Saint’s Passage: Elemental Covenant Book One

by Hunter, Elizabeth

  The extent of homelessness in one of the richest countries in the world always astonished Brigid. She’d been in Los Angeles before, but she’d never spent time in the area they were exploring. “How many here are women and children?”

  “In this particular park? More than average. It’s known as kind of a family place because the mission is nearby. Overall in LA? About thirty percent women. Maybe twenty percent of those are in families. I’m not sure the numbers on children. It’s hard to say.”

  Brigid shook her head. “What’s the city doing about it?”

  “Not enough. This encampment in the park is pretty quiet. Not a big gang area. Not too many drugs. More families here; people look out for each other, you know? But the city will kick everyone out in a couple of weeks. And a couple of days after they move everyone out, people will be back.” Father Anthony gestured toward the mission building glowing in the distance. “We try to fill in the gaps, especially with families. Many aren’t on the streets quite yet, but they’re living in their cars, drifting from one cheap hotel to another. Staying in unsafe circumstances because they don’t want to be on the street.”

  “Was Lupe ever homeless?” What motivated a girl to work down here two times a week? She could have spent time with her friends. Posted on social media. Taken up a sport. “Was it personal for her?”

  Father Anthony opened his mouth, then closed it.

  Brigid started walking again, giving the man time to formulate his thoughts.

  “It was personal for her.” The priest caught up in a few minutes. “Lupe and her mother were never homeless—their extended family is very close—but she knew what it was like not to fit in. She knew what it meant to be out of your element.”

  “Why?” Brigid spotted a furtive drug deal taking place behind a tent, but she ignored it. There were no weapons, no vulnerables in the area. Who was she to judge how a mortal survived a cold night on the LA streets? “Why did she feel out of place?”

  * * *

  “We don’t have documents.”

  Carwyn met Lupe’s mother at the church. He worked to put the woman at ease, immediately telling her he was a private investigator, a former priest, and married to a security specialist. María Estrada was eager to speak to anyone who could help find her daughter.

  “You didn’t come here legally?” Carwyn asked.

  The woman spoke near-perfect English and was obviously educated, but Carwyn knew that migration happened for unexpected and unpredictable reasons sometimes. He and Brigid had helped more than one woman escaping domestic violence who hadn’t stopped to fill out paperwork.

  María Estrada sighed. “When we first came, I thought it would only be for a visit. A few months. Maybe less. Getting a visa can take years, and all I wanted was to see my sister, spend time with her and my brother-in-law after Luis died.”

  “That’s your husband? Lupe’s father?”

  María nodded. “I was wrecked. A mess. My sister is my best friend. And I didn’t have any interest living in the United States, so I thought, I’m not going to go through all the paperwork for a visit. That’s ridiculous. But I came here and… a few months turned into a year.” María looked to the side. “I helped my sister at her business cleaning houses, so I kept busy and was making money. Lupe… she was like a flower that finally bloomed—she loved her cousins so much. She adored my brother-in-law; Emilio was like a second father to her, and he treated her just like one of his own kids.”

  Carwyn said, “That must have been comforting after losing her own father, to have an uncle close. It would be hard to take a little girl away from that.”

  “Yes, exactly. So about a year and a half after we came—Lupe was already in school here and doing so well in her classes—I went back to Mexico, sold our house to the people who’d been renting it, and found a place on the same street as my sister and brother-in-law. Just a room to rent. At that point getting papers seemed impossible, and I think…” María looked away and sighed. “I think in the back of my mind, I thought that when Lupe was older, we’d go back. We had a good life in Mexico before her father passed. Our family there is wonderful. I thought when she was ready for college, we’d move back and go to Mexico City or Guadalajara or one of the big cities. I would have enough savings by then to buy another house—a nicer house in the city—and Lupe could go to university there. The best of both countries, you know? So papers didn’t really matter.”

  “Did Lupe know she was undocumented?”

  “Not right away. It’s not something we talked about, so until it was time to start thinking about college…”

  Carwyn nodded in understanding. “Undocumented students can’t apply for financial aid or most scholarships.”

