Devotion Calls

by Caridad Piñeiro

  Sara didn’t get a chance to answer as a loud thud sounded to their left and a putrid smell assaulted them from the mouth of the alleyway.

  The creature hadn’t eaten since discarding the delectable hound the other night, thinking that by doing so, he might somehow show them he didn’t mean them any harm. Only it occurred to him that the humans had no way of knowing of his attempt at redemption. No way unless he told them.

  He had practiced before the mirror all day. Had prepared. He’d even found a small break in a water main a dozen blocks or so away and attempted to wash, thinking that might help.

  Ready to plead his case before the light, he had slinked out a manhole and quickly scrambled to the rooftop of a nearby building. With one bounding leap after another, he had come to rest on the ledge of the building across the street from the human’s shop. He couldn’t just walk up to the door and knock, and so he waited for the human to come out.

  But then three couples had emerged from the building, huddled close together and clearly in concert with one another. Among them was at least one of the undead, he quickly realized. He backed away from the ledge and to the next rooftop so that he would not be sensed.

  This was not good, he thought as anger surged through him. He feared he’d be prejudged, again, as he had always been, recalling the many insults hurled his way because he had been a bastard child. Branded even before he’d had a chance to prove himself, he had decided to fulfill their prophecy and become a bastard of a man.

  A red haze filtered across his gaze, his anger stoked by the memories of his past. Just as he had shown his father and family how strong he was, he would show the human. He would make sure the man knew what he wanted, and ask that he give it to him. And if the human didn’t agree, he would find a way to take it.

  He dropped down into the alleyway and waited until the couple approached.

  He knew from watching the source of the light that it cared for the woman with him. That was good. If the human didn’t willingly give what he wanted, the woman could prove handy.

  The couple knew he was there. He saw them stop and peer into the dark alley. But he was tired of hiding now.

  He stepped into a moonbeam so they might finally see him.

  “Madre de dios,” Sara whispered.

  Ricardo pulled her close and urged her to slip behind him, but she remained firm, an equal at his side, and ready for action. He could tell from the shift of her body that she was preparing herself for battle against the creature that stood barely ten feet away.

  Ricardo could perceive its unique presence and energy. The dark storm he had felt days earlier belonged to this creature.

  The moonlight played over its gray-green body, a strange combination of lizardlike skin and feathery patches. Although it didn’t appear to be all that tall—no more than four feet on all fours—its body was broad and heavily muscled.

  When it took a step closer, a beam of moonlight illuminated strong forearms and extremely long, needle-sharp talons.

  Seeing that, Ricardo took a step backward and, as Sara had done before, adjusted his body weight so he would be ready to defend himself in case it decided to attack.

  The creature let out a raucous screech then, as if in complaint. With a wave of its front limbs, it moved forward a little more, and the light exposed what appeared to be the end of a protracted snout. Something slimy dropped from two large nostrils, and its hot breath misted in the chill of the night as it noisily snuffed in some air. Beneath that snout glinted lots of teeth, yellow-white and pointy in a lipless mouth, from which came an almost pleading mix of chirps and squeals.

  “Is it talking?” Sara asked from beside him.

  In response, the creature shifted up and down again in clear agitation and chattered noisily, only this time Ricardo thought it said, “Talk.”

  Risking a glance at Sara, he realized she thought the same thing as he.

  “Can you understand us?” he asked, and the tip of the creature’s snout bobbed up and down. A nod? He thought it looked like that.

  “It did,” Sara confirmed.

  “H-huuman,” it said, followed by another bob of its head, this one so strong it sent bits of spittle flying from its mouth.

  “Yes, we’re human,” Sara answered.

  At that the creature screeched in apparent protest, and rose up on its back legs to a height close to Ricardo’s own six feet. Continuing the earsplitting noises, it pounded on its chest and advanced on them.

  Ricardo raised his hand and said, “Stop.”

  “H-huuman,” it repeated, then took another step closer and said, “H-h-helpp meee…” The last word continued on and on, echoing along the walls of the alley. It was so loud and so high-pitched that it grated on his hearing.

  Ricardo put his hands up to cover his ears, as did Sara, trying to shut out the ear-piercing sound.

  At that the creature charged, but they were prepared.

  Sara moved first, delivering a powerful dropkick that stopped the creature’s advance. But she stumbled back, muttering, “Shit, it’s like a rock.”

  Ricardo didn’t wait a second longer, copying her kick, but reaching higher with his greater height. He caught the beast along one shoulder and it stumbled back, flailing its arms as it sought to recover its balance. When it did, it stepped back into the alley, confusing them.

  Sara assumed her ready position next to him, but before they could do anything else, the beast turned and leaped against the wall. The noisy clatter of nails against the brick signaled its ascent to the roof.

