Magic & Mayhem

by Susan Conley

  Bécquer took my hands in his. I shivered at the contact for they were still cold, even colder than I remembered. “Yet you’re upset too. Why?”

  “I thought you could read minds.”

  “Feelings. I sense feelings. No motives. No reasons. And in your case, your feelings are puzzling. So please, explain.”

  “Not now. You are not well,” I said for his face was pale in the moonlight. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

  “Nothing, really. But I appreciate your asking.”

  “Are you sure? You seem weaker than you were when Beatriz … Did she do it again? Did she take your blood?”

  “Yes. But this time I offered. The change demands lots of blood. She was thirsty already, so I offered her mine. Enough to carry her through the night. That will give her time to get some from one of the blood banks that deals with us immortals.”

  “And you trust she will.”

  “I hope she does. For both of our sakes. If she kills, the Elders will hold me responsible. So you see, Carla, it would have been in my best interest to keep her close so I could supervise her. But she didn’t agree. She threw Ryan over the fence to make sure I didn’t follow her. I had to step us out of time to keep him safe while I gave her my blood.”

  That explained the shock wave I felt on the road. It also explained why he had fainted. I remembered how weak he had been when I found him at the library. No wonder he was half dead now. I looked up the bank toward the parking lot. Matt was coming down already. But Ryan was not visible. He must have moved behind the car to change. He would not join us for a while. And Matt already knew Bécquer was immortal. He would not be surprised if he saw us. I turned to Bécquer.

  “Take my blood,” I said quickly, afraid I would lose my nerve if I thought it over. “Take as much as you need.”

  Bécquer smiled. “You said you didn’t want to exchange blood ever again.” As he spoke, he traced the veins of my right wrist with his long fingers. “What made you change your mind?”

  “You saved my son’s life.”

  His fingers stopped moving. “Is that why?” His smile was gone and his eyes were dead serious.

  “Yes.”

  He let go of my hand. “That is not how it works. I never take blood as payment.”

  “But you need it.”

  “Matt will drive me home,” Bécquer said curtly. And his words were final.

  I should have felt relieved at his rejection for the idea of giving him my blood scared me more than I could acknowledge. Yet I wasn’t relieved, I realized, but hurt. I pushed back the unexpected feeling for I didn’t want him to sense it.

  “As you wish.”

  I got up to leave for Matt had already joined us.

  “One more thing,” I heard myself saying. “I think it’s better if Ryan does not visit you any longer.”

  “Why?” The hardness in his eyes remained, but there was a hint of hurt in his voice.

  “Beatriz, of course.”

  “Whether Ryan is in my house or in yours doesn’t matter. She knows where you live. She was my secretary, after all.”

  “Among other things,” I wanted to say but didn’t, for Matt was listening. And although he probably suspected, or knew, his mother and Bécquer had been lovers, it was not right for me to mention it now. Besides, whatever Beatriz had been was irrelevant, compared with the threat she posed now. For if she knew where I lived that meant she could hurt Ryan any time. Or Madison.

  Madison. I had to call her, tell her to stay indoors, not to let Beatriz in. Or did that matter? Did immortals, like the mythical vampires of lore, need permission to enter somebody’s house?

  Instinctively, my hand reached for my cell, but I couldn’t find it. I had left it in my purse, and my purse was at Bécquer’s house.

  “Madison is safe,” Bécquer said.

  “How did you guess I was thinking of her?”

  “And Ryan will be too,” Bécquer continued not bothering to answer a question that needed no answer. “I made a deal with Beatriz. If she ever touches you or your children, she is dead. Besides, she’s leaving Pennsylvania tonight, she promised.”

  “And you believe her?”

  “I do. Beatriz has risked a lot to become immortal. She won’t want to antagonize me further as I am the only one who can protect her from the Elders.”

  “The Elders,” Matt repeated. “Federico said they will kill her for stealing your blood.”

