Blue Diablo

“Yeah,” I muttered. “It’s not as much fun as it looks.”



She regarded me with a soft look in her brown eyes. In a minute, she might call me pobrecita and try to tend my wounds. Clearly Chuch had himself a tenderhearted woman, whatever her foibles otherwise.



“He’s using you to find his mother,” she surmised. “What a shitty thing to do, like you could say no—and you still half in love with him.” Tsking, she shook her head.



“I am not!”



Instead of arguing, she laughed, and that made it worse somehow. “Lies. You eat him with your eyes, Corine.” Then she did say it. “Pobrecita. Men can be such assholes.”



I didn’t. Did I? Unhappy, I clutched my coffee mug, resolving not to permit any more visual binges.



“Anyway. I handled the Buddha statuette his mother left behind and saw a white truck. Something Sanitation or maybe Something Salvation . . .” I trailed off, depressed at how slim a lead that offered.



“Did you check the phone book?” At my blank look, she got up and went to the bureau just outside the kitchen door and returned with a directory in hand. “I guess that’s too obvious, huh?” Eva flipped the pages, first looking under sanitation. “Five listings. Would you recognize the truck if you saw it again?”



I nodded. “Pretty sure. White with blue lettering, and I got a good look at the logo.”



“So we can eliminate the Salvation Army trucks. Those aren’t white.” Double-checking the directory, Eva tapped a finger thoughtfully. “I’d rule out salvation altogether, myself. There aren’t any other listings.”



Wow, she wasn’t half-bad at this deductive stuff. Maybe she should get her license if the forgery thing didn’t pan out. “Write down the addresses, and we can do a drive-by so I can check out the trucks.” A plan of action cheered me up some. “Let’s go tell the guys.”



I’d forgotten about the chess game in progress. As Eva trailed me into the office, Chance said, “Check.” The pieces on screen meant nothing to me, but I didn’t want to interrupt. It didn’t take long for Booke to decide he was doomed, though, and after some gentlemanly cursing, he ceded the game, which Chance took with his next move.



“I haven’t seen an opening like that since Pavel Blatny played Rasmussen in ’eighty-four,” Booke said, openly enthused. “Really unorthodox stuff, but—”



Chuch mouthed a kiss to Eva while reining in his pet Englishmen. “Booke. A deal’s a deal, mano. Info now; deconstruct the game later.”



“Oh. Right.” Booke sounded subdued, and I gathered the impression that this sort of thing comprised his primary social outlet. If I were computer girl, I’d message him sometime. Hell, I might do it anyway, provided I could figure it out. “Well, it’s clearly a variation on a summoning circle found in the Lemegeton Clavicula Salomonis.” I wasn’t the only one who went blank, but luckily I didn’t have to ask.



“The what?” Chance looked at me like I ought to know, but I’m not a witch. I don’t use rituals. I don’t even look at the old books anymore, though I’d never throw them away. They’re all I have left of my mother.



“Sorry,” Booke said. “It’s a rather famous grimoire. It covers a lot of ground regarding summoning, binding, and making deals with demons. Though I can’t be certain from her sketches, I do think the ritual involved the Knights of Hell. Caim, Balam, Murmur, and Foras most closely resembled the symbols, but none of them were a perfect match.”



I cleared my throat. “Either my memory or my drawing might have been at fault. In layman’s terms, what does that mean, Booke?”



The speakers crackled, and I could practically hear him weighing his response. “I’m not sure,” he said at last, “but I believe she used the Knights to enforce a bargain with those four men. Their oath against their souls, sealed in blood.”



For a moment, I imagined Knights of Hell coming to collect on a bum deal. Heck of a way to make sure someone kept his word. Never mind how Min knew how to do so. “It must have been important.”



“To say the least.” Booke sounded amused. “I’ll keep investigating the matter if you wish and e-mail Chuch if I find anything.”



“That’d be great, primo. See what you can turn up on the four Knights she invoked, would you?”



“Absolutely. Talk to you later, Chuch. It was lovely meeting all of you.” Booke’s teatime manners put a smile on my face even as I turned to face Chance.



You’d think he might be used to bad news by now, but I guess it just never gets easier to hear that your mother knows how to conjure common household demons, never mind the Knights of Hell. Maybe his back hurt, or maybe the huevos rancheros sat wrong, but he looked like he was in serious pain. I wanted to go to him, but remembering what Eva said about eating him with my eyes, I waited for someone else to make a move. Anyone.



“That sucks, huh?” Trust Chuch to reduce it to the simplest terms.



Chance echoed Booke’s words with a faintly ironic inflection. “To say the least. But you two looked like you had news when you first came in.” He offered a half smile. “I hope it’s good.”



I let Eva do the honors.



Searching for a Needle



Chance let me drive, a pretty good indicator of his mood.



