by JL Bryan
The wall was about ten feet high, a jumble of different stones cemented together. All over the wall, little glints reflected the headlights. Jenny realized that these were jagged pieces of glass embedded in the concrete. It looked the builders of the wall had stuck broken bottles everywhere, especially along the top, to slice up the hands and feet of anyone who tried to climb over.
Manuel unlocked the sheet-metal gate and pushed both doors open on rusty, screeching hinges. He drove the Jeep through, then hopped out again to lock the gate behind them.
They were on a paved path now, though many of the paving stones were missing, leaving empty sockets of water and mud. Ahead, Jenny saw a few buildings made of adobe, and a sprawling two-story main house made of stone, with balconies, staircases and chimneys jutting out here and there. The place looked almost medieval to Jenny. Candles burned all over the exterior of the house, outlining balconies, windows and doorways like strings of Christmas lights.
A low one-story cottage sat beside the main house, and a barn, and then the remains of another adobe building with a collapsed roof and hollow doorways.
“Welcome to Casa del Fuego,” Alexander said. He jumped out of the Jeep and offered his hand, but she didn't take it as she climbed down. She was feeling numb from the long, fast, jarring drive, and maybe from the painkillers, too.
“Is this where we're staying?” Jenny asked.
“This is my place,” Alexander said. “Nice, secluded, with strong ocean air to invigorate the mind. Can you smell the salt in the air?” He closed his eyes, and she studied his face in the moonlight. He looked so much younger when his eyes were closed.
“I think I can hear the ocean,” Jenny said. Waves crashed somewhere beyond the house.
“You can hear it all night,” Alexander said. “There's no sound more peaceful. Let me show you around.” He led her toward the house, across an unkempt yard full of tropical wildflowers. Behind them, Manuel drove the Jeep into the barn.
They walked up three steps to the front door, which was made of heavy hardwood and reinforced with thick metal bands. Jenny noticed that the windows on the first floor were all barred.
“This is really your house?” Jenny asked. “Do you always keep candles burning everywhere?”
“We might have dressed it up a little for you.” He grinned.
The front door opened for them. A short, dark man in fatigues and a T-shirt stood inside. An AK-47 assault rifle was strapped to his back. He gave a huge smile and stood aside for them to enter.
“Iztali,” Alexander said to the man, “This is Jenny.”
“Jenny.” Iztali smiled again and nodded his head slightly. “La bruja?” he asked Alexander.
“Si,” Alexander replied.
Jenny smiled back at him as she passed. He closed the door behind them, then crossed his arms and remained beside it.
Three more people, a young man who resembled Iztali, a gray-haired woman, and a young woman who might have been Jenny's age, stood in the front hall. The arched space was illuminated by more candlelight and glass lanterns set into wall niches. The house did have electric lights, but they were all turned off.
“Yochi, Noonsa, Kisa,” Alexander said to them. He spoke a few words in a language Jenny didn't recognize—it didn't even sound like Spanish to her. Or French, which Jenny had taken in high school to avoid the risk of Spanish class with Ashleigh Goodling.
“Jenny,” Alexander said, putting his arm around her. They nodded to her, and the young, darkhaired woman smiled.
“Jenny, this is Yochi.” Alexander indicated the young man, and Jenny noticed the machine pistol holstered at his belt. “He helps with a few things around here. Like security.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jenny said, but the man didn't respond.
“And this is Yochi's aunt, Noonsa, and his sister Kisa,” Alexander said, introducing the two women. “They keep us from falling into barbarism. Kisa has your room prepared for you. And some clothes she bought for you.”
“Wow, thanks!” Jenny said.
“Hungry?” Kisa said to Jenny, and she pointed at Jenny's stomach.
“No, I'm fine, but thanks,” Jenny said.
“You sleep?” Kisa asked. “You bath?”
“She's offering to run a bath for you,” Alexander said. “Kisa's in charge of keeping you comfortable. She knows a little English, too.”
Kisa nodded quickly.
