Shady Lady cs-3

by Ann Aguirre

  She’d eaten him, just as I promised she could.

  Vicente lifted his hand, preparing another spell, but Dumah went for him next. His brother’s soul had made her stronger, so she had the power to fight him. His shields were stronger, but while he resisted her attack, he couldn’t cast. Paolo dived for Montoya’s weapon.

  “No,” Dumah said. “This one’s mine. Promised.”

  I stilled the boy with a hand on his arm. “We must let her have him or she’ll be free to turn on us.”

  I could banish her, perhaps, using the incantation I had used on Caim—assuming my shields were good enough to stave her off—but maybe, like Vicente, I wouldn’t be able to remember the words while struggling with her for control. I would rather not risk it. What was more, that call, if I succeeded, would seriously piss Maury off. I didn’t want to get on his bad side.

  At last, she took Vicente and swept through him like a dark tide. His body crumpled, still living, but empty. I stared at the two Montoyas, chilled at the decision I’d made and what it meant. Paolo raised the gun and glanced at me for confirmation.

  “Our bargain is done,” Dumah whispered. “I give you leave to call me anytime, Corine Solomon. This was . . . fun.”

  Worse and worse. I didn’t banish her; she simply threaded away—back to the body she’d left behind, I assumed. I imagined the scene there: Woman fainting on the sidewalk. Maury telling people she was pregnant, not to worry, she’d be fine in a few minutes.

  “I should finish this,” the boy said. “As my father requires.”

  Gods knew I didn’t want to, so I merely nodded and turned my face away. Two shots rang out. Simple. Elegant. Awful. I’d fed the eternal part of them to a demon. Even if they were awful men, there was no denying it; I was a bad woman.

  The devil shone in Paolo’s eyes as he examined the bodies. “Ah, Montoya. A son is always more powerful than a brother.” He gave me a look. “You will wish to turn around now.”

  I didn’t ask why. I complied. When I glanced down again, the heads were missing. In response to a gesture, the two corpses bounced away, obedient to his will, until they landed in the drainage ditch on the side of the dirt road. I knew now what the black duffel was for. I didn’t imagine we’d be smuggling those back into the States.

  “I need proof,” he said in a faintly apologetic tone. “Shall we call him?”

  We did. Escobar instructed us to meet his men at an airfield three hours away. Numb, I drove on with two heads in a bag in my backseat and a killer beside me. Paolo scared me now because he seemed so gentle, and yet I saw nothing in his eyes that indicated conflict over his actions, whereas I felt like a hot mess of roiling regret and uncertainty. But a good robot never doubted its programming.

  A plane sat waiting for us. Two hours in the air, and we arrived at a new location. Three goons conveyed us to yet another Escobar property. I hadn’t seen this house before; it was almost a cottage compared to the other. Beachfront property—the ocean glimmered silver in the moonlight.

  Escobar greeted us on the terrace, a glass of wine in hand. Once more, he was barefoot, clad in white, and wearing a most disarming smile. Before he spoke, he took the black bag from Paolo. He looked inside with a ghoulish expression of anticipation. A quiet inhalation bespoke pleasure, and I shuddered as he handed the duffel off to one of his henchmen.

  Christ, I couldn’t get away from these people fast enough. I might never wash myself clean. And, of course, there was the matter of what I’d done to survive.

  “I am proud of you, hijo.” I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever called him that before. Escobar clasped Paolo on the shoulder. “There are only two Montoyas left, and they will not fight me. One is stupid, and the other is lazy. He will take what money he can and find someplace to retire.”

  “Pleased I could help,” the boy said, as if he’d gone to the store for milk.

  I closed my eyes. I wanted to be away from here. But I feared insulting my host. Now that he needed me no longer, I’d become acutely aware of my isolation and my vulnerability. He might decide I knew too much or something equally clichéd.

  “You may go now,” he said, and Paolo passed along the terrace without another word to me.

  Eventually I opened my eyes and studied the view. Staring out over the sea, I didn’t move when Escobar joined me. His tone was musing when he spoke. “You have proven useful. I believe I owe you payment for your time and effort.”