  María’s expression was devastated. “We had the most horrible fight when Lupe realized what that meant for her future. All the schools her peers were talking about? We could never afford them on our own. She changed. She was angry. Stopped speaking to me. She started spending more time on her phone.”

  “Was she meeting any new people? Making friends you didn’t know?”

  María crossed her arms. “I don’t know. She wouldn’t talk to me, and she even cut her aunt and uncle out. She resented her cousins who were legal and making plans for college. She refused to even talk about going to community college—which we could afford—or moving back to Mexico and applying to university there.”

  “Would you say she started to rebel? Act out in other ways?”

  María blinked hard. “Nothing like that. She was just… distant. Quiet. She’d always had a heart for homeless people—always helped out at the church in youth group—but after our fight, she found every excuse to be down there at the mission or at the church. To be away from me, I think. She didn’t want anything to do with me.”

  María lifted her chin and wiped tears from her cheeks. “She’s a good girl. The police? They told me that she probably ran off with friends or this boy the father says that she knew from the mission.” María shook her head. “She would never. Even if she was angry with me, she wouldn’t have disappeared without telling her cousins or her uncle. That’s how I know something is very wrong.”

  “Why didn’t you press the police more?” Carwyn asked. “If she doesn’t have a pattern of acting out—”

  “Why do you think?” María said. “She’s just another illegal girl to them. I hear how they talk. They don’t know her. They don’t care about her. That’s why I asked Father Anthony if he knew any private detectives.” The woman looked stricken. “We don’t have a lot of money, but you can have all my savings, and if it is more than that, I will work for the rest of my life to pay you and your wife—”

  “No.” Carwyn put a comforting hand on her arm. “That’s not how we work. Not for friends like Father Anthony. We’ll find Lupe for you. You don’t need to pay us.”

  María swallowed hard, clearly afraid to be too optimistic. “How?”

  Carwyn smiled. “Trust me. My wife is very good at what she does.”

  * * *

  Father Anthony was probably confused by how long and how far Brigid wanted to walk through the streets, but she had her reasons. If this were Dublin, she’d know where to go and who to talk to. But this wasn’t Dublin, and she didn’t have territorial rights here. They’d cleared their presence through the vampire authorities in the area, but Brigid wasn’t about to go around bashing heads and making demands. She wouldn’t get any information that way.

  The park, the mission, and the surrounding streets, she was learning, were a community. Maybe not a traditional one—and certainly not one without dangers—but there was a structure. As they walked through the streets, Brigid took it all in, absorbing the scents, sounds, and rhythm of the neighborhood into her blood.

  There were dealers who had staked out territory. There were sex workers who had regular routes. There were gathering places and voices that rose a little louder than the others. Shouts and quieter voices that calmed the shouting.

&
nbsp; Brigid paused and narrowed her attention on a van that had passed them three or four times. “Who is that?”

  The van had pulled up at a corner, and the doors were open. A middle-aged woman and a group of teen girls were setting out tables and canvas chairs along with a portable firepit.

  “That’s Tonya. I don’t know much about her background, but she’s with Streets Alive, a homeless advocacy program. They pass out blankets and food. Try to connect people with the right services. That sort of thing. They’re privately funded like us.”

  “Did Lupe know her?”

  “All the kids know Tonya,” Father Anthony said. “She’s a regular at the mission, and she knows the kids from Saint Peter’s. Looks out for them. The girls especially. They know if they ever get into trouble and I’m not close, they should go to her and she’ll call the mission number from there.”

  “Not the police?”

  Father Anthony frowned. “If something criminal happened, we report it. If anyone threatens the kids, we report it. If someone simply gets scared or freaked out or has a run-in with someone really high or mentally ill, they head to Tonya. We try not to call law enforcement unless we absolutely have to.”

  “Fair enough.” Brigid nodded toward Tonya’s compound. “I need to speak with her.”

