Chapter 2
2
CAHUANI
C ahuani didn’t want to be here. Greed had known that. Greed had even been slightly reluctant, but he’d sent Cahuani anyway.
“You’re our best chance of success,” Greed had said.
Greed wouldn’t have lied—he knew lying wouldn’t have swayed Cahuani’s attitude, because at fifty-five years old, Cahuani was resistant to charm, and flattery would have ricocheted off his spite first anyway. And the job was crucial, meaning there was no room for error. Meaning no room for anyone but their best.
Nevertheless, the auction was a rather straightforward endeavor. Cahuani had been to many before, though usually, mortals with no magic—the Puri had come to call them “Orfani” or “the Orphaned,” since they had been abandoned by their god—were the minority. Additionally, the tensions between Heaven and Hell had never been so palpable.
For the past seven months or so, angels had been carrying out more attacks on demon strongholds, wreaking havoc in places they had once agreed to steer clear of. The Puri had been reluctant to strike back, fighting off assaults when necessary and remaining strictly on the defensive. Cahuani didn’t know how long that would last though. The situation was on the verge of becoming dire.
Nonetheless, the Puri were more concerned with artifacts like the one Cahuani had come for than attacks on their terrain, so that was where Cahuani would maintain his focus. At least for now.
Cahuani and his companions, the demons Xaphan—who the angels had actually injured in one of those recent attacks, putting him out of commission for over a month—and Acheron, had come for a cup. More specifically, they had come for a chalice.
The Orfani zealots who the Puri had initially gifted it to called it “Noli Oblivisci.” The Latin translated to “forget not,” although when Cahuani had asked Greed the meaning, Greed said he would tell the story only once the chalice had been returned, because it was safer that way. Cahuani didn’t question him. He rarely did. He rarely had to.
From what he understood, items with magical properties like the one he was after would be viewed and bid on separately from whatever the Orfani salivated over. A good thing too. He knew inanimate items weren’t the only thing on their pedestals, and the thought of that made his stomach churn.
Though Cahuani was flattered—and honestly quite relieved—by the faith that the Puri still had in him after his son’s betrayal, the work no longer held his interest the way it once had. Nor did the cause hold his heart as it used to.
That wasn’t to say his loyalties weren’t ironclad, because they were. He still believed in the Puri. He just... wasn’t sure he was what they needed anymore.
But they were certain he was, and that was what mattered, so here he was, trying to brace himself for the very real possibility of having to face his son for the first time since he’d robbed him and left his family with nothing but pain and confusion.
That wasn’t the only thing that had Cahuani on edge, however. The amount of Orfani, angels, and demons all in attendance was a fragile entanglement, and if he still knew anything about his son, it was that Tec— Anthony —loved a ticking time bomb. More than that, Anthony loved to speed up its clock.
Sometimes, Cahuani let himself remember just how excited he was to be a father even before he transitioned. Finding out that transitional magic would allow him to procreate without the aid of western medical practices had been the biggest blessing. Never once had he considered the possibility that his child would grow up to see his lineage as a curse.
Cahuani took another slow swig from his glass before checking his watch. Xaphan and Acheron had left him here alone while they scoped out the premises, and he considered going to find them. This lounge was way too open for his liking.
Yet something kept him rooted to the chair—a feeling, a sensation, an assurance from the ancestors that he was meant to be here in this room on this spot at this time today. Whatever it was, he tuned out as much of the rest of the world as he could and focused on his drink, scrolling aimlessly through his phone when that wasn’t enough, just to give his hands something to do. It was a riveting way to spend an afternoon in a remote mansion.
All at once and without warning, alarm bells began to go off in his head. He straightened in his seat, but before he could scan the room, someone sat down beside him, neglecting the many empty stools across the bar.
He knew for a fact that it wasn’t Xaphan or Acheron. Both of them towered over him, and while the person beside him was slightly taller, they were certainly nowhere near his demon companions. He kept his eyes on his phone, paying them no mind, but his reaction was visceral just beneath the surface. He knew exactly who it was. Her voice only confirmed it. Even after four years, he hadn’t forgotten it. And he hadn’t forgotten her .
“Is there such a thing as arriving to these things too early?”
