The Copper Egg

by Catherine Friend

  “Yeah, I get that. She expects you to reject her again like you did before.”

  Claire looked longingly at a plate full of orejitas on the table next to her. Yes, she had rejected Sochi and her proposal, but she’d tried to apologize…but only once. She never contacted Sochi after leaving Peru. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if she could blame all this on Hudson. “I suppose she might have a good reason for being La Bruja.”

  “And if she doesn’t? Then you’ll love her less?”

  Her chest started to ache. “You’re confusing me.”

  “Seems like you have a choice, kid. You told me you made a mistake leaving three years ago. You either make that same mistake again, or you fix the problem.” Mac had begun to speak softer and more slowly, clearing growing tired.

  “Mima always said if your life wasn’t going right, to stop and fix it.”

  “Wise advice. But my pain meds are kicking in. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

  “Mac, one more thing. For the last three years, I’ve been feeling sorry for myself because I didn’t think I had any friends. But you’re my friend, and a good one.”

  “Thanks, kid, but don’t tell anyone, okay? Then everyone will want to be my friend.”

  She snorted. “Maybe everyone will want to be my friend.”

  They paused. “Nah,” they said simultaneously.

  As Claire watched the throngs of people passing by Las Dulces, she fingered the amazonite teardrop around her neck. What was the stone for again? To help her see the other side, to see through someone else’s eyes.

  This time the vision she received wasn’t one from the copper egg, or about Ixchel; it was about her and Sochi. If anyone was going to fix this, it would have to be Claire.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Sochi

  Saturday, April 8

  Sochi wasn’t sure where she was going, but it was away from Trujillo. Perhaps she’d drive up to Ecuador and go surfing or shelling. As she packed late Saturday afternoon, she struggled to ignore that sick feeling she had whenever something in her life went desperately wrong. Hopelessness and regret mingled together, along with the harsh truth that much of our lives were outside of our control. She’d let Aurelio down, failing to catch Higuchi in the act. She’d let Rigo down by retiring La Bruja. In a way, she’d let Claire down by becoming La Bruja in the first place. At least Mima was safe.

  Sochi dropped onto the bed, head in her hands. Claire. What had Sochi been thinking this last week? They’d begun to talk, to reconnect, even laugh a little. Sochi should have known it was only a matter of time before she gave Claire another reason to leave. It didn’t get more offensive than La Bruja.

  She checked her phone. Still no response from Aurelio. She’d texted him that she’d lost Higuchi’s trail, but balanced that with the good news that the backflap and other artifacts were still safe in the CNTP vault. She also texted that she needed to take some time off. She ran the risk of demonstrating that the organization could function just fine without her, but she no longer cared. Her obsession with keeping Peru in Peru had helped destroy her relationship with Claire, and had made her more vulnerable to Minister Salazar’s pressure to become La Bruja.

  She jumped at a determined knock on her door. It must be Rigo, come to talk her out of quitting. But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Rigo’s square, chiseled cheekbones that faced her.

  Claire’s long hair, pulled back into a ponytail, shone like polished brass in the sunlight. “We need to talk,” she said.

  Sochi blocked the open doorway with her body. “I told you. We’re done.”

  Claire took a step forward until their chests nearly touched. “Not until we’ve talked.” She moved so close that Sochi had no choice but to step back into the room.

  Claire wore what she always did, and looked as hot as she always did. The extra pounds took away the bony, hard look she’d had three years ago. Now she looked strong, but soft at the same time. She unslung her leather bag, which looked as if it were about to fall apart, and dropped it onto the floor. “We could get comfortable,” Claire said. “Perhaps share some tea.”

  “Say what you have to say, then leave.” Sochi folded her arms protectively.

  Claire inhaled, then slowly exhaled. “Three years ago, I jumped to conclusions. I left without talking to you. I saw you burn my letter so I assumed you had rejected me. This time I’m not going to do that. We need to talk. I want to know what’s going on with you.”

  “What’s the point?”