  They meandered over to Tonya’s van where a group of women had gathered around the firepit. The woman named Tonya was a large, middle-aged black woman with silver-threaded curls, wearing a heavy sweatshirt over worn jeans. Beside her was a shrunken older white woman who looked as if she’d lived a very hard life. The older woman was holding a cigarette and one of the girls was staring at it.

  As they approached, Tonya narrowed her eyes on Brigid as she and Father Anthony walked closer.

  Brigid appreciated the woman’s instincts because they were correct. That’s right. I’m a predator, but I’m no threat to you or yours.

  Brigid didn’t say it. The woman wouldn’t have listened to her words anyway. She knew better, that words meant nothing on the street. Actions were what mattered.

  “Tonya?” Father Anthony waited at the edge of the compound for the woman to notice him.

  “Padre.” Tonya’s eyes shifted from scrutinizing Brigid to smiling at Father Anthony. “How you doing tonight?”

  “Still worried,” he said. “Still no word from Lupe.”

  “Huh.” Tonya reached over for the cigarette the old woman was smoking. She took a drag and handed it back. “That’s a shame.”

  “Actually” —Father Anthony stepped forward, but Brigid waited on the edge of the circle— “Lupe is why we’re here tonight. We were hoping—”

  “I already talked to the police when they asked me.” Tonya examined Brigid, from the black leather boots she wore to her whiskey-brown eyes, which never broke away. Tonya frowned a little, then looked at Father Anthony. “Told them what I knew about the girl.”

  “I’m not the police.” Brigid spoke quietly, but her voice was clear. “And I’m not from around here. But I am looking for Lupe.”

  Tonya sat back and cocked her head. “Girl, where are you from?”

  “Dublin,” Brigid said. “Ireland.”

  “That’s some accent.”

  The corner of Brigid’s mouth turned up. “I could say the same thing about you.”

  Tonya threw her head back and laughed. “I think I like you. I only understand about every third word you say, mind, but I like you.” Tonya’s eyes were shrewd. “So what interest does your kind have with that girl?”

  Brigid felt one eyebrow rise. “My kind?”

  Tonya leaned back and seemed to pick something from behind her upper canine tooth.

  Brigid got the message loud and clear. Tonya knew about vampires. Interesting, but not that surprising if she worked on the street.

  “Yeah,” Tonya said. “Your kind.”

  Brigid smiled a little and glanced at the small group around the fire. “You mean… the Irish?”

  Tonya reached for her neighbor’s cigarette and took another drag, her hooded eyes never leaving Brigid. “Yeah. The… Irish.” She glanced at one of the teenage girls with her. “Miss Lettie, would you mind giving our Irish guest your seat for a moment so we can talk?”

  The girl stood up, and Brigid noticed she was pregnant.

  “Yes, ma’am. I have some studying I can do in the van.”

  “Good girl.” Tonya kicked the empty chair next to her. “Sit, my Irish friend. Let’s talk.”

  Brigid glanced around the fire. The older woman was staring into the flames and nursing her cigarette. One of the teenagers was glued to her phone, and the other one appeared nearly asleep.

  She took the offered seat and angled her shoulders toward Tonya. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m interested in Lupe.”

  “Yep. And don’t try to bullshit me.”

  Not when I need your cooperation so dearly. “I’m a private security specialist from Dublin.”

  “Private security specialist.” Tonya reached for a pack of cigarettes and lit a fresh one. “Sounds expensive.”

  “I am. Normally I work for a very rich man who pays me lots of money to oversee the security for his business, but right now I’m here as a favor.”

  Tonya nodded. “Fair enough. Who’s the favor for?”

  “Me,” Father Anthony said. “I called a friend who called a friend.”

  “My husband was a priest in a former life.”

  “Is your husband also… Irish?”

  The corner of Brigid’s mouth turned up. “In your meaning of the word? Yes. But don’t tell him I called him that.”

  “And he was a priest, huh?” Tonya pursed her lips. “Never heard that one before.”

  “Carwyn is speaking with Lupe’s mother right now.”

