Page 58 of Bitter Spirits

“You know that’s not true.” Angel advanced with a predatory deliberateness. “I’m not the one who betrayed everyone, chiquita.” He closed in, his magic coiling around her, tightening with each step.

She held her position, refusing to bend or retreat. It was what he needed from her, and she wasn’t about to give him shit.

He came to a stop in front of her, leaving only a few inches between them. “That was all you.”

Bargain. Caro’s voiceless agreement vibrated in the air between them, carrying the weight of a magical oath given and accepted.

The Reaper pulled Caro’s spirit closer in an unholy embrace. Vengeance, cold and unyielding, filled her, erasing everything but the craving for retribution. Isa reached out and wrapped her fingers around the loose tie hanging from Angel’s neck as her lips curved into a cruel smile.

“That’s funny,” she said. The flash of uncertainty in his eyes pleased her. She tightened her grip on the tie, closing those scant inches to whisper into his ear. “I remember it being all you.”

Then she struck.

Chapter 18

Locke

“How good is this source, Des?” Locke raced through the narrow streets, just a bit too fast for the older neighborhood. Normally, he wouldn’t chance speeding, especially since residents liked to park on the street, but it was midafternoon, and most of them were at work, which cleared a few extra feet of roadway.

“Rock-solid.” The Tracer’s voice was tight as he gripped the handle above the passenger window with one hand and thumbed his phone with the other. “We’re not the only ones interested in Angel’s business.”

As Des had worked his mysterious sources for leads on where Angel would have taken Isa, Locke used his time to badger the nearby businesses for security footage. A few creative threats later, he spotted the SUV that peeled away from Wonderland as it headed south along Seventh. He tagged Roxy to do her thing with the traffic cameras and was waiting impatiently for an update when Des barged back in, saying he had an address. Locke had not thought twice before getting into his Charger and heading out, especially since that address was in the same general direction the SUV had taken. Long shot or not, it beat the hell out of twiddling his thumbs.

The Charger hit another thick traffic bump, and Des sucked in a sharp breath as the undercarriage scraped along the humped asphalt. “You’re going to ruin your car.”

“It’s fine.”

“We need a plan.”

“We have one.” Locke barely slowed as he took the upcoming left. “We’re going in and getting Isa.”

“Not much of a plan.”

“You got something better?”

“Yeah, and part of it includes not tearing through the neighborhood until someone calls the cops on us.”

It irked the shit out of him, but Des was right. The neighborhood might wear its age with fading dignity, but the fairly new apartments and cleared lots around the original homes showed it was trying to make a comeback.

Locke eased his foot from the gas, the Charger immediately dropping its speed to something passably legal. “Fine. Happy?”

“No.” Des released his grip and started working his phone. “You need to take the third right then the first left. It’ll take us to an alley that runs along the back side of the street. There’s a lot next to a hostel. We can leave the car there.”

“Why not park in the apartments over there?”

“Because I know the hostel’s manager.”

Good enough. “And the house?”

“About a half block away.”

Following Des’s directions, he slid his Charger into an empty spot. The minute he stopped, Des had his door open. “Where are you going?” Locke asked.

Des leaned down, one hand on the door, one on the roof. “Want to make sure you don’t get towed, especially if we need to haul ass. Don’t worry—Henry’ll keep his mouth shut.” He slammed the door and then jogged along the alleyway.

Locke unsnapped his belt, grabbed his keys and phone, and shoved out of the driver’s side. His magic yanked hard against his restraint, wanting to track Isa, but he held it in check. He strode down the side alley, dust and fumes filling his nose as the dry air shifted around him. The excited chatter of birds fell from the twisted, spindly branches of nearby palo verde trees before being drowned out by the roar of jet engines overhead as a commercial airliner made its approach to the nearby airport.

Out on the street ahead, a dust-encrusted silver sedan drove by, the bass so heavy the street vibrated underfoot. Locke slowed, giving Des time to rejoin him. As the noise from the jet faded, his ears picked up the hum of the electrical lines tacked to the wooden poles along the street. Somewhere close, a one-sided conversation in Spanish was going down. A burst of childish laughter and the clink of dishes drifted over the cement dividing the hostel and an older home with a minivan in front of it.