The last thing he remembered was waiting for his sister by a tree and sensing a large group nearing. He’d rushed to try to find her, but the group had been too large and their impact on him incapacitating.
Judging from the people he saw around him though, this wasn’t the group he’d felt earlier. It was too small.
A hundred questions emerged. Gently, Santiago tugged her hand. “Gracie?”
She jolted. “You’re awake! It worked!” But suddenly, she shirked back to examine him. “Didn’t it? How do you feel?”
“Shh.” Even without her enthusiastic volume, his head pounded fiercely. “You’re talking too fast. Who are—”
Santiago choked on his words the moment he laid eyes on her. Recognition overcame him. Just a meter away, the woman he’d been preparing to meet for months—quite literally the woman of his dreams—was standing behind his sister.
And she was even more beautiful in person. Everything about her, every curvature and imperfection had been imprinted in memory, a seared scar of lust and intrigue.
Time slowed, and his dream was no longer just that. Santiago could hardly believe his eyes. Honestly, he never believed they’d actually meet. It had been a long shot to try to make it from Guatemala to California, but even more ridiculous was the notion that he’d find the woman there who he’d dreamed about. Though he’d wanted her to be real, part of him had never been convinced.
But there she was, and here he was—both very real. Santiago stared utterly speechless.
What do you say to someone you know intimately, but who doesn’t even know your name? To her, they were meeting for the first time.
His fingers self-consciously found his own sodden, overgrown hair. It felt like a reverse mullet, coarse and unruly from the grueling desert journey. Santiago could hardly contain his embarrassment. He hadn’t brushed his teeth in who knew how long, hadn’t bathed in even longer.
She, on the other hand, looked like she’d barely been on the road a day, radiant as ever.
This was not the meeting he was hoping for.
“This is Mara.” Graciela beamed, squeezing his hand.
She continued on about how they’d crossed paths, how they’d saved her from the same Sanguinatores they’d run into in Mexico, but all Santiago could hear was the melody of the woman’s name. “Mara, meet my brother, Santiago.”
Mara gave a perfunctory nod. “Pleasure.”
All Santiago could utter with dreamlike nirvana was, “Mara.”
“Santi, don’t stare. You’re being weird.” Graciela turned to the woman. “I’m sorry. He’s not usually like this.”
He felt his cheeks burn and recognized his foolish demeanor, but he couldn’t help it. All this time he’d been searching, and finally, here she was.
“It’s all right. It’s not his fault. This is what happens when someone’s charmed. It should wear off once we return to Hope, and he’s given his autonomy back. Speaking of which,” Mara said, pointing directly at him, her hazel eyes seizing him in their blaze. With just a look, she insisted on his calm demeanor, and willingly, he obeyed. “Santiago, relinquish your Awakened ability.”
Confusion rolled over him at first. He wanted to tell her to save her breath. He had tried many times to get rid of his power, to ignore it, to reason it wasn’t power but something else, something normal, but nothing had worked.
But then, just like that, his power disappeared.
Gone were the aches and stabs of everyone else’s’ emotions. No longer could he sense the group around him beyond what his eyes could see. Without the weight of his sister’s emotions, of the feelings of others, it was like he was floating.
Somehow at her command, he locked his Awakened power behind a steel door. Finally, Santiago was free again.
“Th-thank you,” he said with tears in his eyes. There were no words to describe his appreciation. “But…how?”
“I’m a charmer.” When Mara spoke, it was with force, a smoky voice made sultry by Latin roots. “With one touch, I can control people. They do whatever I tell them to do, regardless of how impossible or disagreeable. After we rescued your sister from the Sanguinatores, she told us of your condition. You were charmed so that you would make it to the utorian to travel to the sanctuary in California.”
Santiago didn’t know where to begin. The threat the Sanguinatores still posed seemed most pertinent, but his curiosities ran elsewhere. For example, he couldn’t help wondering what a utorian was. But mostly, he just kept thinking about whether what Mara had done to him would be permanent. With everything in him, he hoped it meant he was no longer Awakened.
It was his sister, in the midst of a coughing episode, that brought him back, reminded him of what she had just endured. He didn’t want to ask her then in front of other people, but he wondered how she was doing. By the sounds of her rattling lungs, he’d guess she’d caught whatever the woman at the border had.
“If you’re feeling better,” Mara resumed before Santiago could decide which question to ask first, “we should be going.”
Graciela led Santiago to meet the rest of the group. After brief, awkward introductions were complete, the group set out for what he’d been told was a kind of traveling device a few hours west.
°°°
One of the immediate improvements he noted was that traveling had become much easier. There was no hiding the fatigue that his Awakened status had brought him. It had slowed them down drastically. And even now, it was obvious it would be awhile before he would regain full strength, but for the most part, he was able to keep up with the rest of them. He’d forgotten the magnitude the physical toll had on him.
It had been months since Graciela or he had allowed themselves to trust anyone. Though she’d told him about how these seven people had saved her from Zane’s group, it would take some getting used to being around others.
Santiago couldn’t help feeling apprehensive.
