“Helping.”
“Don’t. You know what they think of this job. I’m fine. Go back.”
Rocks scans the soft muddy floor. This section of the cave isn’t hard rock, which makes it perfect for their need. Six graves, covered in small, hand-painted stones, can be seen within the circle of light. There are more further back, hidden by the blanket of darkness, but he won’t disturb those resting souls.
When death claims a Camazotz in bat form, they’re buried in their wing’s chamber, but for human deaths all Shadows’ members rest together. He walks to the edge of the most recent mound and starts to outline the space little Sapphire will occupy.
“I know, but I don’t believe in those crazy superstitions.”
“Jeremiah, you know the power they hold when they want to.”
He nods. “Yeah I do and it’s time I stood up to them too.”
“No, you don’t want that kind of distrust and animosity. Believe me,” Rocks says, starting to pile the dirt behind him.
“I should have stood with you more, like Decks did. He was never afraid, and I let him defend you for me. But I should have said something. Maybe if all the Camazotz who don’t care about being in one form or the other stood up and said so, things would be different.”
Rocks stops and watches the other male.
“I’m sorry I never said more before. But just so you know, I’ve never judged you for your choices. But from now on, I’m gonna stand with you ‘cause I don’t have votes to lose like you do.”
Rocks sighs. The last thing he wants is for his friend to be tainted in the eyes of the colony too, but since Jeremiah’s older half-brother—Mazal—is next in line to be the Hebrew Fold member, Rocks knows Jeremiah won’t be targeted as badly as he has been. Picking up the smaller shovel, Jeremiah joins his friend as they begin their solemn duty.
* * * * *
At midnight, the funeral procession begins. Young Sapphire is wrapped in a blood-red, velvet shroud. The eleven-year-old’s body is placed gently in the small grave. Since all the Camazotz cannot fit into the tiny cemetery chamber, only those closest to the Gemstone wing attend.
The Sire, his Fold members, all of their mates, and the eldest male heirs to each Fold are in attendance in human form. They stand around the grave in their wings with Carnelian and Snowflake in the center of the subdued crowd. Jet dips his head once at Rockland in thanks for the service he performed.
Snowflake’s short, bobbed hair has been braided with dark, satin ribbons that shimmer in the candlelight every time she bows her head. Zada’s hair is filled with similar ribbons for her son. They hang low below her hairline almost to her waist. Too many of the colony’s females wear the black ribbon braids these days.
When all the Camazotz are positioned around Sapphire, the scent of sage fills the cramped space moments before Sylvana appears at the entrance. The grey smoke from the lit smudge sticks swirls up toward the ceiling in delicate tendrils. She chants and twirls for a moment, dissipating the fragile smoke before kneeling at Sapphire’s feet. Pressing the bundles of sage into the soft earth on either side of the grave, Sylvana stills, silently reciting the ancient burial incantations. The only sound is the rustle of her skirts as she removes several small, glass vials of oils and liquid silver from her hidden pockets. After sprinkling the liquids into the dark hole, she begins to shriek at the heavens. Zada places a gentle hand on Snowflake’s arm in reassurance as the medicine woman’s shrill tones reverberate off the limestone walls.
Shoving her hand in the hidden pocket a second time, Sylvana pulls a handful of tiny bones free. She crouches low over the grave, her lips whispering against the bones before holding them skyward. “May she fly to her ancestors and be free.”
The bones are thrown high, and everyone present watches as they fall over Sapphire’s velvet shroud. Sylvana takes the nearest candle and peers deep into the opening to read the signs the death bones foretell. She huffs and puffs moving from head to foot as the other mourners move out of her way. At last, she looks to Carnelian and Snowflake.
“The omens are good. Her human form will not hinder her path to the afterlife,” she announces.
Snowflake sobs loudly, relieved that her daughter will be able to join her father in the beyond. “Thank you,” she whispers.
Sylvana leaves the chamber without another word. Carnelian steps forward and removes the leather cuff on his left wrist. Strickland hands over the burial blade with it’s ornately carved, bone handle.
