by Holley Trent
Sheesh.
“So … now what? I guess I didn’t really plan this through. I didn’t expect you guys to go into full-on exorcist mode. Now we have to explain to my aunt when she gets home why her husband of nearly a decade isn’t coming back and why this place looks like Hurricane Hugo blew through.”
“Amongst other things.” Tarik squinted at the edge of his sword and passed a coat sleeve over what was probably a bloodstain.
December swatted a hand through her hair again. The tactile stimulation was soothing in a small way. “Maybe we should make a list or something. We’re bound to leave some things off.”
“As you wish.”
Tito pulled December into his arms and just held her tightly, and hard. The chill she’d had since stepping into the house finally started to break up, and with it, more of the fears she’d been carrying around with her for too long.
“She’s all right, ain’t she?” he asked. “That’s the ma you remembered?”
She sniffled against his chest, took a deep, calming breath, and nodded. “Yeah. No one else would be telling me to go get a sandwich at a time like this.”
“Good. I’m happy for you, Dee. You know we gotta get out of here, right? Before Nec knows we were here.”
She pushed back from his chest and glowered up at him. “My aunt and father should be home soon. Aren’t they going to be disoriented? We can’t just leave them here.”
He shrugged. “I never said we had to. It’d be safer for them if we didn’t.”
chapter EIGHTEEN
Tito tucked December’s head under his chin and peered at her mother over the top of her head.
Mrs. Farmer was giving December a narrow-eyed look through her bifocals and blocking the opening of the front door.
They didn’t need the door to leave, but apparently Mrs. Farmer hadn’t quite memorized all the nuances of travel via angel teleportation.
“Mama, we have to go. Tito has to go to work, and we’ve got to figure out where his cousin is.”
“Nuh-uh, I’m not leaving. We got a business to run. Not letting anybody run me out of my house. I feel like I haven’t been home for ten years.”
December cringed.
“Besides, I thought you said this guy was gonna take care of him.” Mrs. Farmer canted her head toward Tarik, who was having a staring contest with a shell-shocked Mr. Farmer. The guy hadn’t said a word in the hour since he’d arrived home from work. Like his wife, he probably felt like he’d just gotten home from a long vacation away from his brain.
December cleared her throat. “Uh, no. Tarik is going to take us back to New Mexico.”
“Not leavin’.” Mrs. Farmer shook her head hard, and looked to Tito as if for help convincing them.
He didn’t have any soft words to give them, so he figured unvarnished truth would have to do. “Just so you understand, Necalli has murderous intents and he’s a master of disguise.”
Mrs. Farmer waved a dismissive hand at him. “What’s he gonna do with me? I ain’t worth nothing as a sacrifice. I’ve been horrible to my daughters for the past decade, and the Bible says that’s a damnable offense.”
Tito wasn’t so sure about that, but he wasn’t going to argue. She was probably right that she didn’t make an ideal sacrifice. She wasn’t a warrior, she wasn’t a child, definitely not an innocent, and she obviously wasn’t a virgin.
He sighed. “That don’t mean Nec won’t bother you.”
December tugged on his sleeve. “We could send Tarik back with a friend or two to keep an eye on things here.”
“Oh no.” Mrs. Farmer made an X with her arms. “We can’t have him and his friends walking around the neighborhood. Someone’ll probably try to shoot him through their living room windows or something.”
“They could certainly try, though they won’t succeed,” Tarik said in an ominous undertone.
Tito cut him quelling a look. “They can be discreet when they want to be.”
He was trying to be helpful, but every time he spoke, the Farmers looked even less convinced that they hadn’t gone to bed and woken up in hell.
“What am I supposed to tell folks?” December’s Aunt Dottie asked in a shriek. “What am I supposed to say about my husband up and vanishing?”
Dottie didn’t seem too broken up over her husband’s smiting. Instead, she seemed pissed that she got bamboozled. If Tarik hadn’t wiped the guy off the face of the planet, she probably would have tried to do the job herself.
“Tell whoever asks that he went out for cigarettes and didn’t come back,” Tarik said flatly.
“What’ll folks think about me for him leaving?”
“Why do you care?”
“Easy for you to be aloof. You’re a giant who can do frightening magic tricks. I’m a middle-aged appliance store clerk who brought a demon home for supper and then couldn’t get him to leave.”
“You’re an attractive woman. You’ll find another lover.”
“Oh?” Smiling like the coquette she must have been pre-demon, Dottie grabbed the end of one of her dark curls and twirled it. “Think so?”
“Dottie, please,” Mrs. Farmer scolded. “You’re worried about your cold bed, and I’m worried about my daughters. For God’s sake, we chased them out of here like … ” Her cheek twitched in that way that was becoming so familiar to Tito.
“Mama, you’re not gonna throw up again, are you?” December asked.
“No. I’ve got something in my eye, is all. It’s making my face doing weird things.”
“Weird crying things?”
It twitched again.
“Mama, we’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Yes,” Tito said. “We’re going to try to resolve this as soon as we’re able to. Just stay close to home if you can, and don’t let anyone trick you into thinking they’re December.”