  “That was the bargain.”

  At a gesture, one of the goons brought him a fine leather briefcase. He opened it, and I got to see what 100K looked like in cash. “I will have my people take you wherever you like, one last time. I trust we will not bother each other again.”

  “Never,” I promised.

  Escobar was a man of his word, fortunately. Perhaps he had more of that stern priest in him than I’d realized. No question, he was an evil man who did terrible things, but like all demons he abided by his agreements.

  “Where to, then?”

  “Back to Laredo, please.” I needed to see how Eva and Chuch and the baby were doing. I wanted to see Shannon and Jesse. “Will you make sure law enforcement learns that Montoya is dead? I need to get a friend out of protective custody.”

  “What would you have me do, order my men to toss those heads into a cantina, as you hear of imbeciles doing on the news?”

  “Could you? This once?” I smiled as if that might persuade him. Escobar had ice water in his veins.

  He considered. “Yes, but only because it amuses me. Someone else will surely take the blame, because that is not my style.”

  I knew that. Escobar was the quiet knife waiting in the dark, not the burst of automatic weapon fire. “Thanks.”

  “Rodrigo, deliver Señorita Solomon safely to Texas.” He turned, glass of bloodred wine still in hand, and dismissed me.

  Once we were up in the air, I realized I’d abandoned the Chevelle in Mexico. Fortunately, it hadn’t been a nice ride, and maybe nobody would mind much. With the baby and all, it might go unnoticed.

  At my request, the goons deposited me at a used-car lot, where I spent a small portion of my blood money. For a thousand bucks, I drove away in a maroon El Camino and the satisfaction of knowing I didn’t have to give it back or explain if something happened to it. Butch yapped in approval as he sniffed the clean black cloth seats. The rest of the interior was ugly maroon vinyl, but it was mine. This would be great for hauling stuff, once we got the thrift store going. I couldn’t wait to show Shannon.

  Since I hadn’t eaten since that morning, I found a driveup and munched a burger in the parking lot. Butch ate half of a kid-size one on his own and he whined because it wasn’t Carl’s Jr. quality. I shrugged. “Better than starving, right?”

  The dog looked unconvinced.

  Once we finished, I called Chuch. “Hey, how are you guys?”

  I wished I could ring Jesse, but he didn’t have a cell phone at the safe house. But as soon as news hit about Montoya’s demise, Glencannon would spring him, and we could talk. We had a lot of things to settle; Shan and I needed to go apartment hunting. Maybe starting over in Laredo wouldn’t be so bad.

  “Great.” I could hear the glow. “I got a little girl.”

  “I’ll swing by. What hospital?”

  He told me, and then belatedly realized aloud, “Shit, if you’re here, then—”

  “Yeah. It’s done.”

  Chuch whooped and then somebody shushed him, probably a nurse. “Gotta get back. Eva’s dying to see you.”

  Circle of life, and all that. I was dying to see her too. I started up the El Camino and drove over to the hospital. I knew where it was: same one where Jesse had been laid up recently. I hated hospitals, but for this, I’d go in smiling. I hid Butch as we went through the automatic doors.

  It wasn’t hard to find the maternity ward, even less difficult to locate Eva’s room. Between her mother and all the Ortiz cousins, they were driving the staff crazy. I figured o
ne more person didn’t matter, though there was barely room for me to step inside. Watching, I felt more alone than I ever had, because they shared a support network that I’d never possess.

  But maybe, maybe with Jesse.

  Eva waved at me from bed, offering a half smile, and the feeling passed. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Better late than never.” I stopped in the doorway, not wanting to fight the crowd to get closer.

  She looked exhausted and blissful, long black hair sticking to her forehead. Dark circles under her eyes didn’t diminish her beauty at all. The baby was so tiny, red faced, wrinkly, and wearing a wee pink hat. She had a bracelet on her wrist, and she seemed like she might start wailing at any minute. Relatives milled around me, murmuring in Spanish. Rather than making me feel out of place, it felt homey and familiar. I’d gotten to the point where I had to remember to speak English in the States.

  “What’s her name?” I asked a random Ortiz.

