Rescue From Planet Pleasure

by Mario Acevedo

  I raised my hand to stop him from continuing. He wasn’t sharing anything we didn’t already know. Jolie and I had already dealt with Phaedra’s renegade vampires and their human minions. “What’s your business here?”

  “Thought it was obvious,” he replied testily. “Beating Phaedra. Keeping the peace.”

  When Gullah had sold me out to the werewolves, and I asked him why, his answer had been: Keeping the peace. Saving my ass. It’s all the same thing.

  “I’ve heard that before.” I gripped the carbine with both hands and raised the barrel. “And you expect me to trust you now?”

  Anger swirled in his aura.

  The two vampire guards by the SUV perked up. Their talons extended and the porch light glinted from their growing fangs.

  Antoine put his hand over the muzzle of my carbine. “Hear us out. We came as friends. Allies.”

  I pulled the carbine free. “How did you find us?”

  Antoine looked past my shoulder to Coyote. “Your mother, La Malinche.”

  Coyote pounded his crutch against the floor. “Doña Marina, to you.”

  “She found us,” Antoine said. “Told us you were here.”

  “So you’re close by?” My gaze tripped from him to Gullah and to their guards. “This is your Blood Force? Just you four?”

  “There are others. You’ve already met one.”

  “The chief at the Border Patrol checkpoint,” Carmen offered.

  “She told us that you had passed through,” Antoine acknowledged. He tossed a nervous glance toward the east. “With the sun coming up, we don’t have time to fill in all the blanks.”

  Carmen stepped from the doublewide and onto the porch. She held the door open. “Then come inside. Hide from the dawn with us.”

  Antoine shook his head. “Other plans need tending to. Gullah and I came here to let you know that we’ve got your back in this fight.”

  I pointed the Marlin at Gullah. “Still not sure I can trust you.”

  He flipped the front of his jacket back to reveal a nickel-plated automatic tucked inside his waistline. “You wanna play games, bring it.”

  Carmen put her hand on my chest and nudged me back. “Save the dick measuring for another time.”

  Antoine and Gullah needed my help against Phaedra, and I needed theirs. I lowered the carbine.

  Gullah draped his jacket over the pistol and smirked. “Let’s put the past aside. We have your back. I have to know that you have ours as well.”

  She said, “We got your back.”

  He glared at me. “I want to hear it from him.”

  “I said it and that’s all you need to hear,” Carmen snapped. “We clear about that?”

  His lips flattened into a tight, angry line, and he answered sarcastically, “Yes, ma’am.” Gullah wasn’t stupid. You don’t fuck with Carmen.

  Anxiety coursed through Antoine’s aura. “Everyone keep a cool head. We’ve got to stay focused on Phaedra.”

  “Where is she?” I asked.

  Antoine shrugged. “Haven’t seen her for several days. We tracked her here, and poof, she disappeared.”

  Carmen said, “That’s because she was attacking us.”

  “Impossible. We would’ve seen her.”

  “I didn’t say here.” She pointed to the sky. “We were on a planet on the far side of the galaxy.”

  Antoine and Gullah followed the direction of her finger to the stars and gaped. Antoine asked, “How did she get there?”

  Coyote step-crutched to the doorway of the doublewide. Flames roiled from his aura. “Que chingados preguntan? She got there the same way she’s coming back. She’s going to pop from place to place like a pinchi genie.”

  Gullah grimaced. “What’s he talking about?”

  Carmen said, “Phaedra has learned how to use psychic portals.”

  Antoine and Gullah blinked and blinked, which only drew attention to the blossoming comprehension in their eyes. Finally Gullah said, “We know about psychic portals. Which explains a lot about why Cress Tech is here.”

  “So they’re a wild card in this fight?”

  Which was bad news. They had plenty of guns and equipment. Armed Humvees. Helicopters. And I was sure heavy ordnance on call from the military.

  “They know about Phaedra?” Carmen asked.

  He shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “But they will.”

  “Probably,” Antoine continued, “but by then, it won’t make a difference. Remember, our government had cut deals with the aliens before so expecting our elected leaders to watch out for the common good is ridiculous. I don’t know what Phaedra would offer, but I’m sure it will be on her terms and by the time the government figures that out, it will be too late.”

