by Ann Aguirre
At length, we slept, and I held his hand until we landed. When I opened my eyes next, I recognized this airstrip, and the house in the distance. We were back on Escobar’s property, wherever that might be.
Goon A escorted me from the plane while Goon B took charge of Kel. “You will be permitted to bathe and change before you see el Señor.”
I found the honorific amusing because that was also what some people called God around here. Or maybe I just was too tired to know what was funny. “Gracias.”
Paolo stood waiting for me on the veranda. When I turned, I couldn’t see Kel anywhere. I started to protest but he held up a hand. “Your companion will not be harmed. He is simply not part of your business with my father.” He spoke kindly, gently, but his eyes reflected the same implacable core I’d glimpsed in Escobar.
Divide and conquer. I recognized the tactic, but I couldn’t think of a reason to fight it. Kel could take care of himself.
“Okay,” I said wearily. “I’ll take that shower.”
The boy led the way to the suite I’d occupied before, what seemed like ages ago. I cringed a little, catching hints of my filth in reflective surfaces along the way. Even so, I wasn’t prepared for the wreckage that greeted me when I stepped into that palatial bathroom.
My hair stood in a wild nimbus on top, a straggling, messy braid down my back as if those feral demonic monkeys had styled it for me. I had a long scratch down my throat from where the demon marked me, and various bruises darkened my skin. More shocking, my face was thin and sharp, browner than I could ever remember seeing it. The blue of my eyes gleamed brighter by comparison. I got my biggest surprise when I peeled out of my filthy clothes. I ran my palms down my stomach. Ribs. I could feel my ribs. I had no idea how much weight I’d lost out there, but I could see the difference. The muscles—and apparently I had some—showed much closer to the skin now.
Well, whatever. It wouldn’t do to keep Escobar waiting—any longer than necessary, anyhow, because I didn’t mean to rush this shower. Given free rein, I’d spend days getting clean.
A long while later, I stepped out of the stall. I took advantage of the nourishing creams and then wandered into the bedroom, steam trailing me like wistful air elementals. I tried not to be outraged when I saw he’d replaced the clothing in the wardrobe with smaller sizes. I was even more agitated when they fit. I hated the idea that Escobar could foresee every eventuality, as if he were privy to a celestial chessboard nobody else could see.
“If that were true,” I said aloud, “then he wouldn’t need me to help him take out Diego Montoya.”
I told myself I wasn’t putting on the white dream of a dress to impress anyone, but part of me wanted Kel to see me wearing such a lovely thing. It was a pure slice of feminine vanity, but it suited me, and I would’ve never dared to wear a halter top before. I made sure it was tied tight before I went to work on my hair. It took longer than I liked to dry it, but after so many days of braids, I wanted to wear it loose.
Paolo knocked on the door as I finished up. He paused for a moment, taking in the picture I presented, though I was too old for him. Still, it was a kind flattery, one seen often in Latin men. “Come. It is time.”
His escort was unnecessary. Along the way, he showed off for me a little, spinning another white rose in the air. I caught it and found it had already been stripped of thorns. So when I stepped into Escobar’s sanctum sanctorum, I carried a white bloom. White dress, red hair, brown skin, blue eyes—I didn’t think I’d ever been so exotic before. I hoped Escobar didn’t expect a virgin sacrifice to seal the deal. That ship sailed long ago.
I wasn’t surprised at all to find him standing before the windows, back to me. That sort of pose offered all kinds of power advantages, especially if I sat. I didn’t. I was patient; I could wait him out.
The backpack that contained the crucifix sat on a striped damask chair nearby. To confound his expectations, I crossed the room and stood beside him. This side of the room had a majestic view, and for the first time I realized the house had been built into the mountainside. Below lay only open space.
He turned then, assessing me in a glance. “Show me what you found.”
Obedient, I snagged the backpack and dug inside it. Happily, someone had already disposed of the other noisome items it’d contained, leaving only the tarnished silver cross. Making sure of my shields—because I assuredly did not want to read this thing, as I had likely imprinted it with my struggles—I lifted the icon into the light.
