Bedlam Boyz

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Shhh, child,” Elizabet said aloud. “They’re starting now.”

  Something really strange was happening, that was for sure. She could feel it, the gathering of power like a rising wind, a hurricane building from a deceptive calm—and the long-haired guy with the flute, he was the center of all of it, silently calling the forces of nature to this spot. She could see it reaching from him, touching all the magic around them and drawing it in, creating something from nothingness, a focus point of simmering magic… .

  “Carlos, I don’t want her here!”

  The loud female voice broke through Kayla’s dream, startling her awake. She opened her eyes sleepily to see two people standing in the doorway. One was a young woman with long dark hair and full red lips accented by bright lipstick. Those lips pouted as she looked at Kayla. The other was the handsome guy, Carlos. The guy who tried to kill me, she remembered.

  The young man spoke in a placating tone, but Kayla could hear the steel underneath it. “Roberta, querida, she has to stay somewhere. It’s only for a few days, until we find a permanent place for her.”

  “But there’s no room for her! You have to take her somewhere else… .”

  They were ignoring her. They were standing right in front of her, arguing, and it was like she wasn’t there at all. Kayla’s initial terror gave way to anger. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but—” she began.

  Both the man and the woman continued to ignore her completely. “Roberta,” Carlos said, “No more arguing about this, please. She stays here for tonight, and that’s final. I’ll try to find another place for her tomorrow.” The man glanced at Kayla for the first time. “If you’re hungry, Luisa is cooking dinner for everyone.”

  The two walked away, the woman still trying to argue. Kayla looked out the window, wondering whether she ought to jump. Better to wait until I can get out of here without risking breaking my neck, she thought, and realized with a start that she was hungry. And her head wasn’t hurting anymore, though her gut still ached—a faint reminder of the knife wound. What she did feel was exhausted, with every muscle in her body aching like someone had pounded on her for several hours with a brick. And hungry. Very hungry. The smell of hot food wafted through the open door, enough to make her want to ignore her fear of these people, and whatever it was that they were going to do with her, enough to brave the world outside the bedroom.

  She stood up a little unsteadily, then walked out to the living room, now overflowing with men and women and loud rock music. Most of them were helping themselves to the plates of food laid out on the counter, while a couple of the younger kids sat playing video games in front of the television. She felt like a stranger at a wedding, surrounded by people she didn’t know, in a place she didn’t want to be. Most of them seemed to be ignoring her, too—maybe she could just go to the door and walk right out of this place? She glanced at the door, where a big man in a plaid shirt and green bandanna, dressed like so many of the other guys, was standing guard. He met her gaze squarely. No, she wasn’t going to be able to walk past that guy, at least, not very easily… .

  But I’m tough, I can handle this. These guys won’t see me cry, that’s for sure. I’ve been in bad situations before, like a couple of those awful foster homes. And I survived on the street just fine; no bastards made me cry then. So now these crazy people have kidnaped me, I don’t know why. But I’ll survive it. I’ll get out of this, they’ll see.

  “Are you hungry?” a voice asked from beside her.

  She turned to see the young man, the driver who had brought her to this awful place. She looked down at her sneakers and nodded.

  “I’ll get you some dinner.” He elbowed his way past a couple of the others and quickly filled a plate with a large burrito and several tamales. Some of the people were looking at her strangely; the young man said something fast in Spanish. Kayla caught the word “brooha” mixed in with other words too fast and foreign to understand.

  “Here.” He handed the plate to her. “Do you want a soda? Maybe a beer?” He tilted his head to look at her, and a grin flashed across his face, like a burst of sunlight from behind a cloud. “You can talk, can’t you?”

  “I can talk,” she said, not looking up at him.

  “How old are you, querida?”

  “Fifteen,” she said, surprised by the question.

  “I’m seventeen,” he said. “I didn’t think Carlos’ bruja would be so young.”

  “What—what’s a brooha?” she asked.

