being forced on me. I could see if I permitted Barachiel to protect me now, he would call the balance due later. I wanted to cut free of all supernatural things and just live my life, but I had long since lost any ability to chart that course. Yet I was weary of bouncing from one catastrophe to the next, living on borrowed karma.

The blond one cocked his head, as if listening to unheard voices. “Yes. We are content to fire the opening salvo, Barachiel.”

Uh-oh. That had to mean they had some trick up their sleeves. I feared Barachiel, and I didn’t want to work for him. That didn’t mean I wanted him to end up in a cage match at my friend’s barbecue. Sometimes my life sucked so much, there were no words. So. Not. Good. I had to stop this, somehow, but my mind was an utter blank; I had no cards left to play.

The archangel whipped out a gleaming silver sword, forged of a metal sharp and preternaturally strong, like the knife Kel carried. Moonlight ran like water down the blade. In response, the three demons drew their own weapons, black as night, barbed and serrated like hungry teeth.

And that was when the screaming started.

Battle Royale

The party guests weren’t prepared for Armageddon to break out amid cheese rolls and onion dip, so I didn’t blame them for panicking.

Half of them dialed 911, but since Jesse was already here, I guessed the police were already on the way. Unfortunately, it would be too late by the time the authorities arrived, and Jesse would have some hard-core ’splaining to do. As Barachiel lunged at the white-haired Luren, I wondered if this attack would be written off as cartel-driven, ascribed to Chuch’s past unsavory associates. That being said, I understood the need for damage control. Otherwise the paranormal world would come out in a big way, as a result of a Texas BBQ. Talk about bizarre cause and effect.

For once, I wasn’t in the middle of the fight. These four were trying to kill each other, not me, but it didn’t make it better. I didn’t like being the juicy bone between four hungry dogs; things almost never worked out well for the bone. And if the Luren won, they wouldn’t wait to drag me back to Sheol for a final accounting. As if he read my thought—could alleged archangels do that?—Barachiel cut me a mordant look, laced with warning. I took it to mean he wouldn’t be distracted long . . . because these demons didn’t pose a serious threat, no matter what they thought. He also seemed a little insulted that I’d even considered the possibility he could lose.

Either way, it was no comfort. No matter who won, I lost.

The Luren were fast for all their feral beauty; they encircled Barachiel. His broad sweeps with the sword kept them back, but everywhere he turned, there was a demon, waiting for him to weaken. He didn’t seem to tire, however. They exchanged a flurry of feints and parries while people ran for their cars, yelling incomprehensibly at Chuch.

The motion of their blades made me dizzy. I couldn’t track Barachiel’s movements; he wasn’t even pretending to be human. It was like a movie fight, sped up with special effects, only the slashes and blocks were real. Barachiel slammed his sword so hard into the tall Luren’s that the demon’s blade broke, splintering into a dozen shards. The archangel didn’t pull his next blow either. He took off the creature’s head, and it bounced in a spray of blood. Demon blood was a little thicker, a little darker, and the smell was unmistakable. The stench of sulfur and brimstone permeated the air, dominating the gentler aromas of mesquite and good food.

At that, the last remaining guests who had been frozen with shock and disbelief sprang into motion. I had no idea how we would keep something like this quiet. Surely everyone on the guest list couldn’t be in on the secret, so what the hell . . . ? But that was way low on my priority list at the moment. I had so many emergencies to tackle that I didn’t even know where to start.

“My odds just got better,” Barachiel observed, holding his swordsman’s stance.

“If I die here or in Sheol, it makes no difference,” the demon responded. “You remember the price of failing the knight who commands you.” The Luren paused, smiling. “No, perhaps you don’t. You’ve rewritten your own history, after all.”

So maybe what Ninlil said was true. There were no angels or demons. Just other sentient beings, who lived in an alternate realm, and whose division gave rise to alternate mythos. Both sides had been playing with humanity for eons, though. Neither could claim benevolence or altruism. To my mind, both factions wanted something, whether it was as simple as entertainment or as ominous as power.

“Lies,” Barachiel returned. “Designed to seed doubt from one who has already lost. Don’t grant them even that small victory.” So saying, he wheeled into the fight once more, his sword a blur of light slashing at his foes.

Where the hell is Kel?

At that point, Eva shouted something about getting the guns, which would’ve been reassuring if she hadn’t been talking to a woman who looked eighty years old. But when Eva came back with a couple of shotguns, she handed one to Chuch’s abuela, and the old lady cocked it like she knew which way to point it.