“How will we know when everything’s okay?”
“I’m sure one of the angels will tell you,” December said. “If it’s been a few days and there hasn’t been any news, you can assume anyone you see who looks like me or Alicia probably isn’t us.”
“Does Alicia know all this stuff?”
“Not yet. I mean, I really haven’t had a chance to talk to her, you know? Maybe I’ll get lucky and won’t have to explain anything until after everything has blown over.”
“No one’s that lucky,” Tito said.
“So you’re not gonna bring Cruz ’til then?” Mrs. Farmer asked, but then she waved off the question. “Never mind. I guess if she’s really got a goddess for a grandma, she’s not gonna leave her side. Deus, how can I compete with that, after everything that’s happened?”
“You don’t try,” Tito said. “She’s just like anyone else, capable of making mistakes and holding grudges, but if she cares about you, you know. Might just take some time for you to figure it out.” Tito had learned that lesson the hard way.
Sighing, Mrs. Farmer moved out of the doorframe and held her arms open for December.
December stepped into her embrace, and let the older woman rock her for a few seconds.
“So much to catch up on. You gotta go already?”
“Yeah,” December said. “Can’t be everywhere at once.”
“Text me when you get there. Say something only you’d know so I know it’s you.”
“Okay.”
Mrs. Farmer was about to pull her in again, but Tarik strode across the room, put a hand on the shoulder of each of Tito and December, and whisked them away.
They landed in Ma’s salon.
Ma wasn’t there, but Uncle Shadow was.
“She’s not here,” he said. “Don’t know where she is. I’ve been here for three, maybe four hours.”
“Why?” Tarik’s tone was a little darker than usual, which was really saying something. The guy always sounded like he was narrating a haunted house documentary.
“Because I need to see her one more time.”
“One more time before what?” Tito asked.
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The Shadow set down the little rag doll Ma must have gotten for Cruz. The doll’s hair was done in a braid and she was wearing a huipil, a shawl, and huaraches. A pretty little Nahua peasant.
“I did not tell Hannah the truth. I am sorry. I do not mean to mislead. I simply needed time to order my affairs.”
“You’re being evasive. I don’t fuckin’ like that,” Tito said. “When gods are evasive, people get hurt.”
“That has been my failure all this time, has it not? That I let people get hurt when I could have stopped them? I did not have the constitution to do what needed to be done.”
“Please stop talking in riddles.”
“You, Yaotl … ” The Shadow planted his hands on Tito’s shoulders and squeezed, staring him in the eyes with so much concern. “You are too much like me, too tender, but you have time to be different. Be more like your mother. Do what has to be done. Be selfish sometimes if you have to, and don’t let envy cloud your judgment. There is nothing worth your envy. You have everything.”
“I don’t understand what you’re telling me.”
“You will.” The Shadow vanished, and the house went eerily silent.
Except for Tito’s labored breathing and the sound of Tarik’s heavy weight being shifted from one floorboard to another, all noise seemed to dissipate.
But that couldn’t have been the case because there was always noise. Ma’s house was old and continuously made old-house noises, and there were always birds outside chirping and cars passing in the street.
The house wasn’t getting quieter. Tito had simply tuned everything out. There was some magic that had changed his sight, and he wasn’t in the salon, but in a vision, and there was Ma with Cruz.
They were at the Double B.
He didn’t have to run outside to the desert and shout her name. He could just find her, but no one else could find her there, except by accident. The magic was too thick at the ranch.
“Ma’s at the ranch,” Tito said. “Most of the Foyes are there—the Cougars, anyway. I can’t tell with the rest. They’re not mine.”
He let go of the vision. He didn’t know how he’d triggered it, but he didn’t need it anymore.
“What did he mean?” December asked. “Those things he was saying?”
“Wasn’t that obvious?” Tarik asked.
“No,” December said. “Not even the slightest bit.”
He turned his hands over. “Perhaps I have seen too much in my years, but I would wager he is going to handle the problem of Necalli and Los Impostores in a manner of which no honor will be bestowed.”
“What are you saying?” December asked.
Fuck.
Tito pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and rubbed. His uncle’s solution was a reasonable one, but it wasn’t a good one. “He’s gonna poison the well.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He’s not going to let Los Impostores stand any longer. They had their chance to be what he wanted, but they never submitted. He’ll ensure they die with no honor so they spend eternity in darkness. He’ll make sure Nec doesn’t nourish the gods with any blood sacrifices, including Nec himself. He won’t give Nec a fight where he’ll have a chance to have a warrior’s death. He’ll probably try to do to Nec what Nec did to my calpulli. The Shadow is the pestilence that can wipe out an entire crop of corn or brood of chickens. He culls the weak so what’s left behind can thrive. Nec will die horribly and with no blood spilled. He’s coming out of hiding to make a stand, and maybe he won’t survive it.”
“You’re not going to let him do that, are you? Things don’t have to end like this, not at the expense of his life.”
Tito stuffed his hands into his pockets.
Uncle had said to be selfish, and Tito kept repeating that in his head, again and again.