  “Don’t worry, Matt. I’ll speak in her defense. Let’s hope I’m convincing.” He turned to me, “As for Ryan, I’ll follow your request, Carla. I won’t contact him. But tell him that if he ever needs me, I will always be there for him. Or is that too much to ask of you?”

  I considered retracting my request, for I could see in his dark stare the pain it had caused him to accept it and he had just saved Ryan’s life. But the incongruity of the implausible events of this long day had finally caught up with me, and I felt too weary to continue the discussion. So instead, I nodded. “I’ll tell him.”

  • • •

  I asked Ryan to call his sister as soon as I reached the car, for despite Bécquer’s words of reassurance, I needed to talk with Madison to believe she was all right. When Ryan’s cell didn’t work, which was not surprising after its immersion in the water, I drove us home dangerously fast along the narrow, winding road that left the lake.

  The possibilities of Beatriz going after Madison were slim, I reminded myself. Besides, even if she had gone to my house looking for her after taking Bécquer’s blood, Madison would not have been there. Abby’s mother was supposed to pick her up at eight to drive her to her Halloween party. It was past ten now. Madison was at the party, she had to be, and Beatriz could not reach her there.

  Immortals only sense humans when they are close, Federico had told me. Beatriz did not know where the party was, or that Madison was going to a party for that matter, and she couldn’t trace Madison’s mind, because she had never met her.

  But no amount of reasoning could convince me Madison was safe, not even hearing her voice on the phone when we finally made it home. And so, despite her complaints that I had agreed to let her sleep over at Abby’s, I insisted on picking her up.

  Madison was not happy to see me. And once the wave of relief at seeing she was unharmed wore off, I wasn’t happy to see her either, for I soon understood why she had been so upset by my change of plans. Madison was wearing the skimpy outfit that, earlier that day, I had strictly forbidden her to wear.

  I shook my head in disbelief and motioned her to the car.

  “It’s not what you think,” Madison told me after sulking for a while.

  “And what’s that?”

  “That I planned to wear this dress all along. I didn’t, really.”

  “Why did you wear it then?”

  “Courtney had the same cat costume I bought at the mall. She posted her picture on Facebook before the party. I couldn’t wear it after that.”

  “Of course you couldn’t.”

  “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew you wouldn’t understand. Besides, you were not home so I couldn’t ask you, could I?”

  “No. But you knew I would have said no. Yet, you ignored my wishes.”

  “You mean I’m grounded?”

  “Yes.”

  She thought about it for a moment. “Could we do the grounding in two weeks?”

  “Because … ”

  “Isabel’s birthday party is next Saturday.”

  “You should have thought about that before disobeying me.”

  “Please, Mom. I’ll clean my room, I promise. And I’ll keep it clean, if you let me go to Isabel’s.”

  We argued still, but we both knew she had won. There was little I wouldn’t trade for seeing the carpet of he
r room once again. I hadn’t for ages, as it was hidden under the piles of clothes and stuff that covered her floor.

  Madison disappeared into her room as soon as we got home. I wished her goodnight through the closed door, and after getting a reluctant goodnight back, checked on Ryan. He was sleeping already in the shirt he had been wearing. His jeans lay in a heap next to the bed, as they frequently had since he was a little boy. I picked them up, out of habit, and set them on the chair.

  Then I took the duffel bag downstairs and emptied it into the washing machine. As I suspected, Ryan had thrown his wet clothes in with the clean ones and they were all damp now. They could have waited till morning, I suppose, but I couldn’t. If I couldn’t make the events of the evening disappear, I could, at least, get rid of the mud and smell of the lake from Ryan’s clothes.

  I sat in front of the blank TV screen while I waited for the cycle to finish, and revisited in my mind my conversation with Ryan in the car. To my relief, Ryan had not mentioned his intention of moving out and didn’t argue against coming home. Even better, his version of his kidnapping did not include any supernatural twist.