  Ricardo caught a quick glimpse of its large silhouette before it raced off into the night.

  Breathing heavily, he relaxed his guard, and beside him, he heard Sara’s audible sigh as she dropped her fists and eased her own stance. She turned and met his gaze. “I guess there’s no doubt now about what it is.”

  No, there wasn’t. But one huge damning question remained in his head.

  “What is it doing here?”

  The crescent moon sat high in the night sky above the barrio, and still no one had so much as picked up a lead to the creature’s whereabouts. Hours later, all they had to show for their trouble was a description of the beast and proof that it did in fact appear to be sentient. Which on some level only complicated any decision about what to do.

  The group had finally disbanded, leaving Ricardo and Sara alone in his shop. When he turned to face her, he knew what she was thinking even before she said a word.

  “We can’t kill it,” he stated.

  “You would kill a rabid dog, wouldn’t you?” she countered, her arms wrapped around her ribs and her head tilted at a challenging angle.

  “It hasn’t hurt any of us,” he reminded her, but that did little to appease her.

  “Not yet, but if it did—”

  “Then we would decide what to do—”

  “After the fact,” she immediately retorted. “After someone was hurt or possibly worse.”

  He laid his hand on her shoulder, and the angry and fearful vibrations in her body communicated themselves to him. He understood them. Understood that as black-and-white as her argument was, she, too, knew there was a spot in between. A gray area where they stood now, while they awaited the creature’s next move.

  Massaging her shoulder with one hand, Ricardo eased the other against the side of her face. “Are you ready to go home? I’ll walk you.”

  Sara thought about all that had happened that n
ight and what awaited her at home. About her father sitting patiently by her mother’s side, much as she had done earlier that evening. It was the reason she had been late to their little meeting. She had wanted to squeeze a few more minutes in with her, but now…

  “A cup of coffee would be nice before we head out into the cold again.”

  “Coffee, huh?” He shot her a sexy grin and one dimple winked at her. “Do you think that’s the best thing for getting you warm?”

  He was right. She needed a respite from both her everyday world and the abnormal one she had entered with him. She laid a hand on his chest and coyly said, “Well, I can think of something else that’s dark and sweet that will heat me up.”

  The grin broadened to a wicked smile and he caressed her cheek. “Let’s go warm you up.”

  Her body vibrated from the release of her climax, quick and powerful as only Ricardo could bring her to. But he was rock hard within her, and his nipples were still tight little nubs beneath her palms. As tight as hers remained. As needy, she realized when he reached up and fingered her, bringing desire to life once again.

  Maybe too quickly, she thought.

  As if reading her mind, he tempered his caresses and with great care eased into a sitting position, never moving from inside her. He rested his back against the pillows on his bed, Sara straddling his thighs.

  She met his gaze and he offered her a tender smile.

  “You okay?” He brushed a wayward lock of her hair away from her face.

  As she pressed a kiss against his palm, she could smell the muskiness of their lovemaking, and a shiver of desire worked through her. “You make me…want all the time,” she confessed.

  Ricardo sensed that admission had cost her. She was always so independent and in control. He wanted to reassure her that even here, with him deep inside her, she could still be in charge. But more importantly, that the feeling was mutual.

  “You make me want, too,” he said. His hands traced a path over her shoulders, down her arms to her hands, which he grasped loosely. “And what I want more than anything is what makes you happy.”

  Blazing a similar trail, she slipped her hands from his, ran them up his arms until she cupped his shoulders. She rested her forehead on his, and her breath spilled against the sweat on his skin, cooling it as she said, “I just need…a minute.”

  He rested his hands on her thighs, stroked them in a tender caress meant to soothe her. Meant to temper his own passion, since the feel of her surrounding him, of her hot, wet sheath, nearly drove him over the edge. If it ruined him to stay inside her any longer, it would be worth losing everything just to feel what he was feeling. The completeness. The oneness. The power and balance in both their centers. Like the other night, their joining might have started as something physical, but had become much much more.

  He was pleased when she dipped her head to kiss him. The touch of her lips was one of acceptance. Of understanding.

  How he wished things could stay like this always. But there was so much between them, so much that could destroy the fragile trust they now shared.

  Sara sensed the tension enter his body. Tension, when just a moment before the peace of the moment had nearly undone her once again. Sitting back, she deepened his penetration, dragging a groan from both of them. “Dios, Ricardo.”

  “Take me with you, Sara. Love me,” he urged, shifting his hands to her buttocks, where he exerted gentle pressure and guided her into a rhythm that quickly escalated their mutual need.

  She was trembling, gripping his shoulders tightly, when he flexed his hips and drove up into her. The force of that snapped the last of her control and his. With a rough, shaky breath, she collapsed against him, and he wrapped his arms around her, raised his knees to offer her some support.