  He smiled. “A witch, a magician. Someone who can do what you did tonight.” He shook his head, as though he still couldn’t believe what he’d seen. “I never dreamed that could be possible, until I saw the magic in your hands. Carlos was right, we need you here.” He gestured at her with the glass in his hand. “So, what do you want to drink?”

  “Soda’s fine, thanks,” Kayla whispered, glancing at the door. Everyone seemed to be ignoring her except this kid and the guy at the door; maybe she could take a seat by the door and just slip out when the door guard was getting his dinner or something. It would take her a while to steal some money for bus fare, but eventually she’d be back at Elizabet’s… .

  “Who’s this, Ramon, your new girlfriend?” a short boy with greased black hair asked.

  To Kayla’s surprise, the young man blushed. “No, Carlos found her—she’s the bruja he was talking about. Her name is …” He stopped and looked at her, smiling a little. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name, querida.”

  “Kayla,” she said. “Kayla Smith.”

  “Ah. A pretty name, Kayla. I’m Ramon Hernandez. That’s Carlos over there, my brother. Roberta’s his girlfriend, she and her sister Luisa live here, and two of their cousins …” He continued on a mind-numbing list of names, rattling off information about everyone in the apartment. She bit into one of the tamales and pretended to listen, keeping an eye on the front door. Maybe later she’d have a chance… .

  The tamale was hot, spicy, and very oily. Kayla took one bite and decided she wasn’t that hungry after all and set the plate down on the closest table. The young man watched her with an odd expression in his eyes. He seemed about to say something, then turned away to talk in rapid-fire Spanish with one of the other men.

  “Roberta, please, I don’t want to argue this anymore… .”

  Don’t those two ever stop? Kayla wondered, as Carlos and Roberta’s argument increased in volume to the point where she could hear it over the other conversation in the room. The two of them were walking toward her. Kayla looked around quickly for a place to hide.

  “Just let her stay here a few days, and I promise I’ll do anything you want, buy you some new clothes, jewelry, whatever.” They stopped in front of Kayla, who felt all the eyes in the room moving to her.

  Roberta gave Kayla a long, hate-filled look, then suddenly smiled. Kayla decided instantly that she didn’t like that smile at all.

  “I want her earrings,” Roberta said.

  Kayla stared at her in shock. She had to be kidding—the earrings were hers, Elizabet had bought them for her just a few hours ago. It wasn’t like they were expensive, or even unusual. And they were hers. “‘Berta, you have lots of jewelry; I buy you more all the time… .” Carlos said.

  “I want her earrings, Carlos,” the woman insisted.

  Carlos glanced at Kayla. “Take off your earrings, girl,” he said.

  Anger overrode the terror that had haunted her since these people had forced their way into Elizabet’s house, stabbed her, and then carried her off like a piece of meat. “Like hell, you bastard!”

  The man’s hand clamped down painfully on her arm. “Take off the earrings. Now.”

  Kayla started to protest and then saw the look in his eyes. It reminded her of the look he’d had at Elizabet’s house, the same tiny smile that had been on his face … just before he tried to kill her. It was a smile that said that he was enjoying this, and whatever was going to happen next.

  Her hands shaking,
Kayla removed the silver earrings. She held them in her hand for a moment, then tossed them onto the floor. They rattled on the worn linoleum. “Here, take ‘em, they’re yours,” she said tightly.

  Carlos’ eyes narrowed even more dangerously. “Pick them up and give them to Roberta.”

  “The little bitch can pick them up herself—”

  “Pick them up and give them to Roberta,” he said in a voice like ice.

  Kayla knelt and picked up the silver loops, handing them to Roberta. With all the dignity she could muster, she walked down the hall to the bedroom.

  She sprawled facedown on the bed, trying not to cry. She couldn’t stop the first few tears and angrily wiped them away. I don’t know what’s going on here, I don’t know what they’re going to do with me, but I’ll be damned before I let them see me cry!

  “Kayla?”

  She rolled over to see Ramon at the doorway. “What do you want? I don’t have any more jewelry to give away, sorry … how ‘bout my sneakers? They’re new too, Elizabet just bought them for me… .” She saw that he was holding the plate that she’d left on the living room table. “Go away, I’m not hungry.”