  Chuch materialized behind me. “Camelia Corine.”

  Everything I’d been through lately—and that did me in. So I was crying when I spotted Chance. He perched on the window ledge, foot propped on the arm of the chair. Some woman sat beside him, gazing up at him dreamily.

  “What’s he doing here?” I demanded, low.

  Chuch followed my gaze. “He’s her godfather. Figure it out.”

  Oh. I was not disappointed; for me, it was Jesse Saldana from this point on. But I couldn’t help the wild dread that Chance could undermine my resolve when my ex cut through the crowd toward me.

  Blue Night

  After assuring Chuch I wouldn’t miss the baptism in a couple of days, I made a quick exit. Today was Eva’s—and Camelia’s—day to shine. Only a total drama slut would get into it with her ex in front of her friend’s family. Better for me to leave quietly and avoid taking the focus away from the glowing mom. Sure, we could participate in the ceremony later and be polite in front of the family, but otherwise, there was no need for us to socialize.

  The grimoires weighed heavy on my shoulder. I increased my pace until I was running, my Converse sneaks making no sound on the tile floor. The lights seemed too bright, and I needed to get away. Butch whimpered in protest; I murmured an apology and kept going. I caught a stern look from the nurses’ station, but I didn’t slow until I got out the doors, where I stood in the night air, drinking in great, gasping breaths.

  My fingers shook as I got out my cell phone. God, I needed to hear Jesse’s voice right now. I wanted his arms around me, but I’d settle. Hell, I’d leave a message if Glencannon hadn’t heard about Montoya yet.

  To my vast relief, he answered, his voice weary and tight. “Yeah?”

  Looks like Escobar moves fast.

  “Hi, it’s me.”

  “Me who?”

  Was he being funny? “It’s Corine. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Did the lieutenant spring you and Shannon?”

  Frost turned his tone icicle sharp. “If this is a prank, it’s not funny. You have information on an investigation that you shouldn’t possess. As for Shannon, you leave her the hell alone. She’s a good kid, and she’s been through enough.”

  No. Oh, no. Dread built inside me. I’d never worked that spell before. Just like the lucky penny, I gave it too much power. Stupid untaught witch.

  “Can I speak to her?”

  Surely Shan remembers me. We’re besties.

  He muted the call for a few seconds, and then came back on the line. “She doesn’t know any Corine. Look, lady, I’ve got your number now. If you bother either of us again, I’ll take it badly.”

  And he hung up. I was left standing in the dark with a dead phone in my hand. Shaking set in. Maybe it’s not permanent. Maybe they’ll remember me in time. It’ll wear off. Other people will talk about me and prompt their recollections. I hope. Tears filled my eyes, even easier this time since the baby had opened the floodgates. I didn’t get to tell her the name of our shop. Spooky Vintage. I leaned against the solid wall just outside the doors and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to contain the reaction. Stupidly, I felt as if they’d both died.

  But maybe I deserved this. Maybe it was a punishment for what I’d done to survive. If I lived, I had to pay for it, so the universe removed the truly good people from my sphere of influence. The wound swelled within me in a scream I couldn’t let out. Salt stung my cheeks and my nose started to run.

  Not Jesse. Not Shannon. I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes, hoping the external pain would balance the devastation within. As I fought for composure, the nearby hospital doors swished open and footfalls pounded toward the parking lot. It wasn’t until they slowed and then angled my way that I opened my eyes.

  Chance. Well, of course he wouldn’t be able to resist an opportunity to tell me how well he was doing. By comparison, I’d lost my best friend, seen murder done, and been wearing the same clothes for three days. The breaks always swung his way. Maybe he’d even show me a picture of his new woman, and ask if we could be friends. I braced for salt in the wound.

  Instead of such a gambit, he stopped before me and stood silent. Gazing. Even in the poor light, he was unearthly in his beauty: angular features, sculpted mouth, and almond eyes shining cat-gold. He never had five-o’clock shadow, not even at midnight. Why had I never noticed that before, or the faint sheen of his skin? In the moonlight, he didn’t look quite human. I’d always just felt grubby by comparison and never wondered why.

