by Diane Capri
“Pablo was my only son,” Juan Suarez said.
The profound sadness in his eyes softened Maria’s angry thought about how many Guzmans the Suarezes had killed. She looked again at the family photo. The mother’s eyes were sad. The father looked like a man used to throwing his weight around, just what she’d expect from the Suarez syndicate leader. The little girl—
Maria saw it.
Something she hadn’t noticed before. And the sight filled her with joy. At the left side of the patio chair a large black Labrador looked up at the little girl.
“Rosie!”
“Of everyone in the picture, you remember Rosinante?” Suarez said
“Rosi…nante?” It didn’t take long for Maria’s smile to fade. A sickening dread hollowed her stomach and crept up her throat.
“So you do remember.”
She gripped the edge of the table, unable to speak the word that kept repeating in her mind: NO! no, no, no...She was plummeting, spinning into a vortex of emotions, memories, impossibilities as she pieced it all together.
“Soy tu abuelo, mi querida,” Suarez’s eyes were bright with intensity, his hand quivering so violently the cane tapped the floor in an eerie ostinato.
“My…my grandfather?”
“Your true name is Maria de Los Angeles Hernandez Perez de Suarez.”
“De Suarez?” The name caught like grains of sand in her throat. “It can’t be. I am Maria Guzman! I know who my father was, my mother, even my brother Carlito!”
The old man sighed. “And yet, you remember the house in the picture and the dog I gave your father when he was a young man, do you not?”
She nodded. That was the only thing keeping her from storming out of the library, cursing this old man.
“I am sure you’ll remember your Papi putting you on Rosie’s back and riding her like Don Quixote’s faithful steed.”
It was true. She remembered it all—the house, Mama’s sweet-smelling hair, Papi’s strong hands that threw her into the air and never failed to catch her.
“It’s so hard to believe. How?”
“Your mother and father...” Her grandfather’s voice faltered. “They were killed in cold blood, a hit by the Guzman family. But the killers didn’t know there was a two-year-old child in the house. They took you back to the Guzman’s and raised you as their own.”
“No…”
“They are not your true family, Maria. They executed your parents and burned down the house. Pablo and Antonia were illegal immigrants—they had no birth certificate for you, and no one outside of the Suarez family knew of you. And what with the nature of our business, no one ever told the authorities anything about the missing baby.”
“Stop it! I don’t want to hear any more.”
“Don’t you see? Alfonso told Carlito he knew the secret and threatened to tell you. For that, Carlito had him killed. The Guzmans are evil, Maria. Lito is evil.”
At last Maria understood why Lito had always been so controlling. To him she was a child of the enemy, unworthy of the Guzmans’ love and respect. Everything kind he’d done for her—every expression of love from him and the pretenders that styled themselves her parents—had been a lie.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said, her voice dropping to a dreadful whisper. The warmth of the old man’s leathery hand comforted her as it wrapped around hers.
“The time has come for you to return to your true family.”
“But...they all know me as Maria Guzman.”
“Don’t worry about that. Only one thing matters right now.”
With the back of her hand Maria wiped furious tears from her eyes.
“After more than twenty years, your time is finally at hand.”
“My time?” Maria hugged her arms as a chill from the air conditioning blew over her.
“To avenge your parents’ death.”
#
Ten minutes later, Maria was on her way to meet with her cousin Joey Hernandez. Lito was not her brother, after all, never had been.
He would pay for his sins and those of his father. And if heaven denied entry to those who honored their parents by avenging them, so be it. Her eyes were open now. After the initial shock, she could see more clearly than ever before in her life.
What she did not see was the old man walking briskly back to the silver Lexus parked in a secluded alley, reaching through the glass window to touch the head of a dead man whose likeness he had stolen, and transforming into the white mist of a demon named Morloch just before he vanished.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
NICK STOOD AT THE HOTEL ROOM BALCONY, feeling wonderfully refreshed. For the first time in more than a century, he’d enjoyed a solid stint of slumber. After a satisfying stretch, he watched the gray marine layer slowly burn off, yielding a blue sky. Pelicans flying in a perfectly formed squadron swooped down to hover over the water.
He was more than ready to leave the past behind and start enjoying his freedom from cosmic burdens. First he had to square things with Lena—resign officially as an angel so she’d know his decision was final.
But something had been profoundly wrong with her the last time they spoke. Her focus and priorities seemed uncharacteristically jumbled. And there was that look in her eyes...
Those eyes. Staring through him as though he weren’t even there.
Where had he seen that look before?
Finally it struck him.
Lena’s eyes looked exactly like Sophia’s when she returned to get Chloe.
Possessed.
Could Lena possibly be—
Nonsense. Lena was an angel just like him. Only humans could be possessed. No matter, all of that would soon be behind him.
A whole new life awaited him. Tonight, he’d propose to Hope. He intended to make the most of his time with her, even if it lasted a mere fifty or sixty more human years.
She was worth it.