“Blood o’ mine I give thee,” he says, raising his wrist and slicing open his vein. He holds his arm over the dark wound in the earth, and lets his blood drip down to bless her body. “Peace on your final flight, my kin.”
Snowflake takes his place and the knife, but her hands are shaking too much for her to wield the blade effectively. Carnelian returns to his brother’s mate and gently slices open her wrist.
“Blood o’ mine I give thee. Peace on your final flight, my darling girl.”
One by one, the Camazotz all step forward and make the blood offering as a final blessing to their deceased colony member. Their blood will aid her on her ultimate flight. Strickland is the last member to open his vein in offering. The Sire murmurs a last blessing that has been passed down from Sire to Sire over the centuries. Deepening the cut, Strickland catches the rivulet of blood in the palm of his free hand. Each member of the Gem wing and Snowflake kneel before him at the side of the grave as he draws a circle with three dots over it on their foreheads. They will wear his blood as a symbol of honor in their darkest hour.
Rockland silently joins the end of the procession, and when the last member has been marked in blood, he takes his father’s arm and carefully staunches the bleeding. The final task is to bury her blessed remains. As the females present begin to sing the ritual burial lament, Rocks takes one of seven shovels resting in the alcove. Although grave digging is considered bad luck, the Fold heirs perform the actual burial willingly. It’s a sign they are prepared for the hardest tasks asked of Fold members in their service to the colony.
Rockland, Pegasus, Mazal, Malachite, Mackie, and Ash all start to shovel the loose soil. Rocks hesitates staring at the seventh shovel unused in the alcove. Decker.
The Trade Wing has yet to select a suitable candidate to replace Judge’s eldest son. Since Decker’s younger brother, Baxter, is only twelve and not yet a fledgling, he is ineligible to be the next candidate. In the coming months, all wings will have the opportunity to recommend a member they feel is worthy, but selection will not take place until Judge announces his period of mourning has ceased.
“Was a pattern decided upon?” Strickland asks Snowflake, as the young men complete the mound of dirt in the center of the chamber.
Snowflake nods, but her voice fails her as they pat the soft soil into place.
“A rainbow to match her bright spirit,” answers Zada.
Snowflake kneels by the mound and places seven hand painted flat stones across her daughter’s grave—each one the color of the rainbow. Two of the flat river stones have stars painted in the middle of the bright colors. From now until sunrise, colony members unable to attend the funeral due to the cramped space will enter the chamber and place their hand-painted stones upon her grave to complete the pattern chosen by her kin.
Zada places a large candle at Sapphire’s head and lights the wick. The remaining lanterns are doused, plunging the chamber into near darkness. All present flip and fly down the narrow passage to rejoin their wing waiting on the ceiling of the main cavern. By the time the lone candle extinguishes itself, the rainbow of colored stones will be the only reminder of little Sapphire’s time in this world.
19. Ugly Truth
Connie
In my third week working for Enzo, I do a double take when my name is the last entry in the payroll journal. The figure beside it blows my mind. I stare over my shoulder into the mirrored glass for a few minutes. I have no idea if Enzo is in his office or not, but he’s out of his
mind if he thinks I’m going to pocket the wad of cash he believes I’ve earned.
I want my little sister back, not a trust fund.
A moment later, the door opens and one of the armed, hall guards hands me a folded piece of paper. The message informs me to check the contents of bag twenty-one carefully using the fraud machine. I glance back at the mirror and nod once. I guess I’m always under surveillance.
The names in the journal are all coded. I’m pretty sure Brick wasn’t christened with that name, despite how much it suits him. A tornado wouldn’t move that man. None of the entries say cop or dirty pig in brackets next to them. So my hunt for the informant is over before it ever began.
I stare at the words—Little Sparrow. Enzo started calling me that the last time I argued with him about more Mini time. He says I go off like a gunshot, and in Italian—which he’s very upset I don’t speak—it sounds similar.