“Oh, that sounds really good, thanks,” Jenny said to Kisa. “But I can do it. Just show me where.”
“Let her do things for you,” Alexander said. “I hired her to help me.”
“With what?” Jenny asked.
“Just to take care of your needs. Food, cleaning, laundry—”
“That's crazy,” Jenny said. “I'm not a baby.”
“You want me to fire her?”
“Oh, no!” Jenny said. “Don't fire her. Yes, I would like a bath please, Kisa. In fact, if you could show me the bathroom like right now, that would be pretty ideal. Thank you!”
Alexander spoke a couple words in that strange language again, and Kisa led Jenny down the curved hallway. With the earthen building material and the candlelight, it seemed more like a cave than a house.
Kisa led her upstairs and to a spacious tiled bathroom at the back of the house. Jenny excused herself and closed the door, then let out all the pee she'd barely held in throughout the Jeep ride.
The bathtub was in the corner, made of rock and inset with bright pebbles. It was right up against a large window, which was open to catch the salty breeze from the ocean.
When she was done, she opened the door and let Kisa inside.
“Bath now?” Kisa asked with a smile. She began filling the rocky tub with hot water.
“Um,” Jenny said. She pointed to the glass window by the tub. “How private is this?”
Kisa looked where she was pointing and shook her head. “All ocean. Okay.”
“Really?” Jenny leaned out the open window, but she could see nothing in the darkness except for the stars overhead, stretching to the horizon.
Kisa picked a handful of tropical flowers from a bowl by the sink and tossed them onto the bath. “I wash hair?” she asked, reaching for Jenny's long black hair, which was quite dirty and tangled at the moment. “I braid?”
“No!” Jenny snapped, backing quickly away from her. “Don't touch me. Um, no touch. Please. Okay?”
“No touch?” Kisa frowned. She looked down at her hands, studying them, as if searching for a reason why Jenny didn't want to be touched by her.
“Right. No touch. Thanks.”
“Okay, no touch.” Kisa looked hurt, and Jenny felt bad, but she didn't know what else to say. She didn't want to infect this nice girl with Jenny pox.
Kisa left the room and closed the door. Jenny hesitated, but the bath looked extremely inviting. The whole house was kept very clean and neat, probably by the two women.
Jenny removed her dirty tennis shoes, her jeans, her gloves. It always felt nice at the end of the day when she could finally take her gloves off and let her fingers breathe a little.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Big purple and yellow bruises were splattered all over her face, her ribs, her legs, where the mob had hit her and kicked her. They were already fading, though—Jenny healed faster than most people, and she never got sick.
She sat down in the hot bath and laid back, letting her hair float out all around her head. She looked up at the tiled ceiling. This was all crazy, she knew. Hitching a ride to Mexico with Alexander, whom she only knew from dreams of a distant past life. He'd saved her, though, from the mob, and apparently from Homeland Security, the CDC, and the National Guard, too.
She thought about her father, alone in the hospital. Only he wouldn't be alone anymore. June would have gotten there hours ago, and June was much more calm and sane than Jenny. June could even hug him, try to comfort him with human contact, things Jenny herself could never do.
The door to the bathroo
m opened, and Jenny sat up and gasped, covering herself with her arms.
“No fear,” Kisa said. She lay a thick towel, clothes, and a pair of sandals on the bathroom counter. “No touch, no fear.” She left again quickly.
“Thank you,” Jenny said, but Kisa had already closed the door. She was already making a bad start with that girl. And if Jenny was going to hide out here and wait for the United States government's interest in her to fade, she really did appreciate having a girl her own age to talk to, especially one who spoke some English. Jenny could help Kisa learn more English words, and maybe Kisa could help Jenny learn Spanish, or whatever language everybody was speaking.
Alexander had gone to a lot of trouble to bring Jenny here, and she still wasn't entirely sure why. Her previous elation and recklessness was slowly sinking, and doubt and worry started creeping in. She could understand well enough why Alexander would want to reconnect with others of their own kind—so far, Jenny herself knew only Alexander, Seth, Ashleigh, and Ashleigh's opposite, Tommy. And the last two were just monsters. Seth wasn't looking so sweet himself these days, either.