Leaning on his apathy, he lifted his glass and took a slow drink even as the memories flitted across the forefront of his mind. Why wouldn’t they? The first time he met her, she was sleeping in his son’s bed.
“It sure feels like it,” he returned after a time.
He had expected angels. He had even expected Tlalli. However, he had not expected this level of audacity, certainly not on day one.
Though he supposed he should’ve. The last time she had befriended him, she had done it at his kitchen table over oatmeal every morning for weeks, while intending to rob him. What was starting a conversation in an open lounge?
Regardless, whatever scheme she and his hardheaded son had put together this time, he wasn’t about to entertain it at the risk of his own job. No matter how much he still loved his son, whatever name he went by now.
“Are you here on your own?” Tlalli purred. “Or is someone keeping you waiting?”
“A little of both at the moment, I think,” he returned.
He knew she was waiting for him to really acknowledge her, to look at her, to see her. It had been evident to him that she liked attention from the moment they met, and that hadn’t seemed to change. Though what had changed was the demeanor with which she propped herself up. She was no longer selling the innocent, inconspicuous role—always helpful, always doting, always checking in on him. Now, the fangs were on full display.
Not that he would ever need the reminder of how dangerous she was again.
“Me too,” she said, her smirk audible. “Though I admit I’m not as alone as I would like to be.”
He caught sight of her profile out of the corner of his eye as she leaned over to order a drink. She hadn’t changed much. She was still beautiful of course, but that beauty seemed more otherworldly, as if it no longer fit inside her human vessel, instead spilling out around the edges of her skin.
Her characteristic golden locs fell around her slender shoulders, framing her sharp face. Her deep-brown skin, only a few shades lighter than his own, glowed differently, a product of who she was, what she was. Like hazard lights.
Still, she looked comfortable in that human skin, working every inch of it to her advantage. He wouldn’t be fooled by it again though. He made a habit of knowing his enemies, no matter what form they took.
“These walls got ears,” he pointed out, sitting back in his seat. “You sure you want them to hear you talking to me? And so openly too.”
There was a brief pause before she said, “I might have companions, but I have no keeper.”
He shrugged. “I guess it wouldn’t matter much if it was your keeper who put you up to this.”
She paused for a few seconds before responding. “So you do remember me.”
He chuckled. “How could I ever forget you , Tlalli?”
Six weeks. For six weeks, she had lived with his son under his roof, eating at his table and walking in his gardens, enjoying the lush life supplied to Cahuani by her enemies. Not only that, she had dragged Tec— Anthony. His name is Anthony now, dammit —away from him faster, hardening the rogue ideology Anthony had fallen into and weaponizing his son’s hatred and disdain for how he practiced his trade.
Of course, Cahuani could acknowledge that Anthony’s betrayal wasn’t entirely on her. He had seen the signs of his son’s changing ideology long before she came into their lives. Cahuani still couldn’t pinpoint why or how or who had led his son down that path. He only knew that Anthony had been eager to run along it, straight past the point of no return. And it never had anything to do with angels or demons. It only had to do with power.
Anthony had called Cahuani and Aliyah, Anthony’s mother, weak for being willing to work under the Puri. He wanted his own power. He wanted to be more. Though, in his attempts to become so, he had clearly started to internalize a hatred for who he was and, thus, for who his parents were. Besting them apparently became more important than being good, and by the time Anthony met Tlalli, he was already gone. A chance to hurt Cahuani must have been too good to pass up.
And here was the angel that had offered his son that opportunity, smiling in his face like it had been some chance meeting all those years ago and not a coordinated attack.
He would not fall for those big doe eyes again. Of that, he vowed.
“You sat in my kitchen drinking my coffee,” he went on after a sip from his glass, “had me grieving your mother with you nine months to the day of her passing, and you still had the audacity to play in my face. That’s not something I can forget.”
Or forgive, if he had it his way. Her mother had been a Nahualli, like Cahuani, and in their culture, they always held their fallen in the highest esteem. For Tlalli to use Mecati’s passing as a way to get to him, to weaponize her grief, whether it was genuine or not, so that he lowered his defenses in order to console her, to grieve with her... If he held rage for nothing else against Tlalli, he would hold rage for that.