Though he wanted to trust them, he also felt a deep sense of disdain for all things Awakened. Begrudgingly, he supposed they couldn’t all be bad. After all, Mara had just rid him of his power.
It helped that someone he already knew, Mara, was among them.
What also helped was seeing their loyalty toward one another, almost like they were kin. Santiago wondered what had brought them so close.
“He doesn’t like us,” complained the girl to Carson.
Carson ruffled her curls and said in a hushed tone, “This is why you can’t always rely on what people are saying—or thinking in your case. If you were an empath, you’d know that he doesn’t dislike us. It’s himself he’s at war with.”
Santiago inflated, but the little girl asked quickly, “What do you mean?”
“Well, the thing about fear and shame is that it makes it hard for us to be honest with ourselves. So maybe he’s having thoughts about not liking us, but really, he’s still trying to figure out how to like himself, or at least this new version of himself.”
Carson must’ve sensed Santiago’s bubbling rage because he turned around and said, “No need to get flustered. I felt the same way when all this started. When World War IV hit, I thought for sure the Awakened were evil, no thanks to the media. Once my symptoms started to show, I even questioned my own goodness.”
Santiago grumbled. This person knew nothing about him, what he believed, or what they’d been through, yet here he was, acting like he knew it all. What he felt wasn’t all he was. It was a snapshot at best.
It was Graciela’s steady hand interlocking with his that prevented him from saying anything.
“I can’t believe our luck, Santi.” Despite the bout of coughing that interrupted her, she remained so content, so carefree.
Santiago supposed he should be too. They were alive, after all, and they would reach their destination. In record time too, according to the leader of the group.
Rather than focus on the negative—something he had always been told he was far too good at—Santiago chose to take a pa
ge from Graciela’s book and appreciate that his empathic ability was gone. There was nothing quite as joyous as that.
“So tell us about yourselves,” Sean prompted, flanking Santiago.
His mind went blank. “What’s there to tell? Every day we wake up, walk until our legs feel like they might fall off, search for food and water—don’t find food and water—then go to sleep and repeat it all the next day.”
Instantly, Santiago was all too aware that giving a bluntly honest remark didn’t help score them any points. Mara especially cast him a skeptical, if not disappointed, look.
Fortunately, his sister answered too. “But before all that, we grew up in Guatemala.”
Admittedly, socializing was an ungreased wheel for Santiago. Somehow, his sister had managed to hold on to the skill though.
Sean either didn’t notice his lack of social grace or didn’t hold it against him. “You’re a long way from home then. Things get pretty bad there?”
Santiago answered, more on reflex than from desire. “No worse than anywhere else.”
“What did you do before? Did either of you work?”
“Graciela was a nurse.” Santiago shrugged before anyone could ask him about what he’d done. It seemed so remedial now, especially when Graciela had valuable expertise that could be used in the world as it had become. She understood medicine and triage. Santiago could kick a round object into a rectangular box.
“We could always use another medic.” Mara’s approval of his sister’s profession only served to vindicate his omission.
“Oh,” Graciela’s cheeks were flushed. “I’m not a doctor or anything.”
“Don’t downplay yourself,” the Italian beauty said warmly, though there was a serious weight with her tone. “Any help is useful, and anyone can be trained.”
His sister thanked Mara for her encouragement, and the conversation died down while Sean guided them over a rocky pass. A few days ago, Santiago wouldn’t have made it up in one try. Now it was his sister struggling to catch her breath. She had to pause multiple times, though briefly, to pull air back into her lungs.
Each time he asked her though, she said she was okay. So they kept going and Sean allowed her to dictate the pace.
“What about you?” the leader asked, guiding the group over the first flat they’d encountered since the ascent. “What did you do for a living?”
In front of him, Carson laughed. “Look at him! His jaw is chiseled, his eyes, striking, and even despite almost dying, you can see his muscles bulging from his shirt. C’mon, guys, he was obviously an international supermodel.”
At first, Santiago bristled at the joke. It felt like it was meant to insult him in some way, but the way no one else laughed with him, gave Santiago cause to believe otherwise.
Instead, he forced a laugh of his own to appear friendly, for Graciela’s benefit. “I was what you call a ‘soccer’ player. This was going to be my second year playing for La Liga Nacional de Fútbol de Guatemala.”
“Really?” Mara either showed signs of being impressed or of incredulity. It was hard to distinguish one from the other with her.
“Sí, really.” He flashed his pearly whites, trying to hide his nerves behind a meager attempt at flirtation. To be honest, flirting wasn’t a skill he’d ever developed. Back home, women swooned over him without much effort on his end. But she was different. Mara wasn’t flinging herself at his feet like all the others had. In fact, she hardly seemed interested in him at all.
He wanted to make the effort, wanted to be the reason she was smiling.
“How is that possible? What are you? Like twelve?” It would appear to be Carson’s sole purpose to prevent that from happening.
“Twenty, actually. I was scouted when I was sixteen, but my dad wouldn’t let me join for another couple of years.”
Adelaide squealed behind him. “Wow! So you were like a professional athlete or something!”
