Blood

by Emily Thompson

  The other passengers began to depart, all chatting excitedly to each other about this fascinating historical location. As Twist and his companions got into line as well, he overheard murmurs about ancient peoples, sun worshipers, Spanish conquistadors, and human sacrifice.

  “That’s what I heard, anyway,” one American man in line behind Twist was saying to his wife. “In the year 2012, the world will come to an end.”

  “But that’s absurd,” his wife replied with a laugh. “How could anyone know something like that?”

  “Apparently, it’s to do with planetary alignments,” the man continued. His wife laughed again and shook her head. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter to us, does it?” he asked, smiling to her now. “We’ll be dead long before the apocalypse.”

  “Oh, too bad,” she said with a pout to her voice. “I want to see it now.”

  Twist stepped onto the stone structure behind Jonas and lost the American couple as they all continued on, walking around the front of the building and then down the long, wide, stone staircase that filled the front of the structure. Finally stepping onto the lush, short grass at the bottom, Twist was surprised to find that the air hadn’t changed with his descent. It still felt as chill and thin as it ever did in the sky, even when his feet were back on earth.

  “So,” Jonas said as they all stopped to stand together to one side of the wide, green, ruin-rimmed plaza of grass, “the crew said we’ve got two hours before they take off for Rio. Who wants lunch?”

  “I do love tamales,” Skye said brightly.

  “What is a tamale?” Twist asked.

  “Remember when I told you kebab was good?” Jonas asked.

  Twist nodded, remembering the delightful flavor.

  “Tamales are good, too.”

  “Splendid,” Twist said with a smile. He took Myra’s hand, fitting it into the crook of his arm, before taking his walking stick out of the holster on his back to hold it poised to continue. “Lead on, if you please.”

  Skye smiled at Twist and then took Jonas’s hand, placing it in the crook of her own arm. “Indeed, old boy,” she said to Jonas with a poor excuse for a British accent. “Jolly well, let’s carry on, then.”

  Myra giggled demurely behind her hand.

  Rather than comment on his own feelings about being mocked, Twist offered Jonas a supportive glance. “At least she’s less annoying than Vane.”

  Skye’s eyes narrowed, as if she were trying to work out if she should take this as a compliment or an insult.

  “An excellent point,” Jonas replied, nodding earnestly. “Right. It’s this way,” he said, leading them on into the ancient city.

  As it turned out, Jonas had been right about the tamales. Twist took another bite of the warm, moist, spicy, and richly flavorful crumbled meat, surrounded by a layer of soft, nutty, corn-based bread, from the simple banana leaf wrapping, and couldn’t keep himself from letting out a delighted tone.

  “Oh, you like it, dear?” Myra asked brightly, sitting beside him on a long, low block of stone with the others. The line that led to the tamale hut was growing longer all the time, as more and more people were drawn in by the delicious scent.

  “It’s better than Chinese food,” Twist said happily. “And easier to eat, as well.”

  “I’ve had great tamales in Texas,” Skye said, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a napkin, “but these are even better! I like the banana leaves instead of corn husks.”

  “Told you,” Jonas said, peeling back a bit more of the leaf wrapping on his tamale. “Every time I come near Peru, I always try to stop here at least for lunch. Thank heaven they never change the recipe.”

  They all finished their first round—nibbling throughout on the peanuts and olives that came with each order—and then considered getting back in line for another. While they were discussing the merits of giving in to gluttony, Twist noticed someone approaching them.

  Two tall men were walking directly toward them, dressed in the mismatched and rugged apparel Twist usually associated with continental gypsies. He’d seen troupes of them creeping through the darker London streets from time to time, and—as a true Londoner himself—he’d never once so much as made eye contact with any of them. Why gypsies would be in South America puzzled him greatly.

