Death Bound: An Urban Fantasy Series (Modern Necromancy Book 2)

by Justin Sloan

  She’d told him to move on, and he was doing his best, even if it hurt.

  When the time came for them to board and they found their seats, Nora seemed as exhausted as he felt, and both of them fell asleep before the plane even took off.

  Sometime after they were well on their voyage, the lights in the cabin turned down low, the plane hit a patch of turbulence and woke Rohan. He was surprised to find Nora’s head on his shoulder.

  He wondered if he was supposed to move her head or just let her sleep like that. What was proper etiquette in this situation? Her hair was falling over one eye, and he reached to move it away but stopped himself—imagine her waking up, head on his shoulder, him touching her hair! He stifled a laugh, and instead leaned back and let sleep take him again.

  ***

  Rohan rubbed his eyes as he woke to see that the plane was descending. Mountains and terraced waves of red, tiled roofs came into view. He leaned back and closed his eyes, refusing to open them again until they’d finished landing.

  Soon, they pulled into the Alejandro Velasco Astete International Airport—a building smaller than Nora’s house and the most un-airport-like airport Rohan had ever seen. They stepped off the plane into the mild air of Cusco, Peru. Rohan felt the same pull on his lungs he had felt in the Ural Mountains. The air was crisp, but there was less of it. It would take a bit before he could acclimate.

  “You good?” Nora asked, stepping up next to him. Clearly, the altitude didn’t bother her.

  “Just catching my bearings,” he said, and nodded for her to continue on.

  Her ponytail bobbed as she jogged down the stairs, and when a baggage attendant offered to take her bag, she spoke fluent Spanish and told him to have a nice day.

  “Español?” Rohan asked.

  “When your travels take you around the world, you pick up a few languages,” Nora said as they headed toward customs. “My Spanish isn’t as good as it sounds.”

  They entered the air-conditioned airport and joined a long line of tourists waiting to get through customs. A sleepy man with a paunch behind a plate glass window stamped their passports and welcomed them to Peru.

  As they walked into the sunshine again, a massive group of men swarmed them.

  “Taxi, amigo?”

  “You want to go? I take you!”

  “Where you going, my friend?”

  Rohan had never seen anything like it. The men nearly pulled at him, reaching for his backpack and offering to take it for him.

  “Just keep going,” Nora said. “Don’t let them take your bags.”

  One of the men heard her and said something out loud in Spanish. Then the men stopped harassing them and focused on other tourists coming out of the airport.

  “What the hell was that?” Rohan asked as they broke free.

  “Taxi drivers,” Nora said. “They’re harmless. Welcome to Latin America.”

  Rohan looked back at the swarm. An unsuspecting woman had given her bag to one of the men, and he motioned her over to a weather-beaten taxi. She followed reluctantly.

  “There’s our ride,” Nora said, and gestured to the other side of the street.

  A tall Latino man waited near a fountain, leaning against a black Mitsubishi. His arms were folded, but when he saw Nora, a wide smile crept across his face and he waved. Rohan couldn’t help but notice the muscular arms and bronzed skin, like a Latin American soap opera icon. The man sent off a strange vibe, one that was instantly unlikable.

  “When you told me to make room for two, I thought you were referring to your sister,” the man said, eyeing Rohan. His Spanish accent was barely detectable underneath his smooth voice.

  Nora gestured between the two men. “Marcos Obiedo, Rohan. Rohan Evans, Marcos. It’s so good to see you. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  Marcos stared down Rohan for a moment, but Rohan refused to break eye contact, even if he was perhaps intimidated. Finally, Marcos gave him a nod and they reluctantly shook hands.

  Marcos took Nora’s backpack and jammed it into the Mitsubishi’s tiny trunk. Then he helped Nora into the passenger seat before climbing into the driver’s seat. “If you put your bag back there, the trunk won’t shut,” Marcos said to Rohan, starting the car.

