by P. Kirby
“She’s why he was so desperate to get to EverVerse, so desperate that he broke into my house and threatened me with a knife. He’s still mourning her and I guess he thought going to EverVerse would help.”
“He still wants to leave?”
Maya watched a nurse wheel a young man in a wheelchair through the room and to the elevator. “He says he doesn’t.”
“He doesn’t strike me as a liar.” Roland’s eyebrows rose in a wide arch. “You know?”
“I know.” She groaned. “I’m jealous of a dead woman. I’ve never been this insecure before.”
“Maybe you’ve never really been in love before.” Roland put an arm over her shoulders. “If he could love her, then he can love you.”
Five minutes later, a couple of Eric’s employees stopped by, followed by one of Roland’s friends. Maya was making small talk with Eric’s secretary when her cell phone chirped.
Figuring it must be her mother—it had been a couple of days since they last talked—she answered without looking at the caller ID.
“Judging from your tone of voice, I’d say your friend survived his accident,” said Adam.
Caught off guard, any response deserted her. Maya stared across the waiting room, one hand against the wall of the quiet corner where she had taken the call. “How do you know about the accident?”
“You have a short memory, Maya. As you may recall, I told you I’d give you a taste of what I can do if you don’t help me with my staffing problem.”
“You!” The word left her mouth in a loud rush. “You did this?” She could feel the curious stares of Roland and others in the room.
“I think you and I should have a talk, in person.”
Her mouth hung open so far, she could taste the smell of hospital. “Are you insane? I’m not getting within a mile of you!”
Adam’s voice retained its usual silkiness. “Two of my associates are parked outside the hospital. You will go out and meet them and they will bring you to me.”
“No,” Maya said.
“Would you like me to work my way through all your friends?”
Maya’s attempt to form a coherent thought was thwarted by the maelstrom of fear and anger that roared in her head. How could she leave Roland now? Getting in a car with two strangers, friends of a dangerous man, was just asking to be the top story on the local news.
“Your mother runs a salon in town, right? Anna Rose’s Salon and Spa?”
“Leave my mother out of this, you asshole.”
“Outside, Maya. Now.”
She almost screamed in frustration as she hung up, noting that mobile phones denied the pleasure of the angry crack of a phone slamming back into its receiver. Roland was moving toward her.
“Is everything all right?”
“No. Yes.” Maya stared at her best friend, the adrenaline in her body making her legs tense, desperate to move. She couldn’t lie to him, but she couldn’t bear to tell him about Adam, not when he already had so much on his mind. “I need to go. Just for a while. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Backing away, she said, “I’m sorry.”
“Maya,” Roland said.
“Don’t worry. Really.” Catching sight of a blank notepad with an advertisement for an allergy drug, she walked over to the nurses’ station and peeled off a sheet. “Soon.” It was hard to keep her voice steady, but she managed somehow. “I’ll be back.”
Unable to bear the look on his face, she spun and hurried to the door.
Earlier, Maya had jokingly referred to Roland as the missing member of the seventies band, The Village People. “Roland is the gay Aztec.” Presently, Roland looked a lot closer to reenacting the bloody sacrifice of his ancestors than singing a rousing version of “YMCA.”
The instant Benjamin strolled into the waiting room, Roland hurried over to him. “Did you just call Maya’s mobile?” His eyes were blazing and his posture vibrating with a mixture of anger and worry.
Benjamin paused, taken aback. “No—”
“Somebody did and the call upset her.”
Irritated by the suspicion in Roland’s eyes, Benjamin waited a beat before answering. “I don’t have her mobile number.” He scanned the room. “Where is she?”
Roland stared at him for a second, looking through rather than at him. Then his shoulders slumped and he clapped Benjamin weakly on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ben. It couldn’t have been you. She called this person an asshole. Maya would never say that to someone she loves. I’m just so worried, you know? She got this call, totally freaked out and left.”
“Left?” Benjamin asked. “For where?”
“I don’t know. She was angry and scared, though she tried to hide it.”
