That meant he'd spent a good part of the evening smiling and nodding at people who didn't know the difference between their fucking ass and the hole in their face, judging by the shit that came spewing out of their mouths. He'd just left a prime example.
The girl had bleached her dark hair to a revolting orange frizz. She kept patting it with her hand and batting her eyes. She was waiting for his compliment which he gave her. Adam was surprised he didn't gag on the lie. Preliminaries over, she couldn't wait to impart her knowledge.
"She's not that young, you know. My boyfriend says she's an old hag and her looks are only an illusion. He says she sucks the life from newborn babies to keep her looks, but if she can't find any, she'll look for pretty young girls." She beamed at him, a look of expectation on her face.
"Then you'd better be careful young lady," he told her, gagging inwardly. It was what she wanted to hear. "I always thought there was something fishy about her. How'd your boyfriend find that out? He must be pretty smart, huh?" Adam smiled attentively while thinking he'd like to put his foot up the boyfriend's ass.
"Oh, he is. Real smart. He said he figured it out because of all the stuff he's read. You know, in books."
Right. Comic books most likely.
Others weren't quite so bizarre. They were just scared. They'd grown up hearing that the brujas had caused the terrible massacre and they were afraid it was going to happen again.
It wasn't until he heard the same story a third time that Adam began to think someone was playing his game, only in reverse. Rather than telling people what they wanted to hear, this someone was telling them what they were afraid to hear. His suspicion was confirmed when one man's wife complained.
"Oh for heaven's sake. You never even thought about it until someone brought it up at La Cantina the other night. It's all a lot of nonsense if you ask me. We saw her at La Cantina the night those demon kissing idiots tore the place up. How you can think that little girl is anything but good after what she did for all those people is beyond me."
Opinion was running about 50-50 for and against Faith.
He did get a lead from the lady at the candy store.
"She's not like the old brujas, you know, the ones that used to live around here. My sister works over at the enclave. Now there's a strange bunch, let me tell you," she said as she filled a small bag with a quarter pound of lemon drops, "but they do know something about those Daughters of Men. That's what she calls herself, isn't it? They're evil, every last one of them."
"Evil? Man, I need to get over there and talk to those people. She told us she cured some sick kid over here."
"Ha! According to my sister's boss, that boy was already cured by someone else. She just took the credit."
"Who'd you say your sister worked for again?"
The shocker was the name she gave him.
Having exhausted his search for open shops or random strollers to chat with, Adam headed to La Cantina where he was anxious to meet with Álvaro. Compared to the night of the demon shifters, the place looked pretty empty and he wondered if this was the usual crowd for the day of the week or if business had fallen off.
There were a few men at the bar, four men playing gin and two others playing what he thought might be cribbage. Four young women, two he recognized from the shops he'd visited, were giggling over frou-frou drinks in the corner. A few tables held patrons enjoying a late dinner.
This was something he still hadn't gotten used to and he wondered if he ever would. While the human world ate supper, the Paenitentia were eating breakfast.
He was raised in an enclave, a high-rise apartment complex complete with business offices, shops, restaurants, and a variety of apartments that grew in size and luxury with each floor. The whole place ran on Paenitentia time; a busy hive of activity during the night and quiet as a church during the day. There was even a rooftop playground for the kids and underground facilities for swimming and sports. His years at the boarding school were the same.
It wasn't until he began his Guardian training that he even thought of living any other way. He probably should consider himself lucky that these people knew a little about who and what he was, but it was still disconcerting to see people chowing down on steak and baked potatoes while he was eating eggs.
Fortunately, an ice cold beer was tasty any time of night or day. The alcohol didn't do much for him. Paenitentia metabolized it too fast, but it must do something, because he'd tried the kind without it and it tasted like shit. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a draft when the bartender gave him a nod.
"So what brings you out all by your lonesome," the man sitting a few stools asked. "Thought you fellas stuck together, travelled in twos."
He was smiling and seemed friendly enough so Adam smiled back.
"Night off," he said, "Business has been slow lately, so I got some free time. Thought I'd look around, see what's what and meet some of the people I'm working for."
It was partly true. Business had been slow lately. The Liege Lord seemed worried about it, but Adam couldn't see why. To him, it was a sign they were doing a good job. He had three demon kills under his belt already, for which he was proud. Lalo still didn't have a one and it bothered the poor guy. He thought it was his fault because he was squeamish about killing things. Adam always wondered about that. Hell, the guy grew up on a farm. You'd think he'd be used to it.
"Funny you should say you're working for us," the man went on, "Most folks think it's the other way round. They forget what you do while they're tucked up tight in bed."
The bartender set the tall glass down in front of Adam. "You buying or is the Patron picking up the tab?"
Adam didn't know there was a tab, but to be on the safe side he put some cash on the bar.
"My dime," he said, "And while you're at it, pour another for my friend here."
"Hey, thanks kid," the man said and slid a stool closer to Adam. He held out his hand to shake, but his eyes slid to the door as someone entered. "Well shit, you'd think Mendoza would give it a rest, his daughter being gone and all," he muttered.