In his periphery of his eye, a pelican high in the air turned nose-down like a dive bomber and drove into the water with a powerful splash. A moment later it emerged and flew off with a fish in its mouth.
You make falling from heaven look like so much fun, my fine-feathered friend.
Nick took a deep breath, then dialed Lena.
The call rolled over to voicemail.
He tried again. Same result.
He sent her a text: It’ll only take a minute.
Lena called.
“Thanks for getting back to me.”
“I was going to call you anyway.” Her voice sounded uncharacteristically cold. “Turns out you really missed the mark on those assignments I gave you.”
“I thought you said they didn’t matter.”
Lena clicked her tongue. “Everything matters.”
“Well, it no longer matters to me. You see—”
“Nick, shut up for a second, okay? I’m in the middle of a meeting. Now, before you waste any more of my time, let me make it easy for us both.”
“What are you on about?”
“I’m sorry, Nick.” She paused for a second or two. “You’re fired.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
FIRED? NICK LET OUT A SHAKY LAUGH as he pocketed the mobile phone. Well, that went better than expected, didn’t it? Perhaps word had gotten back to Tamara that he’d already taken steps towards resigning his commission with the Angel Forces. He’d never gotten details as to what such a decision involved, but if this was all there was to it, who was he to argue?
But still…could it be that easy?
To test the extent of his mortality at the moment, he focused on the rocky cliff about half a mile away across the cove. A moment later, he found himself drifting toward it in the spiritual layer. But the spirit realm felt oddly foreign, almost as strange as the physical realm had early in his career when he first reported for terrestrial duty.
He sped over to the cliff, surprised he could still fly. As his feet touched the ground, sea birds spread out—giving him a wide berth though his physically imperce
ptible form cast no shadow.
“Sorry, mates,” Nick said with a grin as they flew off. “Just checking.”
Yet again, a sharp pain pierced the side of his head. He put a hand to his temple and it stopped just as quickly as it had come. He shook his head and sighed. This could well be the last day he lived as an angel. At some point he had to warn Lito Guzman about the danger he was still in, thanks to Lena, and he wanted to check on young Matthew Hartwell, but neither of those tasks really required supernatural ability.
So what’s the last thing you’ll do with your powers? Through the ages, he’d never been afforded the luxury of personal needs or preferences. Not legitimately, anyway. But now, as a fallen angel—falling, anyway–he’d soon no longer have to worry about things of eternal consequence, just things that mattered to him personally.
For some reason he recalled hovering above the planet in the spirit realm while Hope gazed down wistfully at China, her fingers searching her neck.
“Brilliant,” if he did say so himself. What better way to kick off his new life as a mortal? He was already planning to propose. He’d have to get a ring, of course, but he now realized how much that pendant meant to her.
He pulled out his phone and checked the time: 3:22 PM. He could go to the harbor where it had been lost, retrieve it, and return to meet Hope at Cabrillo Stadium. After Jon’s much anticipated statement and her testimony, he’d ask for her hand.
Nick focused on the Coronado Bridge.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Another power lost, whether temporarily or permanently he couldn’t be sure.
He decided on flying between the realms at superhuman speeds—not a split- second trip but less than a minute for sure.
Aiming himself at the sky and over the Pacific Ocean, he leaped off the rocky cliff.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
HE WAS ROCKETING THROUGH THE AIR when he again thought about Lito Guzman and Matthew Hartwell. A moment later, Nick to his surprise had teleported to the lobby of the Wyndham Hotel in Mission Valley, where he found Matthew playing some kind of game on an iPhone.
“Hello, Matthew.”
“Hey.” The boy didn’t even look up.
“Where are your parents?”
“Over there.” Eyes still glued to the iPhone, he pointed toward the front desk. Elaine was in line, waiting to talk to one of the staff.
He turned back to Matthew.
“We met when your puppy—”
At that, Matthew stopped what he was doing and glanced up.
“Nick?” Forgotten was the iPhone. “It’s you!”
“In the flesh. Mind if I join you?”
Matthew slid over and made room, though there was more than enough on either side of him.
“How are you doing, kiddo?”
“Okay, I guess. You live in San Diego?”
“Just passing through, but I’m coming with a friend to your father’s event tonight.” He grinned. “So how’s Riley?”
“She’s staying with Mr. Greene while we’re down here. I wanted to bring her with us, but Mom said no.”
“Are your parents doing okay?” He wouldn’t even hint at the recent media scandal—even the worst parents would have at least tried to shield their child from it.
“Dad’s been away, so at least they’re not fighting all the time.”
Over at the front desk, Elaine Hartwell gesticulated emphatically at the young man in a hotel uniform. The fact that she was here in San Diego suggested that she and Jon might actually be trying to mend things, if only for the sake of his public image.
“Well, Matthew,” Nick said, “don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, probably not—but I just wanted to say I know a great kid when I come across one. You’re strong, you’re smart, and I know you can get through just about anything.”
Matthew was quiet for at least a minute.
“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I guess so.”