He’d suffered too long, and apparently he was taking too long to acquiesce, because December cursed him, stormed over to Tarik, and yanked on his collar. “Where is he? I know you know. Let me talk to him. Take me to where he is.”
“I don’t know where he is, December. There are few beings I intrinsically know the precise location of at any given time. Gods are slippery beings and we’re not meant to know their whereabouts.”
“Dammit.” She curled her fingers into her hair, tugged, and on yet another muttered oath, ran from the salon and out the front door.
“Dee, where are you going?”
She couldn’t really run from him. She had to know that.
She got into her car, jammed the key into the ignition, and then pulled on her seatbelt. “I’m going to stop him.”
“That’s not your choice. If he wants to do this, that’s not your concern. He’s doing it to keep people—to keep you and Cruz—safe.”
“Then like hell it isn’t my concern. Ugh, I can’t believe you! Maybe he was wrong that you’re like him. You’re not as tender as him, or you wouldn’t let him do this.”
“He’s part of the reason my wife and son died—because he did nothing to stop Necalli before then.”
“And I guarantee you he’s been punishing himself ever since, and probably for every misdeed Los Impostores have done. You know how scary the idea of not existing is? That’s what he’s been coming to terms with—not existing anymore. If you can’t understand what kind of decision that is, then maybe I don’t understand you, either. Get away from my door.”
“Dee—”
“Move, I mean it.”
He backed away, because she’d never used that tone on him before. She’d never looked at him with such disgust, and maybe he deserved it.
Her tires squealed as she took off up the block.
Tarik joined Tito in the street, offering no solace, but then again, Tarik had never been that kind of angel. He was a gatekeeper—a being who could travel between realms. He didn’t give a shit about people.
“I don’t know how to be this, man,” Tito said through a growl. “I can’t do a goddamned thing without making someone miserable. What the hell am I supposed to do, huh?”
“You accept that you will disappoint people.”
Tito scoffed. “Just that fucking simple, huh?”
“I never said navigating this realm in any form was simple. You either learn to accept what you are, or you destroy yourself. At various points, we all ponder the end and whether we should embrace it.”
“Including you?”
“If any fallen one suggests otherwise, you may safely assume they are lying. If your life were easy—if you didn’t have hard choices to make—you couldn’t possibly be good. I always thought you wanted to be good.”
“Of course I do.”
“The struggle comes with good. Endure.”
Endure.
Of course he would. He had a little girl he still needed to get to know, but there were still so many obstacles between him and “good.” He had magic now, but he didn’t have a plan.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Why seek counsel from me and not from your mate? She is the one equipped to give it to you.”
Tito’s expression must have been extraordinarily telling, because Tarik chuckled and, before vanishing—likely to the Farmers’—said, “Don’t let her age blind you to her intelligence.”
“I don’t.”
“Are you sure?”
Tito didn’t bother answering. He hadn’t been sure, but he would try to remember. He didn’t need any more reasons to offend her.
He looked at his watch, counted the number of hours he had before needing to clock in at work, and then took off running.
He could run faster than she was driving. The hard part would be getting her to let him into the damn car.
chapter NINETEEN
December yelped at the heavy thud on the trunk of her car and made the vehicle bounce extra-hard as she hit a pockmark on one of Maria’s ill-maintained roads.
She slammed on her brakes as something—someone—scrambled atop the roof and then leapt
down onto the hood.
The adrenaline rush she’d been flying on since driving away from Lola’s house crashed as Tito jumped off the car and moved quickly to the passenger door.
He pulled the handle, but she’d had the good sense to lock the doors before she’d started careening around corners in search of depraved shapeshifters and the god who was searching for them.
Tito bent down and, staring through the window, mouthed, “Unlock the door.”
She let the window down a crack. “Get out of the way. You’re making me lose time.”
“I’ll help you.”
“You don’t even know what I’m doing.”
“Tell me. I’ll help. In case you’ve forgotten, I have certain abilities.”
“Yes, a certain ability to forget about people who are supposed to matter.”
“Dee, come on. We can argue later. You want to tell me off for thinking too slow and letting seven hundred or so years of my history upset my conscience? That’s fine. The needle of your moral compass is probably pointed a lot truer than mine. I can admit that I need that from you.”
“Really?”
“Open the door, please. Let me help. After all, the mess is mine and Ma’s, not yours.”
“You weren’t going to fix it right.”
“You’re right. I wasn’t.”
“So you know.”
“I told you I ain’t perfect, cōcohtōn. I’m trying to be better for you, though. Maybe sometimes, you can tell me how?”
“I don’t know how, Tito. I just do what feels right.” She unlocked the door.
He settled into the passenger seat, and waited for him to put his seatbelt on. He probably didn’t need to wear one, but he still needed to set a good example for Cruz. Tiny goddess or not, she could be pitched through a windshield in a collision just as easily as anyone else.
“So, what’s your plan?” Tito asked.
December put the car in gear and resumed her former drive around the grid that comprised downtown Maria. “Well, logic says The Shadow isn’t going to go after his son first thing. He’s going to start plucking off the easy pickings first.”
“What makes you think that?”
