Blood and Fire

by McKenna, Shannon

  He went over, crouched down to take a final look—and saw it.

  Like a muddy piece of string, hanging out of a crack in the side of the log. He’d have taken it for dead grass, but a blade of grass would poke off in any old direction. This hung straight down in a plumb line.

  Like a fine metal chain.

  Bruno gently nudged the beetle off its perch so he could work his fingers into the spongy crevice. It scuttled and turned, looking up at him and waving its pincers madly.

  “Sorry,” Bruno muttered, wedging his cold, stiff fingers deeper, prying, prodding, flexing . . . and the rotten wood gave way, disintegrating in his hand. He held up the handful of wood pulp.

  Mamma’s locket was nestled in it.

  He stared down at it, afraid to breathe. As if it might vanish into a puff of dust, but it was cold and hard and solid. Dirt was ground into the delicate relief work on the pendant, but otherwise it looked intact.

  He looked down at the beetle, who was still watching him, gesticulating with pincers and front legs. All indignant.

  His eyes were awash again. “Thanks, little buddy,” he whispered.

  He rose up, walked over to where Sean and Kev were working. He tried to call them, but his voice was thickened with emotion.

  Kev glanced over. His eyes went wide as they zoomed in on Bruno’s outstretched, clutching hand. “You found it,” he said.

  The other men crowded around him, peering at the object in his hand. Kev gripped his shoulder, his grimy face worried. “You OK?”

  “I am now,” Bruno croaked. “It was stuck in a crack in that rotten log. A bug showed me.” That sounded so dumb. He didn’t give a shit.

  “May I?” Sean’s hand hovered over his, awaiting permission.

  Bruno nodded, let the other man pluck it from his palm.

  Sean peered at it and tried opening it. “It’s been sealed, but there are hinges,” he said. “We could break it open with my blade.”

  They crouched around the black plastic tarp that held the skeletons. Bruno accepted Sean’s blade, hesitating. He hated to break the precious thing, but his head would pop if he had to wait until tomorrow to open it. Mamma would understand. Hell, impatience had been one of her defining characteristics.

  He slipped the tip of the blae in the seam between the tiny hinges, squinting in the dim light, until the point disappeared. He nudged it deeper, applied pressure, firmly . . . and crack, it snapped. Something thudded onto the plastic, a shapeless black wad. Bruno checked the inside. The two pieces were black with mold. Nothing else.

  He slipped the delicate gold bits into his jeans pocket and leaned forward, prodding at the tiny wad with the tip of the knife. The back of it was some sort of fibrous, fuzzy material. The front was a layer of black gunk, which crumbled into flakes as he poked it. In between was something small, hard. Irregular. He scraped at it until the shape became clear. His throat tightened. He picked up the tiny thing, rubbing it between his fingers, scraping with his fingernails, until the black shreds came away. A tiny key, made of pure gold.

  He knew this key. And his heart sank.

  “What is that stuff?” Kev asked.

  Bruno tapped the fuzzy stuff. “My baby hair,” he said. “And this, that used to be my baby picture. And this . . .” He held up the key. “A key to a hidden compartment in my mother’s jewelry box. Another courting gift from my bisnonno to my bisnonna, like the locket. There’s a panel you slide aside, and behind it is a lock to a false bottom.”

  “And you have this jewelry box in your possession?” Sean asked hopefully. “It’s a family heirloom, right? Does Zia Rosa have it?”

  Bruno’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t have it. Zia doesn’t, either.”

  Kev let out a long sigh. Sean got up, shook out the kinks in his knees. “Come on, Bruno. You don’t know where it might be? No clue?”

  “I knew where it was on March 28, 1993, at ten at night, when we left the apartment to go to the bus station,” Bruno said. “It was on the bedside table in my room. Mom put it there so that Rudy wouldn’t pawn her jewelry. Then we left. And I never saw it again. Or my mother.” He shook his head. “Could be anywhere. It’s been eighteen years.”

  It had started to rain again, as if to compound their misery.

  Kev laid a hand on his shoulder. “No, not anywhere,” he said. “It’s in the possession of whoever might have had a right or an interest in collecting your mother’s stuff from the apartment after she was killed. That’s a select group. A short list, with your Grandma Pina on the top.”

