Page 11 of Death is Familiar

Salma picked up, her face beaming. “You look gorgeous, baby! But you covered your “two”, which makes me sad.” My “two”, the rather imposing scar on the left side of my face, identified me easily, and I didn’t want any unexpected attention. “Bo, why do you look like a tomato?”

“That’s my fault. I’ve walked him all over D.C, and asked for help with⁠—”

“A Seal, Salma, a Seal!” Botan whisper-yelled, we were in public, so we had to be careful. We were far enough from other people it was unlikely anyone overheard us.

Salma batted her thick lashes, looking from me to Botan, and back again. I took the opportunity afforded by the silence to explain. “All I’m looking for is information. What can be found by talking to people who left the Seal. People who can ask them the right questions.” I waited a moment in case there was resistance, but even Botan seemed calmer. Like he’d anticipated my ask to be something much larger, much grander, and much more immediately life threatening.

“I’m not asking for undercover work. I’m not asking for you to avenge Lawrence… but hopefully what you can gather will help me, for when I do.” I wasn’t ready to tell them about my ties to the Seal. The stupid, maybe-not-so-stupid, virgin mother prophecy. But I knew that Lawrence’s death and the prophecy were related. And I suspected the Seal breaking into factions was tied into it somehow. “Botan, you told me about a rift. Something that divided the Wardens. All I want to know, is what caused the rift, and why.”

Botan shook his head. “That information will be hard to get. It’ll be expensive.”

“Shut up, Bo, of course we will help.” Salma brought the camera closer to her face. “It’s your get-out-of-jail-free-card, baby!”

“That’s not⁠—”

“You get out of jail, you get one free.”

I knew Salma would help with whatever I asked. Just like I always helped her. That’s why I so rarely asked her for favors. She would bend over backwards to help me, and it was my responsibility as a friend to not overuse that kindness.

“I will find a way to pay you.” I did have some money, cash, squared away. Just not in the amounts Botan was likely expecting.

“Free is the deal, and I say deal. Right, Bo?”

“I’ll reduce the fee.” Botan squeezed his eyes shut tight. “I need some cash to grease the wheels. Need something to encourage the former Seals to talk, if they’ll talk.”

“Deal.” I jumped in so there wouldn’t be any more negotiating. If we kept going Botan would likely talk himself out of it altogether, and I was getting a better deal than I bargained for with Salma negotiating on my behalf. I owed her one.

“Great! Now, that business is over… plug your ears, Bo.”

“What? No, it’s my phone.”

“Well then pretend not to listen. Delilah, you must. Listen to me, you must, and I mean must…” Salma’s seriousness gave way to the sparkle in her eyes. “Read the Mountain Serpent King series.”

I laughed. Salma and I had shared an enjoyment of novels that were… spicy. They were a great distraction, but it had been so long since I read anything remotely for the purposes of entertainment, I’d almost forgotten about that part of me.

“All you need to know is he has a really, really, long tongue.”

“Okay, okay, good bye now, Salma.” Botan made to hang up, but Salma managed shout, “Really long!” before the call disconnected.

I was still chuckling to myself when Botan sighed, exasperated, “Well, she was no help.”

“To you,” I corrected. Salma had been enormously helpful to me, and my mood. “Now, we are almost done, just a couple more streets, and I’ll get you back into your fridge.”

†

By the time I reached my apartment I was a mess.

I don’t know how I held it together talking to Botan. I felt stupid. Stupid and oblivious to something I should have known a lot more about. And even though no one else knew, I was embarrassed. So, fucking embarrassed.

When I’d borrowed Botan’s phone, I’d looked up all the things I didn’t dare to search on my own devices. It took everything in me to stay the course, talk about what I’d learned with the Almeidas, to ask for help with Solomon’s Seal, and not breakdown.

I was almost seven weeks. Seven. Seven!

I felt like I was fast-forwarded through the process. Hurtled weeks into the future. And part of me wanted to run and hide and forget who I was. Just return to my bedroom and cover myself in blankets until I was nothing but a heap of bedding.

If my situation was possible, despite the odds, why couldn’t I be a blanket?

It didn’t even make sense. The calculations. Technically, I wasn’t even… for the first couple of weeks, but they counted anyway.