At the bar, Flynn was sitting in a barrel chair, eating a steak off a china plate. Two tables over, Tharyn was playing euchre. From the scowls of the other players and the pile in front of him, I guessed he was winning. But when he saw me, he got up from the game and slipped his arm around my waist.
“Outside!” I hollered over the din. Flynn scrambled down from his chair and followed us.
“What happened? Is he going to court-martial you?” Tharyn asked as soon as we found a private spot near a saguaro.
“Nothing happened. La Bruja told him that Oset was stung by a scorpion and the poison made her crazy That’s the line he’s sticking to, but he knows about Tiny Doom, I know it, Tharyn. He lectured me and told me to go home. He’s going to cover up that I was ever here, and the only reason for him to do that is to cover for Tiny Doom.”
“So what will you do?”
“I can’t go home. I’m going to resign, I guess.”
“And then what?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“Will you go back to Barbacoa? Your friend has become the talk of the island, a great hero.”
“Friend? What friend?”
“Your friend Udo Landaðon,” he said warily.
I vaguely remembered going to school with an Udo Landaðon, but we had never been friends. He was a glass-gazing fop, and I hate glass-gazing fops. “I have no desire to see Barbacoa again. And any way, Cutaway told me not to come back.”
“Then where will you go?”
“I don’t know.”
“You could come with me.”
“You should get as far away from me as possible, Tharyn. I’m no good,” I said dolefully “Nini, that’s absurd.”
“Oset’s dead and it’s my fault. I almost got Flynn killed, almost got you killed. I almost ruined Buck’s revolution. She was right not to trust me. If I go back to Califa, I’ll be a liability to her. Plus, if Espejo told the Birdies about me, about Tiny Doom, they could come after me. If I go back to the City, it would put my family in danger.”
“You have to do something.”
“Maybe I’ll just shoot myself in the head,” I said bitterly.
Tharyn grabbed my arm as I turned away, but I shook his grip off. I didn’t want his comfort. I didn’t want to be told that things would look different in the morning or that hope was free. All those happy optimistic words were nothing but fiking shite. You could be good and kind and still die, through no fault of your own. You could do what you thought was right and still cock everything up.
Tharyn grabbed my arm again, and this time his grip was like iron. “It’s not a joke to talk about blowing your brains out, Nini.”
“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said it. Please leave me alone, Tharyn. I just really want to be left alone now.”
He loosened his grip, but he didn’t drop it. “Look, while we were in Barbacoa, I sent a letter to my boss. I told him about you, told him what a help you were to me, and how you saved my skin in Cambria.”
“You must have been selective in your telling,” I said, but he ignored the comment and said, “I got his response just before I left. He authorized me to offer you a job.”
“A job?”
“Ayah. You’d have to start out at the bottom as my assistant, but it’s a great opportunity, Nini. The Pacifica doesn’t hire often, but when you are in, you are in—they’ll take care of you forever. I’ve got a delivery to make to Porkopolis—not an express package, but a regular overland delivery Come with me.”
“Why would you want that? I’m a disaster.”
“Oh, fiking hell, yes, you are. But I guess I have a taste for disasters, and you, darling Nini, do taste delicious.”
His words were an unfortunate echo of Espejo’s, and I couldn’t stop a little shudder.
He continued, “You said you wanted to get away, to see the world, to travel. Here’s your chance. Just think—Porkopolis! Their buildings are so tall, you can see them from miles away. We’ll take the dirigible—”
“Can I think about it?”
“No. I can tell your thoughts are not very good ones. Just say yes, Nini. Please, say yes. If you resign, if you don’t go back to Califa, what else will you do?”
He had a point. I had limited funds and not much experience doing anything useful. Express agenting was about as close to rangering as you could get these days. If I took the position, I would be Nyana Romney—I could say goodbye to Flora Fyrdraaca forever. No one would know or care who my family was. I would make my own way.
“What if I screw that up, too?”
“You won’t. I have faith in you, Nini. Have some faith in yourself.”
“Ayah, so. I’ll go with you.”
He whooped and lifted me up in a bear hug, and I clung to him. Suddenly, I felt pretty good. Suddenly, I actually had something to look forward to.