  “Lovely prospect,” Bruno said darkly. “If she doesn’t kill me on sight. Or it was stolen by one of our neighbors and traded for crack. Or the super threw it into a Hefty bag, and it ended up in a landfill.”

  “So? You’ve got someplace to start. That’s more than before.”

  True enough. At least he had the locket now. A little piece of Mamma, glinting after twenty long years in the ground. A goodluck amulet. But damn, he wished he had more to show after those four guys had busted their asses all day long on his behalf.

  Things moved fast after that. A reservoir of energy had been unearthed along with the locket. Davy and Connor were informed of the new development, and they decided to hell with guard duty, they’d just finish the job and get the hell out of there. It went faster with five working, but not fast enough, not with night coming on.

  First, the bones had to go back into the ground. They rolled them into the tarp, and placed them back in the hole, then scraped as much of the dirt they had excavated as they could back into the pit. It was difficult, since they had spread it so much, and rain had liquefiemore of it into slop. At the end, the hole was still a sad, sunken mud wallow.

  So they collected boulders and laid those on top, as if to weigh down restless spirits. By then, night had fallen, and they were all wearing infrared goggles. When the cairn was knee level, they stopped.

  “Satisfied?” Sean asked.

  “Almost.” Bruno looked at Kev. “You’re forgetting something.”

  Kev let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, yeah. Of course.”

  Bruno and Kev unbuckled their pants. The rest followed. They hauled ’em out and had a ceremonial collective piss onto the tumbled boulders. Weird effect, with infrared. Hot pee. Cold mud.

  It was a struggle, with numb, filthy hands, to get the goods back in order, pants buttoned, belts fastened, but they managed, at length.

  “Nella faccia di chi ci vuole male,” Bruno said quietly.

  “Amen,” Kev agreed.

  Sean made an irritated sound. “The secret-language bullshit makes us tetchy. Translation?”

  “In the face of our enemies,” Kev translated.

  Davy nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Ditto, that,” Connor said.

  “Can we get the fuck out of here now?” was Sean’s poetic offering.

  Bruno gathered up shovels, hoisted them up onto his shoulder, while the other men loaded themselves up with the rest of the gear, and took the lead as they headed out over the long, treacherous rockfall.

  “Thanks for the help, by the way,” he called back. “Real generous of you all to exert yourself for this coddled, ungrateful punk.”

  Davy snorted with amusement, somewhere behind him. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. You still got your panties in a wad about that?”

  “Italians are good at holding grudges,” Kev called, from farther back. “Something in their genes. They get off on it.”

  “To be fair, you’re a little long in the tooth to be a punk.” It was Sean, right at his heels as they stumbled and slid across the rockfall.

  “I’m gratified that you noticed that,” Bruno said.

  “Don’t be,” Sean said. “You know what an aging punk is?”

  Bruno sternly choked off his laughter. “What, Sean? What is an aging punk?”

  “An asshole,” Sean informed him cheerfully.

  Bruno considered different responses to that jibe, but he was so damn tired, he just
went for the one that used the least amount of breath. “Fuck you, man.”

  Sean made wet smooching sounds. “Aww. I love you, too, honey.”

  Bruno stumbled, slipped. Dropped the damn shovels every which way, and slid down the slope for about three meters, arms flailing.

  But when he’d drawn back from the brink of death, he was grinning.

  “Not a chance in hell. Not a snowman’s chance.” Val made a furious gesture toward the group of women by the garage door.

  “Snowball.” Tam tapped his shoulder from behind, with a long, gleaning black fingernail. “The correct term is, ‘snowball’s chance in hell,’ my love. Get them straight, or don’t use idioms at all, please, OK?”

  “Snowman, snowball, iceberg, I do not give a shit.” Val folded his arms across his chest, radiating unquestionable authority. A skill all the men around this place tended to be scarily good at, Lily had noticed. Bruno being no exception.

  “Val, I do not want to miss this exam,” Sveti explained. “I have studied for four months for this test, and tomorrow morning is the only testing date. If I do well, I will pass out of freshman year and save, oh, forty thousand dollars that I do not have? Maybe more?”