  The younger of the two men seemed to be in the lead. Looking at him now, Twist found the young man’s features to be just as mismatched as his clothing. He seemed to be only a few years older than Twist and Jonas, and could just as easily have been from India, Eastern Europe, or Italy, as he could be from Egypt. His skin was bronzed either from ancestry or excessive sunlight, and his long hair was black and thick as it hung nearly to his shoulders under a very old-looking leather hat. Twist decided that the bushy mustache did him no favors. To Twist’s shock, the apparent gypsy stopped close to Jonas where he sat on the low stone block with Twist and the others and smiled down at him.

  “I can’t believe it,” the gypsy said with a deep voice and a tangled, vaguely French—or German—sounding accent. “No one’s thrown you in prison yet?”

  Jonas pulled his goggles down from his brow to cover his eyes instantly and turned to look toward the gypsy with an astonished expression. “Stranger still, no one’s shot you yet!” he replied, standing.

  “Always too fast for them,” the gypsy said with a leering smile, letting out a laugh.

  To Twist’s astonishment, Jonas laughed along with him and reached out to embrace him as if he were a brother. The other, clearly older, man smiled fondly at the both of them.

  “What the devil are you doing here, Luca?” Jonas asked the younger, smiling too now.

  “Aazzi wrote to us,” Luca responded, his tone darkening. Jonas’s smile faded. “Apparently, she’s in trouble, over in Africa. Why aren’t you with them?”

  “Long story,” Jonas said with a sigh. “Wait, you said ‘us,’ didn’t you?” He pulled his goggles up for a moment to glance past the first gypsy at the other one.

  “Good to see you, my boy,” the older man said to Jonas with a smile. His black hair was starting to gray, and some of his yellowing teeth seemed to be missing, but his strong form still looked perfectly capable of any sort of criminal activity. Twist guessed by his grubby features and dark complexion that he could easily be old enough to be Luca’s father.

  “Harman!” Jonas gasped in delighted shock as he replaced his goggles over his eyes and then hurried toward him as well with open arms. Harman embraced Jonas just as Luca had and gave him a hearty pat on the back with a warm smile.

  “Well, just look at you!” Harman said to Jonas, looking him over appraisingly. “Way over here in the Americas, all by yourself. You’ve done your share of growing up, haven’t you?”

  “Steady on!” Jonas said back, mocking offense. “I’d tell you quite defiantly that I’m already seven and twenty, if it didn’t make me sound like a child.”

  Harman and Luca laughed along with Jonas, but Luca spoke up again quickly. “But Jonny, isn’t Bell with you?”

  “I left Ara on the Vimana,” Jonas said, shaking his head.

  Luca seemed disappointed at this news.

  After an instant of confusion, Twist realized that the shortened and sweetened names “Jonny” and “Bell” could only stand for Jonas and Arabel. An explanation of why their names needed any shortening, however, escaped him entirely.

  “Besides, I’m not alone,” Jonas added, turning to gesture to Twist and the others. “These are my friends, Twist, Myra, and Skye Blue. And these,” Jonas added to them in turn, “are Harman and his son, Luca.” Jonas lifted a hand to shield his voice from Luca but didn’t drop the volume of his voice at all. “Keep an eye on your valuables,” he said, hooking a thumb at the younger gypsy. “This one’s a thief and a scallywag. Of course, they both are,” he added to a chuckle from Harman and Luca alike.

  “Oh! Scallywags!” Myra said, sounding excited.

  Twist did his best to keep his distaste from showing on his
blank features.

  “What is that thing?” Luca asked Jonas, pointing at Myra.

  Harman also looked at Myra in surprise. Twist opened his mouth to set the ruffian straight in the most efficient manner possible, but Jonas spoke first.

  “Her name is Myra. She’s a person, not a thing, and she’s not for sale,” he said quickly.

  “Hello,” Myra said brightly, standing to offer Luca her hand. “I’ve never met a real scallywag before. I’m only delighted!”

  Luca took her hand and bent to it respectfully as a smile brightened his dark eyes. Twist stood beside her, watching closely. “Well, it’s nice to meet you too,” Luca said to Myra, straightening up and releasing her hand. “It’s—I mean, she,” Luca amended quickly when he caught the cold look on Twist’s face, “she’s very pretty, isn’t she?” he continued, flashing Myra a yellowing smile.