And then, for the last time, I hoped, Flynn and I trudged back to the post, leaving Tharyn to finish fleecing the other gamblers. I had to do one more thing before I left Sandy for good. Since the celebration at the hog ranch, a little idea had been itching at the back of my brain, but I had been too tired and overwhelmed with duty to think about it. Now, with everything settled, I could barely think of anything else.
After the big storm, the river was flowing steadily, the water a silvery ribbon unwinding through the shadowy desert. A fresh breeze shivered the cottonwood trees, made the rustling of the leaves sound somewhat like rain. A small fire burned outside one of the wickiups; several Broncos sat around it, smoking and eating from a tin mess kettle. They fell silent as I approached.
“La Bruja?” I said.
A woman pointed toward the river. The Broncos went back to their chow, dismissing me. Flynn had already disappeared into the thicket of cottonwood trees; I heard him snuffling and scratching in the bushes. It took me a few minutes to find the pathway through the canebrake; it was narrow and overgrown, but it was there. I followed it, glad for the brightness of the starlight. The air smelled of moisture and lush greenery and of some sweet flower. It didn’t take much water for the desert to bloom.
Ahead, Flynn yipped happily and a voice shushed him. The path became rocky, the bushes fell away to reeds, and then I felt sand underfoot. Flynn had waded out into the water and was splashing happily around a dark figure. Her clothes were piled on the sand, her gun belt sitting on top of the neat pile. A stenchy fog of cigarillo smoke hung in the air.
“Come fer a bath, Lieutenant,” La Bruja said cheerfully She sent a wave of water splashing over Snapperdog, who jumped in delight. “The water’s chill, but fresh.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were on my side?” I demanded.
She took another puff of the cigarillo. “I never did have the time, did I? Sorry about them kicks. I tried to make ’em look good, but not too tough. Get down, ya fiking dog!”
“I’m fine,” I said shortly. “Is he really dead?”
“He’s out of yer hair, and that’s all that matters.”
“Come here, Flynn!” Flynn slogged out of the water and plopped down at my feet, looking slightly put out. I patted his head and repeated, “Is he dead?”
La Bruja drawled, “He ain’t gonna bother you again. That’s a pretty man you got there, Tharyn is his name? How’d he get here, anyway? I didn’t hear he was on the stage—”
“Cut the fiking crap!” I cried. Flynn’s ears pricked up and he looked interested. “Am I that fiking stupid? Do you think I’m that fiking stupid?”
For a moment, she stared at me, and I glared back. Then she laughed, long and hard, huddling down in the water, her shoulders shaking so much that for a moment I thought she might be crying. Flynn looked at me quizzically, and I was suddenly unsure. Then she raised her head, wiped her face.
“Ah, fike. You aren’t stupid, Flora. Far from it,” Tiny Doom said.
THIRTY-NINE
Coffee. Explanations. Califa.
TINY DOOM WADED OUT of the water, and I looked the other way
as she dried off with a blanket. I put my sunshades on, but my Charm hadn’t been strong enough to see through her Glamour in the daylight and certainly wasn’t powerful enough to see through it at night. Tiny Doom was just a dark shadow. Silently, we went back down the path, past the Bronco fire. Their meal was done; one Bronco was chanting in a singsongy voice while the others listened. I couldn’t tell if he was singing or just talking, telling a story, maybe. The smell of tobacco drifted through the air and for a moment my resolve wavered. I could walk away right now, go back to Tharyn, leave Arivaipa now.
But then I would never know the truth.
After the fresh air and the brilliant moonlight outside, the wickiup seemed close and stale. A small dented tin lantern hung from a branch, giving off a sallow yellow light. In the center of the hut, a coffeepot sat on the iron spider balanced over a heap of smoldering coals. There was no furniture; a battered Madama Twanky’s Cream-o Crackers crate served as a table, and the saddle was a makeshift chair. A figure lay curled in a blanket near the fire: Pecos.
“Let’s keep it low, so we don’t wake up Pecos,” Tiny Doom said. “Fike, I need some coffee.”
“Is Pecos your kid?”