  “I will give you the forty thousand dollars!” Val snarled. Sveti shook her head. “You are sweet, but you and Tam already give me enough,” she said. “I am too much in your debt. Truly, I do not think bad guys will be interested in me and my exam.”

  “And since she has to go anyway, I might as well ride along. I need to get back to my bookstore,” Liv said briskly. “My manager is short-staffed and coming down with the flu. So Edie’s coming to help, and Margo and Erin are coming over with the kids tonight, so we can—”

  “You are stupid to go out now!” Val glared toward the three women gathered at the entrance. Miles slouched in the garage doorway behind them, wearing his habitual long-suffering expression. Baby Eamon was playing enthusiastically with one of Miles’s ears, cooing.

  “Val, come on,” Edie coaxed. “Nobody is after our blood. Sveti just has to take her test. She’s worked so hard for this. Life goes on. You can’t ground everybody. It’s just not practical.”

  “I do not give a shit about practical. Why do you not call your man? See what opinion he has about this fucking trip to Seattle, hmm?”

  Edie sighed. “That would be silly. He’s always paranoid. It’s just a McCloud thing. We have Miles with us. He’s armed. He’s tough.”

  All eyes swung to Miles. He stood up straighter, making an effort to look tougher.

  “Why not just wait until the guys get back?” Aaro asked.

  “Then I will miss my exam,” Sveti said. “I cannot take it again until next year. Please, Val. It is important to me.”

  “Ah, shit,” Val muttered. “I cannot even accompany you, not until the rest of the men get back! This is not fair to put me in this position!” He glared at Liv and Edie. “You know very well that Sean and Kev would throw screaming fits if they knew you were taking off without them.”

  “They can lecture us later,” Edie said briskly. “Come on, let’s go.”

  The women slunk out the door. Miles trailed behind, throwing an apologetic, what-can-ya-do-with-’em glance over his shoulder.

  Val made an explosive sound of disgust, spun, and stalked away, muttering to himself. Tam hurried to follow him, leaving Lily to stare out, watching the garage door grind shut after the car left, blocking out the rare gleam of real outside air. Rainy and gray though it was today.

  Clang. Shut in. In the darkness. As usual. Lily sighed. It was self-indulgent and ungrateful to feel pissy because she was left behind. The little girl who didn’t get to go on the school trip, waaahh.

  She was grateful for the first three genuinely safe nights in she couldn’t even remember how long. She was starting to feel better. But that translated directly into the desire to move, fight back. She wondered when, if ever, she was going to get her life back. Such as it was. It was flawed, sure, but she wanted a chance to make it bloom. Why couldn’t she have a chance, too, like everyone else? Restless anger prickat her, like thorns.

  This was not the fault of the people around her, of course. They weren’t her jailors. In fact, they were the only reason she was still breathing. Be grateful, damnit. She took to pacing again.

  Fortunately, the house was huge and rambling, with lots of nooks, towers, and overhangs, beautiful details and incredible overlooks, even a walkway like a floating bridge over a sea of green to a different zone in the house. A leisurely stroll through the whole place, stopping to admire each vantage point, genuinely did kill some time.

  She ached to have Bruno back. To hear his laughing voice, feel his kiss, his hard, tight embrace, his muscles shaking with emotion.

  Not that she’d have him for long. Their brief conversation the night before, when he’d called her from the motel, had settled that issue. Nothing had changed for her, in spite of his having found the next piece of the puzzle. He’d just hare off to the East Coast to dig in his estranged grandmother’s attic for some ancient jewelry box, while she stayed here, safely folded flat and hidden in a locked drawer. It was enough to drive an independent woman insane. She’d always had to fight for everything in life. Passivity was counterintuitive for her.

  At least progress had been made, even if she couldn’t take credit for it. She’d cling to that. And trust Bruno. It was good practice.

  It was getting dark by her third pass through the house. She stopped in the living room, puzzled, when she heard the sound. A voice, raised to a shout. Muffled, just barely audible. A woman’s voice. Tam.

  Lily ran through room after room, flinging open any door she saw that was closed. “Tam? Tam! Where are you?”

