by Calinda B
“You can’t take care of it yourself?”
“It will lessen it, but not stop it all the way.”
“The aggression?”
“Right. I’m getting angrier by the second. I’m just about to lose control.”
“Well, at least you could do something…with your hand, you know.”
“Yeah. So you’re a definite no go, huh?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Fuck,” he hisses. Rafe stalks away from me and heads for the jungle. I can barely see him through the foliage. He unzips, reaches inside, pulls it out, and begins to pump. He turns away from me so all I can see is his arm moving rapidly. I try not to look - I really do - but the guy’s all broad shouldered - muscular and 6’ 4” sexy, and I’m horny, too. I wonder if I should take care of myself. I pry my eyes away from him and search for a private place to, um…but then I hear a groan. I glance over to see Rafe’s head arching backwards. He falls against a tree and stays there for several long, long minutes.
Sober emerges from the underbrush from wherever he’s been roaming. He trots over to me, his tongue lolling, his eyes bright.
“Hey, dog,” I call. I pat his head and wait for Rafe to recover. Finally, Rafe wanders back to me.
“You look pretty cool with lightning flashes shooting through you and from you.”
“Thanks.”
“Even fantasizing about you is better than regular sex.”
“Uh, thanks?”
He strides in the direction of the gate.
I trot after him. “Now what?”
“We memorize that rat bastard’s signature. And then we track him down and kill him, that’s what.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Not in the least.”
“I’m not into killing people.”
“I am. It’s what I’m trained to do.”
Great. My soul bound lover commands the darkness and evil, and my sexy pal Rafe is a killer. I sure know how to pick them. I stomp after Rafe, curious to find out how to memorize someone’s signature, horrified at the thought of killing. He’s right. I know nothing - literally nothing - about the world I have become a part of.
Chapter 15
Rafe stands in front of the solid, 12’ high metal gate, complete with evil looking gargoyles. “You know how to open this baby?”
“Let’s see,” I say, patting my pockets. “No, no key card anywhere.” I throw up my hands and glare at him. “Of course I don’t know how to open it. I told you, inheriting this place was a sudden surprise.”
“You’re a little testy,” he says, hands on his hips, contemplating the black metal.
“I’m with a maniac. He told me we have to kill someone.”
“You’re with a Stealth Numen who will turn into a maniac if he doesn’t get some penetration soon. That’s not a joke or a threat. It’s a fact. You’ve got a pretty powerful badass bastard after you to get back at his son. You’re the one who’s in danger. I’d adopt a better frame of mind if I were you.” He fades from view. When he resumes form he’s on the other side of the fence. “Your turn.”
“What do you mean, my turn?”
“Just that. Or else you could stay here and be on your own while I go find Armando. Unless he finds you first.” He shrugs.
A shiver shoots up my spine. “What am I supposed to do?”
“How should I know? Use your abilities somehow. Use it or lose it, that’s what they say.”
“Okay, let me think.” Sober looks up at me and wags his tail. “Thanks for the support.” I stare at the metal. “Well, this should be a mere parlor trick. No big deal.” My body’s still streaming with light. I close my eyes briefly, visualize a paintbrush in my mind, and imagine painting a hole in the gate. When my eyelids flutter open - voila! - the metal bars are completely bent and a hole beckons.
“Good job,” Rafe says as Sober and I crawl through the gate.
“Thank you,” I say, brushing my hands together. I smile at him.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Any fool can get in there now.”
“What about the protection spell?”
Rafe shrugs. “What about it?”
“It still works.”
“Suit yourself,” he says, striding down the dirt road. “We’ll just have to take our chances, won’t we?” he calls over his shoulder.
“Wait a minute! Wait for me!” My head whips back and forth between his retreating form and the gate. I quickly visualize it back to solid perfection and race after him. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere,” he answers. He turns to face me. “I was just testing you.”
“Testing me how?”