  He sat down at the end of the bed, setting the plate down next to her; Kayla edged back, closer to the wall. “I know it’s difficult for you,” he said awkwardly. “I know you don’t want to be here. But you’ll see, it’ll get better. You’ll be happy here, one of the homegirls. You have to understand, it’s hard for Carlos and the rest of us, too. We’re not used to anything like this, bringing someone like you here to our barrio… .”

  “You mean, you don’t go around kidnaping people all the time?”

  He smiled. “No, not usually. Though there is a great family tradition of kidnaping our brides … of course Carlos is so handsome, he’d never have to do that. The women just fall at his feet, all the time.” He looked down at his hands, clenched in his lap, then back up at her with those dark eyes. “We need you, querida. We need you to help us with your magic. Carlos should have told you why we need you, then you’d understand. It’s a matter of life and death for us: if we lose, they’ll kill us all. That’s why we brought you here.”

  “Carlos should have told me this, instead of trying to kill me! He stabbed me, remember? I could’ve died!” Kayla’s gut twisted, remembering. It still ached where the knife wound had been, a dull counterpoint to the exhaustion and secret terrors.

  She saw the troubled look in his eyes before he hid it behind a smile. “But you healed yourself, didn’t you? Carlos just wanted to prove that you could do it. You’re fine now, it didn’t do any real harm to you …”

  “What if he’d been wrong? What if he’d picked the wrong house, stabbed the wrong kid?”

  “But that didn’t happen.” Ramon shook his head. “It all worked out fine.”

  “Listen, please, I just want to go home, all I want to do is go home … can’t you let me go?” She felt the tears threatening again, and bit her lip to hold them back. I just want to be gone, be out of here, go back to Elizabet’s… .

  “What, you don’t want to be here with all of these handsome homeboys? Like me, Ramon, the handsomest of them all?” He brushed back his hair with one hand, giving her his most appealing look. In spite of herself, Kayla smiled.

  “It’ll be all right, querida,” Ramon said reassuringly. “You’ll see, everything will be all right.” He picked up the plate of food and held it out to her. Reluctantly, she took it from him. “Eat some dinner, you’ll feel better,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow Carlos will let me take you out into mi barrio, show you our home. And I’ll explain why we need you here.”

  He left the room, and Kayla lay staring at the ceiling for a long time. Her thoughts were moving too fast, racing through her mind, all the words blurring together.

  They were going to keep her here, maybe forever. That thought hurt more than everything else. They’d keep her a prisoner here for the rest of her life, if they thought they could get away with it.

  She crossed to the door and listened. It was silent in the hallway beyond. Maybe everyone had left the apartment, and she could just sneak out, get to a telephone and call Elizabet… .

  Quietly, she opened the door. A man she didn’t recognize was seated on a folding chair by the bedroom door. He watched her silently as she walked to the bathroom. Inside, she checked the window. It was the same situation as the bedroom, no way to climb down and too far to jump. She splashed some cold water on her face and walked past him again into the bedroom.

  With the door carefully closed against the watchful eyes of the man in the hallway, she lay down on the bed and wondered how in the hell she was going to get herself out of this situation.

  I want to go back to Elizabet’s, she thought. I want to go home, I want to go home …

  :Kayla, can you hear me? Kayla, child, where are you?:

  She sat upright in bed. “Elizabet?”

  :Where are you? Tell me where you are … :

  The words tumbled from her, she didn’t care if anyone outside the bedroom could hear. “Elizabet, they’ve locked me up in an apartment, I’m somewhere in the Valley, please, you have to get me out of here!”

  :Kayla, where are you? Can you hear me?:

  “Yes, I can! Please, Elizabet, they’re going to keep me here forever, you have to help me! I can’t get out, they won’t let me leave, I’m locked in here—”

  :Kayla, can you hear me? Kayla … :

  Elizabet’s voice was fainter now, moving further away.

