Lope gave the woman a resigned look before closing the door. She was already doomed. But Onneca was not yet afraid for her life; the man before her was still her beloved cousin.
“I was sorry about Bona and Favila, and about your brother. Of all the Maestu family, you have always been most aligned with the interests of the nobles of Nova Victoria.”
“And what do you have in common with them?”
“The palace at Pamplona, the lands bequeathed to me for doing my utmost to control King Sancho the Wise and his son. But that’s all over now, Onneca. As you know, Alfonso will grant our family many more privileges.”
“And for that my entire family had to die? Was there no other way?” cried Onneca. “I would have conspired with you. Why didn’t you confide in me? I would have been your staunchest ally. We could have convinced them together.”
“With Diago Vela in the middle of things? Do you think it possible to manipulate him, you foolish woman? I convinced Sancho the Wise to send him on a dangerous mission. I was convinced he would never return alive. My mercenaries tracked him on his way home, but they couldn’t catch up with him. I’ve never known a man with so many lives.”
When it came, it was quick. He selected the old poker and began to strike her. Onneca defended herself with all the fury the memory of her father sparked in her. When she found herself on the floor she knew she was about to die, so she tried screaming with all her might.
At least they’ll know he murdered me. At least my screams will weigh upon their consciences, she thought as the iron blows rained down upon her.
From her vantage point on the ground, she saw the door open to admit a familiar robe. The beating stopped.
“Onneca! García, what savagery is this?”
She knew Alix had leaped onto her cousin, but she saw no more of that struggle. She let her eyelids close and gave way to the darkness.
51
THE CARNICERÍAS DISTRICT
UNAI
October 2019
I regained my voice. Seeing Alba calmly give orders forced me to come out of my shell and begin functioning again.
I picked Iago’s cell phone up off the ground and called Germán.
“It’s Granddad. Come,” I managed to say.
My brother understood. As a lawyer, his job depended on his ability to interpret the nuances of human misery.
“Where?”
“Santiago Hospital.”
“What about you?”
“Deba. I’m hanging up.”
I’d said enough. I knew Germán would take care of Grandfather so that Alba and I could concentrate on finding Deba.
Alba had already set up an operation and sealed off the Medieval Quarter. She had officers posted at each end of every guild street. She knew this was a race against the clock in more ways than one. The minute Superintendent Medina discovered the missing girl was our daughter, he would force us to stand down.
It made me think of the siege of Victoria. A thousand years ago, the townsfolk had fought to keep the enemy out. Now we were cordoning off the same streets to prevent the monster from escaping.
“Over here!” I heard Milán’s voice ring out over the commotion in the park.
Alba and I ran toward the Carnicerías district.
Milán was looking at something on the ground.
“Isn’t this Deba’s?” she asked as we came sprinting over.
It was the little red wristband with the silver eguzkilore charm her aunt Estí had given her.
Clever girl.
I always told her to leave a trail of breadcrumbs if she got lost.
But my daughter hadn’t gotten lost. Someone had hit Grandfather with his own cane. Grandfather would never have given his boxwood cane to his attacker willingly. No, he had confronted his assailant and had been knocked down, which left little room for doubt. My daughter hadn’t lost her way in the maze of the Old Quarter—someone had taken her.
“Get forensics to process the scene,” Alba said curtly.
Iago came down the street toward us.
“This isn’t how I’d hoped to meet you, but you must be DSU Díaz de Salvatierra.”
“This is Iago del Castillo. He tried to resuscitate Grandfather,” I explained to Alba.
Iago gave her a firm handshake and then discreetly pulled me to the side while Alba took command of the scene and continued giving instructions.
“I don’t want to get in the way. I just wanted to make sure you have enough help. Do you need someone to stay with your grandfather at the hospital and keep you informed?”
“My brother is on his way there now. And we have plenty of people to help us,” I said, though my mind was thinking through a thousand other things. “I can call family, friends from Villaverde, my cuadrilla….We’re covered, but thanks for the offer.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll stop by the hospital anyway, in case I can be of any help there. I couldn’t go back to Santander not knowing your grandfather’s condition. Right now, there’s nothing you can do for him. Focus on Deba. Do you hear me? Focus on Deba.”
I felt a stab of panic, and Iago must have seen it in my eyes.
“What do you need?” he asked. “One thing at a time. What’s most urgent?”
“Circulate a photograph of Deba, check the security cameras in the city center…” I reeled off a checklist straight from the police training manual.
I didn’t want to stop. For her. For Deba.
“Just one question, Iago, because I can’t stop thinking about it right now. Count Don Vela’s little boy disappeared. Did…did they ever find him? Is his death mentioned in the chronicle or anywhere else in the family archive?”
Iago looked away, closing his eyes like he was suppressing a painful memory.
Then he collected himself. He placed his strong hand on my shoulder. The gesture reminded me of a great sequoia’s older branches supporting newer growth.
“No, Unai. I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. Diago Vela’s son, Yennego, does not appear again.”
