Gina stepped before me as her mother busied herself amongst the shelves. “Shoes off,” she told me. “Jacket, too.” I did as she asked, feeling the ache when the jacket left me so soon after getting it back. Then she led me to the sheet. “Lay down here,” she told me. I did, gazing awkwardly up at the ceiling with the cold cement floor pressing against my back.
“We begin,” Maria said, approaching me with her arms full of items from the shelves. I was silent, my heart hammering in my chest as she lined them up on the ground next to me—a bundle of green leaves tied together with string, a jug of clear liquid, a candle, a jar of what looked like salt, and a bottle of rum. The egg was placed carefully on top of the leaves, just before she added a basic kitchen knife with a wooden handle next to it.
“What is that for?” I asked in alarm, and Gina chuckled.
“Relax,” she told me, and I shot a glare at her before settling back again.
Maria was muttering to herself in Spanish when she bent over me, pulling my arm from my shirt to expose my mark, her expression grim as she examined it. She straightened and moved to the altar, lighting candles and bowing her head—I couldn’t understand most of the words coming from her, but I knew they were prayers, and I swallowed hard when I returned my gaze towards the ceiling to wait.
It didn’t take long. Maria reappeared in my line of sight a few moments later with the bottle of rum in her hands—taking a large swig straight from the bottle, then walked a few paces off and began pouring a steady stream from the bottle onto the ground, circling around me. I barely had time to wonder before I heard the strike of a match, and the circle burst into flames around me, the heat rushing over my skin as the alcohol burned away quickly. It was over almost as soon as it started, leaving me wide-eyed in confusion when Maria stepped forward again to cup the egg in her hands. I looked to Gina for answers.
“The egg is alive,” she explained. “Just like you are.” Maria wet the egg with a sharp-smelling liquid from the jug, then pressed it against my forehead. “Whatever evil is in you will be pulled out and transfer to it.” I gave Gina a single, disbelieving glance before Maria began to run the egg over me—first my head, then my torso and arms, my middle and legs, even the soles of my feet. She continued praying while she did it, and I closed my eyes, finally surrendering to whatever was about to happen.
I winced when the egg rolled across the swollen flesh of my mark, my eyes opening to find Maria’s face taut with sudden pain. My eyebrows shot up and my gaze moved to the egg in her hand, shock running through me. The once-white egg was pressed firmly against my shoulder, only now it had turned a grayish-black color and was smoking between Maria’s clenched fingers.
“What—” I started, but Gina shushed me, fear in her eyes as she watched her mother work. Maria hadn’t stopped praying, and it was obvious that holding onto the egg was a struggle; from the way it was smoking I thought it must be burning her fingers, but she didn’t let go of her grasp. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and I stared with uncomprehending eyes when the egg darkened further, as if it were burning from the inside out, turning the shell to charcoal.
My head turned further to look at my shoulder, mouth falling open when I saw the redness rapidly leaving my skin. I felt…nothing. No pain, no tingling. It seemed I should be experiencing something, but instead it was Maria who was taking the brunt of it. I wanted to reach for her wrist, to pull the egg away and stop her—to stop her pain, but I was afraid of halting the progress of whatever was happening for both our sakes.
At last, she jerked the egg away with a low cry, tears streaming down her face when she turned to Gina. “Prisa, mija,” she gasped, and Gina darted forward with a jar filled with clear liquid, placing it next to her mother. Maria’s hands were shaking as she cracked the egg on the side of the glass and opened it slowly into the jar. My stomach turned, watching what looked like a dark red blood clot fall from the shell into the jar, sinking immediately to the bottom and turning the rest of the jar a deep pink. Gina was gagging when she handed her mother the jar of salt, and I saw the blisters on Maria’s fingers when she shook a handful out with a determined look on her face, leaning back away from the jar before letting the grains fall. There was a hiss when they hit the liquid, the surface bubbling up dangerously close to the top, and Maria quickly slammed a lid down on the jar to keep it contained.
“Fuck,” Gina whispered, staring at the jar. She moved to reach for it, but her mother struck her hand away just before her fingers closed on the glass.
“No,” Maria said sharply, “Do not touch it.” She lifted the jar herself, carrying it to a shelf before returning to where I lay. I used the time to examine my shoulder with a feeling of disbelief—the redness was gone, as was the swelling, and the mark was healing right before my eyes. Maria’s face was grim when she knelt back beside me, her movements far slower than they’d been when we’d first arrived, and a haggard look had crept into her features. She didn’t pause in her work, however, but lifted the knife and coated it with the same sharp-smelling liquid as the egg before pressing the flat of it against my rapidly healing wound.
That time, a sharp pain flared that streaked all the way down to my fingertips. It felt like she was cutting me open instead of simply pressing the metal to my skin, and I cried out, tears filling my eyes.
“Good,” Maria grunted, holding the knife steady despite my pain. “We must cut you free from the darkness or it will return. It has settled in your soul.”