“Fike, no. He’s just a friend of mine.” She fished around in a woven basket and found two chipped cups. The coffee was thick as mud, and the condensed milk made it so sweet my teeth ached. She sat on the saddle and indicated that I should sit on the fur rug. I did not sit.
She took a gulp. “You know, this desert used to be at the bottom of the sea. Sometimes you find shells in the sand. Once I found the bones of a fish trapped in a rock. Are you all right?” She had lit one of those foul cigarillos, and in the close quarters of the wickiup it was very stenchy.
“Oh, ayah, I’m just dandy. My side hurts like fike, and I got an innocent woman killed, and my own mother lied to me, but otherwise I’m great.”
“You’ve done your fair share of lying, Flora. So I don’t see how you can bitch at me.”
“Why did you have to lie to me?”
“I’m sorry But I didn’t know if I could trust you.”
Well, I couldn’t fault her there.
She continued, “And I thought it the best way to trap Espejo. I didn’t want him to see me coming, and he didn’t. But I’m sorry you got hurt in the process. And I’m awfully sorry about Captain Oset. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s a shame, but there it is.”
“Is he dead?”
Her silence was my answer, but I wanted to hear her say it.
“Tell me!” I hissed. The boy stirred a bit, and she patted his side reassuringly.
“No, he’s not dead. But you needn’t worry He won’t be a danger to you ever again. Or to anyone.”
“Why didn’t you kill him?”
“Because I don’t want to piss off the Lord of the Smoked Mirror. Espejo is his boy Ol’ Tezcatlipoca gets mighty irked if anything happens to his boys. Espejo is nothing compared to the Smoked Mirror. But you never need fear he’ll be any trouble to us again. How did you guess it was me? Even Espejo didn’t catch me out.”
“Your whole Bruja act is like something out of a Nini Mo novel. In fact, there was a La Bruja in a Nini Mo novel. Nini Mo vs. the Arivaipa Tattler.”
“It’s a good thing for me Espejo only reads lofty literature,” she said, laughing, but it wasn’t funny.
I continued, “And you invoked Pig. Only a Haðraaða could invoke Pig.”
“I was hoping you’d think he came on his own. And was I surprised when he showed up in the form of Evil Murdoch. What happened to Sieur Plushy Pig?”
“It’s a long story,” I said. “But, really, Flynn gave you away I asked you to find Flynn and you did.”
“Actually, Pecos had already found him. We were watching you at the Line when Flynn crossed, you know. Pecos followed him and caught him and took the sigil from him. It was a good sigil. Where’d you learn—”
“Never mind! None of that matters!” I said impatiently. “When you came to me that night, you said you had a plan. Was that your plan? To let me be the bait?”
“No, that wasn’t my plan. My plan was to lure Espejo out into the open, track him while he thought he was tracking us. And at first, I thought we were doing just that. But when we camped for the night, Pecos caught up with me and told me that they’d found Oset’s body, and then I knew he’d done the old switcheroo. Espejo isn’t a Flayed Priest, but he’s got enough mojo to pull off such a trick, at least for a while. By the time I got back to the camp, you’d already taken refuge in the cave. I had to wait until the storm was over before I could intercede.”
“You should have told me what was going on.”
“Maybe so. But I wasn’t sure if you could keep your cool.”
“Is that why you drugged me?”
“I’m sorry about that, honey. I didn’t want you to do anything, try to be helpful and just make things worse. Like your shotgun shells. It was a clever idea, but I fear such a sigil would have only pissed Espejo off and lost us our advantage.”
“You took my shells? I thought Espejo did that.”
“Naw, it was me. Advice: never leave your drink or your firearm unattended. But I underestimated you. You did excellently well. That poison trick was marvelous. If Espejo hadn’t been a pophead, it would have worked. It was very good quick thinking. And that Curse was also superhelpful. Another second and he’d have had me.”
“Everything I tried to do failed,” I said dolefully.
“You saved us both,” Tiny Doom said. “That’s not a failure.”
“I got Oset killed.”