  “You look tired,” he said. “Lovely, but tired.”

  I didn’t. Not lovely. I could believe tired.

  I spoke in staccato bursts, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “You got here quick. The baby’s beautiful.”

  “I was already on the way.”

  I raised a brow. “Did you have a premonition?”

  The dream I’d had in the trailer came back to me, an odd echo. Maybe that was something my mother could do, those true dreams. I wondered if she could control them. Not for the first time, I wished I could ask her—so many things.

  “No. Look, can we go somewhere? Talk?”

  “I passed a park on the way here.” Even if I had a hotel room, I wouldn’t take him there. I probably lacked the energy for this, but at least it was a distraction from my latest fuckup. What a cherry-topped disaster that forget spell turned out to be.

  You lost your best friend, and your boyfriend. Had him for less than a week. That must be some kind of record.

  “Which one’s yours?” Chance asked.

  “The El Camino. You still driving the Mustang?”

  He nodded. “I’ll stay close.”

  “I’ll watch the stoplights between here and there. It’s not far.”

  That said it all. At least the exchange had dried up my tears; I didn’t want Chance thinking I was pathetic. I drove with an eye on my rearview mirror, making sure I didn’t lose him. My heart twisted, because I knew what he wanted—some job done or a reading as a favor. In the latter part of our relationship, that comprised the sum total of our emotional exchanges. This time, though, this time I’d say no. I owed him nothing, and he was square with me. I wanted it to stay that way.

  But I’d hear him out for old times’ sake, mostly because I couldn’t face being alone just yet. Otherwise, I’d have to think about all I’d lost: my home, Señor Alvarez, Shannon, Jesse, Kel. The damage was incalculable. Impossible. Unbearable.

  No. I’d handle it. I always did.

  It was a small park, well kept, with benches, a water fountain, and a playground. More important, it had security lights. We should be safe enough here. But I could stop looking over my shoulder, more or less. Or at least dial the paranoia down to normal levels. I’d walked through fire and come out different, darker, on the other side.

  I parked beneath a lamp and set Butch down. Using a nearby water fountain, I filled the dog’s collapsible dish and gave him a drink. He expressed his appreciation with a wag of his tail and then set off to explore.

&
nbsp; Chance pulled in only a minute behind me, and strode up the walk toward where I sat idly swinging. The wind smelled of distant mesquite, as if someone in a nearby neighborhood might be barbecueing in his backyard. The simple goodness made me ache. He took the swing beside me, but didn’t push off. His fingers were long and elegant wrapped around the chains.

  “The reason I’m here so fast is because I was already on my way to see you.”

  I smiled. “Sure. What’s the job?”

  “No job.”

  “What do you want me to handle?”

  If I hadn’t been watching so closely, I would’ve missed his faint flinch. “Nothing. For the first couple of weeks after I left Kilmer, I was so mad at you. Here I’d broken my back begging for a second chance and it wasn’t enough.”

  “I got that by the way you drove off without saying good-bye.” And by the way he’d FedExed all my Travis McGee books back to me without even a note. Those were nothing but ash now.

  “But gradually, I started thinking about what you’d said and it sank in. My mom helped to explain it,” he admitted.

  “How is she?”

  “She’s fine. Thinking about opening a second store.”

  “It’s doing that well?”

  “Homeopathy is hot. People are reluctant to go to a doctor these days because it starts never-ending appointments and expenses. Times are tough.”

  “I know. You were saying?” I prompted.

  “I realized it’s not fair to expect you to give up everything for me. If we try again, it has to be about what we want. And if you don’t care to live in Tampa, if that brings back too many bad memories or makes you feel like you’re doing all the giving, then I have to make a change.” He flattened his hands on his knees and gazed out over the grass, where Butch had cornered something small and furry. “I called in all my loans. Everything owed me has now been paid. I also hired a guy to help my mom with the store. She doesn’t know it, but he’s also protection for her, since . . . Well, you know. Just in case.”

  The certainty in his voice hit me like a fist. He was driving across country, intending to join me in Mexico City, when Chuch told him about the baby? Talk about a leap of faith.