“Testing you to see if in a pinch you could use your skills faster. You won’t always have the leisurely time to close your eyes and paint something with your mind. It needs to be lightning fast. As fast as the light streaming through you.”
“I’m still learning.”
“Learn faster.” He strides back up the hill. “Now let’s see what Armando tastes like, shall we?”
Once we reach the gate again, Rafe turns to me. “Okay, here’s where you can close your eyes. We’re going to get a good taste of Armando.”
“Don’t you already know what he, er, tastes like? You’ve worked with the guy before.”
“I have, true. A good sorcerer changes his essential signature frequently. I’m sure he’s shifted it since we worked together last. A guy like that can’t afford to take any chances. He can’t afford to stay the same.”
“I see.” Not. “So what do we do?”
“Close your eyes.”
My eyelids fall shut.
“Now notice everything, and I mean everything. Whatever you feel, sense, taste, hear, or imagine. Shout it out. Memorize it. Make an imprint in your brain.”
I open my eyes and stare at him. His eyes are closed, his hands are outstretched. I do the same. This is stupid. He’s just playing with me. He’s mad because I won’t put out and he’s just messing with my… The strangest sensation fills my nostrils and wafts into my head. My nose tingles. A sharp, acrid smell tickles the end of my nose. There’s the slightest, teensiest fragrance of roses mixed with the sharp. The first scent is gag-worthy. The second scent is intoxicating. The taste in my mouth is strong, pungent, chemical, reminiscent of furniture polish or car wax. It makes my mouth flood with saliva.
“What are you getting?” Rafe asks.
“Weird chemical taste. Acrid smell. Subtle sweetness. Tingles at the end of my nose.”
“I’m not getting the sweet, but now that you mention it…yeah…there it is. Kind of like roses.” He pauses. “That must be the memory of his wife. He keeps it close so he can find her. Or maybe the bastard just misses her. I doubt if he has a heart, though. Not with the assignments that he’s given me.”
Hearing that, I cringe. I probably don’t want to know.
“Keep going. Use your hands to feel and your inner sight to see.”
Eyes still closed, I lift my hands, palm out, and make a slow sweep around me. Nothing…nothing…nothing…nothing… My hands land on something solid. I move them back to nothing. Move them back to solid. Whatever I feel is so solid, I think I must be touching an oak tree or a Brazilian Nut Tree. I squint and take a peek. I’m still standing in the middle of the dirt road. Rafe’s a few feet away. There’s nothing in front of me. I let my eyelids flutter shut. There it is again. It’s solid. Smooth. Black. Yes, I’m getting the color black. A beautiful blue at the edges. I press both palms against it and get a distinctive hum in my hands. It reminds me of Daniel, but darker. Edgier. Corrupt. Angry. Bitter. Hurting. This surprises me. The guy’s in pain. He suffers.
What else you got?” Rafe asks.
“You first,” I answer.
“Solidity. I sense solid form.”
“Do you get the blue? The anger and bitterness?”
“The rage, yes. The blue, no. You must see things differently. You
seem to catch subtle details.”
A surge of pride washes through me. “How much more do we need to sense?”
“Do you feel like you have a good impression of him? Could you find him in the dark?”
“How close would his signature be to someone else’s?”
“Everyone is different.” Rafe scoffs. “We’re all like snowflakes.”
“Snowflakes? Did you really say that?” I open my eyes and look at him. He’s looking straight at me. The gaze he’s flashing me makes me drop my eyes. The guy stirs me, what can I say?
“I was kidding. Trying to lighten the mood and make you feel safe with me.”
My eyes meet his again and my insides start to churn and stir. “I’m taken.”
“I know. I can still use my imagination.”
“It affects me.”
“Good.” He turns and starts to stride down the hill again.
Sober and I race after him. The guy’s fast. “Where are you going?”
“We’re going to find Armando Navid. You might want to leave the dog, though. He might get in the way.”
“The dog goes, or I don’t.”
“Suit yourself. I don’t suppose you could whip us up a vehicle, could you?”
