The Beckoning of Broken Things (The Beckoning Series)

by Calinda B

  “I see,” Rafe says impassively. “So you were going to get a quickie while you were supposed to be working. Is that it?”

  “A quickie?”

  “You know…” Rafe makes a circle with the index finger and thumb of one hand and pushes the index finger of the other hand in and out.

  Ricardo looks away from Rafe. “Maybe…so what?”

  “You’re lying, Ricardo.”

  Ricardo cranks his head around to me.

  “I’m not,” he protests.

  “You are.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Trade secret,” I say, tapping the side of my head. I’ve always been able to glean when someone isn’t telling the truth. Ever since my Light Rebel skills were restored, my capacity for sensing a lie has grown stronger. “Now tell us what you were going to do when you had the seizure. You know what God does to liars.”

  Ricardo’s face blanches. He shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out a small gold ring.

  It’s got a chip of a diamond in it. Nothing fancy, but I’ll bet to Ricardo it represents a small fortune.

  “I borrowed this from a friend. I was going to give it to Renata. It was just until I could afford to buy her a real ring.”

  “Borrowed or stole?”

  Ricardo says nothing.

  “And who was this friend? Where was the ring?”

  “A friend of a friend told me that I would find the ring behind the storage barn. I knew whose it was. But this friend said if I found it, I could claim it. If I found it, it was mine. But when I stooped to pick it up…”

  “The seizure started,” I finish.

  “No! It was the work of diabo! The devil!” cries Ricardo. “My hand began to take on the shape of a horse’s hoof. It was then that the seizure began!”

  I press my lips together and look at Rafe. “What’s with this friend of a friend business?” I turn back to Ricardo. “And you believed this so-called friend? If you knew whose ring it was, didn’t it cross your mind that this person would notice it missing, see it on Renata’s finger, and accuse her of stealing it?”

  Ricardo cringes. “I hadn’t thought of that, no. I would never want to hurt Renata.”

  “Use your head, then. I think you need a few Hail Mary’s.” I shake my head in disgust. Clearly, Armando is preying on my staff’s weaknesses. Is he going to dismantle this operation, a few at a time? “We’ll deal with all of this when you are well, Ricardo. Thank you for telling us. It helps.”

  “Please don’t fire me,” Ricardo pleads. “I need this job.”

  “We’ll figure something out,” I say, non-committedly.

  A while later, Ricardo drifts into a light slumber, as we bounce along in the hot sun. “All this stuff that Armando is doing is a big problem. We need to take him down.”

  Rafe smirks at me. He lifts his hands to make air quotes. “‘We’ don’t need to take him down. That’s a man’s job. You’re still a baby Light Rebel, baby.”

  “You’re not the only badass on the planet,” I huff.

  “Clearly not,” he replies, smiling.

  “Who’s got that mythical sword in her possession?”

  “Point taken.”

  “What about our re-con mission?” I ask Rafe.

  “Oh, so now it’s our re-con mission?”

  “I told you, I’m coming with you. Just try to leave me behind.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, dear.” He smiles at me. “Everything about you, Marissa…everything about you is a dream come true.”

  “You know what they say about dreams.”

  “What do they say?”

  “They’re insubstantial.” I look away from him.

  “Not this one,” he says with conviction. “You’ll see. Remember, I abide in shadow lands and those are supposedly insubstantial, too.”

  An hour or more later, we arrive in a bustling village, jostling along a dirt road. There are small ramshackle dwellings dotting the landscape - tiny homes with corrugated tin roofs, open air windows, and a general state of run down. The neighborhoods look PBS perfect. I expect a narrator to start telling us the socio-economic status of the residents and how they make their livelihood.

  It’s so hot in town, even the dogs have given up on movement. Instead they rest in whatever shade they can find, lying prone like furry corpses. My teeth are tired of clacking together when we go over a bump. Marco is driving as fast as he can to get to the hospital. The ride smoothes out when we pull onto a paved road, and minutes later, we pull up to a tiny medical facility. We pull up to the section marked Emergência, and Rafe leaps out of the truck and heads inside. A few minutes later, an aging gurney is pushed out by two men. They proceed to load Ricardo onto the gurney, and Rafe sends Marco in to check him in.