“Here it is.”
“Tell me the story.”
After offering it to him, I summed up what I’d learned. “You placed the clay statue there,” I finished. “You must have, like a marker for me to follow.”
“Not me,” he said. “One of my men.”
“Why didn’t you have him fetch that thing home? Or do it yourself?”
His lips quirked. “Do I look as if I would enjoy trekking through the jungle?” As a matter of fact, no. “I admit to being curious as to how you deciphered the markings. Your phone indicates no outside help. Does your companion speak Aymara?”
I merely smiled. Let him wonder.
Accepting my silence as reply, he went on. “And the relic would have done me no good without someone to give me the answer I sought.”
“Which was?”
“Whether the story was true.”
“Why did you care? It was so long ago.”
“Blood matters,” he said gravely. “Would you not wish to know whether you came from a line of liars and rapists?”
I found his concern for family honor peculiar and offkilter, given how he had built his own empire. Still . . . “Yes. I’d want to know. But why did you think it would be so bad, that handling?” In truth, my courage had been tested more in other ways over the course of the trial.
“Wouldn’t it have been, if it had been true?”
Ugh. Yes. The priest might’ve clutched it, reliving his awful deeds, and his salacious sadism would’ve filled me as if I were a drunkard’s barf bucket.
“I’ve done it,” I said then. “Passed your challenge. May I go now? I need to reassure my friends and get some rest before we begin.”
Get your live bait, right here. Sweet Georgian bait. That would go over big with the folks in Texas.
“You’re worthy. Our initial agreement stands.” Escobar lifted the crucifix as if weighing the silver content, and his nostrils flared. “What’s this on the bottom of it? It reeks.”
“Demon blood.”
“And yet you’re here. You made no mention of demons before.”
“I guess I didn’t.” There seemed to be no point in doing so now.
“The journey did you well.”
I raised a brow. “How do you figure?”
“Some metal, inferior metal, will break if you attempt to smelt and refine it. Quality steel only becomes finer and sharper.”
“That might make sense, if I were a weapon.”
He smiled then. “But, querida . . . you are.”
I ignored that, despite the shiver of dread it raised on my spine. I’d wondered before if the blade in my side was shaping my decisions, turning me into a killer suited to its use. “Am I free to go? Can you get me to the border and give me bus fare?”
“I treat my allies far better than that,” he said gently. “But I see you’ve lost your protective charm. That’s probably why you had demons. I’ll give you another—please try to be more careful with it, and don’t remove it until I tell you.”
“Until we’ve laid the trap.”
“Yes. It will drive Montoya mad when his sorcerer fails . . . and fails and fails. He’ll contact you, if I know him at all. He’ll try to draw you into the open.”
“And I’ll go,” I said softly.
“But of course. You’ll insist on a face-to-face to settle things. He’ll see it as very Wild West. He likes that. If you live, I’ll pay you handsomely.” When he finished, he gave me his back.
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nbsp; Clearly dismissed, I strode toward the door. Paolo opened it. In one hand he held an amulet similar to the one I’d worn before. This one whispered of a different caster; I listened to its secrets with half an ear as I looped it around my neck.
“Aren’t you worried that the time I’ve spent in this house will lead Montoya right here?”
Paolo shook his head, smiling with patient amusement. “The whole place is warded. I’m surprised you can’t feel it.”
Now that he mentioned it, I could. Little tingles of energy struck my feet as I walked, as if the floor itself had been laid with magickal energy. Though I cringed at the notion of getting on another plane, I was so eager to get to Shannon, Jesse, Eva, Butch, and Chuch that I’d run all the way to Texas.
“Where’s Kel?”
“Your companion is waiting for you in the kitchen. I have instructions to feed you both and then have our pilot take you to Laredo.”
I didn’t want food. I wanted to leave. But since I needed Kel before making my escape, I followed Paolo through the winding halls.