52
THE UNDERPASS
UNAI
October 2019
We’d already interviewed the few witnesses who were in the park and on the surrounding streets around the same time as Grandfather and Deba. The fact that many of those who had been at the scene of the crime were dressed up as bloodthirsty killers, half wearing masks, didn’t help.
“What leads do we have?” I asked Alba. “Reliable ones. I feel like we’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“Nobody saw a little girl wearing an eguzkilore costume. That worries me. We have three eyewitnesses who saw a woman with a stroller near Calle Fray Zacarías Martínez around the time we think Grandfather was attacked, but that’s about it.”
“We’ve sealed off the Old Quarter, so either they got away before we sounded the alarm, or they’re nearby,” I said, trying hard to push aside the memory of the girls trapped behind a wall just yards from where we were standing.
“We’re completely in the dark, Unai. We need to go big: I want Deba’s photograph posted on the emergency services’ Twitter, and her description broadcast on every radio station. We can’t forget that Tasio Ortiz de Zárate has made it clear more than once that he wants to see her. He’s our main suspect.”
“Go for it” was all I said.
Germán had been calling every twenty minutes to give me updates: Grandfather was in a coma and the prognosis wasn’t good. He told me we should prepare for the worst.
“But he’d want you to keep looking for Deba, so don’t beat yourself up or panic about not being able to say goodbye. I’ll call you when…if…I’ll call you if there’s any change. Just find her, please.”
Soon we were getting calls from all over the city. People claimed to have seen a little blond girl dressed as an e
guzkilore holding hands with a woman pushing a stroller in Judizmendi, San Martín Park, Calle Zaramaga. We sent squad cars to check out each and every lead.
“Any news?” I asked Milán.
“We’re trying to screen the reported sightings. Meanwhile a ticket agent at the train station claims Tasio Ortiz de Zárate bought a ticket to Hendaye. His hair was dyed black, and he was pushing a stroller with a little boy, not a girl, asleep in it,” she added.
Alba and I exchanged glances—we didn’t need to say a word. I took the first car I could find and headed for the railway station at the far end of Calle Dato.
I didn’t have my weapon or a bulletproof vest. Why would I—my Halloween had started with a harmless visit to the archives with Iago del Castillo. The station was packed, although thankfully few people on the platform were wearing costumes.
I got a text from Alba. She had ordered a search and rescue operation and had gotten the station to delay all departures.
But there was no one with a stroller on any of the platforms. I checked the bathrooms, but I saw no sign of Tasio or my daughter anywhere.
Until I ran to the underpass between the platforms.
I saw them at the bottom. It was true, Tasio had dyed his hair black and had grown out his beard. I was amazed the ticket agent had recognized him. A little boy with cropped blond hair was asleep in the stroller, and a blanket draped over his waist hid an eguzkilore costume.
It wasn’t a boy, though—it was Deba. Was she unconscious? She couldn’t be dead. I cast the idea from my mind. He wouldn’t be trying to get a train out of the country with her if she were dead.
“Tasio, step away from my daughter and let’s talk,” I said, holding up my hands so he could see I wasn’t armed.
“She isn’t your daughter. When I spoke to her in the park in Laguardia, I gave her a lollipop. It was the perfect DNA sample. You chased me, but you didn’t even realize I had it.”
“You’re a good actor. I thought you were Ignacio. I even talked about police work to test you, but you convinced me. You’re damn good at impersonating him,” I spluttered.
“I just told you that she’s not your daughter; she’s my niece. I got the test results. They confirm that I’m her uncle. She’s my flesh and blood.”
“I know. I’ve always known.”
“I just told you that she’s not your daughter and you’re not even batting an eye? My twin and I are the only family she has.”
“I knew she didn’t have my DNA from the moment she was born. But you’re wrong: she does have a family. She has my surname, and I’ve brought her up. And the family she has loves and protects her, they don’t abduct her, drug her, and cut off all her hair. You’re guilty of aggravated kidnapping of a minor. As her second-degree relative, you’re facing between two and four years in prison, as well as a restraining order. I doubt you’d be able to apply to be her legal guardian when you get out, because what you just did carries a four- to ten-year disqualification. The prosecution will certainly try for the maximum penalty because you tried to take her out of the country.”
I was still twenty feet from Tasio and the stroller, hands in the air. I was afraid to get any closer in case he threatened to hurt Deba. But behind him, at the other end of the tunnel, Alba was advancing soundlessly, gun at the ready.
I kept talking.
“Or you can hand her over now and plead remorse. We can get you a reduced sentence. I’m sure you don’t want to spend any more time in prison than you have to after what happened the last time. I shudder to think what they’ll do when they find out you abducted a two-year-old girl.”
“That won’t happen,” Tasio replied tersely. “Because you’re unarmed and you won’t come near the girl. You’re going to let me go, unless—”
“Unless nothing,” Alba hissed in his ear. She kept her cool but pressed the gun barrel against his neck and immobilized him with her free arm. “This is the closest you’ll ever get to Deba. I’m arresting you for kidnapping a minor and for attempted homicide. Santiago López de Ayala is in the ICU. You’d better pray he has a few more years to bring up his great-granddaughter.”