I didn’t know what that meant, nor did I care in that moment. The pain was excruciating, and I writhed beneath the press of the blade, my hands clenched into fists at my sides to keep from jerking her hand away. I thought it would go on forever, but it ended the moment the knife was pulled away, and I wiped tears away before daring to look at my shoulder—fully expecting to see the mark of the blade left behind. Instead, I saw only a smooth stretch of skin, with a faded scar where the brand had been. It looked years old and barely noticeable, and I stared at it, my fingers raising to pass over cool flesh in wonder.
“How?” I asked.
“Magic,” Gina shrugged. She seemed shaken, though, her gaze worried when she looked at Maria’s stooped form. The candle was lit, and the leaves were waved over my body from head to toe, passing over me as if sweeping away remnants of evil.
“Está terminado,” Maria said finally, slowly gathering her things to put them away. It was done.
“Are you alright?” Gina asked her anxiously, but Maria waved her away.
“Si, estoy bién.” Maria’s voice was strained, however, and I exchanged a worried look with Gina when I climbed up from the floor.
“Something’s wrong,” Gina frowned, watching her mother. “I’ve never seen anything affect her like this before.”
“What can we do?”
“Nothing. She wouldn’t let us, anyway. We need to go.”
I nodded, my fingers slipping beneath my shirt to run over the healed mark. I didn’t know how, but it didn’t matter. I was cleaned, washed new with a new sense of purpose and confidence filling me, chasing out the paralyzing fear that had been controlling my every thought. For the first time since arriving in Dust, I could see my path clearly. I’d been given a choice—to run, or to stand my ground. I had stayed, I had turned to face the darkness instead of letting it win. It may have marked me, but I would fight.
And there was one determined thought that shone clearer than all the others when I pulled my jacket on. I wasn’t going to give up on Carter.
Somehow, I was going to get him back.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
* * *
“So, what’s the plan?”
We were in Gina’s Toyota Camry, speeding down the road towards the city. We’d left Maria sitting in a chair in her living room, already half-asleep. She’d waved off all attempts to help her, and Gina had finally given up—promising to return later to check on her.
“I take you to the factory and tell them I want to trade.”
> I froze. “What?”
“That way,” Gina continued, “We go in together. I make them bring me Alex and London, and then I pull my gun and we leave.”
I stared at her. “That’s your plan? That’s your plan?”
“Do you have something better?”
“I thought we were going to sneak in, not walk up and knock!”
Gina slid me a side-eyed glance before returning her attention to the road. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the sneaking type. We’d be caught, and I’d end up pulling my gun. At least this way it’s on my terms.”
“What if they have guns? Or knives?”
“Still on my terms.”
“Our terms,” I reminded her.
“So then give me a better plan.”
I was silent, staring out the window as we pulled from the suburb back onto the highway. I came up with a hundred different plans that were all terrible, finally picking the one that seemed least likely to get us both killed. Maybe. “Let me go in alone. You sneak in after.”
“Fuck that. They want to kill you.”
“No—listen. I’m bait, right? I’m who they want. If I go in and distract them, you might be able to get in.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Gina, there aren’t a lot of choices here. If we go in together, they’ll separate us the moment we’re inside, gun or no gun. At least this way you have a chance. Besides, you might need my help. You don’t know if Alex will be able to run.”
She didn’t answer, staring at the road ahead. Her fist was agitatedly working at the steering wheel and her expression was tightly stubborn. I didn’t push, turning instead to watch out the windows, my attention slipping back to looking for Carter as we drove. Maybe I was stubborn, too, but I wasn’t going to just accept what Maria told me, no matter how much evidence had been laid out. Carter was real, he’d been in my apartment, on the streets, in the laundromat. He was as much a reality for me as Ethan or Alex, even if he had gone a step further to invade my dreams. Ethan. I sighed to myself, wondering how angry he was. I had no doubt he was already trying to track me down.
Gina pulled the car into an empty parking lot and shifted into park, turning towards me. “How’s your shoulder?”
I pulled my shirt down to take a look, pleased to see that the angry red swelling was still gone, and the mark barely visible. I twisted for Gina to see and she nodded, chewing her lip for a moment as she considered me in silence.
“Alright,” she said finally. “Your way is better than mine. I’ll probably get caught either way, but at least this gives us a chance.” She unbuckled her seatbelt, still talking. “I’ll hide in the trunk. There’s a quick release from the inside and a ton of laundry back there. If you pull up to the gate, they’ll have to move the car. Hopefully they’ll bring it in, and not look too close. I’ll wait until they leave, climb out and find you. Then we can find Alex.”
“You’re going to have to hurry. They’re pissed at me, they might not wait long to do…whatever they’re going to do.”
“I will,” she promised. “But you’ll have to do your best to get their attention so that I have time to hide.”
I nodded, following her out of the car and around to the back as she opened it, pulling two baskets of jumbled clothing out to make room for Gina to climb in. I waited until she was inside, and then I shut the trunk on her without warning.
“Hey!” Her voice was indignant, and she pounded on the lid.
“Get out,” I told her. “Prove it.”
There was a muffled cursing and shuffling, and a moment later the trunk popped open to reveal a very irritated Gina. “What the fuck was that about?”