  “Got it,” Rohan said, not failing to notice as Marcos eyed him in the mirror. He climbed into the backseat, and had barely clicked his seatbelt when Marcos accelerated, weaved into traffic, and then gunned through the street. Black smoke clouded the rear window, and Rohan couldn’t help feeling smug about that, at least. The guy might be a Latin Fabio, but at least his car wasn’t perfect.

  A nervous glance back from Nora made Rohan wonder if there was something going on he didn’t know about. Scratch that… he was sure of it. Maybe.

  Marcos drove in silence, combating the aggressive traffic, the Mitsubishi’s engine droning like a hornet.

  It could have been nothing. He could be wrong, but he was pretty certain he noticed Nora purposefully looking away from the man. If he had to put money on it, he’d bet there was a past there. Not that it mattered, he told himself. The image of him on the plane, her head on his shoulder as she slept, flashed across his mind, and he felt a sting of annoyance toward Marcos again.

  “So, where are you from, Rohan?” Marcos asked.

  His tone told Rohan that he should choose his words carefully. “The United States.”

  “I would have guessed Canada.”

  “All us gringos don’t look alike.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Nora said. “We’re working together.”

  “Work, eh?” Marcos asked. He seemed to relax slightly at the revelation. “I thought you exited this line of work when you left Peru, Nora.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Well, I look forward to hearing every word,” Marcos said.

  ***

  Marcos lived in a small villa with a red tiled roof. The exterior was painted green, and a large wrought iron gate blocked a fading set of wooden double doors.

  After a possibly suspicious glance in the rearview mirror, Marcos left Rohan and Nora in the car and told them to wait. As he inserted his keys into the iron gate, several scary, throaty barks sounded from inside the house and claws scratched against the door.

  “Dino! Sky! Tranqúilense!” Marcos yelled. He entered the house and then shut the door promptly just as Rohan saw a glimpse of two large, black dogs.

  “Okay, so who the heck is that guy?” Rohan asked.

  “We had a history.”

  “I could’ve never guessed.”

  “So he’s an old flame.” She looked away, then mumbled, “I don’t see how that’s a big deal.”

  “Okay.” Rohan glanced outside, arms folded, and waited.

  Nora stepped out of the car and looked back at the house wistfully, waiting for Rohan to follow before speaking.

  “Years ago, I broke his heart. I can’t blame him for the way he’s acting or feeling right now. Don’t take him too seriously. What matters is that we can trust him.”

  “And who’s to say he’s not going to sic his dogs on me?”

  “Do you want to stop Altemus or not?” Nora asked, giving him an angry look.

  Rohan held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay. But if I have to punch him in the face, consider this a fair warning.”

  The front door opened and Marcos motioned them in.

  Inside of the house was cool, with stone floors and Incan wooden baskets hanging on the walls. Marcos ushered them into a small but cozy sitting room with a Peruvian flag on one wall and a world map painted by hand on the other. On the map were clusters of orange dots on every continent, presumably places where he had traveled. He remembered a similar map in Nora’s place, and wondered which of the two had started the tradition, and who had kept it going out of infatuation with the other. He knew this kind of thought process was childish, but that didn’t stop the thoughts from coming.

  “My home is small,” Marcos said. “I travel most of
the year, so I don’t need very much.”

  “Hopefully we’re not here that long,” Nora said. “I came to finish up old business.”

  “Old business?” Marcos said. “Oh, I’ve been handling your old business.” He took off his shirt, revealing several scars across his chest.

  “What happened?” Nora asked.

  “Your friends paid me a few visits after you left.”

  Nora bit her lip in worry. “I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he said, staring into her eyes as if suddenly not blaming her would earn him a kiss.

  Rohan scoffed, earning him an annoyed glance from Nora.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked Marcos.

  “I tried to find you, but you didn’t want to be found, if I remember correctly. You gave me a fake number and address.”