“You know, when I was younger I had some pretty horrid stuff happen to me. But I learned that if you follow your heart...” He thought about how hollow this sounded. Nick had followed his heart back in London, and look where it got him. “Actually, what I’m trying to say is…oh, bother, what am I trying to say?”
Matthew laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Grownups always act like they know what they’re talking about even if they don’t. You don’t know what you’re saying, and you know it!”
Nick put on an offended face, crossed his arms, and turned up his nose.
“I do know what I’m talking about.” He winked. “I think.”
Matthew laughed some more. If Nick had accomplished nothing else, at least—
From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a tall figure in a long black leather coat scanning the lobby.
Johann.
The big bad angel had come looking for him. Nick glanced around for the nearest exit—couldn’t teleport and just vanish before Matthew’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, I just remembered something I have to do,” he said, his back to Johann. “I’ll be off now.”
“You look nervous.”
“I look nothing of the sort.” He patted Matthew on the head. “Listen, after I leave, you go and stand with your mum, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Goodbye, Matthew.”
“Later.”
Nick got up and slipped away, eyeing exits that led to the courtyard. He looked back at the spot where Johann was standing.
But he was no longer there.
He turned back and bumped into an elderly woman who grabbed his arm to keep from falling.
“Terribly sorry, ma’am.” He steadied her, but they’d drawn the attention of a tall woman standing at the nearest courtyard exit door. She started toward them.
Right away, Nick recognized her.
She was a member of the quartet that had met with Lena last night—Leatherchick, who’d launched the gangster through the air with a light shove. She pressed a tiny receiver into her ear and spoke. Nick read her lips as easily as the morning paper.
Found him.
The last thing he wanted was to deal with Lena. She’d fired him, what else was there to discuss? And why send all this muscle after him?
Leatherchick was headed straight at him, her face exuding all the congeniality of granite.
Nick did a brisk one-eighty.
But somehow Johann had managed to get through the crowd without knocking anyone down. Just a few steps away, he called out.
“Nikolai!”
No way. Caught between these two? Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? With all eyes on Johann now, Nick could escape without anyone noticing. If his teleportation abilities didn’t fail.
He set his mind on the Coronado Bridge. When nothing happened, he focused harder.
Leatherchick pushed past two heavy men as if they were tall blades of grass.
A group of Japanese teens rushed up to Johann, shouting “Samuel L. Jackson! Samuel L. Jackson!” and thrusting souvenirs at him to autograph.
By now, Nick should be somewhere around the bay. Nothing. Come on! He focused on the walkway outside the hotel.
Still nothing.
Leatherchick was just a few steps away.
Johann broke free from his fans.
Was the ability to teleport hindered by the stress, or had Nick lost it altogether?
Without a moment to spare, Nick rushed into a throng of Japanese youths. Almost instantly he reemerged as a bespectacled Asian kid with an ebony mop that fell over his eyes. Leatherchick was talking to Johann.
“Did she send you?” he watched her say.
“No. You?”
She shook her head. “I followed him. What are you—”
“Same team, Serena. Same objective.”
Nick headed for the revolving doors. He would have liked to hear the rest, but in his uncertain state he didn�
�t know how long he could maintain this construct. He also didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to teleport. Assuming he could still do it at all.
Better check in on Lito Guzman.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
HE EXPECTED THE SUCCESSFUL TELEPORTION to land him in a drug lord’s lair, not a large suburban house with piles of boxes, “moving sale” signs against the walls, and no furniture but a chair and card table.
Nick stood outside the room where Lito sat speaking into his cell phone. Though he’d listened in on humans for countless years, for some reason he’d never felt it was eavesdropping.
Until now.
“You’re not hearing me, Eduardo,” Lito said. “I don’t care if the Hernandezes go over to the Suarezes, I’m done...Then that’ll just have to be on their heads on judgment day, nothing to do with me...I said no....You can do whatever you want with all the assets after I take my share...”
He laughed. “Maybe I have gone loco. But for the first time in my life, I’m a hundred percent sure of what I’m doing. With all due respect to Papi I have to do what’s right, you know? That doesn’t include selling women and children….Of course they’ll come after me, they already have. But guess what? I have God on my side...I just know, okay?
“Yes, my old friend. I’m saying goodbye to Maria tonight before I leave for London. Can you believe she asked me to come to the Cabrillo event with her? Guess she’s gotten religious too.”
He was quiet for a few minutes, shaking his head but listening patiently.
“I’ll tell her everything, just pray she’ll believe me. And forgive me. I’ll try and convince her to come with me, if she won’t I’ll just leave.” He passed a hand over his face, weary and seamed with regret. “If she refuses to leave with me, promise you’ll look out for her, okay? Be especially careful about Joey...Yeah, he’s the worst of them...Yeah...Sure...All right, then.” He drew a lugubrious breath. “And Eduardo...Thank you, for everything.”
The next thing Nick heard was a gun being cocked.
“You! Come out here with your hands where I can see them!” Lito’s chair fell as he stood, gun pointed.
Nick emerged from the shadows, his hands up.