  Claire’s face looked pained, her brows gently furrowed. “I’ve been thinking about why I left with just the letter instead of talking to you. I think I was ashamed to love someone who could betray me the way I thought you’d betrayed me. But I’ve decided that shame is the biggest waste of time on the freaking planet. It helps no one. So I’m going to stop being ashamed. I don’t care what you tell me about La Bruja. I don’t care why you did it. I’m not going to be ashamed to love someone who’s broken the law.”

  Sochi’s pulse quickened. “You just said you love me.”

  Claire’s cheek lifted in a quick smile. “I do love you. Desperately. It turns out that I’ve never stopped loving you.” She looked at the floor. “I know you probably can’t love me back because hearts heal at different rates, but that’s okay. I’m not sure I actually deserve it anyway. But I want you to know that even though I didn’t find Chaco’s tomb, and am going to stop looking, I found something even more important, and that was the truth: That you will always, always, be the love of my life. I just let my shame and my ambition blind me to that fact.”

  Sochi sighed heavily, placing one hand over her heart, then she backed up and sat down on her plush sofa. “You don’t care that I was La Bruja?”

  “I only care because it must have been incredibly difficult for you to live two such opposite lives. Have you had anyone to talk to about this?”

  Sochi found it hard to swallow. “No. I’ve had Mima, but I couldn’t tell her about La Bruja.” She wiped her eyes. “But I would like to tell you.” She began at the beginning, which was the time when she still felt dead inside after Claire had left. Minister Salazar had taken her aside after a huge CNTP conference and proposed she become La Bruja in order to harass Higuchi, in hopes of getting him off balance enough that he’d make a mistake. She explained about Rigo, and how well they worked together, and that Rigo had known her true identity from the beginning, but had said nothing to her. He could have destroyed her a dozen times over, but didn’t do it.

  By the time she’d finished, Claire was holding both her hands. Blinking, she looked up into Claire’s soft green eyes. “You’re still here.”

  “I told you. I’m not leaving, no matter what you did. But I don’t think you had any choice. I might have done the same thing if I’d been in your situation. Higuchi is one crazy dude, so I get why Salazar and the others are so afraid of him. But using people like you—”

  “And Maria Menendez, the woman who followed you.”

  “She was working for Salazar too?”

  Sochi nodded.

  “What a coward. He puts women in danger to fight his battles for him.”

  A calm descended over Sochi. What did it mean that she felt so comfortable sitting here with Claire, and so relieved? It was as if a long, dark nightmare had finally ended. Claire gently stroked her cheek.

  “Do you remember when we had our first fight and we separated for twenty-four hours?”

  A bolt of desire shot through Sochi’s body and settled between her legs. “Yes, I remember.”

  “Just before you kissed me, you apologized for not being able to wait until I’d had more time to recover from our fight.”

  “I remember.”

  Claire moved closer, shifting one arm around Sochi’s waist. “I’m in that position now. I know you need more time, but I can’t give it to you.” Her gaze dropped to Sochi’s lips. “I think you should know, Xochiquetzal Castillo, that I’m going to kiss you. So if you need to r
un away or scream for help, you have about four seconds…three seconds…”

  Desire flared in Claire’s eyes.

  “Two,” they whispered together, then, “one.”

  They came together in a kiss that was charged with renewal and excitement and regret for lost time and the deep, deep love they’d both hidden from themselves. She pulled Claire closer, and they fell back against the sofa, lost in each other’s touch.

  Claire finally took a breath. “If we were stuck in some romance novel, this is the scene where we’d strip each other naked and make creatively-varied love all night long.” She left a string of kisses along Sochi’s jaw. “But I’m too happy. I just want to look at you.”

  Sochi nodded. “How many couples get the chance to rediscover one another? I’m so overwhelmed that all I can think about is holding you.”