I caught him looking at me out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t speak, mostly because I couldn’t think of what to say. This was new territory for us. Usually I teetered on the verge of falling apart while he appeared cool and removed. Maybe if he’d shown more emotion when we were together—



No. I still would’ve left. Near death experiences have a way of making you want to change your life.



We had four addresses to check out, and then I’d meet the empathic cop for dinner at Logan’s Roadhouse. Given the realities of the job, his abilities must pretty much suck, I decided. Saldana must be exposed to suffering until he felt like one raw nerve ending. I wondered how he could maintain that aura of calm competence.



Ignoring Chance’s second look proved harder than the first, and the third made me ask, “What?” in exasperation as we stopped at a red light.



“Do you know what Lemegeton Clavicula Salomonis translates to?” He paused in expectation as I hit the gas, maneuvering into the left lane.



“No. Latin isn’t one of my skills.”



“I looked it up,” he said quietly. “It’s the Lesser Key of Solomon.”



For a moment, it didn’t register since I was reading street signs, making sure we didn’t miss our turn. Shock streaked through me.



“That has to be a coincidence.”



If I didn’t consider myself much too young for such behavior, I’d pooh-pooh the notion. Maybe even tsk a little. My lineage does not include ancient kings. My dad, Albie Solomon, was a traveling salesman from Peoria, and he wasn’t even Jewish. He left when I was seven, and I haven’t heard from him since. The state tried to locate him after my mom died, but nobody could turn him up. Might be dead for all I care. If he didn’t love me enough to stay, then I want nothing to do with him.



I turned onto the access road that led to A&B Sanitation. If fortune favored us, their trucks would be outside in plain view so we could tick them off the list. We had four names, and I’d done some calling to narrow it down to that point. Sadly, when Chance read the list, he didn’t feel a particular magnetism toward any of the names, which meant we had to visit the four places with white trucks in their fleet.



I’ve seen him do the trick before—it’s a little like dowsing—but that was the first time he ever came up empty. For my sanity’s sake, I refused to let myself worry what it meant. But damn, if his luck had left him, we were in big trouble.



No need to articulate this fear because it must be eating at Chance as well. He knew my gift alone couldn’t carry the day. I needed him to help me find Yi Min-chin, just as he needed me. Was that codependence or symbiosis?



Time would tell.



This street went nowhere except a series of warehouses. Ours was third, set alongside the scenic interstate. To my disgust, all the trucks must be parked inside or were out collecting rubbish. I parked and tried to decide on a good cover story.



Got it.



I glanced over at Chance, one hand on the door handle. “You okay?”



“No,” he said. “Not even close. But let’s go. We have three more stops after this.”



After shouldering my bag, I climbed out of the Toyota and headed for the business office. A small section of the warehouse had been sectioned off, holding a few desks and file cabinets, and a harried blond woman sat tapping her index finger against the phone. I’d guess she was on hold. The brown and gold nameplate on her desk read ANGIE CURRAN.



“May I help you?” Her expression said she’d rather eat cut glass.



So much for job satisfaction at A&B Sanitation.



“May I take a look at one of your trucks?”



“Why?” She sighed and put down the phone.



I tried my best girl-to-girl smile. “Because a garbage truck T-boned my car but I didn’t get a clear look at the writing on the side. I just want to see if your trucks are white with blue letters.”



“Oh, they’re not. Some bastard sideswiped you and drove off?” Angie shook her head as she stood up. “If one of our drivers did that, I’d get his ass fired. But sure, honey, you can take a peek to verify. None of our trucks are damaged. We have a couple in back that are scheduled for repairs, though, so have a look.”



“Thanks. I’m visiting every sanitation company until I track the guy down.”



We followed her through the “Employees Only” door into the warehouse proper. The space was mostly empty at this time of day, but as she’d said, there were a couple of trucks parked, waiting their turn in the mechanic’s bay. White and yellow trucks.



“That’s all I needed. Thank you so much for your time.”



As we went back the way we came, she whispered, “Your boyfriend’s cute but he doesn’t say much.”



I debated with myself before deciding to let the misapprehension stand. “He has a lot on his mind right now.”



“That’s too bad. I hope you find the guy who screwed you over. I love that you aren’t letting him get away with it, no matter how much trouble you have to go through.”



Lady, you don’t know the half of it.



Two more stops went more or less like that. Chance worried me with his silence. Usually he handled such situations by turning on the charm and watching resistance to whatever he wanted melt away. I was used to being background scenery, not the star of the show. But I managed.



At the last place on the list, Southern Sanitation, I had no more than parked the car when I saw a white and blue truck pull out of the gated parking area. This legwork stuff worked. I needed to do something nice for Eva.



I followed the vehicle for a moment with my eyes before saying, “That’s it. Whoever took your mom has ties to this company. Somehow.”