She imagined him embracing the slutty blond girl, but the image made her sick and she blinked it away.
She thought instead of Alexander—his bizarre power, animating the dead with his touch. He could control them, but he said his power was greatly enhanced by Jenny's touch. She wondered how that worked. He would probably show her, since that had to be the real reason he'd gone to all this trouble for Jenny.
And she thought of Alexander some more—his dark, intelligent eyes that looked at her and knew far more about Jenny than she knew about herself. The muscular feel of his arms and chest when he carried her. Because that was the other thing about Alexander. He could touch her. His touch did something to her, too. It charged her up, made her feel powerful. And a little bit high.
Jenny felt herself growing warmer, and found her hand creeping down between her legs as she thought about him. She stopped herself, remembering how Kisa had just walked in the door unannounced. She didn't really have any privacy here.
Jenny hurried through the bath, and quickly dried and dressed herself. Kisa had left her a lightweight, brightly colored dress.
She gathered up her dirty clothes and wet towel and walked out into the hall.
“What do you think you're doing?” Alexander asked. He leaned against the wall next to an open bedroom door.
“Where's the laundry room?” Jenny asked.
“Are you kidding? Just leave stuff like that in the bathroom. Kisa will clean it up.”
“I can do it,” Jenny said.
“Look, this is your room,” Alexander said, pointing to the open door beside him. “Kisa is staying in the room next to yours.” He walked a few steps to the next door and knocked on it. “You need anything—like somebody to pick up the bathroom—you just tell her.”
“I don't want to bother her,” Jenny said.
“I think you kind of miss the point of having servants.”
“You're right, I kind of do,” Jenny said.
Kisa opened her bedroom door.
“Hi, Kisa,” Jenny said. “Can you just show me the way to the laundry room?”
Alexander spoke to her in that strange language that didn't really sound like Spanish.
Kisa took the dirty clothes from Jenny and carried them toward the stairs.
“No, wait!” Jenny said. “I didn't tell you to take them, I was just asking...”
Kisa turned back with an impatient look on her face.
“Never mind, sorry.” Jenny waved and shrugged, feeling completely awkward and lost in this situation. Kisa turned away and carried the clothes downstairs.
“I feel like I'm being such a bitch to her,” Jenny said. “I'm really not trying to do that.”
“You'll be fine,” Alexander said. “She's just an employee.”
“But I don't like making her do petty stuff like my clothes.”
“You're a woman of the people now.” Alexander grinned. He took both of her hands in his.
“I am.” She didn't mind him holding her hands. She could feel herself starting to blush.
“You must have spent a lifetime Marxing it up somewhere along the way,” he said. “Wild times.”
“Wild times,” she repeated, barely aware that she was echoing him. She was looking into his eyes. His gaze burned holes through her—he was seeing through her, into the deep inner part of herself that was many lifetimes old. Jenny wanted to know everything he knew about her. And she was already fighting an aching urge to see where else he might want to touch her.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“Oh...nothing.” Jenny pulled her hands back and crossed her arms. “Good night, Alexander.”
“It's almost sunrise. Want to get some breakfast?”
“I don't think so.” Jenny stepped inside her room. “Alexander, I need to call the hospital back home and check on my dad.”
“We can't,” Alexander said. “The feds could be monitoring the hospital, hoping you'll call.”
“But I have to know how he's doing.”
“I can send somebody to check on him. Someone who won't be traced back here.”
“And I need to let him know I'm okay, too.”
“We'll take care of it,” he said. “Just get some rest.”
Jenny closed the door. There was a lock on the knob, so she turned it into place.
The bedroom was decorated with some very old handmade furniture, vases with fresh flowers, and a couple of landscape paintings. Jenny lay back on the bed and kicked off the leather sandals. She could feel the vast distance separating her from her home and her father—it was like a terrible ache in her stomach.
