A Snake in the Grass

by K. A. Stewart

  “C’mon kid, let’s go.” I thumped Estéban in the shoulder, and we reluctantly piled back into the bed of the truck as Paulito made his farewells with his girlfriend. They disappeared into the alley for a moment, where I’m sure there was much kissy face going on, and then he returned alone, hopping behind the wheel again. The truck started up with a jolt that smacked my head against the back window, and I sighed, rubbing it ruefully. Almost there. Almost there.

  The drive up into the hills was rough, but the promise of the journey’s end made up for the kidneys we were surely damaging with all the bouncing. The trees closed around us as we climbed our way through the foothills, bringing dusk on early, and the lights from the small homesteads that we passed gleamed through the leaves like fireflies.

  The Perez family home was actually more of a small compound, almost a village in and of itself. Many houses and outbuildings, several small barns for the variety of livestock, even their own small chapel. It was bigger than the last time I was here, I realized, marking a few structures that were missing from my memory. No doubt each building had been crafted by loving hands, probably a weekend event for the family as the need arose.

  As we pulled up into the big circular drive, Paulito beeped the horn a few times, and the place exploded as people flooded out of every doorway in sight. I felt Sveta tense up beside me, unprepared for the sheer human tsunami that was Estéban’s family. Her hand slipped behind her back, where I knew she had a knife or a gun or something.

  I wasn’t stupid enough to touch her when she was like that, but I leaned close to quietly remind her, “Easy. There are children here.” She blinked at me a few times, and I saw her forcibly relax the tension in her shoulders. After a moment, she nodded, and I felt safe getting out of the truck.

  Dear God, there were so many of them, and all of them were trying to get close to Estéban, mussing his hair, giving him rough hugs, clinging to his knees when they were too small to reach higher. So many voices in both English and Spanish, shouting and calling greetings full of joy and welcome. I lost sight of the kid, but I could hear his laughter, somewhere in the middle of the throng.

  I helped Terrence out of the truck and the three of us started unloading our things, staying safely out of the melee. We stacked the crates and piled our luggage up against it, and then there was nothing to do but lean against the truck and wait for someone to remember that we existed. It was likely going to be a while.

  I let my gaze wander over the clearing again, noting how different things looked now since my…circumstances had changed. Even through the soles of my sneakers, I could feel the land almost pulsing under my feet, magic flowing through the dirt like an enormous heartbeat. Every wall, every window, every door was decorated with sigils and marks, some so new that they were almost painful to look at, others so faint and worn that you just knew their creators had long since forgotten them. Some of them were precisely etched by an experienced hand, some of them looked like the equivalent of a child’s crayon drawing. Even the youngest Perez children were schooled in the use of magic, marking down their first protection symbols alongside their ABCs. Seeing layers upon layers of magic, each spell worked immediately atop the one before it, was almost like looking at a family tree, dating back more generations than I could imagine.

  I rolled my head back and forth a little, trying to ignore the dance of goosebumps across my skin. There was no danger here, obviously. How could there be? It was the sheer quantity of magic, laid over everything like a thick comfortable rug. The souls rippled under my shirt, under Axel’s spell, wanting to explore their new surroundings. I closed my eyes for a moment, silently willing them to calm. The last thing I needed was for them to put on a show when every person in sight would be able to see me going up like a homing beacon.

  “Jesse!” I had an instant of warning before arms were around my neck and I was being hugged whether I liked it or not. With a chuckle, I returned it, then leaned back to look down at the young woman in my arms.

  “Rosaline. How have you been?” Miguel’s wife, widowed so very young. My heart hurt, just thinking about it, but I carefully kept those thoughts off my face. I hadn’t talked to her much, since the fight to retrieve Miguel’s soul, mostly because I was never quite sure what to say to her. Every time I tried, all I could think of was how I’d feel if I lost Mira, and then my throat got all thick and I couldn’t say anything intelligent. Best to not subject her to my inane babbling.