  “The bathroom off Val’s study.” Tam’s faint voice filtered through the walls to her right.

  Lily blundered in that direction until she found a paneled, book-lined room. She flung open an interior door. Tam lay on the floor on her side, huddled around her swollen belly. Hugging it, as if someone wanted to take it from her. She looked up. Her lips were bluish.

  “Call Val, quick,” she said. “I’m spotting. Or actually, this is just plain old bleeding, I think, not spotting. Forgot to bring my cell in here with me. Such a goddamn fucking idiot. I’m afraid to get up. Hurry.”

  “Oh, God.” Lily gasped. “Can I . . . should I—”

  “Just . . . call . . . Val!” Tam’s voice was soft, but Lily leaped to action, raced through the house, howling for Val. She ran into him outside the house gym. “Tam’s bleeding,” she gasped out. “Study bathroom. Hospital. Quick.”

  “O cazzo.” Val spun around. “Aaro!” he bellowed.

  Aaro poked his head around the curve in the corridor. “Yeah?”

  “We are all going to the hospital, for the baby,” Val said. “Now!”

  “Ah . . . can’t I just stay with them here, while you and Tam—”

  “No!” Val was backing down the corridor at a half run. “I cannot leave Lily and Rachel and Zia with one man only to guard! There is no one around here, for miles, and you would be trapped if they came at you with a full crew, like at the cabin! You would be fucked!”

  Aaro raced after, with Lily on his heels. “The two of us together would be fucked, too,” Aaro pointed out over the pounding of their feet.

  “Only one-half as fucked. I do not have time to explain thedefense systems. You!” Val stabbed a finger at Aaro. “Get Zia from the kitchen! And you!” He rounded on Lily. “Wake Rachel from her nap. Run!”

  The tension in Val’s voice propelled them like bullets from a gun.

  Rachel was not psyched to be woken from her nap, but Lily flung the child’s squirming body over her shoulder. Even with panic to help her, it was a good thing the kid was so small. She snagged Rachel’s sneakers and sprinted through the house, yanking the child’s coat off the hook outside the garage door. Val was strapping a white-lipped Tam into the back of a black eightseater van. Alex was at the wheel, engine g
rowling. Zia Rosa sat in the front passenger seat, clutching her purse, staring back at Tam, lips moving as she babbled a litany of prayers.

  Lily leaped in, tossing Rachel onto the seat. The vehicle surged forward before she slid the door shut. She got the whimpering Rachel strapped into her booster seat. The conversation came into focus.

  “. . . is too small for a hospital,” Val was saying. “We will have to go to the hospital at Rosaline Creek. Take the Moss Ridge Highway north at Junction Thirteen. Twelve more miles north. Go fast.”

  Aaro obliged. Gravity slammed Lily back into her seat as the van’s powerful motor roared. She strapped herself in.

  Tam’s eyes were closed. Her lovely face had that stiff, immobile look, like marble. As if she were bracing herself for something.

  “Is she . . .” Lily stopped, swallowed. She didn’t even have the nerve to finish framing the question.

  Val would not meet her eyes. He stared at Tam, clutching her hand, his other hand resting on her belly. “We will see,” he said.

  “Mamma?” Rachel twisted around, too. “Are you sick?”

  Tam managed a smile for her daughter. “I’m fine, baby.”

  Rachel studied her mother. Those big dark eyes were old beyond her years, much like Sveti’s. “Is Irina fine?”

  Tam flinched. “We’ll see, honey. Can’t talk now. Be still, OK?”

  Rachel wrapped her arms around her knees and began to cry.

  The van careened at ninety-five miles an hour down the winding two-lane blacktop, squealing around the hairpin turns, swerving around the odd oncoming logging truck. Lily’s eyes stung.

  She wrapped an arm around Rachel’s thin, trembling shoulders. Rachel grabbed her and hung on tightly.

  25

  “Drive faster! We have to get there before they do!”

  “I know that, damn it!” Hobart cursed as the car fishtailed on the r

  ain-slicked asphalt. “Calm down! This will be tricky, but it’s our chance to show him what we can really do! To prove ourselves!”