Last year, my anger simmered on a low heat the whole time I searched for Parents V1.0. Parents V2.0 never made me erupt like I’ve done several times with Enzo. He manages to turn the heat up past boiling, and I explode. I never knew I had it in me, but then again I’m sure anyone in my shoes would have a short fuse.
That reminds me of breakfast. Mom and Dad are falling apart, and watching it is probably shortening my fuse by the day. I hardly recognize the once symbiotic couple. They yell and scream at each other more than they don’t.
Mom hasn’t left the house since Mini was taken. I don’t know if she quit her job, or if they’re being extra understanding. Admitting I have no clue hurts as it means I haven’t been close enough to her to talk and find out, but my guilt keeps me locked in my room when I’m not at the warehouse. Mom reminds me of a living ghost. She’s fading from this existence, trapped in a circle of what-ifs.
What if she didn’t stop for gas …
What if she fought harder …
What if Mini never comes home …
Dad has lost all faith in the cops assigned to the Phillips’ case. He’s hired two private eyes in the hope they’ll discover something the police have missed. I want to tell him to save his money, but it gives him a purpose. He checks in with them every morning, and that seems to keep his hope alive. Mom’s hope went up in flames along with our car, which is why they argue instead of talk.
My Google searches on coffee distributors in Atlanta and Georgia haven’t helped. All I know is that it takes between fifty-three and fifty-nine minutes for me to arrive at the warehouse. Getting home is another story. My car has never been parked in the same part of town twice, and heading home varies from under thirty minutes to close to an hour. I have no fudging clue where the warehouse is located, and that’s exactly how Enzo wants it.
Each Tuesday, I’ve had to stay longer to get through the amount of cash crammed in each duffle. Dad will look up from whatever newspaper he’s scouring, while Mom sits staring blankly in the direction of the TV not even noticing my late return. Sadly, this is the new routine at the Phillips household.
I pull my attention back to the payroll. Mistakes are not forgiven in the Ascari organization. Tidying up, I’m anxious to get to Mini. She’s happy most days I enter her room. Enzo still won’t tell me who looks after her, but there’s a distinctly feminine feel. Today, she has little bows in her hair, and slowly but surely the number of furnishings and general comfort level has increased in her cell.
When I place her on the new rug, she runs back to her crib, shoving her pudgy arms through the bars to grab “Ooof and Ven.” I smile watching her tuck the reindeer and snowman under her wings like a proud mother hen. I hold out my arms, and she tears back across the space, slamming into my chest. She nearly topples over, but I grab her before she hits the concrete.
“Fingers gone,” Mini says, looking at my hands. Her little fingers move over my bare fingernails. I doubt she’s ever seen them natural before.
“No painted fingers today,” I reply. My heart isn’t in it. Painting my nails seems so frivolous and narcissistic. “What should I paint on them, Mini?” One of her favorite pastimes is emptying my carry-on case of all the pretty colored bottles.
She grins wide, and I notice a new tooth coming in. Fudge! Mom would kill to know about this.
“Ooof,” she says, shoving Olaf in my face.
“You want me to paint him on my nails?”
She nods. I grab the little snowman and make him cover her with kisses. My fingers reach for my cell phone, momentarily forgetting it’s contraband during my hours here. I’d give anything to record her infectious giggle.
* * * * *
On Saturday morning after I’m finished my work, the guard down the hall leads me into Enzo’s office rather than to see Mini. Enzo looks tired, and that’s not a look I’m accustomed to seeing on him. He’s always smooth as silk—never a hair out of place. He makes it apparent that he commands his entire universe, and it always obeys.
My eyes spy the stacks of money sitting on the corner of his desk. He’s leaning against the front of the smooth oak with his arms folded over his chest. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned at the collar.
“You forgot something, Little Sparrow.” He lifts up his dark glasses to rub his eyes.
“No, I didn’t.” Mini’s blinds are closed, but the one behind his desk with a view of the coffee facilities has been pulled up.