  “I have been well.” She grinned as she stepped back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked just like she had on the day she wed, dark eyes aglow with an inner joy that had always been echoed in Miguel’s smile. They had been so perfect together. “Mama Carlotta is teaching me to be a midwife.”

  “Oh! That’s…interesting.” I had no idea what to say to that, but a part of me was very glad to know that Rosaline had stayed with Miguel’s family after his death. He would have liked that.

  “It is very good to see you again.” She took one of my hands in both of hers. “Everyone is so happy to have Estéban home again, and honored that all of you have come.”

  “Ah, speaking of everyone…” I turned to make our own small round of introductions. “Sveta, Terrence, this is Rosaline Perez. Midwife in training, apparently.”

  Sveta inclined her head, which was as good as a hallelujah chorus from her, and Terrence made a small bow as he kissed the back of her hand, proving that he could be a charmer when he was so inclined. “Missus.”

  “Mama Carlotta will be along in a moment, but she wanted me to tell you that we have rooms set up for everyone, and there is dinner waiting, because she knew you would all be hungry.”

  “Wouldn’t say no to a small bite, and that’s a fact,” Terrence patted her hand with his gnarled fingers, and Sveta rolled her eyes behind his back. Funny how his mood changed the moment a pretty face was involved. “And might there be a chair for an old man to sit in?”

  “Oh! Of course, this way.” Linking her arm through his, Rosaline led Terrence toward the main house.

  I looked to Sveta. “We just got stuck carrying the bags, didn’t we?”

  “Mhmm.”

  Before we could pick up our gear and follow, the crowd parted like the Red Sea, and the matriarch of the Perez clan appeared, immediately enveloping me in one of those hugs only moms have. “Jesse. It is so very good to see you.”

  Carlotta Perez was a short woman, her head barely coming up to my shoulder, somewhere in her late fifties or early sixties if I had to guess. Her dark hair, cut short but styled in neat curls, was a bit more salt than pepper since the last time I’d see her, but her round face still glowed when she smiled. She still had her apron on, with a fine dusting of flour decorating one cheek, and I wiped it off for her with a chuckle. “Baking?”

  She nodded proudly. “There will be cake!” My stomach growled at that, and she laughed, delighted. “Carlos! Pepito! Tomas! Cárguense las cosas!” At her command, several adolescent boys darted out of the throng to take possession of our crates and luggage, and began the process of hauling everything into the house. Despite her short stature, there was something about Carlotta that made her seem eight feet tall, and even I had to suppress the urge to hop to when she barked.

  “Carlotta, this is Sveta.” It occurred to me, not for the first time, that I had no idea what Sveta’s last name was. Maybe she didn’t have one, like Madonna or Prince. I stepped back so the two women could make their greetings, and Carlotta tilted her head curiously as she looked the young woman over. Sveta just returned the look, and the silence dragged on long enough that I started to get uncomfortable. Had something gone wrong when I wasn’t looking?

  Finally, Carlotta sniffed. “You need feeding up. You’re too skinny.” And then she pulled Sveta into her arms for the same motherly embrace she’d given me. Sveta’s blue eyes went wide, looking at me for help, but after a moment she relaxed and awkwardly returned the hug. Like I said, it was something about Carlotta. What coul
d you do?

  Estéban, suddenly appearing at my shoulder, gave me a shrug. His cheeks were marred with lipstick from half a dozen kiss marks, and he scrubbed at his face self-consciously with the back of his hand. “Everyone is very happy to see me.”

  “I can tell.” The crowd was breaking up, hastened on in no small part by the shooing motions Carlotta was making in their general direction.

  She nodded her satisfaction as the family slowly dispersed, then turned her gaze back on the three of us. “Come. You will have dinner, and then you will sleep. We have tomorrow for catching up.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Sí, Mamá.” The kid and I exchanged sheepish chuckles at our automatic responses, and Sveta just shook her head at us, falling into step behind Carlotta as she led us into the main house.

  The Perez kitchen was enormous. It had to be, to feed so many people at a time. Four ovens, three stoves, a sprawling kitchen island with a butcher block top where they could roll out loaf after loaf of handmade bread or piles and piles of tortillas. Ropes of onions and dried peppers hung from the rafters of the high ceiling, and there was a large pot of something bubbling on the farthest stove.