  “Aren’t you worried about getting caught?” I asked.

  “Cress Tech has no idea about us supernatural creatures,” Gullah said. “If we register on their psychotronic diviners, they figure we’re aliens.”

  “How do you know?”

  Gullah let his lips pucker around a tight grin then said, “Thought that should be obvious. We have family on the inside.” He elbowed Antoine and both of them backtracked off the porch. “Our fight is against Phaedra. We came here to tell you that we’re with you.”

  Gullah and the other vampires climbed into the Sport Trac. The engine cranked over. The Sport Trac turned in a circle and headed to the trail that led down the mesa. The brake lights flashed like red comets, and the SUV disappeared over the crest.

  ***

  Chapter Forty-three

  Carmen and I stepped back inside Coyote’s doublewide. She pulled the curtain over the window and used binder clips to seal out the impending morning sun.

  Antoine and Gullah’s visit should’ve comforted me with the news that we weren’t alone in the showdown against Phaedra. But her powers seemed to grow whenever we were unlucky enough to run against her. Besides mental mojo, she had suicide bombers and psychotronic disrupters in her arsenal. What could Antoine, Gullah and their mysterious Blood Force do that Carmen, Jolie, and I hadn’t already tried? Plus we couldn’t discount whatever mischief Cress Tech might add to the fray.

  Coyote step-crutched from his bedroom, a comforter gathered under his free arm. “Hey vato, why the long face? If you wanna look like a horse, choose a more impressive part of his anatomy.”

  He dumped the comforter at my feet. “Cover up, ese. You get roasted, and Rainelle will compost your ash. That’s not a good end for a hero.”

  Coyote retreated to his bedroom and closed the door. Carmen and I finished securing the curtains and blinds around the living room. We spread the comforter on the floor and slithered underneath to lie face-to-face. Her aura was an orange blob surrounding her head. For the next few hours we couldn’t do much except hide from the morning sun and worry. Hunkered down like this, we were at our most vulnerable. Coyote’s watchdog should be reassuring, but he could be silenced like he had been once before. I turned up my vampire sixth sense to maximum gain.

  Carmen asked, “Do you think that Phaedra has to hide from the sun like this?”

  “Good question. I don’t know. Maybe her enhanced psychic powers have made her more vulnerable.”

  “Or less.”

  “Either way, she could still send her human goons. And if they show up …” I flashed my fangs.

  “I hope Jolie is okay,” Carmen said.

  “I’m sure she is. She’s with Rainelle, and the skin-walkers are looking after her.”

  “I want to think our situation isn’t hopeless.” Carmen’s aura darkened a shade, then brightened again. “When we’ve gone fang-to-mano against Phaedra and her lackeys, we’ve held our own.”

  I smiled to encourage her optimism. But the fights weren’t entirely one-sided. A wounded Coyote and the dead chalices on D-Galtha testified to that. Her aura undulated with the rhythm of her concerns. Without prompting from me, she said, “Coyote’s mom can find Phaedra. She did it before. When she ratted on u
s to save him.”

  “Maybe the deal’s still on.”

  “What do you mean?” Carmen asked.

  “We’re still around. Marina could make another offer, us for Coyote.”

  “I hope not,” Carmen replied, sounding conflicted. She closed her eyes and tilted her head to rest one cheek against the backs of her hands. She looked like a thirty-something taking a break after a hike instead of a vampire who had only recently escaped from years of alien imprisonment.

  Dawn arrived. The gloomy air beneath the comforter grew heavy from the incandescent pressure of the sun beating against the doublewide. My kundalini noir tensed. I imagined the rays of light as poisonous tentacles searching for our skin. The weight of the air increased and slowly rolled over me and then lifted as the sun rose above its deadliest zone.

  My watch read 8:30 a.m. Carmen and I threw the comforter back. The glow of sunlight outlining the blinds and curtains stung my eyes. While Carmen made blood-infused coffee, Coyote returned to the living room with a vintage makeup case banging against his crutch. He set the case on the coffee table.

  Carmen and I watched from our perch beside the counter and drank our blood-infused java. Coyote said nothing, just step-crutched to the kitchen to pour himself coffee and blood. Curiosity got the better of Carmen, and she eased off her stool. She popped the brass latch on the case.