  “Oh, thank you!” Myra said brightly, smiling back.

  “Is that copper and silver?” Luca asked, eyeing Myra’s face in a way that only tightened Twist’s nerves.

  Myra glanced to Twist as if looking for him to answer, but Twist only stared back at the roguish man with cold silence.

  “Are you all heading to Africa?” Harman asked, his tone rather friendly.

  “Yep,” Skye said, getting to her feet. “We’re going through Rio.” Twist was relieved to find uncertainty on her face as she watched the gypsies carefully.

  “We were in Hawaii when we got Aazzi’s message,” Jonas answered. Luca’s bushy black eyebrows rose into an impressed expression. “We found a flight to Rio, and we’re just stopping here for another hour or so.”

  “Taking the equator route,” Harman said, nodding with a smile. “We were in Mexico and had the same idea. Is there any room left on your ship?”

  “I’m sure there is,” Jonas said instantly.

  At the thought of traveling so far with these people, Twist’s anxiety bit sharply at his heart. Despite the friendliness that Jonas showed them, Twist couldn’t bring himself to trust them so easily. There was something about Luca, specifically, that chilled him. Jonas turned to Twist and pulled his goggles up to look at him with a puzzled expression.

  “What’s wrong?” Jonas asked. The strangers looked to Twist curiously, clearly not knowing the reason for Jonas’s reaction.

  Twist chose his words carefully, before he replied. “I understand that you know these people, but I don’t.” He stared right back into Jonas’s lilac eyes, willing his meaning to be readable to his friend.

  Jonas paused, frowning now, and then put his goggles back on and looked to Luca. “Give us a moment?” he asked, already moving to take Twist’s arm and lead him away.

  “Sure…” Luca muttered, clearly confused.

  Twist hesitated to leave Myra with them, but Skye remained beside her, and this gave him courage. Twist let Jonas lead him away to where they finally stopped, well out of earshot.

  “What’s the problem, Twist?” Jonas asked, taking his goggles off again to look at him. Twist was heartened to hear a serious quality to his friend’s voice. “You don’t usually react like this, meeting new people. What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” Twist answered. “They don’t strike me like anyone we’ve met before. There’s something just…not right about them. Especially that Luca.”

  “But I grew up with Luca,” Jonas said. “He and Harman are practically family. And Aazzi sent them the same message she sent us.”

  Twist paused, startled by the idea that Jonas had grown up with obvious gypsies, but pressed on nonetheless. “That doesn’t mean we should travel together.”

  “They’re good people,” Jonas said, shaking his head. “Why are you so against them? You only just met them, for heaven sake.”

  “Well, they look and smell like bloody gypsies, for starters.”

  “They are gypsies.”

  “What, really?” Twist gasped.

  “Yes, and what of it?” Jonas countered. “I’m a bleeding pirate, and she’s a magpie,” he added with a gesture to Skye. He paused the moment he said this. “Actually, it’s probably best not to mention to them who she works for.”

  “Why not?”

  “There’s too much bad blood between gypsies and magpies,” Jonas said, shaking his head. “But honestly, the important thing here is that Aazzi not only trusts them but called for them to help her. They’re already going to her. So are we. We’re all trying to do the same thing, and that’s to help my family. If anyone should get to choose who we trust and who we don’t, shouldn’t it be me?”

  Twist gave a sigh. Of course, Jonas was right. He heard Myra laugh brightly and glanced at her to find Luca standing before her, expertly juggling a set of colorful balls while she watched. Harman watched smiling, not standing too close for Twist’s comfort, while Skye watched Luca with a smile as well. Everyone else was clearly fine with this situation.

  “All right,” Twist said with another sigh. “You’re right. They are already en route to Africa. It’s pointless to block them from traveling with us.”

  “Look, Twist,” Jonas said, putting a hand on his shoulder and spilling a little calm into his Sight. “I respect your instincts. They’ve saved us both more than once. So if you find out why you’re uneasy about them, please tell me.”