  Rafe scoots onto the tailgate and pats the area next to him, indicating I should join him.

  When I do, he puts his arm around me and pulls me close. “Rafe…” I say.

  “No, Marissa. No more protests. You either want this or you don’t. Stop putting out mixed signals. Follow your heart.” He angles his body to face me and tips my chin up. “I want you. I might have accepted your refusal of me a week ago - hell, I’d have been the first one to suggest it - but no more. I’ve seen the way you look at me. I’ve seen the things you can do.”

  “What about Daniel?” I say in a low voice.

  “I’ll share if he will.”

  Pitta pat. Pitta pat. My heart beats an accelerated rhythm, like I’ve just run the length of the Grand Canyon. Rafe is close, so close, and I want him so bad and I’m still torn between falling in and shoving away. “I don’t think Daniel shares. Not when it comes to me.” I swallow and scrub my damp palms against the long shirttails of Rafe’s shirt.

  “We’ll deal with it when the time comes.” The tic near his left eye starts up again. A flicker of annoyance crosses his face. He lifts his hand toward the tic.

  His hand trembles as it rises, and I wonder if he’s about to have a withdrawal episode.

  “Goddamn it,” he barks, slamming his hand into the tailgate.

  “That had to hurt,” I say, as my arousal runs for cover.

  “Not really.” He balls his hands into fists, takes a deep breath and lets them uncurl. “Where was I?” He turns his face toward me and runs his tongue along his lips, just like Daniel does.

  It’s a sexy little gesture that puts me right back in the mood. It works every time.

  He leans toward me and brushes his lips against mine.

  “Oh, God,” I breathe against his lips. “Oh, yes.” His hand cups the back of my neck, enveloping me in warmth. The sun is beating against the top of my head, adding to the heat inside and out. I start to fall into the kiss, to melt into those soft, hot lips.

  Rafe jerks. He breaks the near kiss and stares at something or someone behind me.

  I turn my head to look and see a distinguished looking man strolling toward me with a curvaceous woman on each arm. His attention is focused on one of the women. Armando Navid. It has to be. When I turn back, Rafe has disappeared.

  Armando looks up and sees me. He seems surprised and grins broadly. “Greetings!” Armando says, making his leisurely way up next to me. “What a surprise!” He’s dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and light colored pants. He looks a lot like Daniel only without the blue eyes. Daniel must have inherited those brilliant blue eyes from his mother.

  His women look like Carnaval Samba dancers. Dressed in too tight skimpy bits of nothing and high heels, the only thing missing is elaborate feather headdresses. I give them a wan smile which they don’t bother returning.

  He kisses each of the women on the cheek and murmurs to them, “Head over to the bar. I have some business to conduct with this young woman, and I’ll meet you there shortly.”

  The women giggle, rub their breasts seductively on each of Armando’s arms and wander off, hips swaying, skirts bound tightly to their asses.

  “Marissa Engles? Armando Navid,”
he says neatly, extending his hand to me.

  I stare at the hand until he drops it, his face frowning slightly.

  “Cat got your tongue?” he says. “How is life at the coffee farm?”

  “Oh, it’s fine,” I respond. “We’re having a little problem with rats and geese, but other than that everything’s fine. Right as rain.”

  “Good, good. I’m so glad to hear that.”

  “Hell of a way to show your wife you care,” I say, nodding to the women’s retreating forms.

  “Alas, but my wife has left me. I’m sure my son has told you that.”

  “I heard she had good reason.”

  “And what reason would that be?” he says smoothly, flashing me a cardboard smile.

  “Just that you’re a dick, for starters.”

  “I have a dick, a fine one. It’s large and works very well.” He chuckles. “I see my son has filled your head with colorful colloquialisms of my behavior. How very delightful. I can assure you, my dick, as you call it, is one of my best assets. Ask those women you just saw. I can show you sometime.”