  “No! Elizabet, I’m here, please, help me! Don’t go, don’t leave me here! Elizabet!”

  :Kayla, where are you—:

  Elizabet’s voice faded to silence, too distant to hear. Kayla curled up on the bed, one fist pressed against her mouth to keep her from sobbing out loud. “Elizabet, please, don’t leave me here, please …”

  The bedroom door opened, her impassive guard looking at her silently before closing the door again. She thought about trying to get past him and escape, maybe hit him with something and make a break for the door.

  The first step, she thought, is to get organized. Make a plan. She angrily brushed the tears out of her eyes and began exploring the bedroom, opening every drawer in the dresser to look for anything useful. The top drawer was filled with pretty lingerie, all lace and silk. Beneath that were two drawers with jeans and folded blouses. Nothing useful.

  The fourth drawer wasn’t much better. It mostly held women’s shoes: one pair of fancy heels and a couple pairs of cheap woven leather shoes. The jackpot was inside one of the shoe boxes: no shoes, just a small mirror, several razor blades, and a small bag of white powder. Kayla carefully picked up one of the razor blades, replacing everything else exactly the way it had been.

  It’s not much, but now I have a weapon, she thought, hiding it under the mattress of the bed. She checked the closet next, riffling through the dresses on plastic hangers and several cardboard boxes. She was hoping to find some extra bedsheets, envisioning herself tying sheets together to climb down from the window like a movie heroine. But the boxes only had some towels and notebooks written in Spanish inside. The sheets that were already on the bed wouldn’t get her very far, though maybe if she ripped them into strips and braided a rope out of that …

  Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow. She was tired, even after taking the nap earlier. Too tired to deal with anything right now. All of this craziness, and getting hurt, it felt like it had taken something major out of her. Kayla took the plainest nightgown she could find out of the dresser and changed out of her clothes.

  In the bed, she tried to imagine a handsome hero arriving to rescue her—some handsome, blond guy with a flashy smile and lots of dimples. Wasn’t that what all fairy-tale heroes were supposed to look like? And a white horse, he needed a white horse. He’d show up below her tower window—in this case, a third story apartment window—and climb up to rescue her. That’s the way the stories always worked.

  This time, I think I’ll hav
e to rescue myself.

  I’ll do it, she thought, drifting off to sleep again. I’m tougher and smarter than they are. I’ll figure a way out of this. They won’t keep me here forever, no way… .

  Chapter Five

  “Carlos, she’s wearing one of my nightgowns!”

  Oh God, Kayla thought, burying her face in the pillows. It’s the Dragon Lady again. It was too late to pretend to be asleep, and besides, no one could sleep with that lady’s shrill voice screaming in their ear. She sat up, pulling the covers more tightly around her.

  Roberta was still going on about the puta who was wearing her clothes, with Carlos standing there taking it all in. She wondered why he put up with her. Sure, the woman was pretty, but that voice!

  “Why are you wearing her nightgown, girl?” Carlos asked mildly, as Roberta paused to inhale between sentences.

  “Because I don’t have anything of my own!” Kayla said furiously. “And what I’ve got is covered with blood!” It was true; her jeans, draped over a chair, looked like someone had painted them with blood. Her blood.

  “Ramon!” Carlos called through the open bedroom door. The younger man appeared a few seconds later. He was wearing a black leather jacket over yet another plaid shirt, which Kayla thought looked rather good on him.

  “I want you to take the girl to buy some clothes,” Carlos continued, taking a large wad of money from his pocket and peeling off several bills. “Get her anything she needs. Roberta, we can’t let her go out wearing her own clothes now, there’s too much blood on them. The policía might see her, then there’d be trouble. Let her wear something of yours just for today, all right?”

  Roberta gave Kayla a sullen look and said something fast in Spanish. From the expression on her face, Kayla decided she was glad she didn’t understand that particular phrase. Carlos gave her a very sharp look, and Roberta visibly flinched. “She can wear my clothes to go shopping,” she said in a flat voice.