  “When I was a teenager,” Claire said, “my dad brought home a kitten he’d found in the middle of a country road. I named him Emmett and we became inseparable. When he was really little, he’d snuggle up next to my face, put his entire nose into my nostril, then we’d just stay that way, quietly breathing each other in.” Claire pulled Sochi down on top of her. “That’s what I want to do. Just breathe you in.” Within minutes, curled into each other, they fell asleep. Sochi’s last thought was that Mima was so right—when the mind let go of the negative crap, the heart could heal just fine.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Claire

  Sunday, April 9

  When Claire woke up and felt Sochi’s breath against her neck, she nearly cried. Everything in her life had felt wrong and off-kilter for three endless years. And now, with Sochi in her arms again, all that faded. Sochi was warm and soft and hers. And she wouldn’t let anything come between them ever again.

  Except a full bladder. Carefully, Claire extricated herself from Sochi’s smooth limbs and used the bathroom. On the way back, her blinking cell phone caught her eye. It was a photo sent around midnight, an hour ago.

  Claire gasped. Mima, this time bloodied and unconscious, was tied up, on the ground. Next to her was Denis, in the same shape, blood staining his white jacket. She clenched her teeth so tightly they ground together. Then the text: You have until daybreak.

  She clutched at her hair. When was this idiot going to get it—she couldn’t find a treasure on command. Claire began pacing. She should wake Sochi up, but what could she do? What could Claire do? There were no GPS coordinates with this photo, so the message was clear—no treasure, no saving Mima and Denis.

  Claire pulled the copper egg from her pocket and held it tight.

  Nothing. God damn it. Nothing.

  Her bag still rested on the floor. There was only one thing left to do, only one way to increase her chances of a vision. She pawed through the bag until she found the vial of San Pedro the shaman had given her.

  She didn’t want to do this. The drug made her feel lost and out of touch. Using her pocketknife, she cut the piece in half, returned one half to the vial, and swallowed the rest.

  Then she sat on the floor beside the sofa, comforted by Sochi’s warm presence, and held the copper egg. It only took about a minute.

  Ixchel stumbled between the two guards as they left the compound. The administrator led them east, skirting the artisan homes, then he turned north past the next compound. Soon they left the city behind and trudged up and down land dotted with scrub brush and yellow-tipped grasses. The administrator chattered on about how honored Ixchel should be that he had dedicated years to tracking her down.

  Ixchel’s mouth was dry. Uncle and Auntie had spent their lives keeping her safe. This wasn’t their fault. It was hers, but what could she have done differently? She thought of Cualli and their love. She thought of Tochi and their affection for each other. She would go to her death with these good feelings in her heart. This man could never take those away from her.

  “Here. Stop.”

  They stood before a long wall of sand. Another dune. But there was an opening, a doorway reinforced with bamboo. She saw now it wasn’t a dune, but a building, most of it buried in sand. At the far end, men still shoveled the sand to hide the adobe walls.

  “Here?” she asked, pulse racing. She would have no opportunity to escape.

  “Our wise king knew his tomb would be better protected if he built it not near our own small city, but near a much larger city instead. Come, the others have already been sacrificed inside the tomb, so there is no time to waste.”

  This was it. This was the tomb. She swung toward the ocean, seeking help. Nothing but blue water falling off the edge of the world. She swung toward the mountains. Nothing but the distinctive outline against the cloudless sky: four peaks ascending to the right, a plateau, then a sharp drop. No help in that direction. She closed her eyes. At least she still had the egg.

  “No!” Cualli shouted behind her. Ixchel was knocked to the sand as Cualli swarmed over her, hands tearing at her, clawing at the pouch at her waist. Cualli shouted, “No! A mistake, a mistake!”

  Ixchel tried to calm her as Tochi ran toward them. Cualli yanked the pouch so hard the thin string broke.

  Cualli leapt to her feet, holding up the pouch in triumph. “I am Ixchel. See?” She poured the egg into her palm. “I have the copper egg. You have made a mistake. I am the daughter of Atl.”

  The administrator looked confused. Tochi approached, arms waving.

  Ixchel was horrified. “Cualli, do not do this. You cannot sacrifice yourself for me.”

  Cualli ignored her, thumping the man on the chest. “I am Ixchel. Do not anger the gods by sacrificing the wrong female or you will never join our great king. He will bar the gates to you.”