  “No, thanks,” I say. “I’ve got far better things to do with my time.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” he says as he catches my gaze and looks deeply into my eyes. His expression looks haughty and superior, like, “I’ve got this. Piece of cake.”

  A strange buzzing fills my head as he holds my gaze, like a thousand flies hovering over roadkill. It’s such a weird sensation, I imagine sucking the flies up through a vacuum hose to their doom. When the feeling subsides, I shake my head and say, “Don’t do that to me again.”

  Armando’s mouth falls slightly and a frown smothers his smug face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  I run my hands through my hair a couple times and flick my fingers, as if to get any remaining flies out. “Yes, Armando, you do.”

  His forehead furrows slightly. He cocks his head. He attempts a different topic. “Have you heard from my son, your soul bound lover?”

  “Yeah, about that…what exactly does soul bound mean? I mean, is there a reference book I can use to look it up? Clearly it means nothing to you what with your babes and all.”

  His frown deepens. “It’s a sacred oath.”

  “To some, maybe, but clearly not to you.” And maybe not to me if I can figure out the subtext or a clause of some kind.

  “It is a binding of the most serious degree. It cannot be undone. There are those among your kind…”

  “Of my kind?” I interrupt.

  “Forgive me. I’ve completely forgotten about your newly restored Light Rebel skills. I still think of you as ordinary.” He presses his lips into a smile, of sorts, that is merely a manipulation of skin - nothing more. “There are those among humanity who have been soul bound to another, only they aren’t aware of the binding. Sometimes a supernatural will fall in love with a human. He binds himself to that person, and then, throughout time, the pair will find one another.”

  “That sounds like more of a curse.”

  Armando laughs. “It can seem that way I suppose.”

  “Does he or she bind without permission?”

  “Never! That never happens! It must be consensual or…” His eyes appear shifty, and he looks away from me.

  “Or, what?”

  “It has never happened. It doesn’t matter what.”

  It matters to me.

  He waves his hand, dismissing the topic, as if he can’t be bothered with trifles. “So you say you have a problem with rats and geese?” He throws back his head and laughs heartily.

  Asshole. “I took care of things,” I say sweetly. “I love a good challenge.”

  He stops laughing and glares at me. “What do you mean, you took care of things?”

  “Just that. I restored everything back to normal.”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “Not in the least. My men can’t do their jobs if they sport the heads of rats or geese.”

  “So tell me. How did you restore them?” He wraps one arm around his midsection and grasps the other arm.

  “Trade secret.” I tap the side of my head.

  “I’ll figure it out, soon enough.”

  My eyes narrow. “Doubt that.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry. I’m far more skilled that you can ever be. I have age, wisdom, experience, and a little something called endless power at my disposal.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “Oh, really. And where did you get this so-called endless power?”

  “I took it from someone who died - at your hand, I hear. You did us all a favor by killing El Demonio. You made me the most powerful sorcerer in the world, you made Daniel run and hide in his dark world…it’s a win/win as far as I’m concerned.”

  “You might think twice about that perception of winning.”

  “And why would that be?”

  “I heard someone else stole El D’s power. Someone far more cunning than you could ever hope to be.”

  He laughs. It sounds more like a hyena barking. “And who might that be - you?”

  “I’m not going to tell you.”

  His face falls ever so slightly. The fake smile returns. “You’re such a delight. You know nothing about this world. You’re a child.”

  “Kids can be super smart. I’d keep your lofty attitude in check.”

  “My lofty attitude, as you call it, serves me. It’s just an overall confidence in who I am and what I’m capable of. But for now, I have women to take care of. Until I can take care of you,” he says and his eyes glint.

  This time, whatever trick he used worked. A sickening sensation punches me in the stomach. I nearly double over. I can’t breathe. Can’t get air in. This is it. This is it. Life over. Everything in my head whirls and blurs as I focus on one thing - catching a breath. I gasp, trying to get oxygen into my lungs.

  He flicks his hand and the sensation stops. “Mind your manners, little girl. Stop fooling with a master.”