  Tonya shook her head. “Poor woman. She’s a good girl, Lupe.”

  “So you don’t think she ran away?”

  Tonya paused. “Well, there’s running away, then there’s running away.”

  Brigid reached for the box of cigarettes, and Tonya handed it over. “Tell me more.”

  Chapter Five

  “Lupe’s got a big heart,” Tonya said. “That can be good and bad if you know what I mean.”

  “I do.” Brigid had seen more than one good-hearted person break themselves on the rocks of another person’s pain. “Big heart to work with people here?”

  “Big heart for everyone. She was always a generous girl, but in the past year, she seemed… on edge. Like she finally realized how fucked up the world really is, you know? Homelessness. The environment. Immigrant rights. She’d spend all this time reading on her phone and I’d find her crying in one of my chairs.”

  “She let herself get overwhelmed.”

  Tonya nodded and blew out a thin stream of smoke. “I can tell you know how it is. You gotta focus on what you can do, not on everything that needs to be done.” Tonya tapped her temple with a finger. “That’s a recipe for a breakdown. You gonna work in the hard places in this city? You gotta focus on the week you’re in. The people you’re with right then.”

  “I understand.” Brigid had spent too much time focusing on her own survival to sacrifice herself for those who didn’t want to be helped. “You take care of these girls.”

  Tonya nodded toward the van where the pregnant teen had retreated. “Am I gonna solve teenage pregnancy in LA? Fuck no. But I can make sure Lettie finishes school and doesn’t go back into the system with a baby. I can make sure if she wants to keep that baby, she finds what she needs to build a life and not find herself in a dead end.”

  “I get what you’re saying, but what does that have to do with—”

  “Lupe met Daniel when he was working with me, so I guess I feel a little responsible. And Daniel…” She took a drag on her cigarette. “Daniel’s a lot like Lupe. He cares. But he’s also angry.”

  Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. “Anger can be useful. Tell me more about Daniel.”

  “He was another
one with a good heart. That’s why I kept him around even when he pissed me off.”

  “Was this Daniel messing around with Lupe?”

  “Nah, he knew better.” Tonya shook her head. “I think she probably had a little crush on him, but he knows not to shit where he eats. That boy is twenty, and he knows I’d have his balls if I found out he was fooling with any of these girls.”

  The teen who’d been messing around on her phone spoke, not once looking up. “All Daniel cares about is like… fucking the system. He doesn’t have girlfriends.”

  Brigid asked, “But Lupe is sweet for him?”

  The girl frowned. “What?”

  “Does she like him? Romantically?”

  The girl rolled her eyes. “I guess. I mean, she kind of knows how Daniel is, but she kind of doesn’t, you know? Lupe’s like, really naive. Super nice and not full of herself, not like some of the girls from Saint Pete’s, but like, still really innocent and stuff.”

  The other girl, who’d looked like she was sleeping, said, “Lupe’s mom doesn’t let her date or anything. I don’t think she’s even kissed a guy.”

  Tonya snorted. “And what’s that worth? You think it’s any kind of thing to let a man put his mouth on you? Girl, go in the van with Lettie and do your homework—I knew you was faking.”

  The sleepy girl opened her eyes, and the corner of her mouth turned up. “They left together. Lupe and Daniel. That night she disappeared? She went with him; everyone knows it.”

  The other girl cackled. “She probably got more than a kiss by now.”

  Both the teenagers were snickering, but Brigid was taking furious mental notes. “Daniel was with your organization,” she said to Tonya. “I’m going to need a last name. I don’t want to drag you into this, but it’d be faster to track him down if you can get us his name, where he lived, any kind of—”

  “They were planning something.” Tonya leaned forward. “Some protest or action or something. I heard them whispering about it. Children thinking they so sneaky.” Tonya huffed. “I don’t know what it was, but I don’t think they ran away together. Not like that. And I don’t want either of them to get in trouble. She’s naive, but she knows her own mind. And Daniel wouldn’t have forced her to do anything she didn’t want to do.”