* * *
—
The ambulance doors closed. Alba and I sat on either side of Deba, each of us holding a limp hand. Tasio had cut off her blond curls; she looked like a naughty little boy and seemed strange, alien. The sedative Tasio had administered hadn’t worn off yet; our daughter was fast asleep.
“How much did you hear?” I asked Alba.
“How could you know she wasn’t your daughter on the day she was born? Did you get a DNA test without telling me?”
“I’d never do that. They took a blood sample from Deba after she was born, standard procedure. You’re type A, but she’s type B. I remembered that your husband’s autopsy listed his blood type as B. You never asked me for my blood type. I’m type A. So I lied when I said I was type B as well. You chose to bring her up without knowing which one of us was the father, and I respected that.”
“Who else knows?”
“Grandfather, who, as you know, is wilier than a fox. I couldn’t hide it from him. But when I held her in my arms, Deba and I decided right away that we are father and daughter. So that’s what we are. We transcend blood. I’m not sure you’ll ever understand that bond, the same way I’ll never understand the bond you have with her after carrying her for nine months.”
“Did my mother know?”
“No, Nieves never knew. And that’s fine. Deba was her granddaughter, and she died thinking I was Deba’s biological father. Our families have come together, and we’ve all been there for Deba. Don’t throw that away because of a few strands of protein. It’s just DNA, Alba. I refuse to let something physical define the people I love and share my life with.”
“Aren’t you afraid she might inherit her father’s psychopathy?”
“So far she hasn’t presented any of his traits. Deba’s empathic. She is not manipulative, and she expresses her emotions spontaneously. She’s not faking them. But if she ever did show signs of following in his footsteps, then she was born into the right family, don’t you think? A strong mother who was a deputy superintendent, a father who’s a profiler. We’re perfectly placed to detect early warning signs and to try to instill the right values in her. I’m sure Doctor Leiva would help us. They have special programs for reeducating psychopathic children.”
“I was deputy superintendent?” she asked, stroking Deba’s cheek.
“I know you’re going to quit. You deserve your castle with your sea of vineyards, and Deba deserves to be safe. She can’t possibly live in Vitoria now that the whole city has seen her photograph. You both have to go back to Laguardia.”
“That will split your life in two. You don’t need to raise her as your own if you don’t want to.”
“What the hell are you saying?” I yelled. I was mad, and I squeezed Deba’s hand harder than I should have. “No matter what happens, the three of us are joined together. It’s right here in a strand of red wool.”
But the truth was that the red wristband, and even the eguzkilores, had failed to protect the people I loved most.
There was a zombie-hunter costume back at my apartment, but I wouldn’t be wearing it for Halloween. I’d only bought it because I felt obliged to double-down on what I had said to my daughter about carrying twenty zombies around on my back.
In fact, the number of those who had died because of me was getting alarmingly close to that amount.
Dissemble, deceive, double-down—the verbs that ruled my life.
Even someone as blind as I was had to realize he couldn’t go on like that.
53
THE FAITHFUL MUNIO
DIAGO VELA
Winter, the Year of Our Lord 1200
Onneca woke up in the middle of the night. She was cold. It had stopped raining,
but she was chilled to the bone, a feeling exacerbated by the fact that her battered body was bruised and trembling.
“What happened to García?” she asked Alix.
“You need no longer concern yourself with him,” Alix replied, as if the matter were closed.
“Where are we?”
“In the old mill by the river. It wasn’t safe for us to stay at the inn, and we can’t ask King Alfonso for permission to reenter the town. He will want to know why Bishop García isn’t with us.”
“What about the message from King Sancho? We need it to persuade the townsfolk to surrender.”
Alix coughed. She felt unwell, but she hid it from her sister-in-law.
“So what do we do now?” insisted Onneca.
“I’m going to venture as far as the wall. You stay in the shadows,” Alix directed her.
With that, Alix slipped out into the chilly night. Thankfully, Mother Moon, as her husband called it, was resplendent in a sky now free of storm clouds.
She drew within earshot of the town walls and whistled several times.
Nothing happened.
The night crawled on, but Alix didn’t desert her post.
At last her angel arrived, his enormous wings blocking out the sky for an instant.
“Munio!” she whispered, overjoyed.
Her faithful snowy owl, who was old and needed her help catching mice in recent years, had responded to the call of the woman he loved.
“Munio, take this to Diago and bring him to me,” she commanded, tearing off a strip of cloth from her sodden robe and tying it to the owl’s talon.
Then she went to fetch Onneca. She helped her up to the wall as best she could, terrified that they might bump into a patrolling enemy soldier.
Just before sunrise, Gunnarr descended the wall on a rope secured by Nagorno and the author of this chronicle, two noblemen keen to be reunited with their wives at last.
The Lords of Time Page 37