The crowd thinned as the two remaining demons lashed at Barachiel. They hadn’t landed a single hit when I heard sirens in the distance.

Jesse strode forward. “You’re all out of your jurisdiction. I already texted Twila, and she’s got people on the way. You don’t do business in the state of Texas without her express approval. Y’all will clear out if you know what’s good for you.”

“Yep,” Chuch said. “Plus, you went and pissed my abuela off. That’s not a good idea.”

The old woman fired a warning shot, but not into the air. Her round ate a divot in the yard, right near where the three were fighting. To my surprise, they froze. Why wasn’t Barachiel owning them with some impressive archangel magick anyway? The ready answer seemed to be that he wasn’t as powerful as he projected or that he was weakened somehow. I wondered if that had something to do with Kel. A fight with an angry Nephilim could really take it out of you, I guessed.

Which meant Kel might not have come back because he couldn’t. Dammit. Now I had two men to save.

Eva cocked her weapon as well, stepping up beside Chuch’s grandmother. Shannon had a kitchen knife in her hand, and while it wasn’t a sword, she could do some damage with it. Unfortunately, I was unarmed; I didn’t even have my athame on me, as I’d stopped carrying it when my magick stopped working. So I didn’t have its psychological reassurance while we faced down Barachiel and the two strongest Luren I’d ever encountered. But I had faith in my friends, which was better than any blade.

After a short pause, the two Luren stepped back. The blond one pointed his weapon at me. “This isn’t over, Corine Solomon. You owe Sibella a debt, and one way or another, it will be paid. You cannot hide forever.”

“As long as she’s in Texas, however, you can’t have her,” Jesse said flatly.

So if I go home, I’m screwed. Awesome.

Maybe Tia knew who ran Mexico City, however. Possibly I could apply for protection, swear fealty, something that would make it worth his or her while to keep the Luren away from me. But I wouldn’t be going home without Chance . . . and I needed to find out what had happened to Kel. The demons strode away, around the side of the house, but before they left my sight, a cloud of darkness swathed them, and when it dissipated they were gone.

“We’ll finish this dance another time.” Barachiel sheathed his sword. Then he turned to me. “I have shed blood on your behalf. That constitutes an agreement.”

Shannon glared at him. “My ass, it does. She didn’t ask for your help . . . you assumed she wanted it. Looked to me like you picked a fight with those assholes on your own.”

“I agree,” Chuch’s grandmother said in Spanish. “No compacts were made, spirit. You did not await her answer.”

Saved by a technicality. I might’ve asked Barachiel to step in, but we’d never know, now. His countenance darkened with fury, mouth pulling taut. For a few seconds, he couldn’t find the words. Then he spat, “In this war, you cannot sit on the sidelines. You must choose, and if you’re not my ally, you are my enemy.”

I thought, Bullshit, but had the good sense not to say it out loud. He was still laboring under the presumption that I couldn’t find a plan C. I had gotten pretty good at spotting unlikely solutions. His agenda wasn’t mine, but I needed to stall him a little longer while I figured out what happened to Kel.

Unlike the demons, Barachiel vanished in a shimmer of silver light. Chuch’s grandmother lowered her shotgun. After her prior moxie, I expected her to offer up a one-liner like, I’m getting too old for this shit, but she just sighed, rolled her shoulders, and shuffled over to a patio chair.

Eva collected the guns, presumably to hide them again before the cops arrived. Of the huge crowd, only Booke, Dolores, Chuch’s immediate family, Jesse and Shannon remained. It would help that Saldana was here to run interference, but I didn’t envy him and Chuch the task of making this attack sound remotely sensible.

Leaving them to manage damage control, I went into the house on a mission. Once I was sure I had sufficient privacy, I called Kel. With a capital C. He had said I didn’t have the power to compel him anymore, but if he was able, he would surely respond. Moments passed in tense silence. I hoped he would appear in the room, mildly annoyed at my presumption.

He didn’t.

Barachiel was here, I thought. He’s getting impatient. I need you, Kel.

I didn’t want to, but I did.

A prickle stirred at the back of my mind. It wasn’t strong, like it had been when I heard his thoughts. This was like sitting on a hairbrush . . . in my brain—obviously uncomfortable, but nonspecific. Help me out here. Give me something.