The aroma of the burrito in Benjamin’s hand wasn’t enough to mask the smell of hospital nor did it take away the atmosphere of sickness and pain. “This isn’t like Maya, is it? She’d never leave a friend—”
“No,” Roland said. Realization, or maybe it was horror, dawned on Roland’s face.
“Adam,” they both said.
Roland took the bag from Benjamin. “Go. Get her away from that bastard.”
Chapter Twenty-four
“We should’ve taken the back route,” Octel said.
Peter cursed under his breath. “This is the fastest way.”
“Odd definition of ‘fastest’ you humans have,” Octel said. This section of I-25 had been shut down to one lane, the speed limit set at thirty-five. In some sections, the roadway had been temporarily moved onto the median; the car’s tires rattled on the rough surface.
From the backseat, Maya saw the flicker of flashing lights on orange construction barrels and for once in her life, felt glad to see them. It delayed her arrival wherever Adam’s lackeys were taking her.
Frustrated, tired and angry, she squirmed on the seat, her eyes burning from Peter Angel’s cigarette habit. Of the two, she decided she preferred the demon. If she weren’t so accustomed to seeing “strange people,” she imagined he’d be frightening. Instead, it was all-too-human Peter with his rodent-like eyes that roved over her body, the coarse grate of his voice and the cold violence in his stare that scared her.
What would Benjamin think when he returned to the hospital? Roland would tell him about her strange behavior, but would he connect it to Adam? Would Roland forgive her for leaving him at the hospital?
How had she, after years of trying so hard to live an ordinary life, ended up in this nightmare?
They broke free of the construction when Peter took the turnoff a few miles south of Santa Fe. Maya peered out the car’s dirty windows trying to get her bearings. The area was a bedroom community for those who couldn’t afford to live in Santa Fe, the housing a mixture of single-family homes of all sizes and types, McMansions to rusting trailer homes. The car passed the last street she recognized and moved into a sparsely populated area in the piñon- and juniper-covered hills.
Several turns later, the car slowed and pulled into a driveway. In the car’s headlights, Maya got a glimpse of a subdivision marker with the words Tierra Feliz spelled out in tile letters. The house they approached had probably been the model home, long ago, when the subdivision was new.
Any hope of running was obliterated when Octel leaped out of the car as soon as it stopped and opened her door. As she got out, he latched on to her upper arm, steering her toward the house.
She concentrated, compressing her magic, fingers around the little sheet of paper in her coat pocket. The paper gave way, and satisfying little shivers ran through her body as her magic responded.
“None of that, girlie.” Octel’s green fingers tightened around her arm and he gave her a shake. “No spellwork.”
Her heart fluttered in her throat. Was Adam going to kill her? She tried to comfort herself with the idea that he needed her too much, that someone had to create his army. But a surge of adrenaline set her knees wobbling and she was almost glad of the demon’s steadying hand on her arm.
To the south
the sky was black, the darkness only diluted by the glow of Albuquerque’s lights low on the horizon. Backlit by the lights of Santa Fe, the large lot seemed populated by a vast herd of bloated cattle. The bovine shapes were in fact northern New Mexico’s ubiquitous vegetation, squat piñon pines and juniper bushes. Besides the main house, the property also hosted a dilapidated trailer in the backyard. Just as he started toward the main house, a flash of light caught his eyes and he froze. The light grew, burnishing in silver the outer needles of piñons next to the road. The cause, a nondescript sedan, crested the hill and approached the house. Wishing his jacket had a hood to cover his hair, he sank to the ground.
The car rolled up the driveway, tires crunching gravel. Octel jumped out first and opened the passenger-side rear door. Obviously reluctant, Maya climbed out and the demon clamped a firm hand on her arm. Peter Angel’s scrawny frame soon exited the driver’s seat and the three made for the home’s front door. Benjamin almost leaped to his feet and rushed to them.