“Are you trying to insult me?” I sense he’s not to be tested. His left eye tics, and something about his body language makes him seems harder than usual.
“I don’t want that. I’ll swap it for my sister.”
Enzo doesn’t even bother to acknowledge my request. “Don’t tell your sister, but you’re more efficient than she is, and she’s been doing this for five years.”
I blink. I’m forgetting my own game plan. How could I be so stupid? I let him know Mini is still my sister and not Sophia. During the week, I spent hours trying to come up with ways to get him to trust me more, and then I make a stupid rookie mistake.
“If you continue your good work, I’ll increase this each week.” He taps the pile of bills beside him. It shows how heartless the man before me really is. How could he think I give a damn about money when my sister is his prisoner?
“Papa?” Enzo looks up and frowns. I need to call him that more, but it sticks in my throat. I try to make my voice sound weak and needy. “Can you use that money to buy me something?”
“I’ll buy you whatever you want. You keep this.”
“No, it’s … well, I’m sure it won’t be cheap since it’s not exactly … legal.”
The man beams at me like I’ve told him I’m expanding his business into Canada.
“I need a couple of birth certificates and socials for some friends.”
Rocks will never get his real driver’s license without a birth certificate or social security card. It’s a massive roadblock to him joining my world. I’ve never asked if Judge is legally licensed, and it’s probably not something they’d share with the nosy aeronaught anyhow. Since I had no idea how Rocks and I could overcome this, I might as well use Enzo’s dubious connections while I can. It might even help build his trust in me if he feels he has something over me.
I grab a pen and write down the details and names. Rockland Shadows. Jeremiah Shadows. I figure since Jeremiah said he’s envious of my car that he’ll be more than willing to get his license too. I thank the stars above that Strickland and Zada aren’t the weirdest colony names. He could have been born to Pegasus and Honeysuckle. Having scrutinized my birth certificate last year in the hopes that it would magically provide the location of Parents V1.0, I add all the information the forger will require. I’m pretty sure Rocks won’t be upset that I’ve made Jeremiah his brother.
Handing over their details, I cross my fingers that Enzo will make this happen. Since Rocks isn’t in the system at all, I know Enzo will never be able to track him to use against me. Googling Rockland Shadows leads you absolutely nowhere.
“Ah, now that’s more
like an Ascari. Consider it done.”
I’ve made Papa’s day by committing my first felony.
Movement over Enzo’s shoulder catches my eye. Through the window, I watch as one of the young men from the ‘cut and bag’ side of the business is dragged into view. Brick and another thug I’ve seen around but never spoken to push him to his knees. He’s wearing only boxer shorts and is speaking frantically to the two men. I can’t hear a thing, but I instinctively cross my arms over my chest grabbing my shoulders. This looks bad—really bad.
Enzo turns his head casually to follow my line of sight. Before I can do anything, Brick pulls a weapon from inside his grey suit and fires—point blank. My whole body flinches at the sight even though I don’t hear the gunshot. The man’s body disappears from sight.
“What the—” My hand goes for my inhaler, but I think I’m going to be sick instead. I freaking witnessed a murder—a freaking murder! I bend at the waist, resting my hands on my knees. I blink repeatedly, looking around for a wastepaper basket. Maybe he’s not dead. Who am I kidding?
“In through your nose, out through your mouth,” Enzo commands.
I can’t focus on anything. This can’t be real. I have to be dreaming. His shiny black shoes stop before me. He commands me to breathe once more. I close my eyes and listen to his voice. When the nausea ebbs away, I stand in time to see Brick look toward the window and nod. I have to remember that he can’t see inside. He doesn’t know I just saw him kill a man. Or maybe Enzo planned this exact moment? He weaves such a tainted web that I have no clue anymore.
“It’s a shame you had to witness that, but it is a part of what we are forced to do from time to time. Thus, why I needed you to take Sophia’s place. Stealing is not tolerated under any circumstances.” He picks up the money and holds it out to me. “Take this and enjoy the rest of your weekend, Little Sparrow.”
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