Mendoza joined the group of card players and began to loudly bewail the loss of his stepdaughter.
The man sitting next to Adam leaned in a little closer and whispered, "You'd think he'd be out looking for her instead of pissing and moaning in here. He's a shifter, an owl for chrissake. Who better to search in the dark? He used to be a good family man. Now he's in here every night spewing his crap."
"You got something to say, Jorge?" Mendoza called across the room. "Sitting there all cozy with a Guardian. You think they're your friend because the Patron saved your father once? You ever think they're the reason we have the damned demons in the first place? Like a fucking beacon in the dark, they're the ones that attract 'em."
He shook his fist at Adam. "And you! You're supposed to protect us. Why didn't you protect my little girl? I'll tell you why. You're too busy protecting that bruja you got living out there. She's got her and you know it. Otherwise you'd be doing something instead of sucking down beers with the likes of him."
Jorge drank the last of his beer and rose from the bar. "Sorry kid, but I don't come in here to eat his shit. You take care now and thanks for the beer. Next one's on me."
Adam would have left, too, but he was supposed to meet Álvaro. He wished the Vigilante would hurry up. He'd lost his taste for beer.
Mendoza quieted down for a minute and ordered himself a drink, but when two of his companions left the bar, he started in again.
Adam tried to give the guy a break. His kid was missing and that would loosen a few screws in anyone's head. He kept his back to him and pretended to ignore the man's rant, but he watched him in the mirror. There was something false about the man's performance, he thought to himself, and that's when it hit him. It was an act, a performance. The guy wasn't half as distraught as he pretended to be.
When the guy started in again about the Guardians doing nothing, Adam had had enough. He stood and turned.<
br />
"Fuck you, Mendoza. You're an owl. You see as well as I do in the dark. Why aren't you out there looking for her instead of bitching about everyone else?"
Mendoza rose to his feet.
"I don't want no more trouble in here," the bartender said, but he was speaking to Adam and not Mendoza.
"Don't worry, there won't be," Adam told him as he stuffed his change into his pocket. "I don't waste my time fighting a pile of bullshit. I just walk around it."
He'd wait for Álvaro out by the road. That was the plan anyway, before he looked up the street toward the church. With his keen night vision, he saw two figures knock a third to the ground in front of the fountain on the plaza. They were on the downed man in an instant, kicking and punching with such vicious intent that their victim could do nothing but curl into a ball to protect himself.
Sure it was his new friend Jorge who was being beaten, Adam started running toward them, shouting as he pounded up the road. The two assailants paused and watched his progress. One of them lifted his hand, middle finger in the air, before he started in again. Adam had all he could do not to go over into Rage. He would gladly beat these two to bloody pulps, but they were human and he couldn't kill them.
He was passing the last building and had one foot on the stone paving of the plaza when a streak of fire slashed across his back. He turned to find the source of this fiery sting and felt a deeper more agonizing pain cross his chest and abdomen that spun him back toward Jorge now alone on the ancient stone.
He took two more steps before the harsh reality of what had just happened hit and he stumbled to his knees. He clutched his stomach, felt something soft and wet that had no place in his strong, firm body and then he fell.
Adam's last thought before he closed his eyes was that even that trusting idiot Lalo wouldn't fall for an ambush as simple as this.
*****
Álvaro wasn't happy about his assignment either. He should be with the Patron. The feeling that he had for weeks was stronger now. Something bad was in the wind. Like the scent of a diseased and rotting carcass, it permeated the air and once in your nostrils, you smelled it everywhere.
His sister smelled it, too. Why else would Agdta break with the small and secret meetings she'd held since their mother died? Even with the privacy the hacienda offered, gathering that many women together for a circle was bound to be felt by men who should no longer have the right to call themselves the People. Agdta was taking a stand and it was all because of the little bruja who had stolen away in the van.
Faith had bewitched them all. Álvaro didn't want to like her, but he'd lost a major battle when she said she was sorry and understood the burden he carried. The whole war was lost when Briza told him it was the little bruja who convinced her to give him back his free will and remove the curse. It had surprised the hell out of him when he found he still loved the damn woman without it.
He should have argued with Lucien, should have insisted he fulfill his duty as Vigilante, but he had an obligation to the People, too, and from what he'd heard from his brothers and few friends he could trust, this village was about to explode.
"Tio? You don't want to leave yet, do you?"
Diego looked so young and yet in another year Álvaro would be taking him out each night to teach him the skills he would need to take his place as Vigilante. He would teach him to hunt and kill the things others ran from. He would teach him to listen when the earth spoke and bring honor to the People through his role as Vigilante.
If there were any of the People left to bring honor to.
"I don't want to. I have to. Adam is waiting for me at the Cantina and I'm already late."
Diego's eyes lit up. He straightened his shoulders and stood tall. "I'll walk with you," he said with all the seriousness he could muster. "It's better to patrol by twos, so one man has the other's back."
"And a bottle of soda pop might be in order, too." Álvaro smiled for the first time that night. "Go tell your parents we won't be long." He wagged his finger at his grinning nephew. "You get one and only one."