Nearly an acre separated him from Maya and he couldn’t reach the three before they made it to the house. Not one to worry about technicalities like concealed weapons laws, Angel usually carried a handgun and, while Benjamin was immortal, Maya certainly was not.
Benjamin needed surprise on his side so he waited for the clunk of the front door closing. Feeling the ground under his feet more than seeing it, Benjamin ran across the lot, wending his way between the scrubby vegetation, shoes crunching on the gravelly ground. The darkness amplified sound and even though he knew he moved quieter than most people, he flinched at the sound of his own footsteps.
He stopped about twenty feet from the trailer, half crouching behind a tall piñon. Sharp tips of needles pricked his face as he peered through the tree at the trailer. Someone had done a slap-dash installation of a wood stove, the stovepipe protruding from a small bathroom window that was now partially covered by a Dead End sign. Some of the trailer’s siding was missing and thin fiberglass insulation protruded from the opening like pale, fluffy innards.
The trailer hadn’t been inhabited in some time and Benjamin darted to it and paused for a second, getting ready to run to the main house. Only his reflexes saved him, since he was preoccupied with what might be happening to Maya. Thin siding crumpled as an enormous fist sliced though the space where Benjamin’s head had previously been and hit the trailer’s side. Moving quicker than a person that size should, Benjamin’s huge attacker aimed a high kick at his head. Benjamin rolled to the side, but not fast enough. A heavy boot caught a glancing blow to his shoulder.
Benjamin regained his feet only to stagger back from two more rapid-fire blows that missed him by a hairbreadth. He blocked the next blow, but then his attacker’s foot hit him square in the stomach. Gulping for a breath of air that wouldn’t come, he fell back against the trailer and slid to the ground. In the dark, the man’s features were difficult to make out, but Benjamin could see he was tall and possessed a Herculean physique.
The man shot another kick at him and the best Benjamin could do was cringe away from the boot. Behind him, the trailer gave way and he toppled backward. Starring up at inky blackness, it took him a second to realize what had happened. Fortunately, his attacker was just as confused.
The trailer’s flimsy aluminum skirting had folded under his weight and he had fallen back under the trailer. He took a painful, wheezing breath and pulled his legs under the trailer to join the rest of him. Turning, he could see light from the house seeping through the skirting on the other side of the trailer. Hearing the big man grunt as he bent to follow, Benjamin scrambled on hands and knees toward the light.
The skirting bent easily and Benjamin popped out the other side. He started toward the house and then stopped. A second later, metal squeaked and the big guard’s head poked out from under the trailer. Watching the big fellow struggle to get out, Benjamin realized that, while his opponent wasn’t the brightest penny in the jar, once free of the trailer, he’d still be bigger, stronger and faster.
And somewhere in the house behind him, Maya was in danger.
The guard’s shoulders were now free. Heart racing, Benjamin scrambled for a way to deal with the man. Magic. Though never reliable, it seemed the only option. With another grunt, the guard worked his hips, then legs loose and started to rise. Benjamin concentrated and compressed his magic.
Free of the trailer, the big man rushed with speed that defied reality. Benjamin backed away, trying to not think about failure and speak the spell words with the right cadence. In his veins, magic hummed in response; Benjamin’s relief let loose the spell.
A backwash of energy whacked Benjamin back and onto his rear. The guard, unaware of what Benjamin had done, still surged forward, colliding with the mass of compressed, fast-moving air. The fist of air hit him low, snapping his torso backward. His square-jawed head lurched forward and Benjamin flinched at the sudden wet, cracking sound.
Head slumped forward, his face nearly pressed flat against his chest, the guard wavered and then fell sideways with a horrifying thump.
“Uh, hello?” Benjamin said. He got to his feet and crept to the guard’s side. The man’s head was turned at an angle only seen in owls. Benjamin gulped, horrified. He’d never killed anyone before. The spell, Fist of Air, wasn’t even supposed to be lethal.