“I wanted to make sure you could do it.”
“A little warning next time?”
“Sorry,” I told her, “Not used to locking people in trunks.”
She shook her head at me and laid back down, and I began piling laundry around her until both baskets were empty and she was hidden beneath the mounds of clothes.
“Can you breathe?”
“Yes,” Gina said, popping her face out from beneath the piles, “But I really wish these were clean. Are you ready?”
I shook my head. “This is crazy.”
“I know,” Gina said grimly.
I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jacket, my fingers closing around my cell phone. “We should call the cops.”
“The cops can’t help get Alex back. Not in time.”
“We’re probably going to die.”
“You don’t have to do this, Avery.”
“I know,” I reached for the lid of the trunk to shut her in again, “But I’m going to.”
The parking lot was deserted when I pulled in, driving right up to the gates before stopping with the car angled across the entrance to the access road, blocking the way. Then I sat without moving for almost a full minute before putting the car into park and cutting the engine, leaving the keys dangling from the ignition. I pulled my—Ethan’s—cell phone from my pocked and stared down at the screen. I could call him. I should call him. He’d be here in an instant to put an end to this crazy idea. Patrol cars would swarm the parking lot, and everything would stop. Except I knew the police had never been granted access beyond the Civic factory gates since the Templars had purchased it, and I was pretty sure this wouldn’t be the first time someone called for help in getting a loved one out from behind the barbed wire. The factory grounds were huge, and in the confusion, there would be plenty of time and places for the Templars to hide Alex—maybe somewhere we’d never find him again. Gina was right, the only way we had a chance of getting him out was to go in alone. Ethan couldn’t help me. Still, I opened the tracking app, my thumb hovering for only an instant before I clicked to enable it again. It blinked to life, and I turned off the screen—dropping the phone between the seat and the console before getting out.
I slammed the car door hard, so Gina would know I’d gotten out. I felt safer knowing she was with me, but as I walked to the factory gates that safety slipped away. There was only danger here. The chain was back on the gate, heavy links padlocked to the inside. I didn’t see a doorbell, so I kicked the fence hard enough to make it shake, the sound echoing off the buildings and down the narrow access road. It was deserted, buildings lining it as far as I could see, and in the distance an old water tower painted with the Civic logo rose above it all.
“Hey!” I shouted, then stood waiting. For all the trouble it seemed they’d gone to over me, I’d hoped for more than the solitary figure that came sauntering out of a building and slowly down the road. He took his time, but I knew who it was before I could clearly make out his face. I waited for the pressure in my head to start, for the chanting to begin—but nothing happened.
“Tsk tsk tsk,” Girly-voice shook his head as he neared the fence, swinging a single key on a string around his finger. “Haven’t we been a bad girl.”
I shuddered. “Could you be any creepier?”
“Yes,” he answered, flashing his teeth at me. His incisors had been filed into fangs, and I wrinkled my nose in disgust, then kicked the gate again, pleased when he flinched back from the noise.
“I want to talk to Lucus.”
“You can talk to me,” he snapped.
“Fine.” I came straight to the point, unwilling to waste any more words on him than necessary. “Alejandro Martinez is here. I want you to let him go.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Girly-voice smiled
“Tell Lucus,” I continued, “That I will come to him right now, without a fight, if he lets Alex go.”
“If Lucus wants you, it won’t matter if you fight.”
“Yeah,” I said, “That worked out really well for you last time, didn’t it? How’s your friend?”
Angry spots appeared on his cheeks. “I wouldn’t make light of that, if I were you.”
“Either you bring Alex out here and he gets into my car and drives away, or I do.�
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“He might not be in a…. condition…to drive.” Girly-voice smirked.
Fear. It was there, pressing in at the cracks, and at his words I could feel a cold dread wash over me. “That’s the deal. Go tell him.”
“No,” Girly voice said, sounding bored.
There was a sudden rumbling on either side of the gate, and I stepped back in alarm, looking back and forth at the large bay doors that were slowly rolling open. I saw the figures crowding the opening just before they slipped beneath the doors, coming at me at a run. I choked back a scream, scrambling back around the car—my fingers grazing the handle just as arms wound around me from behind, pulling me away from the car. I cried out and a hand clamped down over my mouth, and then many hands were on me and I was lifted from the ground, raised up and stretched out over their heads like a prize.
“Like I said,” Girly-voice drawled from somewhere behind me, “It won’t matter if you fight.”
I twisted in their grasp in time to see a man climb behind the wheel of Gina’s Camry, the engine rumbling to life. Wide-eyed, I watched as he drove it into one of the open warehouses just before the doors began rolling slowly down. It had worked—Gina was in.
Girly-voice unlocked the gate, and I was half carried, half dragged through. I knew we needed a distraction, a way to pull everyone from the warehouse so Gina could get out, and something loud enough she’d hear. I bit down hard on the hand over my mouth—hard until I tasted blood and he jerked it away with a curse.
Into Dust: The Industry City Trilogy - Book One Page 18