Kel sat with a plate untouched before him, and he glanced up as I came through the swinging door. The kitchen was as large as one might expect, but emptier. The space echoed, and there were no servants to be seen. For a nonsensical moment, I wondered if this mansion was like that haunted castle, where common household furnishings came to life to tend the beast.
“Are you ready?” I asked him.
He stared at Paolo until the boy shifted uncomfortably. “Give us a moment.”
With alacrity astonishing in one who had surely grown immune to intimidation, Paolo disappeared the way we’d come. I stood still, not knowing what to expect. He rose and crossed the floor to me. They’d given him black to wear; doubtless the outfit belonged to one of the burly henchmen.
“You look lovely.” And he seemed surprised to hear the words, as if he had meant to say something else. Kel stopped just short of touching me.
“Thanks.” That was why I’d worn the dress, after all, but I felt stupid, trying to please him as if he were the kind of man who could be swayed by such things.
“He’s sworn to protect you?”
“Mission accomplished,” I answered, lifting the amulet.
“I have a new one. It’s supposed to last until we’re ready to deal with Montoya.”
“Ah,” he said, and a whisper of regret salted the syllable.
My breath hitched. “No.”
“The risk fades to acceptable levels once you secure the alliance with Escobar. You’ve done so. My mission is ended.” He was so terribly gentle. “I will not be going with you any farther.”
“New orders?”
“Yes.”
Maybe they’d demanded he depart already. He had places to go and people to kill. I appreciated him sticking around to say good-bye; that might even be borderline disobedience, the sort of thing that earned him castigation before. I wouldn’t make it worse for him, even if tears clotted my throat.
I managed a light tone. “Maybe our paths will cross again someday.”
“Perhaps. You do attract trouble.” He hesitated, then took my hand. “I can’t promise. I may never be sent to you again.”
The faintest stress on the word sent made me furrow my brow as I gazed up at him. My mind was tired or I would’ve caught on right away. A smile built when it dawned on me. Both Kel and Caim had named me Binder. If I’d called him once, I could do so again. Only one thing must I remember: I could call and call and call him, but he could never stay.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I must go.”
The request burst from me before I knew I meant to make it. “One kiss?”
Keepsake, memento, something. Please. Ease my way into this good-bye.
In answer, he dipped his head and brushed my mouth with his. I felt as though the heat of him would melt my bones with the aching. And then he stepped away. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t see him go. A word drifted back to me, lower than a whisper—a sigh. I thought I’d heard it the night before, but he hadn’t spoken it to me then, not when he knew me, at least, and even now I wasn’t sure.
Hours later, I sat in an impersonal motel room in Laredo. Since it was late, I wouldn’t call the others to come get me yet. Not until I had a chance to sort these feelings and seal them away.
With keyboard in my lap, I sat cross-legged on the bed at three a.m., Googling old Babylonian words on the inroom television. Apparently, dādu meant beloved, and Asherah had been the Assyrian goddess of desire.
I wept.
The Day After
First thing in the morning, my phone rang. I’d almost forgotten Escobar had given it back to me. I glanced at the number and, with a flicker of relief, identified my caller.
“Jesse.”
When he was worried, his drawl became more pronounced, and he sounded like pure Texas just now. “I’d love to know what’s goin’ on with you, sugar.”
Good—he didn’t know about what had happened at the shop. I hoped Shannon wouldn’t say anything before tonight; I’d feel better telling him in person. “Things are . . . complicated.”
“Are you safe?” His cop mind sorted the probabilities faster than I wanted. “Does this have to do with Montoya?”
That was like asking a mouse in the gullet of a cobra how its day was going, but he didn’t need to know that. “Yeah . . . and yeah. I’ll see you tonight at Chuch and Eva’s if you’re not doing anything. We’ll talk about everything then.”
He laughed. “The woman I want to see hits town and you ask if I can make room in my schedule? I think I’m offended.”