I have to trot to catch up to him. Breathless, I answer. “I could, but it wouldn’t work. I’m not a mechanic. I can only create with my imagination, and I can’t in a million years imagine how a car works. Too much to know. Too many details.”
“Bummer.”
His legs are working just like mine - step, step, step - but his forward progress is swift. “Can you slow down?”
“Not unless you want to witness me as a maniac. I told you, the hand job only works so much. I’m still going through Haldol withdrawal. Moving swiftly is the only thing I know to do right now. Deal with it.”
“Yes, sir!” I have to trot again. Running next to him, I ask, “What’s your next plan?”
“El Demonio de la Muerte had a lot of militia around here, right?”
“How did you know?”
“It’s a demon sorcerer thing.”
“Okay, so…?”
“So, he’s got to have hidden garages or stashes of camouflaged Jeeps or some kind of vehicles hidden somewhere.”
“If they’re hidden, how will you find them?”
He tapped his nose. “Even metal has a signature. It smells a certain way. Use your head. You know that to be true.”
I tip my head in the air as I race along next to him. “That way,” I call.
He zips in the direction I have indicated. Sure enough, we reach what looks like a vehicle covered loosely with brush.
“They didn’t do a very good job hiding it.”
“They were probably trying to escape when your boy was doing his thing.”
“How do you know what Daniel did here? It wasn’t that long ago, and you were at the Bellevue clinic.”
“Your boyfriend is a fucking legend,” he says, spitting out the words. “I heard it in an ether meeting. Everyone was all ‘ooh, ahhh, the Night Numen is such a badass.’ I do shit like that all the time, but I do it in secret so no one knows about it.”
“Oh, poor baby. It sounds like someone needs a little praise.” I make the last two words sound like baby talk - “wittle pwaise.”
“It could be a nice change.” He shoots me a dagger-like look out of the corner of his eyes. “People think I’m nothing but a rogue slut. I’d rather not be fucking anything that has a hole in order to maintain - anything human, that is. I’d rather not turn completely berserk if I don’t get any. I told you - I’d rather be in love.”
“Find someone to love, then.”
“I already did.”
His words land in my stomach and cause a stormy sea of passion to rock my insides. “Jesus, Rafe, you can’t keep doing this.”
“I can, and I will. I told you, I’m hoping to wear you down.” He winks at me. “Now, help me clear the branches off of this Jeep.”
We peel away branches, leaves, dirt, and debris.
“Well, that proves it,” Rafe says, pulling off a particularly large branch.
“Proves what?” I say, brushing off a pile of leaves. I turn my head to see a dead man, his face frozen in a scream. I scream.
Rafe laughs. “Shit, Engles, grow a pair. Haven’t you seen a dead man?”
I back away. “I’ve seen far too many in the last few weeks. This one takes the cake.”
Rafe grabs the guy’s shoulders. “Help me out here.”
“Help you what?”
“Help me get him out of here.”
“No.”
Rafe whirls to face me. “Goddamn it, get over here. I need your help. Stop being a little princess. We have work to do!”
I pick my way next to him. “What?” I hiss.
“I’ll pull him out of the seat. You grab his feet. We’ll pitch him into the brush over there.” He uses his head to indicate the direction.
I’ve never touched anything dead in my life. Not with my hands, at least. I remember poking a dead badger in the woods with a stick, but that’s the extent of my cadaver practice.
The dead man lands with a thump on the ground. He’s still locked in a silent scream.
“Can’t we close his mouth? He shouldn’t scream throughout time, should he?”
“Do whatever you want. Just do it fast. We have to move. I have to move.”
The nervous tic is starting up on his face again. “Will it pop or crack or anything? Will his jaw even move?”
“See for yourself.” He starts to drag the uniform clad body towards the brush. “A little help, please.”