  His face hardened. He nodded to the guards and they took Cualli by the arms. Ixchel grabbed at their clothing. “Cualli, use the egg! The egg will save you! Use the egg.” Cualli gave Ixchel a look of deep love, then was dragged toward the tomb.

  When Cualli disappeared inside the tomb, Ixchel threw herself at the guards blocking the entrance.

  Tochi joined her, but four guards beat them until they were bloody. Tochi pulled Ixchel from the tomb entrance and they crawled over the next dune. He held her as she cried.

  Stunned, Claire stared at the egg. She had recognized the horizon the second Ixchel’s gaze took it in: four peaks ascending to the right, a plateau, then a sharp drop. But that was the horizon directly to the east of Chan Chan. That would mean Chaco’s tomb was practically on top of Chan Chan. The administrator said the tomb was close to Ixchel’s home, but Claire struggled to believe it. The room spun as the drug hijacked her system.

  Panicked now, she reached over and gently shook Sochi awake. When she showed her the photo, Sochi moaned in fear.

  Claire held out the copper egg. “I just had a vision, but it didn’t help. It looked like it was near Chan Chan, but that just can’t be right. Chaco’s tomb wouldn’t have been right next to Chan Chan. My visions must be faulty.” Her head rolled back. “Or the San Pedro was bad. I don’t really know where the tomb is.”

  Sochi took her hands, cursing softly about the San Pedro. The touch and the warmth calmed Claire a little, but she was sure the world had tipped on its side…only Sochi’s hands kept her from falling over.

  “Claire, calm down. You can do this. You observe. That’s what you do, even if you’re unaware of it. Your mom once told me how you’d be in the grocery store and predict that you’d run into the minister, and you would. Then you’d tell her that the school principal was there, and she was. It’s because you saw everything, including license plates, and recognized them in the parking lot. So we’re going to go through each vision, and you’re going to just relax and observe, okay?”

  Claire inhaled, shaky. “Okay. Still really high.”

  “Close your eyes. Focus, Claire. Ignore how the drug is making you feel. This last vision you saw something that reminded you of Chan Chan?”

  “The horizon to the east, the outline of the mountains.”

  �
�Okay, anything else?”

  “It was daylight so there were no stars.” Despite her addled state, she managed to tell Sochi of her plan to use three stars in the Carina Nebula to help locate the tomb. “The vertical line of the three brightest clusters in the nebula tipped just slightly to the left at 50 km north, and just slightly right at 50 km south. If I could see the nebula, it might help me locate the tomb in relation to Trujillo.”

  “Good. Now let’s go back to the vision before that.”

  Claire pressed her lips together, still feeling Ixchel’s terror as the administrator took her prisoner. “Nothing helpful.”

  “The vision before that?”

  “Nothing. She was inside with her dying uncle.”

  Gently, slowly, she relived each vision. Being high on San Pedro made the visions feel like a comfortable place in which to stay, but Sochi’s voice and strong hands kept pulling her back.

  Claire reached the vision where Ixchel had been on the ground, looking up at the sky, when Cualli had kissed her. Claire still couldn’t see the nebula.

  Sochi took her all the way back to the first vision, the evening when she’d taken San Pedro with Hudson, hoping to restart the voices in her head.

  It was dark. Claire could smell the sea. Smell warm llamas.

  Ixchel was back home now; she passed through a room into an inner courtyard.

  “Come here, Ixchel,” said Uncle.

  Uncle and Auntie gave her a present. To celebrate. “You are ten cycles.”

  She was thrilled. She’d never been given a gift before. There just wasn’t enough for extra things like gifts. She opened the small bag and pulled out a small copper egg.

  “It’s from your papa,” her uncle said.

  Ixchel jumped up. “Papa? You’ve seen him? Is he here?”

  Uncle and Auntie exchanged a glance. “No, your papa isn’t here,” Auntie said, “and he won’t likely come to visit. But he managed to get this egg to Uncle. It’s for you.”

  Sadness coursed through her. Ixchel missed her papa. He had left five years ago, but she didn’t know when—or if—he was ever coming back for her. She looked up into the sky, as if it could tell her where her father might be. The night sky was bright. Clusters glowed.