  The smells alone were enough to have me drooling on myself, and I was a bit envious of Terrence who was already seated at the large table with a bowl of something soup-like in front of him. Rosaline sat next to him, giggling at something he was telling her.

  “Sit, sit. I will bring dinner.” We found ourselves mom-bullied onto the bench seats at the table, and food appeared as if by magic, everything from soup to tortillas to something with a ton of seafood in it. “Simple food tonight, I am afraid, but for the fiesta, I will be making chilorio.”

  Oh God. I’d had her chilorio at Miguel and Rosaline’s wedding, and I’d almost moved to Mexico after that. It was a local specialty, mostly resembling the barbecue pulled pork from back home, but then they fried up the meat in this chili sauce that was…I just…no words. “If I wasn’t married, Carlotta…”

  She laughed and patted me on the head. “Eat.” And we did. I personally ate until I was hurting, and even then that last bite of homemade tortilla made me consider whether or not I was really done.

  “That was spectacular, missus.” Even Terrence seemed happily content, which I counted as a small miracle. “Much thanks.” He spoiled the moment with a thick belch, but no one but me seemed to care.

  “Now. Señor Smythe, you will be sleeping in the room at the very end of the hall. Estéban can show you the way. Jesse, I have put a cot in the boys’ room for you. Señorita, there is an empty bed in the girls’ room that you can use, but you should know that little Elena tends to have nightmares, so she may wake you.”

  Sveta frowned faintly at that thought. “It would be better if I slept elsewhere, then.” I tended to agree with her. That was just going to end all kinds of bad. “Could I not also have a cot in the boys’ room?”

  Estéban choked on a shrimp, and I pounded him on the back until his face turned back to its normal color. “I…the boys’ room is very small and crowded.” And the last thing we needed was an armed woman sleeping in the midst of all the budding male hormones, dressed only in her panties.

  “Do not worry for me, then. I will find somewhere.” It was Carlotta’s turn to frown at that, but Sveta pretended that she didn’t see it. Easier that way, I’m sure.

  The room at the end of the hall, where Terrence would sleep, turned out to be Carlotta’s own room, though she would never have admitted it. Rosaline quietly confided to me that Carlotta would be sharing a room with her instead for the duration of our visit. I was pretty sure Terrence would be offended to know that he’d ousted our host from her own bed, but I said nothing. Wasn’t my battle to fight.

  The boys’ room, as promised, was not small so much as it was occupied by six Perez males. Esteban’s bunk – yes, there were bunk beds, lord help me – had been left empty for his return, and the other five beds were home to two of his younger brothers and three cousins of varying ages, all somewhere between ten and fifteen years old. It was eerie, watching five almost identical sets of dark eyes peering at me as I tried to get settled on my assigned cot.

  Sveta herself prowled the room for a moment, examining the windows, peering at the scenery outside. Finally, she nodded. “It should be secure.”

  “Hey.” I stopped her as she started to leave. “Where are you going to sleep?”

  She smirked. “Do not worry. I am a big girl.” She flipped the light switch as she disappeared out the door, dropping us into darkness.

  Once my body was actually horizontal, the long hours of the day caught up to me, and I almost groaned as the aches and pains all materialized at once. Sleeping on a cot possibly left over since World War I was not going to be pleasant. “I’m too old for this,” I muttered, but apparently not quietly enough, because I was answered by snickers from the bunk beds.

  “Shh.” That was Estéban. “Silencio. Ya váyanse a dormir.” My mental translation was laborious at best, but I got the general gist of “Shut up and go to sleep already.” It had the exact opposite effect, as a chorus of indignant protests broke out, and one pillow flew through the darkness to pelt him in the head. “Ay! Quieren que le vaya a decir a Mamá?” Even I understood the threat to go tell mom, and the peanut gallery lapsed into silence.

  The peace lasted approximately thirty seconds, before one brave voice carried out of the darkness. “Señor Dawson?” One of the younger boys, I thought.