He could see in her face that he had struck the nerve he’d aimed for, although she was doing her best to pretend that he hadn’t. Any guilt he may have felt about it was buried beneath that thick layer of apathy and his commitment to his purpose here. This was business. Whatever happened in this massive house had to qualify under that title and that title alone. Personal emotions, both his and anyone else’s, had to be pushed aside.
She recovered much quicker than he anticipated, and just as he put his glass to his lips again, he was forced to bite down on its edge. Her lips were no more than a centimeter from his ear when she spoke.
“I didn’t come over here on anyone’s command, Papa Bear,” she purred, dipping the long acrylic on her pinky finger into his glass, then licking the whiskey off it.
He breathed out slowly through his nose. “Then why risk it?”
“I imagined you would be civil in such a public place.”
He made a show of looking around, taking in the entire two other people now, including the bartender, who currently occupied the old-fashioned lounge draped in wood grain.
“I think they’ll be fine as long as I keep it quiet,” he concluded.
“You wouldn’t hurt me.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Because you follow the rules, and you honor the truce, even if the rest of us wouldn’t.” She had him there. “Besides, I’m not here lookin’ for trouble.”
“And what else did you expect to find with me?”
“I’m here to talk business.”
“There is no difference when it comes to you, Tlalli, that’s what you’re forgettin’.”
And frankly, he didn’t have the time for it. Though... Okay, he could admit that he was still trying to figure out how she managed to get one over on him to begin with. He’d been around the block more than a handful of times. He knew how the world worked and how it didn’t. And above all, he had known how to protect his household, his family. Well, back when he had one.
Aliyah never blamed him for the loss of their son, but their final two years together had been tense. In fact, Cahuani was convinced they would have ended up separating if she were still here, an opinion that was contingent on his denying that they had already done so in a way. After all, she had neither allowed him to try to cure the illness that had seized her nor relinquished her soul to the Puri so that they could be reunited.
She constantly assured him that she still loved him, up until the day her spirit left this plane, and she still visited every Day of the Dead. Yet each and every day since Anthony left, it was clear that most of her had followed right behind him.
The ache remained, of course. The last two years had been void of so many things he had once thought eternal. He himself was a ghost, walking the halls of their ancient family estate, which sat upon land on the southern New Mexico border that his ancestors had fought to protect for ages. And though he still owned that land, he could not help but feel as if he had failed those ancestors. He doubted that feeling would ever subside.
Tlalli was a reminder of that failure, even if she was no longer the main source of his ire. When looking at her, he saw the archangels and their thievery, not of the amulet they had taken from his safe, but of what he valued most in this world—his son, his family.
He threw back the remaining contents of his glass and straightened his tie just as a big, burly man with umber skin entered—Xaphan.
Xaphan met Cahuani’s eyes and halted just beyond the doorway, then dramatically raised a brow and gestured to Tlalli. Cahuani only rolled his eyes, pulled a roll of bills from his jacket, and put down enough money for the tab and a generous tip.
“Let us make this clear, so that there are no inklings going forth,” Cahuani stated, standing up. “You do not have business with me nor I with you.” He looked at Tlalli, his eyes sharp. “And if you manage to forget that again, I will not be so gracious.”
Tlalli snorted, turning in her seat to look at him properly. “Okay, let’s not get wild with the veiled threats, Papa Bear. Say what you mean.” She stood up, too, invading his personal space. “And say it with your chest . ”
This time, he smirked and leaned in to whisper in her ear without hesitation. She didn’t know who she was dealing with, but that was all right. He would remedy that.
“If you don’t find a way to keep your distance from me, I’m gonna send those pretty little angel wings nestled under this pretty little skin back to your employer in a box, truce be damned.”
He stepped around her then, patted her shoulder, and moved toward Xaphan and the door. Xaphan’s loud ass was already asking questions before Cahuani reached him.
“Okay, who the fuck is that, and where did you find her?”
Cahuani grabbed Xaphan’s shoulder and steered him down the corridor toward the elevators. “Sorry, brother, you’d have to go all the way to Heaven for someone like her, and I would not recommend it.”