At least someone found it impressive. From the corner of his eye, Santiago saw Carson roll his eyes. Of the eyes there though, none mattered but Mara’s.
When her gaze settled on him, Santiago turned to her. “What about you? What were you doing before the world ended?”
“Me?” The question seemed to take her by surprise. “Who remembers that far back…”
“She was a student at University of California Berkeley,” Sean answered for her, an image of a proud father, even though they were very obviously the same age and not related.
Mara cast him a mean scowl, but a nudge was all the further prompting she needed. “I studied law in Italia for a year before coming to California for a study abroad program.”
It completely took him aback. Of all the months he had come to know her, between all the moments he witnessed her scribbling poems in secret, every time her silvery, operatic crooning left his mouth agape, and every moment he nearly fainted at the finesse and arch she achieved in her willowy dances, she didn’t strike him as the lawyer type. Agile, astute, surefooted. Those qualities spurred from her involvement in the arts. Where would those talents be used in a law degree? Her inner passion for beauty that she kept hidden from the world couldn’t go unappreciated, unwitnessed. It just didn’t fit.
Something in her abruptly shifting posture told him he was right, but he thought it better not to pry yet. He’d save that conversation for a rainy day, one with a smaller audience.
“Law? Now that’s impressive. All I did was run and kick a fútbol all day.”
Carson chortled, but Santiago wasn’t joking. On top of everything she did, she was also brilliant enough to become a lawyer—at least she had been trying to. Talented didn’t quite sum her up enough. It seemed whatever she tried she was good at, but there was no doubt in his mind that that was mostly due to her work ethic, as much as innate greatness.
Everything he learned only continued to grow his fondness of her.
Those cutting green eyes took him in, and Mara flipped the focus. “What about you? What made you leave your home country?”
Another thing they had in common, he realized, even if his story was less choice-driven.
Fortunately, it was his sister who answered, because he still didn’t know how to talk about it. “Our father made us leave. He didn’t want anyone Awakened living under his roof. Where we come from though, we wouldn’t have been welcomed much longer anyway. Even people at the hospital had stopped treating people who were Awakened.”
“We know how that is. I was run out too. Same with Mara.” Reflective, Sean paused. “You were both forced to leave? But…you’re not Awakened.”
“Gracie didn’t think I could take care of myself,” he’d said it jokingly, but then realized how true it had been. Without her, he was sure he would’ve died long ago. For the past month, she’d been the only one able to search for food and water, and she found them shelter every day. “Turns out she was right.”
Graciela nudged him with an elbow. “You’re mi hermano. Where you go, I go. Always.” Again, she broke into a coughing fit, heaving, hunched over as they crested the canyon.
He offered a weak smile in turn. It would take him a lifetime to repay her for all she’d done for him.
“What about your mom?” Mara asked abruptly.
“Missing,” he caught himself saying. Santiago wasn’t sure if it was part of this infatuation or if it was because of his charmed state, but he felt compelled to tell her his life story. “We haven’t seen her since we were both kids. She disappeared right after World War III.”
Before he could say anything else, he remembered his father shouting at him, telling him that it was his fault that she’d left. It left a sinking pit in his chest. Though he’d been with her the day of her disappearance, no memory remained of what happened to his mother, something he had never quite forgiven himself for.
“What was the last war like?” The voice of curious innocence tore him out of his spiral in the nick of time. Leave it to a child—although, he supposed Adelaide was more
like a teenager, barely—to ask questions that no one wanted to answer. “I mean, were any of you around to see it?”
As Santiago could’ve expected, everyone faltered. Some held their breath. He clung to the moment, hoping someone would give her the answer she sought. For as long as Santiago had known, discussion of World War III was prohibited in all public schools, in any form of media or publication, anything. Those old enough to remember were silenced by threats of repercussions if they spoke about it. So they didn’t.
By now, the stars above beckoned Santiago. Their brightness cut into the empty vastness around them as if there were more stars than there was open universe. All he knew was that the war had something to do with the discovery of a new planet in their solar system, but few details had been gleaned since.
It was Sean who spoke, his voice sounding twenty years away. “World War III.” Each syllable was whispered softly, like they were grenades ready to explode at the slightest increase in volume. “Only very little. I was five when NASA discovered the planet between Mars and Jupiter. At first, people seemed kind of excited about it. But like many mysteries, people fear what they don’t know or can’t understand. We called it Paníhava, a name given after the Swedish Space Corporation salvaged a piece of shrapnel from its orbit with that word painted on the side. It was all the proof we needed: for the first time in history, we had discovered life on another planet.”
To Santiago’s surprise, this time it was his sister who responded. “I’m not sure we really found proof that there were people living there.” She seemed to turn inwardly to use even the gentlest authority. “The only thing we learned for certain was that the planet was inhabitable and that it seemed to be able to shield itself. It was why we’d never seen it before. It had been under some kind of cloaking spell or something.”
It was easy to forget that she had been alive at that time, since she was only about three years old and barely remembered any of it. The conversations they’d had about World War III were sparsely detailed at best. And after their mother had disappeared, anything having to do with that point in time became an unacceptable topic for conversation at home.
Blood Awakens Page 17