"Yes, sir!" Diego called over his shoulder as he ran to the house. "Mami! Papi!" He yelled through the open door loud enough for the whole village to hear. "I'm going to the Cantina with Tio! I won't be late!"
It was already late, but another half hour wouldn't matter. Together they walked through the graveyard and around the side of the church. They passed the wooden frame that held the bell that once hung above the church. Diego was so happy, he was tempted to rap it with his fist the way he did on his way to school. The soft bong it made always made him smile, but tonight was no time for boyish games. He was on his first patrol with his uncle. Tonight he was a man.
*****
Jorge sat on the cold stone of the plaza, his back against the stacked stone base of the fountain. His legs were splayed into a wide vee with the young guardian's legs lying across his thigh. He held the man in his arms and pressed his hand against the gaping wound that threatened to spill his guts onto the ground. It was all he knew to do. It was all he could do.
He'd been walking along minding his own business, thinking about what he should have said to the bully in the cantina. He didn't hear them. He didn't see them. He was suddenly thrown to the ground and two men were pounding him with their fists and kicking him with their sharp toed boots.
He wasn't sure how long they beat him, but when one said "Wait", they suddenly stopped. Jorge lay there, curled into a ball with his arms and hands over his head and face, praying they would leave. The same voice said "More" and the beating began again. Again it ended abruptly. This time, his prayer was answered.
Jorge was hurt, but alive. His nose was broken, his eyes swollen shut, and most of his ribs were fractured. The young Guardian was alive, too, but he wouldn't be for long.
"Help," Jorge cried out again and again, "Help us, please!" His call was as loud as he could make it, but not loud enough for anyone to notice.
He heard the voices, called out once more and prayed his attackers hadn't come back. For the second time that night his prayer was answered.
Chapter 34
Thirteen women working in concert made short work of thoroughly cleaning the first floor of the hacienda. Faith was reminded of a small army of ants swarming into a room and crawling methodically over every surface. They dusted, polished, aired and waxed anything they could get their hands on. Heavy drapes were shaken, aired, and vacuumed for good measure before being rehung over sparkling windows. Rugs were vacuumed and rolled and then vacuumed again when they were back in place atop newly scrubbed tile floors. Furniture covers were removed to be washed, but this time would not be replaced. Agdta had determined that this House would be the home it once was.
Faith was surprised they were doing it at all. She'd mistakenly thought that housecleaning was only a cover for Agdta's occasional meetings with the brujas of her clan. Agdta, the controlling force of the operation, looked offended when she said so.
"The Patron pays for a clean house. A clean house is what he gets. I don't get paid to waste his money," she huffed, "and I would never lie to him."
After the circle of women had broken, Agdta had disappeared. She'd returned dressed in her everyday clothing and ready for work. All the women must have understood what was expected because upon her return, they all stood quietly at attention; Agdta's troops awaiting their orders.
After years of keeping this house, Agdta knew exactly what needed to be done and in what order and wasted no time setting her troops to work. Like the good soldiers they were, the women obeyed. Evrard cheerfully and Vasco grumbling were put to work, too, moving furniture back and forth as Agdta directed.
Faith was remanded to kitchen duty where she stood at the sink and washed and dried everything that was given to her while she kept an eye on the washer and dryer, loading and folding the ever growing pile of white cloth. She was therefore the first to hear Diego burst through the door.
"Faith! Faith! Come quick. Quick! Adam i
s dying. Come quick!"
By the time Faith had her hands dried, the others had arrived and Diego's father was there to quickly explain how Adam was found and the condition he was in.
"Álvaro was afraid to move him. It's bad, very bad." With his back to Diego he drew a line with his finger from his breast to the opposite hip. "Very bad," he said again, glancing at the boy.
"You could see his insides!" Diego clarified.
"Take me to him," Faith said decisively. "Diego, you stay here with the others."
"No! Álvaro needs me. He has no one to watch his back."
Faith didn't bother arguing with the set look on Diego's face. She headed for the door, but was stopped by Evrard's hand on her shoulder.
"The Liege Lord has ordered that you remain at the hacienda," he said firmly. "I can't let you go without his consent."
"Better to ask forgiveness than permission," Vasco said, giving her back a little shove.
Evrard looked like he had something more to say, but by the angry looks of those around him, he thought better of it.
"Let me get my things and I'll go with you," he said instead and ran down the hall.
"He can meet us there," Vasco advised and moved to give her another shove.
Faith's back was no longer there. The healer was already out the door and running to the truck.
*****
"Are they all like this?" Lalo whispered as they walked down the main street of the enclave.
He'd lived his whole life in small farming community of Paenitentia. It was an isolated area where no one questioned home schooling or the tractors that ran through the night. It was an enclave of sorts, he supposed, but not of the sort the other students at the boarding school came from. When they talked about home, they talked about having really cool stuff every kid wanted; games, pools, movies and really cool cars. They wore outfits, not clothes. They wore expensive stuff that made his look like what it was - cheap.
Guardian's Faith Page 30