  Face-to-face with him, she kissed him gently, stroked the shaking muscles of his shoulders until he quieted. Somehow she knew that the peace she felt in his arms was reciprocated, and joy surged through her. But that delight was short-lived as, on his nightstand, her phone emitted the ring tone identifying a call from home.

  There could be no good reason for the call.

  Chapter 18

  R icardo stood beside Sara at her mother’s bedside, sensing her pain and desperation as she implored, “Mami, you need to go the hospital.”

  But Evita shook her head and forced a smile to her face. “I’ll be fine, mi’ja. I just need to rest a bit.” After she said it, she looked past her daughter and up to Ricardo.

  It had been nearly midnight when Eduardo Martinez’s phone call had summoned them to his wife’s bedside. Ricardo had been there that morning, had given as much of himself as he could. But now, faced with her pleading gaze, he couldn’t just stand there. “Sara, would you—”

  “No, I won’t go. Not this time.” She lifted her teary gaze to him and shook her head, her hair swaying against her shoulders as she did so.

  He knew her well enough by now to know that she wouldn’t leave and because he was tired of hiding his true self from her, he relented. Pulling up a chair, he sat beside the bed, took Sara’s hand in one of his, then her mother’s in the other.

  “Evita, you know what to do,” he said, and her mother closed her tired eyes. Sara shot him a hesitant look, but he nodded and urged her to do the same. She did.

  “Sara, I want you to think about the cancer,” he said. “Picture it in your mind. Imagine it going away.” But in response, she opened her eyes and stared at him.

  “Is this—”

  “What I do? What a santero does?” he challenged, but he saw the desperation in her gaze. She wouldn’t doubt him now. Not when her mother was so weak.

  Her lids slowly lowered and she even dropped her head a bit, as she might while praying in church.

  Maybe it wasn’t much different, he thought. Some defined God as a universal force, as the font of all life, and here they were, pilgrims at that font. Beggars asking for that force to fill them and help make one of them whole.

  Breathing deeply, he heard Sara and Evita matching the cadence of their breaths to his. He released his awareness of them so that it wouldn’t distract him, and focused on the core of his power, awakening it and opening his center to the forces around him.

  Little by little he took note not only of the energies drifting freely around them, but of those beside him. Evita’s frail and fractured force. Sara’s potent strength and sexual aura, still charged from their earlier lovemaking. The last was more powerful than he had ever imagined.

  He gathered it all within him and, once he had it under control, slowly directed it to Evita. He perceived the change in her body as she accepted it, took it within and focused it to where the cancer was ravaging her body. Little by little, for as long as he could, he released the force until he felt the nucleus of his body weaken, start to chill.

  Finally he could give no more and broke off his connection.

  When he did so, he heard Sara’s shocked gasp and Evita’s murmured thanks.

  Sara stared at him, confusion twisting her features, her body taut and vibrating from the exertion and drain on her life force. He had taken from her, too, much as a soul sucker might, and it pained him to have done so.

  His own body was weaker now, but as he glanced at Sara’s mother, she looked stronger. A new vitality swirled around her. She had slipped off into a restful sleep.

  “Ricardo?” Sara asked, but he brought his index finger to his lips and motioned to
her mother.

  Sara finally realized her mami was asleep and that a healthy pink glow colored the cheeks that had been a ghostly white earlier that night. Sara felt odd and a trifle drained, but she needed answers from the man sitting beside her. A man she no longer recognized despite the fact that she had been making love to him barely half an hour earlier.

  She rose, dropped a kiss on her mother’s forehead and then headed out to the living room, where her father anxiously waited. At his concerned glance, she said, “Mami’s better, Papi. She’s sleeping.”

  “Then I will go rest, as well.” He shuffled off to their bedroom and closed the door behind him.

  Once it was shut, she faced Ricardo and, feeling uneasy, wrapped her arms around herself.

  He noticed the gesture and stepped toward her, seemingly to ease her unrest. But she moved away, too conflicted to know what to do about him.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s what I do. How I heal.”

  “Your orishas do that? Is that—”

  “Does it matter how, Sara? Can’t you just believe? Can’t you have faith?” he pleaded. His hands reached out to her, his green-eyed gaze intense as he trained it over her face.

  “Faith? In you?” The words came out harsher than she had intended and she instantly regretted them. “Perdoname.”

  “Don’t judge me, amor. Don’t be afraid.”

  “Why won’t you tell me? Why are you lying to me?” she retorted.

  Defeat caused his shoulders to slump, and he took a step back from her and toward the door. “I should go.”

  Sadly, all she could do was agree. “Sí, you should. I don’t like liars.”

  The muffled thud of the door as he shut it seemed to close off a part of her heart, and maybe it was just as well.

  She had given herself because she thought she had come to know him. If tonight had shown her anything, it was that nothing about him was as she had thought.