Everyone was safer this way, she told herself. Jenny needed to be thousands of miles from anyone she loved. She brought too much danger to the people around her.
Though she was troubled, she was also exhausted, and it only took a minute for her to fall into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jenny woke to a flood of daylight and the sound of rusty hinges.
“Huh?” Jenny sat up. The door to her room stood open, but she was pretty sure she'd locked it the night before.
“Good morning, Jenny,” a girl's voice said. Jenny turned to see Kisa pushing open the glass shutters of one of Jenny's two windows. The other was already open, and a soft, salty breeze tousled its curtains.
“What time is it?” Jenny asked. Kisa looked back at her and frowned. Jenny remembered the girl spoke little English, so she pointed to her own wrist, as if she wore a watch. “Time?”
“Oh!” Kisa held up three fingers. “Three.”
“Three?” Jenny got up from the bed. She stretched, and her whole body ached from the beating she'd taken in Charleston. She managed to avoid shrieking in pain. “Guess I slept all day.”
Kisa smiled, but this might have meant she didn't understand Jenny at all. “Clothes. For you.” Kisa indicated a folded outfit on a small table at the foot of the bed. “Mine,” Kisa added.
Jenny picked up the clothes—there was a traditional blouse, with many narrow vertical lines of bright color, and a pair of jeans. There were also sandals, which would probably be nice in this tropical heat, but Jenny didn't like leaving so much of her skin bare.
“Thank you.” Jenny held up the shirt, smiling. “This is very pretty.”
Kisa smiled. “Very pretty? You like it?”
“I love it.”
“I make breakfast.” Kisa hurried to the door.
“Oh, you don't have to...” Jenny began, but the other girl was already gone.
Jenny dressed in the clothes—they were a little loose on her, but light and comfortable. She put on her own shoes, but left off the socks because they were filthy. Then she pulled on her gloves.
She looked out the window and had to catch her breath. Below her, the back yard sloped down to a cliff. The rock wall framed the entire yard, but chunks of the wall a
long the cliff were deeply cracked or broken away, leaving the impression of a row of bizarre rock sculptures.
Beyond the cliff, the ocean sprawled out to the horizon, glittering with millions of golden flecks of reflected sunlight.
“That's beautiful,” Jenny whispered. She hurried downstairs and through the kitchen, where Kisa was slicing up a mango while a tortilla fried on the stove.
“Eat breakfast soon, Jenny!” Kisa said.
“I want to go out and look at the ocean,” Jenny said.
“Coffee?”
“Yes, please! Thanks! Want to go outside with me?”
“I make breakfast.”
“Okay. I'll be right back.” Jenny pointed towards the back door, which stood wide open to catch the open air.
Kisa smiled and nodded, possibly understanding Jenny's meaning.
Jenny walked outside. There was a huge patio paved with clay tiles, shaded by a roof. The patio had furniture arranged in clusters, like outdoor rooms—a dining table with chairs in one area, a pool table in another.
For one weird moment, the entire place reminded her of Seth's house in Fallen Oak, as if there were some deep similarity under the surface of the two places, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Then she shook those thoughts away. She didn't want to think about Seth, or anything back home. She might be in deep over her head here, but this was where she needed to be. All of this felt increasingly like a dream, where she got to be somebody else in a completely different world. She definitely enjoyed that feeling.
Jenny continued beyond the patio and into the huge sunlit yard, which was mostly wildflowers mowed short like a lawn. She crossed the yard, past Iztali and Yochi, who were working at some sort of brick-lined firepit. They didn't look up at her.
Jenny leaned out between two broken pieces of wall.
Below her, the rocky cliff was a sheer, straight drop to a silvery beach more than a hundred feet below. Jenny watched a large wave roll in and crash, the water spreading across the beach and slowly flowing back into the ocean.
“Watch your step,” a voice said, and Jenny jumped. Alexander had walked up behind her without making a sound. His dark, longish hair blew in stripes across his face. His laughing eyes looked down at her. “What do you think?” he asked.