  He saunters off, leaving me sucking air into my lungs as fast and as deeply as I can. “Some help you were, Rafe. I know you can hear me.” I turn right and left. “Why didn’t you jump him? Why didn’t you take him down when you had the chance? Rafe?” I look up the street and down. “Rafe? Are you here?” But Rafe, the Stealth Numen and dweller in shadow lands, is gone.

  Chapter 23

  “I know you can hear me,” I yell into the air. “I know you’re out there. Come out, come out, wherever you are,” I chant, as if this is a children’s game. A man and his wife hustle away from me as if I’m crazy. Who knows? At this point, I think maybe my aunt and sister were right to toss me into the mental institution. I can’t seem to make up my mind between the dark and dangerous Night Numen who commands all things evil and the killer Stealth Numen who dwells between the worlds, I’ve got a badass nut job of a sorcerer, the Night Numen’s dad after me, a dog with wings, a mythical bird beast for my own personal use…oh, and then there’s the thing about my work force being turned into farm animals. But me, crazy? Nah. This is just normal, normal, normal.

  I wander back to the truck and hop up onto the tailgate. I sit, slumped, wondering where the hell Rafe has gone to. Is he dead or injured? Did something happen to him? Is he still working for Armando? This last thought jabs my gut like a huge splinter. Maybe the guy has been working for Armando all along. Another thought even more worrisome haunts me. You’re falling in love with him, aren’t you? I try to make that thought disappear, to crumple it up like a candy wrapper so that I can toss it away. Only thing is, the more I try to crumple it, the bigger it gets. “Fine!” I say to my thought. “So you care about the guy a little bit.” The stirring in my core speaks to care that goes far deeper than “a little.” I sigh and close my eyes, letting all the sensations of knowing Rafe comfort and hold me like a silky, stimulating blanket.

  A few minutes later, Marco nudges me in the bed of the truck. “Miss Engles. We go now,” he says, in halting English. “Ricardo is lucky to be alive. You
and Mr. Rafe did good.” He smiles at me.

  I nod.

  “Mr. Rafe?” He puts his hands up in question.

  “Errands,” I say. “Shopping. He’ll find his own way home.”

  “No, we wait.”

  “No, no. He’ll find his own way.” The bastard had better find his own way. I’m pissed, I’m hurt, and I’m not going to make this easy for him.

  “You sit back here? Long ride.” He frowns. “Up here?” He indicates the front seat.

  I’m kind of worn out from the morning and hungry as well. “I’ll just ride back here.” I press my palms to my cheek and close my eyes. “Rest.”

  Marco nods, hops in the truck, and we’re off.

  The sun is hot. It’s blazing out here. I lie back in the truck bed and close my eyes. I should probably get in the cab. Right. The cab is no doubt sweltering. I should ask for some water. Maybe we can stop for food. Instead, I lay on the padding pitched in here for Ricardo and toss all these great ideas around like salad in a wooden bowl. And I drift asleep.

  Time seems to have stopped or sped up or gone on warp reverse or something as I bounce along in the back. I drift in and out of a sweaty sleep. Eyes closed, a light so bright it’s painful fills my head. It stabs at my brain like it’s a sharp skewer trying to get my attention. You’ve got it, I tell the light. My attention is all yours. I squeeze my eyes tight trying to block the brilliant light. I’m yanked up into the air by what feels like two arms shoved under my armpits, and I hover, suspended above the truck as it skitters along the road. I shriek and kick my legs wildly. “Let go of me! Put me down! Put me down!”

  “Dang, girl, what happened to your spine?”

  “Tom? Is that you?”

  “I thought I taught you right.”

  I’m back in the white, white world of the ether space. All I can see is white, whiter, whitest wisps of fog swirling around me, revealing entire vistas of more of the same. The truck is way, way below me, a pale blip careening around potholes, speeding down the road. “Tom, where are you?” I crank my body to and fro, looking for the body that goes with the voice.

  “Simmer down, girl. I’m right here, can’t you see me?”