  Nora swallowed a lump in her throat. “Could they be watching now?” she asked, going to the window and closing the rickety shutter.

  “They’re always watching,” he replied. “So you better tell me what it is you need before all three of us end up with bullets in our heads.”

  “We need to find the hidden city,” Rohan said.

  Awkward silence ensued, and Nora shot him another angry look.

  “What?” Rohan asked, shrugging.

  “That so?” Marcos asked with a raised eyebrow. “You and everyone else.”

  “I had no idea this would happen,” Nora said, a hand on Marcos’s shoulder. “That they would connect me with you. But for what it’s worth, I’ve been paying a heavy price ever since I left Cusco.”

  “Best I can figure,” Marcos said as he picked up an apple from the table, “you want me dead. Otherwise you wouldn’t have come back.”

  “I don’t want you dead, and I didn’t mean to put you in danger. How much do they know?” Nora asked.

  “They know you took the tablet.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Rohan said. “Who is they, exactly?”

  Marcos massaged his right temple, then bit into his apple and stared at Nora, waiting for her to explain.

  Nora started slowly. “It’s a secret society, kinda. Los Defenderos de La Historia. They protect the city, or that’s what they claim. They’ve been tasked with guarding its location for centuries, and, well…. They’ll definitely use force if necessary, as you can see by Marcos.”

  “Lethal force,” Marcos said, “given the right circumstances.”

  Nora gulped. “Such as stealing from them.”

  Rohan shook his head, trying to understand all of it. “We don’t have a choice. However dangerous this is, I’ve seen much worse.”

  “That’s a load of crap,” Marcos said.

  “Try me,” Rohan said.

  “Watching a scary movie doesn’t count. If you don’t remember, we’re in South America, amigo. There’s no one to protect you here. You screw up, you end up in the afterlife.”

  “Got it,” Rohan said, rolling his eyes.

  “You helped me get to the lost city last time,” Nora said, a small movement from her hand on Marcos’s shoulder. A bit of pink was returning to her cheeks. “Can we count on you?”

  “Last time it was under different circumstances,” Marcos said.

  “I know. But I need your help.”

  Marcos puffed. Rohan felt the urge to punch him, even though he knew it was unwarranted. Why should he care if she had a history with this man, or if that history had been why he’d helped her last time?

  “I’m not putting my neck on the line,” Marcos said. “Not again. But I’ll tell you how to get there.”

  He went to a meager bookshelf and pulled out a book. When he placed it on the table, he opened it and pulled out a faded map. He pointed to the jagged city lines tucked in between mountains and rainforests. “This is Cusco. Take a flight to Puerto Maldonado. It’s a small town about an hour from here. From there, it’s a short boat ride to the rainforest. Take this map, and that’s the best I can do for you. If you want to find the city, you’re on your own.”

  Nora and Marcos looked at each other, and he gave her a smirk.

  “You’re sure you don’t want to tag along?” she asked.

  “You can’t tempt me anymore,” Marcos said. “But good luck, Nora.”

  Rohan got the sense that even though the situation between the two was supposedly over, there was still a hint of attraction. Nora ran a hand through her hair and then snapped out of a half-smile, as if she just remembered that Rohan was there.

  “And what exactly is this city called?” Rohan asked, trying to diffuse the awkwardness.

  Nora rolled up the map and started out of the house. “The Lost City of Vilcabamba.”

  The sun was setting fast, and they hurried through the streets. While Rohan didn’t see anyone, he got the strange feeling that they were being watched.

  Chapter 7: Jungle Safari

  The rainforest swarmed around them as they trudged on, and at one point Rohan didn’t know what was tree, sky, or earth. The hottest hours of the day burned on and on. Before long, their water supply was growing dangerously low.

  More than once, Rohan was certain he spotted someone watching them from the shadows. Each time, he’d glance back and they’d be gone, and soon he started wondering if he was having delusions from heat stroke. They zigzagged across the jungle, doing their best to hide their tracks, and were only able to relax when it had been over an hour since thinking they’d spotted someone.