  Beatriz had grabbed him from his seat as he arrived at Bécquer’s house, he had told me, and dragged him to her car. When he resisted she had knocked him unconscious.

  By the time he came back to his senses, Beatriz was talking on her phone with Bécquer. Which was, I realized, what Bécquer had meant when he said he could track her. After a while, she hung up, turned the car around and, at neck-breaking speed, headed toward Peace Valley.

  Once there, she had ordered him to get out of the car and forced him to follow her up the path to the walkway over the dam that runs along the west end of the lake. Bécquer had soon joined them, coming from the southeastern shore. There had been no exchange of words between them, Ryan told me, sounding puzzled. They had stood in silence, facing each other for a moment, and then Beatriz had lifted Ryan and thrown him over the rail. After the shock of the cold water wore off, Ryan had tried to swim ashore but the gates were open and the current pulled him toward the gap. His voice trembled as he told me how he had panicked when he realized he could not beat the pull of the water. Luckily, Bécquer had come to his aid and dragged him to the shore.

  I told Ryan that Bécquer had fired Beatriz because she had stolen from him, and Beatriz had kidnapped Ryan to blackmail Bécquer out of telling the police.

  I could see this explanation, as close to the truth as I could make it, didn’t convince Ryan entirely, but he had not argued. Not then anyway.

  I had no idea what I would tell him if, after he had time to think it over, he was to question Beatriz’s or Bécquer’s impossible strength, apart from suggesting he ask Bécquer and trusting that Bécquer could charm his way out of Ryan’s doubts. Except that I couldn’t do that for I didn’t want Ryan to see Bécquer ever again, and that brought me to an impasse I had no clue how to overcome.

  • • •

  The next day started earlier as Madison missed her bus and I had to drive her to school. When I came back, I found the coat I had left at Bécquer’s house hanging from the coat rack and my purse and an envelope that had not been there before sat on the table by the front door. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed Ryan’s name on the envelope written in Bécquer’s ornate gothic style. Inside (yes, I looked) there was a check and a thank-you note, also handwritten. I put the envelope back and went to the kitchen where I could hear Ryan typing.

  “Did Bécquer come?” I asked him, trying and failing to sound casual.

  “No,” Ryan said, his eyes never leaving the screen of the laptop set before his bowl of cereal. “Matt did. He brought back your things and my check for last night.”

  “Are you going to accept it?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you didn’t play.” And the check is incredibly generous, I thought, but didn’t say for I couldn’t admit to having opened his correspondence.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” Ryan said, crunching his cereal loudly. He swallowed. “Besides, Bécquer will be offended if I don’t.”

  Something in the way he said Bécquer’s name, a note of respect and trust I had heard only rarely in the voice of my students over my many years of teaching, warned me Ryan would not take well to my request to stay away from Bécquer. Yet, I had to ask.

  Ryan stopped his typing and met my stare. “Stay away from Bécquer? Why should I?”

  “Because … ” Why indeed? Apart from the fact that Bécquer was immortal and could lose control and kill him without even trying, or that Beatriz had kidnapped him the previous night and could do it again, I had no reason. No reason at all to keep him from seeing Bécquer. And my real reasons I couldn’t share.

  “Please, Ryan. Do as I say,” I finished lamely. “You don’t understand but — ”

  “No, Mom. It’s you who doesn’t understand.” Ryan’s voice had the steel determination that over the years I had learned to recognize as the beginning of an impossible-to-win battle of wills.

  “Listen to me, Ryan. You don’t know Bécquer. He — ”

  “You’re wrong, Mom. I do know him. Bécquer is cool. He saved my life.”

  “Yes. I was there last night, remember?”

  “I’m not talking about last night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Forget it.”

  “Ryan. If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask him.”

  “Oh, so it’s all right for you to talk to Bécquer, but not for me?”

  “Don’t change the subject. What do you mean when you say he saved your life?”

