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9. Cuba

Once Lilian had gotten back to the apartment, and Delilah had happily reunited with Otis, they worked on getting Delilah's leg better. After a couple days of various sigils, some more effective than others, and improvised physiotherapy, she was pretty much as good as new. She was a tough gal, always had been. They had driven upstate to an airfield, and Lilian hired a private jet to take them to Cuba. He had no idea why, that's just where Delilah had told him to take her, and he'd be damned if he wasn't coming too.

Once they were up in the air, the two sat opposite each other, Otis lying by Delilah's side.

"Immune to magic, huh?" Delilah asked after enjoy some of the drinks that came complimentary with the flight.

"Pretty much," Lilian answered, not knowing what else to say.

"So how did that happen?" 

"I was born with no true name. Someone Irish sanctuary official got a glance in the book of names, and they tracked me down, although by that point I figured something was up when I was forty still looking twenty. It seems so long ago now."

"How long ago was it?"

"I was born in the 1660s. You do the maths."

"Math."

Lillian rolled his eyes at the Americanism, "Sure."

Delilah looked out of the window, then back at Lilian, "You know the worst part about that? When I get my claws into someone, I can access their memories. I got nothing from you."

"Yeah, about those," Lilian decided he would do some interrogating of his own, "so, you're a bit like that Black Annis right?"

Delilah sighed angrily, "I'm nothing like that vile creature. If the sanctuaries have done anything right, it's killing her. Firstly, I don't eat people. Secondly, I don't have blue skin. Thirdly, I'm a better fighter than her, as evidenced by the fact that I'm still alive, and she isn't. Good God-damn riddance."

"But there are similarities," Lilian argued.

"We're, whadd'ya call 'em? Neoterics. We weren't taught our disciplines, we just learnt 'em. My magic came to me, hers came to her, so sure, there's similarities, but I swear to god if you compare me to her again, I will find a way to kill you."

"Tell me how you really feel," Lilian muttered.

There was a silence for a few minutes, and Delilah continued her previous line of thought.

"Since I can't read your memories, you'll just have to tell me."

Lilian frowned.

"Everyone has something that drives them, makes them tick. Some tragic backstory, or prophecy or whatever. Which brings me back to..." Delilah explained.

"Ah. I should've known." Lilian took a deep breath, "Well my son was brutally killed by worshippers of the faceless ones, and I haven't spoken to my ex-wife in over half a century."

"So it's the tragic backstory," Delilah concluded, frankly disappointed by the clichéness of it all, "what did you do to piss off those nutjobs, anyway?"

"My wife was China Sorrows."

Delilah laughed, actually laughed, and stared at Lilian.

"No. No way. I don't believe you for a second."

"I can see why."

"Explain."

"Well, she was having doubts about her religion, so she disappeared. She came to America, and we ran into each other. Just one of those things. She was confused when I didn't fall for her on the spot - you know, due to the whole magic immunity thing."