Jesse wanted me to move to Texas and rejoin the America he called home. He wanted me to get an apartment and meet his family. I know he foresaw Fourth of July barbecues and Thanksgiving dinners, wherein he could show me what I’d missed.
I knew I had trust issues, but part of me wasn’t sure he could accept what I was doing to ensure my own survival. His sense of morality wasn’t fluid; he came from a bedrocksolid foundation, and he’d never slept in a bus station. It’d be better if I could look into his eyes and explain what I’d done, along with the choices I’d made. If he cared about me as much as he claimed, he’d understand the necessity.
“Well, I didn’t want to assume.” There were no promises between us, so he might’ve had plans. He had a way with the ladies, and I didn’t expect him to change his life unless I showed up in Laredo, ready to open a shop and commit to a relationship.
“You caught me on a free night,” he admitted then. “I’ll be there.”
Once we disconnected, I checked out and went out front to wait for Shannon. She arrived twenty minutes later.
“Where’s Kel?” Shan asked as I got in the car.
Chuch had sent her to pick me up in one of his spares. This one was a half-restored but functional 1972 Dodge Charger. She looked fine, healthy, and her black hair sported new pink tips on the bottom. God, I hoped she had my purse. I hadn’t seen it—or Butch—since Escobar took me.
I swallowed hard. “Gone.”
“He bailed on you?” Her expression darkened.
“He saw me through what he needed to. Please don’t blame him. He reports to a higher authority.” Whatever else had come of this, I believed in his orders.
The Charger peeled out of the parking lot. It wasn’t the same shitty La Quinta I’d stayed in when I was here with Chance, but all cheap motels more or less looked the same. Escobar’s men had given me a small wad of bills, payment for my time, and dropped me off at one they knew accepted cash. Since I didn’t have any ID on me, it had to be a place like that.
“Someone in the backseat wants to say hi.”
I slid my knee up on the seat so I could twist at the waist. Butch popped out of my purse, which was lying on the backseat, and gave a happy little bark with his tail wagging in excitement. I reached for him and cuddled him to my chest. He licked my face and hands, vibrating doggy Morse code for, Dude, I missed
you; where you have you been? For long moments I just petted him and tried to let go of the surreal quality of the past days.
Maybe that was the best attitude to take. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. Therefore, I couldn’t miss him.
Shannon drove while I cuddled an ecstatic Butch. Her familiarity impressed me. Clearly she hadn’t spent her time sitting around Chuch’s house all day. “I’ve been helping Eva,” she explained. “Running errands. Grocery shopping. You wouldn’t believe how cranky and tired she is.”
By my reckoning, she must be more than eight months along by now, so I would. “I’m glad you’re both okay.” I included Butch in the word both by rubbing my chin against his head. Wag, wag, wag. His tail thumped against my arm.
“They’re great,” she said, smiling. “I mean, I felt weird at first, but Chuch said, ‘Any friend of Corine’s,’ and they just took me in, no questions asked.”
“That sounds like him.” My throat felt choky. It wasn’t like me to get tearful so fast; life had given me a harder shell than that, but I’d seen and suffered too much in the past few days, so my emotions bobbed near the surface. “Would you rather stay? I mean, Eva will need help after the baby comes.”
At this point, I didn’t know where I was going, if I would survive the encounter with Montoya. I touched the pendant I wore, ostensibly to protect me from being located by Montoya’s sorcerer. For all I knew, it could also compel my loyalty or give me plantar warts.
My mother would’ve known.
There was no guarantee I’d ever be able to repair the shop. No guarantee of anything, really, and part of me thought Shannon should stay with Chuch and Eva, where she’d be safe. They offered the family warmth she needed.
“Are you kidding?” She cut me a quick look before she went back to watching the road. “I want to see the world, not settle down in some Texas town. Seems to me that sticking with you is the best way to accomplish that.”
“Well, that much is true.”
Butch yapped, leaving me in no doubt about his opinion. Holding him made me feel better, despite the uncertainty. The rest of the ride passed in silence.