  “It’s no big deal. I OD’ed once, and he took me to the hospital.”

  I dropped on a chair by his side, for my knees felt like rubber and I would have fallen otherwise. “You were using drugs in his house?” I asked in a voice so high-pitched I barely recognized it.

  “No. Of course not. He wasn’t with me when I used. I was hanging out with friends.”

  “Where?”

  “What does it matter where? It was a party. I don’t know how it happened. I don’t remember much. I was high. We all were, I guess. The next thing I remember I was at the ER. And the doctor said I had OD’ed. And Bécquer was there. He was the one who took me to the hospital. He asked me not to tell you.”

  “Great. And since when do you do what strangers ask?”

  “Bécquer is not a stranger.”

  “No, of course not. You have known him for how long? Five seconds?”

  “He took me to NA meetings,” Ryan said, ignoring my sarcasm. “I thought you’d appreciate that.”

  “He took you to … Why did you never tell me?”

  “You never asked.”

  I stopped arguing. I knew when I was beaten. Which was about every time I had had an argument with him since he turned five.

  I got up and poured myself a cup of coffee. Caffeine was the last thing I needed at the moment, but I was not thinking straight. What other things was I not aware of that Bécquer had done for my son? Was Ryan moving in with him the previous night? Had Bécquer agreed to that, or was Ryan crashing with Matt? Probably, I would never know. I returned his duffel bag to his closet while he was sleeping and put his clothes back in the drawers. My guess was he had not noticed.

  “Don’t worry,” Ryan said when I returned to the table. “I have so much homework, I won’t have time to practice with the band, so I won’t be seeing Bécquer for a while in any case.”

  “You never told me you were in a band.”

  “I did tell you. Shut up and listen.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Ryan looked up and frowned. “What did I do wrong now?”

  “You just told me to shut up.”

  “No, I didn’t. Shut Up and Listen is the name of the band.”

  We s
at in silence. The clicking of the keyboard the only sound punctuating my contradictory thoughts. After a while the sound stopped. Snapping his laptop shut, Ryan got up.

  “I’ve to go. My first class starts in half an hour.”

  I nodded.

  Ryan bent over and kissed the top of my head. “It’s okay, Mom. Don’t worry. I still love you.”

  “It’s good to know, baby, for I love you too.”

  “I know,” he said.

  And after hugging me with his free arm, he rushed to the door.

  Chapter Eleven: Bécquer’s Request

  I tried to write after Ryan left but couldn’t. The bizarre events of the last twenty-four hours continued to play in my mind — as they had through the long sleepless night I had endured — blocking my creativity. At times elated, at times overwhelmed by the memories, I found it impossible to concentrate on my writing. So, eventually I gave up and went for a ride.

  That I ended up in the parking lot overlooking the dam in Lake Galena was not planned, yet it seemed inevitable. Two other cars were there when I arrived. But not Bécquer’s. My disappointment at Bécquer’s not surprising absence was all too real to ignore. Yet absurd.

  I locked my car and went down the bank to the gravel strip by the water where Ryan and Bécquer had come ashore.

  A heron, white and slender, walked the shore hunting for food. The heron I had described in the manuscript Bécquer had agreed to represent. Was it only the previous morning I had signed my contract with him?

  But for the heron, the place was deserted. The boats and canoes that dotted the lake in summer were grounded ashore on the crescent-shaped inlet to my left. And the owners of the cars sitting by mine were nowhere in sight.

  Turning my back to the lake, I walked to the bench Bécquer and I had shared the previous night and sat down.

  The weather had been unusually mild this past October and the trees had just reached their full autumn colors, but the stunning beauty of my surroundings failed to impress me.

  Maybe it was because the effect of Bécquer’s blood had worn off during the night, and after perceiving the world through immortal senses, it seemed dull now that I was seeing it with my human eyes. Maybe it was, plain and simply, because Bécquer was not with me and I wished he were.