  Twist smiled lightly as he recognized his friend’s respect. Even with no reason to believe his warnings, Jonas had still chosen to give him an ear. Twist nodded, deciding that he would pay very close attention to these gypsies and share any evidence he might find. In the meantime, he would allow them to join in the journey, even if only for the sake of their friendship with Jonas and Aazzi.

  While Jonas took the gypsies to speak with the airship captain, Skye and Myra headed to the long line of stalls that sat along the road. Twist drifted along behind the two women while they cooed and gasped over the wide array of colorful, handmade items that the local artisans had for sale. Watching Myra and Skye point out necklaces and hold up dresses against each other, Twist was grateful for Skye’s presence. Myra always did well with a female companion.

  “Gentleman, you are English, no?” one of the sellers said in a thick, Spanish-sounding accent. Twist turned to find an old woman with bronze skin and silver hair, a rough shawl of vibrant red, yellow, and purple wrapped around her shoulders, leaning out from the cacophony of wares in her stall to speak to him.

  “Good afternoon,” Twist said, tipping his top hat to her. Myra and Skye continued slowly on along the line of stalls, beginning to leave him behind.

  “Such a handsome young man,” the woman said, smiling at him. “You have a wife? A girlfriend? Sure you do…”

  “Well…” Twist muttered, glancing to Myra as she admired herself wearing a woven hat in the mirror Skye held up for her.

  “Pretty girls love pretty things,” the woman said, gesturing to her simple handmade cord-and-glass-bead jewelry. “Buy her a present. Make her happy. Happy wife, happy life, no?”

  “No, thank you,” Twist said, holding up a hand and stepping away. Myra and Skye were nearly out of earshot now.

  “I give you a good price,” the woman pressed. She took a long, bright red, woven scarf from her table and held it up. “This is nice. Handmade. Good quality.”

  “Really, thank you, but no,” Twist said, giving her a tight smile and taking another step away, following after his companions.

  The woman put the scarf down and plucked a bracelet off of the table top. She stepped closer to him and held it up. “Here, my granddaughter made this. Look at the quality.”

  Her motion was so swift and determined that Twist found himself holding the bracelet without meaning to have taken it. His Sight glimmered instantly with the scent of clean night air, the warmth of a fire, and moonlight bright enough to rival a London sun. A young girl sat with the old woman, diligently learning the knots and choosing only the brightest, roundest glass beads from the bowl. A warm blush of pride bloomed in his mind as her grandmother offered appro
val. Twist blinked and took a moment to clear his mind as the vision faded. The bracelet was made of a blond cord, woven into a tight helix around the pink and yellow beads.

  “Only a few coins for that,” the woman was saying. “It’s a bargain.”

  Twist smiled at her, now seeing the true pride in her dark eyes. He reached into his pocket and found a handful of gold coins as always, pure gold being accepted currency anywhere on the globe. He handed the woman one of them, which he knew would amount to a good deal more than she was probably expecting.

  “Oh, that’s too much,” she said instantly. “Here, take something else…”

  “Give it to your granddaughter,” Twist said, shaking his head. “Tell her she did a good job,” he added, slipping the bracelet into his pocket.

  While the woman looked back at him with a surprised smile, Twist managed to finally slip away from her. He hurried on after Skye and Myra, careful now to stay clear of the other eager sellers. He caught up with them near the end of the long line of stalls.

  “Oh, there you are!” Myra said brightly, taking his arm as soon as he met her. Her emotions bubbled over his skin delightfully. “Where did you get to?”

  “I just lost track of you for a moment,” he said lightly. “Did you buy anything?”

  Myra shook her head.

  “Sometimes it’s just fun to browse,” Skye said with a shrug and a rare, charmingly girlish smile.

  “Shall we walk back to the airship now?” Myra asked.

  Twist checked his watch and nodded. “According to this, it’s nearly six.”

  “Six?” Skye asked, glancing up to see the sun very near its zenith.

  “We left the airship at four,” Twist said, putting his watch back into his pocket. “I’m sure Jonas will set my watch to the proper time once we get to Africa.”