“Better her than you or me. If that sounds cold, well, the world is a cold place.” Tiny Doom’s cigarillo had burned down; she lit another and inhaled deeply. Death was nothing to her, I guess; she’d sent hundreds to their deaths, which is how she’d earned the nickname Butcher. But if she didn’t care that Oset was dead, I did. And I would never let myself get hard enough not to.
I said, “I’m leaving tomorrow, you know. Were you just going to let me leave without finding out that you’d been nearby all along?”
“It seemed better that way” she said quietly.
I said hotly, “Well, I’m sorry! I screwed up, I know it, and I led Espejo to you, just because I wanted to find you—more fool me! You didn’t want me then and you don’t want me now. Well, I don’t want you, either!” She didn’t stop me when I turned toward the door. She just sat there, smoking that cigarillo and twirling her coffee cup by its handle. She was going to let me go. I turned back. “You know, in Califa, they worship you. They have replaced the Goddess Califa with you. They think you will save them from the Birdies—”
“I barely saved myself from the Birdies,” Tiny Doom interjected.
“But you did, didn’t you? And now here you are, hiding from them like a coward! Your death almost killed Poppy He’s never been right since. He’s ruined, and he ruined us, too, my entire family, and yet you were never even dead—it was all for nothing. How cruel can you be? Do you ever think of anyone other than yourself?”
“I thought of you, Flora. I thought of nothing but you. That’s why I gave you away! I’m sorry that my choices dismay you, but I did the best I could at the time!”
“It wasn’t good enough!”
She said furiously, “Well, fike you! I’d like to see you do better. It’s fine for you to sit here now and tell me what I should have done. I hope you have no regrets later, that you do everything right the first time. But life isn’t fiking like that, Flora. I’m sorry I couldn’t be who you wanted me to be, but there it is. Take it or leave it.”
I glared at her, and somehow it enraged me even more that she hadn’t dropped the Glamour. She still stared at me with La Bruja’s flat black eyes.
“Drop the Glamour! Just drop it! That joke is over and done with.”
“It’s not a Glamour,” she said softly. “That form, that night of the storm, when you recognized me. That was the Glamour. This is my
true face.”
“What the fike are you talking about?”
She bowed her head, her voice muffled. “I’m sorry I thought I was trying to spare you the truth, that you probably couldn’t handle it, but maybe I was just sparing myself. Nini said, Console your loss with vice, and pour vinegar on an open wound.”
“Spare me the stupid sayings and just tell me the fiking truth!”
She lit another cigarillo and took several long draws, stalling, I guess. Finally, just as I was about to scream with impatience, she said, “I never thought they’d ever dare actually do anything to us—diplomatic immunity, blah, blah. I thought the Warlord would just cough up a ransom, we’d sign a peace treaty on their terms, then go home. Well, I was wrong. There was a trial, and we were found guilty of breaking all sorts of Birdie moral laws we’d never even heard of. I was too polluted to be given to any of the Birdie gods other than the Lord of the Smoked Mirror—he likes ’em bad, I guess. Hotspur was given to the Virreina, to fight as her champion. They’d already taken small Flora, Flora Primera. Poor Sorrel got thrown in with me, guilt by association, I guess.
“At first, I didn’t actually care what happened to me. It seemed as good a time as any to get it all over with, and as good a way to die as any. When ole Tezca eats you, you are gone—no Cloakroom of the Abyss for you—and escaping Paimon sounded rather appealing. But then I realized I was pregnant. And suddenly I wanted to live. I wanted you to live. So Sorrel and I escaped. We had to leave Hotspur and Flora behind, but we escaped.”
“How?”
She shook her head. “I’d rather not say Some of the people who helped us are still around, and I don’t want to compromise their safety Anyway, Sorrel and I made to Arivaipa. But then I realized that Espejo was never going to let me go. As long as I lived—as long as you lived—he would be after us. As far as the Birdies are concerned, our entire family belongs to the Lord of the Smoked Mirror. As you have seen, Espejo is very tenacious when it comes to things he thinks are owed his master. So I came up with a plan. I guess you know what that was.”
Flora's Fury: How a Girl of Spirit and a Red Dog Confound Their Friends, Astound Their Enemies, and Learn the Impo Page 33