Somewhere behind him came the soft murmur of voices. He began to turn toward them when a gleam of metal caught his eye. Bending, he saw that that the dead guard wore a shoulder holster with a handgun under his jacket. Benjamin reached for the weapon. A nine-millimeter GLOCK. He fiddled for an instant before he found the safety. He’d only handled guns a few times before, so he fumbled some more before popping out the magazine. It was loaded.
Snapping it back, he rose and headed for the house. He cast an Oil spell on the back door and then picked the lock. Thanks to the spell, the door swung open without even a hint of a squeak. Gun in hand, Benjamin stepped into the house.
On the outside, the house had the look of one built in the seventies. Maya’s perception was borne out by the interior. A half wall between the kitchen and the living room was topped with ugly wooden spindles that ran to the ceiling. A beaten-down shag rug in a murky shade of brown covered the floor. The fireplace was made of orange chunks of flagstone.
A single ceiling light—a lightbulb covered with an orange plastic dome—lit the living room. More light spilled into the living room from another room.
“Hey, boss,” Peter said. “We got her.” Getting no response, he said, “Boss?”
Seconds later, Adam strolled into the living room. Tonight he wore an emerald-green long-sleeved knit shirt that contrasted beautifully with his violet eyes. His white teeth flashed as he focused on Maya. “Thank you for coming all this way to speak with me.”
Maya was in no mood for his sly sarcasm. “Why drag me out here? We can talk over the phone.” Mesmer tickled her consciousness, but the paper trick had worked and she shoved Adam’s power away.
“Because I can, Maya.” His smile was gentle. “Because I’ll tell you what to do, and you will do it. Even—” irritation broke through his composure “—without Mesmer.”
“By hurting my friends,” Maya said, her voice wavering. “You screwed up, you know? It wasn’t Roland driving the Porsche, but his partner Eric.”
Adam shrugged. “You’re fond of him as well, aren’t you?”
“Two fags, same difference,” Peter said.
“The next time it could be Roland, or your mother, father or the nosy neighbor that shot Benjamin.” Adam grinned at Octel, mischief shining from his violet eyes. “We need something other than car accidents, something creative, a truly freakish freak accident, don’t you think?”
Octel chuckled in response.
“Like brains splattered in interesting patterns on the wall?”
Everyone but Adam seemed surprised by the voice, all turning toward the dark kitchen doorway. Benjamin moved out of the dark and Maya’s breath caught. Murde
rous determination burned in his dark eyes, an expression completely foreign to Maya’s perception of the tall burglar. The gun in his hand, pointed levelly at Adam’s head, completed the incongruous picture.
Adam looked at the gun and sneered. He turned his attention back to Maya. “Did you know that Benjamin and I are bonded magically, Maya?” At Maya’s silence he explained, “Neither of us can travel more than five hundred miles from the other. Anything beyond brings on excruciating pain and eventually loss of consciousness. The first time it happened, I was on my way up the coast to San Francisco. Fortunately someone else was driving.”
There was a trace of resentment in his violet eyes. “You don’t know anything about this, do you?”
Maya shook her head dumbly.
Adam gave her a twisted grin. “The only way that Benjamin will be free of me, and vice versa, will be to Fade to EverVerse.” He turned his attention back to Benjamin. “Until then, I’m stuck with him. The sooner he Fades to EverVerse, the better off we’ll both be.”
Benjamin’s attention didn’t waver from Adam. “Tell Octel to let Maya go. Now.”
“Or what, Benjamin?” Adam smiled at him as though he were a misguided child. “You’ve gone and lost your element of surprise. How do you plan on slaying the dragon and rescuing the fair damsel? Bullets don’t kill dragons.”
“They might if you use enough of them.”
Maya’s breath collected in a hard bottleneck in her throat. Suspended in expectant stasis, she was consumed by the wish that he would pull the trigger, while another part of her recoiled at murder.
Benjamin’s finger twitched on the trigger and then he pointed the weapon away from Adam. The tiny suggestion of relief in Adam’s posture was replaced by a flinch as the gun went off. For a moment, Maya thought she was the one shrieking; then, turning, she saw the true cause.