“Come here,” she whispered, pulling the smaller girl into a tight hug and feeling her body rock against her with sob after sob. “Come here. I got you.”
It had started to rain — one of those nasty winter rains that can’t decide if it’s sleet or hail or what — and it sent an ocean of tiny shushing taps against the leaves and branches overhead and danced little pitter-patter patterns across the roof of the Culebramobile.
Up front, Caleb rustled around in the glove compartment, scribbled something on a scrap of paper, looked out the window for a few moments, breathing heavily.
“Girls,” he finally said. “I’m sorry to —”
“No, it’s okay,” Tee said, looking up from Izzy. “I know. We gotta move.”
“Yeah, this is gonna be dicey at best.” He turned the key, and the Culebramobile’s engine sputtered to life.
“We gotta get our game faces on,” Tee said. “Can you do that with me, babe?”
Izzy nodded, wiping some of her tears away. “Alright,” she said. “Alright.”
Caleb started backing them out of the shady grove they’d been hidden in. “Look, Uncle Neville said the best thing would be for us to drop off Izzy somewhere.”
“I’m not leaving Tee,” Izzy said.
“Babe,” Tee said.
“He also said you probably wouldn’t agree to that, and I wouldn’t feel right about it either, but then again, I don’t feel right about bringing her along.”
“It’s just Bushwick,” Izzy said. “We can make it there from here without getting stopped.”
Caleb eased them out onto the main road circling the perimeter of the park. “Thing is,” he said, then he shut up as a police car appeared behind them, driving slowly with its emergency lights on. “Shit. Already?”
“Let it pass,” Tee said. “I think they just always have their lights on when they drive in the park.”
Caleb drove slow — probably too slow — but the cruiser swerved around them and kept it moving, and all three let out long exhales.
“What I was saying,” Caleb said, “is that probably, whoever that was in the SUV was someone in the game, so to speak. Some other emergent house’s hit man, most likely. Maybe a Bloodhaüser that didn’t get the message the other night or doesn’t care. Either way, they’re probably going to clean up after themselves, is what I’m saying. I don’t see someone who killed that intentionally leaving a body behind, unless they had to. It would call too much attention down on all this.”
“Right,” Tee said, still blinking away the memory of that long man stretched out on the concrete just being run over. They pulled out of the park and circled Grand Army Plaza, then headed up Eastern Parkway, past the library and Brooklyn Museum, toward Bushwick.
“So they’re looking at destruction of property, most likely. Problem is, there are cameras everywhere, especially around prison facilities and such. But if we end up pulled over for any reason, Neville said the story is this: Y’all flagged down an unregistered one — Tee, you wanted to surprise Izzy when she got free.”
“She did that alright,” Izzy said, and flashed that old mischievous smile of hers that made Tee melt a little bit.
“And the cabbie — that’s me — got a little wild on his way outta there. And that’s it. No harm, no foul.”
“But won’t they —” Tee started.
“Don’t worry about that,” Caleb cut in. “It’s Neville. He can sort it out, if it comes to that. Between him and the lawyer guy y’all got. But what we don’t need, what y’all don’t need, is a newly released Izzy being shoved back in the system. Not under any circumstances. Right?”
“Right,” they both said emphatically.
Izzy sniffed and rubbed her nose. “Thank you.”
“Bah.” Caleb waved the notion away. “What wouldn’t I do for my favorite rapper, King Impervious?”
Izzy chuckled a little bit through her tears and then looked out the window as Tee put an arm around her and they both watched the city slide by.
There was a notion.
It kept flickering at the back of Sierra’s mind, teasing, vanishing. Almost clear, still somehow indecipherable.
What was it?
The car had descended into a sad silence by the time Neville pulled up in front of the Santiagos’ brownstone. They’d dropped off Nydia and Bennie, and no one really knew what to say — everyone was sorry his homecoming wasn’t happier and wished things hadn’t gotten so messed up, and that was all there was to it.