  Plastic cases rattled in the tray that swiveled beneath the lid. The case contained dozens of tubes and jars of cosmetics. She picked through the items and read labels. Vampiric contact lenses. Ezee-On makeup especially formulated for the undead complexion, now with SPF 110+ sunblock.

  I had gotten so used to seeing Carmen and Jolie au natural that our anemic flesh and red vampiric eyes looked normal. We needed the makeup and contact lenses to circulate in public and the sunblock to protect our skin.

  She opened several of the jars to peruse the skin colors. She found one she liked and dipped her fingers into the cream. She smeared lines of beige across her cheeks and neck and covered the blue veins throbbing beneath her translucent skin. I pushed away from the counter to join her. We removed our shirts, Carmen her bra, and smoothed the makeup over one another’s backs and arms. She gooped makeup into her hands, cupped those magnificent breasts of hers and massaged each perfect mound.

  “You expecting to go topless?” I kept my voice even to hide my arousal.

  Carmen pinched a teasing glance through her narrowed eyes. “If duty calls.”

  “What about your legs and the rest?”

  She slapped her ass. “When it comes time to show this, I expect to be under cover.”

  Coyote stood beside the counter and leered, his fangs extended. The penumbra of his aura formed curled branches that straightened—sproing—into a mantle of boners.

  “Careful, you might kill him.” I tipped my head in his direction.

  “Vato,” he panted, “mind your own pinchi business. There are worse ways to go.”

  Carmen folded the cuffs of her jeans. She balanced on one foot while she rubbed makeup on the other, ankle to toes. Her breasts jiggled invitingly in an R-rated show. She paused to consider the old vampire. “What would Rainelle say if she caught you looking at me like that?”

  “She would say that I am bien macho.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No,” Coyote whimpered. He lowered his eyes and the protuberances on his penumbra shriveled, broke free, and fell like withered fruit. They bounced on the floor and disappeared in puffs of supernatural vapor.

  Carmen slathered makeup over her other foot and straightened the cuffs of her jeans. She put her bra and blouse back on.

  I finished applying the makeup and yanked on my t-shirt and shirt. I opened a contact case and put one contact in and then the other. I blinked to mold them against my corneas. Auras vanished and Carmen and Coyote appeared to be ordinary, boring humans. I pocketed a tube of makeup and a handful of contact cases.

  Outside, Che barked, no growls, just friendly woofs. If it was Rainelle, I should’ve heard her rattle bucket of a truck. So who was here? Coyote hobbled to the back wall of the living room and peered out the window. His pained expression alerted me to uncomfortable news that he didn’t bother to explain. Steps tapped up the back porch. The door opened and Doña Marina emerged from the brilliant splash of sunlight. Coyote greeted her with a scowl.

  She wore a colorful sundress with a matching bow on her wide-brimmed straw hat like she was on her way to a Derby Day party. She halted between the door and the counter and panned a glossy smile at Carmen and me. “You made it back!”

  I wanted to pounce on Marina and wring her neck for betraying us and revealing the psychic portals to Phaedra. But she was Coyote’s mom so I kept my claws retracted.

  Carmen leveled a stare so cold it could freeze nitrogen. “Doña Marina,” she said curtly.

  Coyote’s mom removed her hat and frisbee tossed it onto the sofa. “Don’t you want to say, La Malinche?”

  “Where have you been?” Carmen’s question frosted the air.

  “Adding to my reputation … like it’s any of your business. Where are Rainelle and your friend, the redhead?” She raised her hands to the ceiling and announced, “Everyone, please save your shame and blame for someone else. I’m quite used to el ojo malo. People want something from Doña Marina, they get all kissy-face.…” she pursed her lips and repeatedly smacked the air. “But when I act to protect my own,” she looked at Coyote, “then I’m La Malinche.”

  “Mom, leave me out of this,” he said.

  “Where’s Phaedra?” Carmen’s gaze lost its chill but there was still no friendly warmth.

  “I don’t know,” Coyote’s mom answered.

  “How did you find her before?”

  Marina batted her large brown eyes. “When Coyote was laid up, about to die, and I was going to lose another one of my children, I only did what Fate has condemned me to do. Wander the wilderness and cry for my lost babies.”