  Nora led them to what she assured him was a clean stream. She swore it was the same she’d used last time she was here. And since it didn’t make her sick last time, she was willing to try it again. Rohan didn’t care for the brackish taste, but it was better than dying of dehydration.

  Following the stream, they made their way through thick overgrowth until it opened up into the river.

  “Turn around,” she said.

  “What?”

  But then he saw that she was unbuttoning her shorts. She tossed her jacket down on a large rock, then looked at him again, pointedly, and repeated herself. “Turn. Around.”

  He did so, and glanced back to see she’d stripped down to her panties and bra and was wading into the river. It wasn’t that he meant to peek, but he was flabbergasted.

  “You can strip now too,” she said, once she was submerged up to her shoulders. “Just keep the boxers on…. Or is it briefs?”

  “I—I don’t know,” he said, looking at the murky water.

  “You don’t know what kind of underwear you have on?”

  “No, I mean about this. You sure it’s clean?”

  “Hey, suit yourself,” she said, and swam in a circle, enjoying herself.

  He was covered in sweat from all the walking, and the water started to look more inviting. A quick glance around showed him that no one was watching, at least that he was aware of, so he began to undress.

  “Hmm, boxer-briefs,” she said playfully as he stepped into the water. “I should’ve known.”

  “It’s only practical,” he said, ducking lower in the water and blushing. “I’m just doing this to get clean. Just, you know, so you don’t get the wrong idea or anything.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You and me both.”

  The water wasn’t as cold as he’d expected, and felt quite refreshing. A rustling of wind in the trees above mixed with the pleasant flow of water. Sunlight glistened in a way that brought him back to days spent at a river like this near his home when he was a teenager. He and the guys would often go back in the woods to explore. On hot summer days, they’d take turns swinging from a rope to go splashing into the water.

  He missed the ease of those days. Back then, he could swim without a care in the world, not worrying about people following him or evil spirits possessing a girl he went on one date with.

  Getting old sucked.

  He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

  “What’re you thinking about?”
she asked, and he turned to see she was only about a foot away, her mostly bare flesh visible through the water.

  “When I was young, how innocent we were back then.”

  “Speak for yourself,” she said with a smile.

  “You weren’t?”

  She splashed water at him and laughed. “I mean, I’m still young and I’m still innocent.”

  They stood there, both smiling, the peacefulness of the jungle enveloping them.

  “If one of those is true,” he said, admiring how the sun shone off her wet hair, “that puts you ahead of me.”

  She frowned, apparently not sure how to take that, and the moment was over. With an uncomfortable nod, she told him to turn around while she got dressed.

  “As if I haven’t seen it all yet,” he said.

  “Underwear clings differently when wet,” she said, then waited for him to turn around before she got out.

  The images that put in his mind made his heart thump as his blood left his head and flowed south. He was glad she agreed not to watch when he got out, either. They didn’t bother drying, because with the heat, they’d be dry before too long. Or soaked with sweat. Either way, it was pointless.

  They pushed back into the rainforest again and found the place where they had strayed from the path. Nora cut relentlessly through the thicket with her machete, while Rohan simply did his best to stay out of her way.

  Dusk crept upon them gradually, and before they knew it, their only source of light was the moon and stars above.

  “Night falls quickly at the equator,” Nora said.

  “Show off,” Rohan said, with a smile in spite of his exhaustion. “You think I didn’t know that?”

  “Did you?”

  He shrugged and continued on. Most likely, he hadn’t known, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

  They stopped in a clearing wide enough for them to sleep in. Nora scanned the area, and then set her things at the base of a kapok tree, seeking shelter under its gnarled trunk.

  Together they searched for kindling and made a fire just away from the base of the tree. The flames leapt up and were a welcome heat source as the temperature plummeted. Rohan found himself throwing on a jacket he had packed, and he warmed his hands at the fire.