For now anyway.
But that thought, that little dancing maybe, kept dancing, slipping away, sizzling along.
“Alright, kiddos,” Neville said, turning to the back seat and not even bothering to smile. “Juan, I’m glad you’re out. You ever need to talk to someone ’bout what it was like and how to readjust, you know where to find me. I been through it, more than once, though it’s different for everyone.”
Sierra had a hard time picturing him reaching out for help, but who knew, really? She’d learned about sides of her brother she’d never imagined before in the past couple months.
“Thanks,” Juan said. “I will.” He shook his head. “I know I gotta … I gotta talk about this stuff.” He landed a determined stare on Neville. “I’m gonna give you a call. We’ll grab coffee.”
Neville nodded. “Good man. Don’t keep it bottled up. The important thing,” he went on, “is that you’re back now, and you can start the process of healing. Don’t rush it. Trust it. And we’ll deal with all that other stuff soon enough, don’t you worry.” He winked, tipped his hat, and then punched Sierra on the knee. “Be careful. We’ll talk later, alright?”
She nodded. “Hit me up. And you be careful.” It seemed like they floated out the car, through the freezing rain, up the stairs and into the house, where Dominic and María Santiago stood waiting, eyes already wet with tears and arms open to finally embrace their son.
The whole house felt alive with their love. María had cooked, and the joyful warmth of all that garlicky steam filled the first floor, seemed to ease Sierra’s aching muscles and pulsing mind. A big pot of habicheulas burbled on the stove, and an orange glow emanated from the stove, where chicken baked within. The whole family glided in a little cumulus cloud of hugging, laughing, crying, abrazos, and besos toward the table, where Juan was made to sit while hands returned to stir the beans, scoop Bustelo into the cafetera, and retrieve dishes and silverware from cabinets and drawers.
And all the while, that something, that nagging, churning, cackling something kept right on, and on, and on. It felt like it lived in the base of Sierra’s skull, right where her spine reached to, and like it would never go away and never be fully there either.
She looked at Juan over plates of steaming food, saw that his smile was real, his revival in this epicenter of familial love was a true one. And she breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, nothing was solved, and his journey to healing would be a long one, but at least in this moment, right now, he could be present and enjoy what he’d been deprived of for weeks and weeks on end.
“And now for dessert,” María Santiago announced.
“Mami, I’m so full,” Juan complained, laughing.
Dominic stood up. “This dessert is not food, though.”
He stepped out into the hallway, and Sierra heard a scratchy, faraway, familiar voice say, “Ready, Papi?” and her dad made a shushing noise. Sierra put down her coffee cup.
“Is that —” Juan said, and then Dominic walked back in, his face illuminated by the gray glow of the laptop, which he then turned around, and there was Gael, a million miles away, a million zeroes and ones, scratchy and blurry and barely there, but still there, there, there, and smiling and squinting at his own monitor somewhere in Afghanistan.
“I can’t … Is that you guys? You there, little bro?”
“GAEL!!” Sierra and Juan both yelled at the same time. Dominic set the computer down on the table, and María just sat there looking proud of herself, and
the image resolved, like magic, and Gael was even more there, smiling out at them.
“Look, I’m sure this connection won’t last, and y’all know I can’t talk long, but hey! Juan! Welcome home, buddy. I heard about what you did, and I’m proud of you, man. You’re a real hero. You really made me proud, kid, you know that, right?”
“Thanks, big bro,” Juan said, looking somewhat lost and wistful. Both he and Sierra had always been about as different as possible from their older brother — he was so straitlaced, such a dudebro — but they’d also adored him since they were babies, followed him around the house, bickered for his attention and approval.
“And you,” Gael said, glaring at where Sierra must’ve been on his monitor.
“What’d I do?” She laughed, threw her hands up defensively.
“Stay in school or something, I dunno! Did you pick a college yet?”
“Junior year practically just started, Gael. Relax.”