  “So you didn’t find her, she found you?” asked Carmen.

  Coyote winced and hung his head.

  “Yes, Phaedra found me and offered a deal.”

  I started, “That doesn’t—”

  Marina glared at me. “Do you have children?”

  “That doesn’t make a difference.”

  “You say that because you’ve never been a mother.”

  I felt my face wrinkle as if my skin wrestled to keep anger from seeping out my spores. I pressed the issue. “Whose side are you on?”

  Marina replied, “Coyote’s. And mine.”

  “You sound like King Gullah.”

  “Then he must be a smart man.”

  “Mom!” Coyote yelled. “It was a simple pinchi question.”

  She rotated her head toward him like it was a gun turret and her eyes twin laser cannons. “Desgraciado, is that how you talk to your mother? In front of guests? The woman who suffered to give birth to you and—”

  He placed both hands against his head and squeezed. “Just answer the question. Are you with us or Phaedra?”

  Marina walked to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup. “I already told you. I’m with you, mijo.” She said “mijo” like our five-hundred year-old vampire trickster was barely out of diapers.

  Coyote sputtered like he was about to explode. Before he did, I said, “That’s fine, Doña Marina,” to end the argument.

  Carmen, Coyote, and his mom quieted and their thoughts turned inward. With this welcome break in the drama I could focus my attention to our mission.

  Che barked again, another chorus of friendly yaps. A truck clattered and wheezed to a halt. Its doors creaked open and slammed shut. Footsteps climbed the back porch. Two sets, light and quick, joined by a third set, heavy and deliberate. A man. A big man. Wearing boots.

  The door opened and Rainelle stepped in first. Jolie followed. She removed a battered cowboy hat, and then large sunglasses and a bandana from her face. Without makeup, those had been her protection fro
m the sun. Appearing next was Francisco Yellowhair-Chavez, the super-sized Navajo skin-walker who had sold me the Marlin. He dipped his head to keep the crown of his Stetson from scraping the top of the doorway. The glint from massive gold rings drew my attention to his huge, dark fingers resting on Jolie’s shoulder.

  Her step hitched when she recognized Marina and then hitched again when she realized that Carmen and I wore makeup. Against her milky skin and its network of veins, Jolie’s red hair shined like crimson wire, though it was matted into a tangled brush like she’d just dragged herself out of bed. Yellowhair-Chavez gave her a tender squeeze before dropping his hand.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Rainelle closed the door behind him. His right hand gripped the handle of a battered army surplus .50 caliber ammo can. She invited him to the living room. “Coyote,” she scolded, “where are your manners? Say hello to our guest.”

  “Don’t you start,” he snapped. “I’m getting enough shit from my mom.”

  Yellowhair-Chavez reacted to the exchange with as much emotion as a rock to the rain.

  His visit puzzled me. The skin-walkers had stated they would stay clear of the fight between Phaedra and us vampires as long as Rainelle was left alone. “What can I do for you?”

  He entered the living room and set the ammo can on top of the map. “Bloodsucker, you got the question backwards. I’m here to help you, specifically her”—he pointed a sausage-like finger at Carmen—“find the devil-woman, Phaedra.”

  A grin just barely creased Jolie’s lips, and I knew that Yellowhair-Chavez was here to return a favor. While Carmen and I hid from the sun beneath a comforter, Jolie must’ve been playing Indian bride in his hogan.

  ***

  Chapter Forty-four

  Jolie regarded Marina with suspicion. When she and Carmen had first met Coyote’s mom, they felt empathy with her plight. Now that we had been burned by Marina’s double-sided deals, we weren’t so eager to have her in our camp.

  Marina acknowledged Jolie’s glare with a hard look of her own. She walked out of the kitchen and disappeared into Coyote’s bedroom.

  I didn’t ask Yellowhair-Chavez what was in the ammo can, figuring he’d let me know when he wanted to. Rainelle offered him coffee but he declined, asking instead for a hatchet and rope, an odd request but I wasn’t from around here so I didn’t judge. Coyote said he’d get the items and step-crutched out the back door. Yellowhair-Chavez picked up the ammo can and lumbered after him. He asked Carmen to join them. Her eyebrows did a little cha-cha as she pondered his offer. She put on her sunglasses and followed.