Devil's Punch (Corine Solomon #4)

Devil's Punch (Corine Solomon #4) Page 49

“You could say that.” His kindness, after everything we’d been through made it harder to keep my composure. Maybe it had something to do with how battered I looked; men wanted to save women, even when it wasn’t possible.

He thought for a moment, then named a place. “My cousin stays there sometimes when he comes to town.”

“Thank you.” I took the charger. “Would you mind jotting down the address?”

“I’ll do better than that. I won’t send you over to Amhurst Park unless they’ve rooms available. Give me a mo.” To my surprise, he went to work on the laptop open nearby, checking on a reservation for us. “You’ll want a twin, en suite, I’m guessing. Americans don’t usually like sharing bathrooms.”

“Please,” Shannon said.

I exchanged a look with her, and she was smiling. How…unexpected. After being with demons, I’d almost forgotten people could be nice for no reason.

“You’re in luck. Can I help you with anything else?” he asked gently.

Was my face tearstained in addition to beaten the hell up? I wondered. It was the only explanation I could conjure for his continued willingness to assist us.

“If you know of a currency exchange, that’d be everything.”

“Let me check.” He played with the laptop a little longer and then said, “There’s one on Moorgate. I’ve never been, but I can print you some directions.”

“Thank you.” Maybe I wasn’t covered in Chance’s ill luck anymore. It was possible the gate had stripped the effect from me, just like the results of the forget fog I’d cast at the house outside Laredo fell away from Shannon.

“My pleasure. I was just surfing anyway. It’s a slow day.” He handed me a sheet of paper with some instructions.

In the grand scheme, using his laptop for us didn’t amount to much, but considering how fucked up I felt, how broken, it might be the difference between getting through this day and surrendering. With a quiet wave, I stepped back onto the street. First thing, I cracked open the battery and plugged in our phones.

Next, using the directions, I navigated the route to the currency exchange, which involved one train and some walking. I exchanged the dollars and pesos I had on me for British pounds. It amounted to £150, which I hoped would be enough for a room. Shannon had all of twenty-four bucks in her backpack, and she converted that too—around fourteen pounds and change. I could give them my prepaid card for incidentals if they insisted. I hoped the clerk hadn’t sent us to a pricey, upscale place.

Until I got hold of Tia and asked her to wire some money, I couldn’t afford to splurge on a cab, so we walked ten minutes to the Kentish Town West station, took the overground toward Stratford, and got off at Hackney Central. I was bone-tired, and my injuries throbbed. Four minutes later, we reached the hotel. If the guy at the electronics store could be believed, shelter waited for us. Here, I could rest and make plans.

Figure out how to survive.

But I don’t want to.

With desperate determination, I drove that voice out of my head. The brownstone looked clean and respectable. Inside, it was a budget hotel, no bells and whistles, but they took my cash and gave us a key. In the morning, I’d worry about passports and how the hell we were getting home. The ones Eva had cooked for Shannon and me were sufficient to pass land border scrutiny between the U.S. and Mexico, but I didn’t think she had the skill to clone RFID chips to fool the scanners. Which meant we’d have to apply for passports at the embassy and go into the system, unless a better alternative presented itself.

At this point, I couldn’t imagine what that would be.

The Endless Unknown

Our room was clean, with a tiny private bathroom. Twin beds took up most of the space, and they were covered in black and white plaid. With a sigh, I set down my backpack and got out Butch’s water dish. I filled it from the tap and put it down. I had no kibble for him, but I needed to rest before I went back out.

From her expression, I could tell Shannon wanted to call Jesse, so I handed over the phone and stepped into the bathroom to give them some privacy. I splashed water on my face, cleaned up as much as I could. Unfortunately, even with the door closed, I could hear her side of the conversation.

“Jesse, it’s me.” A pause. “Yes, Corine found me.” More silence. “I’m in London.” He had to be tearing her a new one, and she sniffed in response to whatever he was saying. “No, it wasn’t like that. I promise I’ll explain everything when I’m home. I am safe, though.” A longer break—I sensed the warmth of her reaction to his words. “I know. I’m sorry. But I’m glad you knew before I called. I promise I got on the line as soon as I could.” And then, “Yes, I love you too.”

Their conversation lightened from there. “I have my laptop, so I’ll be online in a little while if you want to talk more. I can’t burn all Corine’s minutes.”

She talked to him for five minutes more, laughter in her voice, and I hated her in mute silence, my head resting against the bathroom door. Not because she’d taken Jesse Saldana from me, but because the man she loved might be across the ocean but he was still in this world with her. She would see him again.

So will you, I told myself. He’ll find a way. He keeps his promises.

I couldn’t believe it wholly, but how I wanted to.