“Do you even know what you want to study?”
“I mean, accounting, obviously. Have you met me?” She’d barely finished the sentence before everyone burst out laughing. “Wow, jeez, okay, so supportive, thanks, guys!”
“I miss you guys,” Gael said. “A lot.”
“No shit,” Juan said. María slapped his shoulder. “Ow! I mean, we miss you too, man! Can you come home soon?”
Gael made a face. “Eh …”
“That’s top secret, isn’t it?” Sierra said.
He nodded, shook his head. Shrugged. The doorbell rang, and Cojo could be heard skittering to his feet in the living room and then letting loose a monstrous barrage of raspy, baritone threats. “Holy crap,” Gael said. “You got a dog?”
“I’ll get it,” Dominic said as María started gathering up plates and bringing them to the kitchen.
“They didn’t give you the pupdate?” Juan said.
“Not just any dog,” Sierra said.
“Doesn’t sound like just any dog.”
“Juan!” Dominic called from the front room. “Mrs. Middleton and the kids stopped by to welcome you home! Come say hi real quick.”
Juan scooted back his chair and ran off. “Be right back!”
Sierra couldn’t remember the last time she’d been alone with her oldest brother. If this even counted as alone. And she had no idea what to say to him now that she was. There was so much — too much to ever be able to explain over a blurry Skype call, and anyway, someone would walk in at any second, so what was the point. There had been a time, though, years ago, when she had told Gael everything about her life and known that anything she said was safe with him, that he wouldn’t judge her but wouldn’t hold back from telling her if she was messing up. He was safe.
“He doesn’t look so hot,” Gael said.
“Yeah, well …” Sierra squinched up her face. Where to even begin?
“There’s a lot going on over there, huh?”
“You have no idea, man.”
“Keep an eye on him, Si. Promise.”
She tried to make eye contact, whatever that meant over these dots and lines, stared into the camera as hard as she could. “I’ll do everything I can to keep him safe,” she said.
“¡Sierra! ¡Los platos!” María called from the kitchen. “I don’t remember this being your party, young lady, so you better get moving!”
Sierra rolled her eyes and stood as Juan came back in. “Later, big bro,” she said with a mock salute that she knew would drive him nuts.
The notion came back to her as she headed upstairs later that night, her tummy full of delicious food and mind buzzing with coffee. It still danced just out of sight, but she could feel it getting closer. She’d paid it no mind for a few hours and it had resolved itself accordingly. There were so many other things to worry about: what had happened with Tee and Izzy, for instance, which she still had no idea about, and what other entity had come into play. And what the House of Iron was planning. And whether Dake would do her any good or just figure out some way to betray and destroy.
She stopped on the second-floor landing. She was too wide awake to go to bed. And she needed answers. She walked up another flight, past the sad strains of an arrhythmic acoustic guitar coming from Terry’s apartment, and then climbed to the top floor.
Septima’s faint glow lit a golden line at the crack under the door.
She wasn’t sure if she missed her grandfather or not. He’d gotten her into this mess, partially. Kept the family secret from her and opened up a rift with his own wife, Carmen, when she’d initiated Sierra as a shadowshaper against his direct orders. But Carmen was Lucera, the most powerful being in the shadowshaping universe; instead of fighting, she’d disappeared to a hideaway out in the ocean, amongst the spirits, and then, when Sierra followed the clues she’d left behind and discovered her, Carmen had passed on the mantle of Lucera to her granddaughter and vanished forever.
Lázaro had died a few months later, and sure, he’d said sorry over and over in one of his rare lucid moments, but it had always felt like an apology more for his own benefit than something he actually meant. He had almost brought total destruction on the shadowshapers — a tradition he helped bring to Brooklyn — of course he was sorry. Fat lot of good it did anyone.
He’d probably never gotten a chance to apologize to his wife for being such a crusty old fool. Sierra wondered if Carmen had ever forgiven him.