  “Hm?”

  “The lady with you. She fights the demons too?”

  “She does. She’s very, very good.”

  Estéban snorted softly from atop his upper bunk. “And she sleeps with a gun, so do not try to surprise her. Ever.”

  The boys murmured amongst themselves at that, though the Spanish was muffled enough to be lost on me. I knew they’d come to some kind of consensus about what question to ask, though, when they switched back to English.

  “You fought the demon that killed Miguel.” That from Estéban’s younger brother, I thought… Javier, maybe? There were so many of them, I mostly called them “Thing 1” and “Thing 2” in my head.

  “I did. Estéban and I killed it together.”

  “He killed it. I just distracted it by letting it chew on my arm.” The kid’s arm had healed well, really, for as bad as the break had been. But he didn’t give himself enough credit. I’d been injured already, gimping along, and without Estéban, that demon – a hellhound the size of a small horse – would have eaten me alive.

  “You have killed many demons, yes?”

  With a sigh, I leaned up on my elbows to find a host of dark eyes gleaming at me expectantly. “Boys, I will be happy to tell you stories all you want while I’m here, but right now, I’m jet-lagged and stuffed full of your mother’s truly amazing food. Let me sleep tonight, and tomorrow night, we’ll stay up ’til all hours and talk about whatever you want. Deal?”

  There was a disappointed chorus of agreement, but they settled down, and I rested my head back down on the extraordinarily flat pillow. Estéban watched me from his high vantage point, and when I caught his eye, he smiled a little before rolling over to his own rest. He wasn’t a champion to them yet, I realized. To them, he was still just big brother, or cousin. He was the same kid who had wrestled with all of them in the dirt, played pranks, went fishing or surfing or whatever they did for fun.

  Carlotta had mentioned a fiesta before, and I knew that was a simple word for something that was going to be much more complex. A party, yes, for the returning Perez family member, but also a time to finally lay Miguel to rest, and to officially install Estéban as the family champion. Jesus, he was only eighteen. So young. So freakin’ young.

  Despite my overwhelming exhaustion, I lay awake for a long time, listening to the kids snore. It reminded me of Annabelle a little, and it made missing my girls a little easier to bear.

  Chapter 6

  Morning in a household the size of t
his one is always inhumanly early, and never quiet. I awakened to the sounds of a herd of elephants stampeding down the hallway, and it took me a few minutes to realize it was actually just a group of teenage boys, trying to be the first to breakfast. Once the intoxicating aromas from the kitchen wafted far enough to hit my cot, I was up and right behind them.

  The kids jostled and jabbed at each other, elbows flying and forks clashing over eggs and chilis, beans, tortillas. I admit it, I was right there in the midst of them. I had a brother, I knew the drill, and it was amusing to see the same antics with these kids that Cole and I had always engaged in. Some things are universal, and a teenage boy’s appetite is one of them.

  As we playfully bickered and stole tidbits off each other’s plates, I noted that Estéban held himself apart, helping his mother bring more platters of food to the table rather than engage in the silliness. When he caught me looking, I raised a brow at him, and he just shrugged, finding something else to look at. I got it, though. He had to prove them that he wasn’t just one of the kids anymore, and acting like a responsible adult was his first step. It didn’t sit easily on his lanky shoulders, and I could see a hint of wistfulness in his eyes as he watched Thing 1 ‘accidentally’ slosh a full glass of water into Thing 2’s lap.

  The brawl that could have ensued was quickly quashed by Carlotta’s fierce glare, and in no time at all the boys had eaten and scattered, leaving the place looking like a horde of locusts had passed through.

  Once my competition was gone, I helped myself to a second plate full, and ate at my leisure. The kid – Estéban, I really had to quit calling him ‘kid’ – sat across from me, and we were soon joined by Sveta who appeared from outside looking fresh as a morning daisy. “And where have you been?”

  “Sleeping.” She gave me a smirk and slid in beside Estéban, nodding to Carlotta as she was handed a plate. “Thank you.”