Then Shan knocked, and I didn’t loathe her anymore, because she was my best friend and little sister combined; she was Shannon Cheney, and her life was worth suffering any pain. Even the unthinkable. Even this. I’d made my choice when I went to Sheol after her. Humans didn’t venture to the demon realm without paying the price; Chance remitted my ransom willingly, and the ache of that would never abate.

When I opened the door, she hugged me hard, without speaking; then I stepped back. I mustered a smile.

“Jesse said we were gone a month.”

I couldn’t begin to process that. It had seemed longer, a lifetime. So I focused on our mundane needs. “Yeah? Interesting. Stay here and set up, okay? I’ll buy us some things. Watch Butch.”

He yapped twice in protest. “You want to come with me?”

One yap.

“Fine, but you can’t walk unless I find you a leash.”

He gave me a look, but when he hopped into my purse, I figured he was okay with the terms I’d dictated. I cleaned out the bloody athame and things from the demon world that had no place in this one.

With Butch in tow, I limped down the stairs and out the front onto the street. I got lucky with a pet store a few doors down, and I bought Butch a small bag of food and a leash. That made him happy, as he stretched his legs. Eventually I located a Tesco, where I bought us cheap T-shirts, some snacks, an AC adapter for our devices, and two travel kits with miscellaneous toiletries. Nobody said anything about Butch, so I guessed they were used to purse dogs, even here. On the way back, I stopped at a place called Noodle Express, where I ordered Vietnamese spring rolls, king prawn pad thai, and ngay tho. They made the food fast and I returned to Shannon with a sense of utter exhaustion.

Conversation was sparse; we ate while she IM’d with Jesse like I’d once done. I had no reaction to their relationship apart from minor happiness, which was all I could manage. Afterward, we showered in shifts and went to bed. I dreamed of Chance dying, over and over again. I felt his mouth on mine, the desperation in his eyes as he sank the blade into his chest. When I woke, my chest felt as if I were dying too, but I hid the pain beneath a tired smile.

Yesterday’s emptiness felt more profound. On impulse, I grabbed my athame and whispered, “Fiat lux.”

Nothing. I tried to pull my mother’s power. There was no tingle, no heat, no pain. I suspected my use of demon magick had sealed those pathways, and I was no longer a poorly trained witch; any magick that remained to me would be demonic in origin. I didn’t know if I could still use the touch, but I didn’t care enough to test it.

I have to call Min.

My hands shook as I input her number. When I heard her soft hello, I lost it. “Min? Min, I’m sorr—”

“I know,” she said, her voice raw with weeping. “I already know. He’s with his father now.”

She cut the call, whether because she couldn’t talk or she blamed me, I didn’t know. I stared at the Nokia in my hand, and then squeezed my eyes shut. No more, I thought. I can’t bear it.

“What now?” Shannon asked eventually.

Haunted, I raised my head. I wished she had her radio with her. Chance hadn’t been mortal. Not entirely. And the gate required the full strength of a mortal soul to open, so what happened when a demigod gave himself over to it? Surely he was bigger, stronger, than a normal human spirit. I wouldn’t believe there was nothing left, not even in the afterlife. He had been the son of Ebisu, for god’s sake. That had to count for something. If Shannon had her radio and tuned in, she could find him, and I could hear his voice again.

I’d know, at least, that part of him had survived the transition. For now, however, I had to concentrate on our current predicament. Using Shannon’s laptop, I checked on how complicated it would be to get a passport—when you’d never been issued one. Research indicated there would be all kinds of bureaucratic red tape, awkward questions asked. It wasn’t like I could tell the embassy that I’d slipped into London illegally via Sheol. I didn’t look forward to dealing with all the complexities of modern life.

Unable to face that just yet, I called Tia, who answered on the fourth ring. Belatedly, I realized it was probably the middle of the night at home, if it was morning here. “¿Que paso?” she demanded in a worried tone. “¿Quien es?”

“It’s Corine,” I answered in Spanish.

“Are you all right, mija? Did you find your friend?”

No. And yes.

Aloud, I said, “I need your help again. Can you wire me some cash?”

“¿Donde?”

I reached for the laptop and found an agent who could receive payments, then gave her the information. “There’s money in my room—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “It will be hours before Western Union opens. Will you be all right until then?”

“I should be.” We had enough for another night here, but only that. “You can wait until tomorrow to go. I won’t be able to pick up the money before then anyway.”

“I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.” It was comforting to hear her voice, under the circumstances.

“Gracias. I’m sorry I woke you. I should have waited to call.” I paused, feeling like I had something important to tell her, but my mind was heavy, tired. “Can you get my passport? It’s in the—”

“Lockbox under your bed.” She knew everything that went on in her house.

“I’ll need it later.” Though my fake passport wasn’t good enough to get me out of the country, it would permit me to pick up the wire transfer.

“Sí, claro,” she said. “I will go to FedEx as soon as it opens. And then I will go to Banamex tomorrow.”