“Wait. Stop.” I reach down and gingerly touch the guy’s chin. I give it a push and it closes. I arrange the cool, dead lips into less of a grimace. Next, I close both his eyelids. “There. Now he looks like he’s asleep.” I look around for something to wipe my hands off with. I spy a rag in the back of the Jeep. When I return, Rafe is doubled up in silent spasm of laughter. I frown. “Did I do something funny?”
“You did.” He squeezes out the words between paroxysms of laughter.
“How can you laugh so quietly?” I ask, my hands on my hips.
He bursts into loud gales. “It’s a Stealth Numen thing. I had to learn it. I told you we can still…we can still…” He wheezes, overcome with his belly laughs. “We can still be heard even while in stealth mode.” He laughs so hard he has to grab his stomach. “Oh, God. I don’t remember ever laughing so hard.”
“Care to share what was so funny?”
“You, Marissa. You’re like a fairy princess Light Rebel. Light Rebels are notoriously badass and brutal. You bring a soft quirkiness to the tradition. ‘He looks like he’s asleep.’ That’s precious. You’ll go down in history, I have no doubt.” He wipes the tears streaming down his face. “Now, let’s get Prince Charming to bed, shall we?”
I heft the dead man’s legs, and we carry him over to the sloping hillside.
“Okay, we’re going to swing him and then release him. Ready?”
I nod.
“Okay, one, two, three.”
The limp form arcs and then falls in a clump somewhere in the bushes. He’s landed halfway down the hill. All I can see is his arm, sticking out from the middle of the bushes.
“No,” Rafe says to me.
“No, what?”
“No, you are not going down there to arrange him in repose. He’s dead. Let the jaguars have him. Let’s go.”
“Alright, alright, I’m coming. Will a jaguar really eat him…er, it…er, what do you call a dead body?”
“Call it Jose.”
“What? Why?”
“That’s what his dog tag said. And yes, a jaguar could eat it. It’s not badly decomposed, and it would be an easy meal. The jag wouldn’t have to throat-bite and suffocate his prey, or crush his skull with his jaws. Jose is like a picnic for the taking.”
“Ew! He’s not a picnic.”
“What is he then
? He’s no good to anyone around here. He may as well be food for some other species.” Rafe digs around under the steering wheel and yanks a couple of wires out. “Any chance of making a wire cutter?”
I quickly paint it in my mind. It appears in my hand. I thrust it at Rafe. “Here…”
“Thanks.” He strips the ends of the wires and twists them together. The engine starts up with a rumble. “There…hop in, darlin’.”
I settle into the passenger seat, and Rafe guides the jeep down the bumpy road.
“Do you have any idea where the plantation is?”
“Somewhere to the right. We came right from there to here. All I remember is that it was a long ride.”
“Will you know the plantation when you see it?”
“Yes. It’s big. It covers several hillsides. The house is like a modern looking castle. I wonder who’s in charge now that El D is dead?”
“We’ll find out, won’t we?”
We barrel down the road, through small creek-beds, past terraced hillsides, past jungle terrain. Finally, we see a landscaped entrance to a well-maintained dirt road. A huge stone corner stands on either side of the driveway.
“This is it,” I say.
“Great,” Rafe says, clearly in a sour mood. He turns right and speeds up the driveway. The red dirt billows all around us.
“Slow down,” I yell.
“No can do. It keeps me sort of calm to speed.”
The huge home I woke up in when I was kidnapped looms in the distance. We zip through coffee bean trees, laden with the red beans. A few workers turn and stare at us. One of them looks up, stares straight at my face as it whizzes by, and his mouth drops open. I whip around to see him pointing at me and chattering to another worker. We race toward the house. When we reach the circular driveway, Rafe slams on the brakes, creating a swirling sea of gravel and dust. I have to brace myself with my hands to keep from slamming into the dashboard. Sober sails over the side, using his wings to stop from hurtling into the dirt. He shakes out his body and trots off to greet the other dogs on the property. I leap out and glare at Rafe as he steps out of the car. He looks like he’s broiling mad now, about to blow. “Jesus, Rafe, I thought I was going to be a new hood ornament.”