But really what she wondered was whether she’d ever forgive Anthony, if what it looked like had happened had really happened.
Are you going to stand outside my door all night? Septima’s voice rasped. Or are you going to come inside and keep me company with your insidious and pathetic teenage melodrama?
“Yeah, so,” Tee said, “we’re being followed.”
“Dammit! Shit! Dammit!” Caleb yelled from the front. “Is it a cop?”
“Worse,” Izzy said.
“Worse than the cops? How —” Tee saw him glance into the sideview, and then his eyes went wide. “Goddammit.”
The black SUV had been following them since somewhere in the middle of Bed-Stuy. At first, Tee hadn’t thought much of it — probably just a coincidence. There were tons of black SUVs bopping around Brooklyn at any given moment. But then Caleb took a series of random turns, driving almost too carefully the whole time, and whoever was driving stayed right on their tail, like they weren’t even trying to conceal the fact that they were tailing them.
Now, as Caleb took them along a bumpy stretch of Broadway under the train tracks, the SUV clung so close to their back bumper that Tee and Izzy could almost see inside the slightly tinted windshield.
“Dammit, dammit, dammit!” Caleb growled again, and revved them forward suddenly.
“Uh, remember we’re still trying not to get pulled over,” Tee called.
“The spot is just up ahead,” Caleb said, swinging hard around a corner and gunning it again. “We’re almost there!”
“You up to ’shaping?” Tee asked.
Izzy made a dubious face. “It’s been a minute. The House of Iron had some kind of lock on the facility that kept spirits out, so I was shit outta luck for practicing.” While most of the other shadowshapers used visual arts to send spirits into, murals and drawings usually, Izzy’s skill was lyrical. The shadows would gather around her and solidify in the air on the strength of her rhymes, clobbering attackers out of the way with the same ferocity Izzy used to drop verses.
Tee nodded, not feeling so hot. “Okay, great.” She had Sharpie marks up and down her arms, and Little Tolula was probably somewhere nearby, plus a few others she usually rolled with. But they had no idea what they’d be up against or even how many. And whoever was in that SUV, they’d taken out the Iron Knight without a glint of hesitation.
“And here we go,” Caleb said. They turned into a driveway that led to a nondescript warehouse with a big grate front entrance. “Um … it should be open?”
A tall, brown-skinned man with a bald head and goatee strolled up to the
window like this kind of thing happened every day. Caleb lowered it and the man leaned in, suddenly flashing a huge smile. “You Neville’s people?”
“Yeah,” Caleb said, “but —”
“I’m Rohan. You can trust me. If Neville sent you, then you’re our people, and you’re safe. Who’s in the SUV?”
“That’s what I was about to tell you. We don’t know, but they took someone out earlier. Well, after we did, I guess.”
Rohan seemed to think about this for a moment. “Wait. You took him out … with this van, right? That’s why you need the —” He made some hand motions that Tee figured must mean they were going to dispose of the vehicle forever. “And then he wasn’t fully taken out, so this asshole finished the job?”
“Right,” Caleb said. “But we don’t know who he is. Plus, he followed us. Can we come inside?”
“I like your style,” the man said. Tee thought his accent might be Guyanese, maybe. “Took the dude out with the van. That’s a good move. I’m gonna remember that.”
“Can we —” Caleb tried again, but the man silenced him with a held-up hand.
“This man has followed you all the way here. And now he’s —” He pulled a sharp-looking pistol out of his jacket and held it up, tapped his earpiece. “C — we got a situation, eh.”
Tee stayed low but poked her head up just enough to see that the driver’s-side door of the SUV had swung open. A slender, sallow-faced white man in a grayish-blue suit stepped out, both hands raised. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said. “I’m a friend. I come in peace and all that.” That grin said otherwise, though, Tee thought. About as trustworthy as a cornered snake. His black hair was slick and greasy, and he had a few days’ worth of stubble lining the bottom half of his face.
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