Devotion Calls

by Caridad Piñeiro

  She noticed then how his menu rattled in his hands. When he lowered it, his gaze was intense, his eyes an even deeper green against the dark woods and leather. “I have three brothers and two sisters,” he said, opening up to her. “And three little nieces.”

  “I have three sisters, one of whom has a baby on the way,” Sara replied. “Papi hopes it’s a boy, because he says the women in his life drive him nuts.”

  Ricardo smiled at the image of her testosterone-challenged family. “I enlisted in the marines to earn the money for school, only I never got to college.”

  “I did the army and did get to college. Why didn’t you—”

  “I trained as an EMT instead. Did that for too many years.”

  “Couldn’t handle the stress?”

  “The pain and dying. I’d seen enough of it in the marines.” A grimace of discomfort marred his face briefly.

  Sara could have continued. Could have told him that she, too, had seen enough of that at the hospital. That sometimes it tired her more than she could say, and yet she couldn’t imagine not doing it. Then it came to her.

  “That’s why you opened the shop, isn’t it? This way you can still help people. Still be a hero.”

  Her comment dragged a ghost of a smile from him. “A hero? I’m just an ordinary guy.”

  She remembered the touch of his hands the other day.

  The electricity in his kiss. He was anything but ordinary, but she couldn’t admit that. At least, not just yet.

  “So, ordinary guy,” she teased, “what are you ordering?”

  Ricardo glimpsed the grin she tried to repress. She thought she knew him, understood him. In some ways, he suspected she might, more than any other woman he’d had an interest in. But she could never know him completely, not as long as he hid the truth from her, as long as he lied to her. By keeping his powers secret, that’s what it was. A lie of omission.

  In spite of that, he was too intrigued by Sara to not see where this attraction would lead. It was what had prompted him to call her. “I have to confess that I had a semiselfish motive for bringing you here. I love paella, but I’m too lazy to cook it.”

  The grin that had flitted across her face earlier blossomed into a full smile that reached her hazel eyes, making them glitter with amusement. “It’s one of my favorites, but I don’t generally do the cooking thing, either.”

  “Too much work?”

  “Nope. I’m dangerous in the kitchen. Just warning you in advance. Not that we’ve gotten that far.”

  “No, we haven’t, but forewarned is forearmed,” he teased, enjoying their repartee.

  “Would you like to get the version with the chicken and chorizo? I love chorizo,” she said, and laid her menu on the table.

  He enjoyed the flavorful Spanish sausage, as well, but…“The paella takes an extra twenty minutes to prepare.”

  Her smile grew even broader. “And that would be bad because?”

  Chuckling at her audacity, he shook his head as he said, “I guess we’ll just have to order some tapas to pass the time.”

  “Maybe even some sangria.” She smiled broadly to emphasize her point.

  He could drown in her smile and the lightness it brought into his heart. He imagined how it would feel if he could touch her and let that happy energy flow over him, but warned himself it might not ever occur. Things were just too complicated between them.

  She tapped her full lips with a finger, considering him. Her eyes gave away her thoughts, becoming a darker hue of golden-brown, almost molten. Were they wicked thoughts? he wondered.

  “This is a bad thing, sabes,” she said.

  He knew. But he couldn’t resist touching her any longer. He slipped his hand over hers on the table. It was warm, soft. A tingle tickled his palm and quickly developed into a steady, sexual vibration. He smiled and met her gleaming eyes.

  “Bad? Possibly. But you don’t strike me as the kind of woman to back away from something just because it’s tough.”

  She smiled again, but slipped her hand away from his. “I’m not. So, the tapas and sangria while we wait?”

  He nodded, motioned to the waiter and placed their order.

  As he leaned toward her again, he resumed a neutral conversation, eager to learn more about her in the hopes that somehow, they would be able to find a way to deal with all the issues between them.

  This neighborhood had proved to be quite good, the creature thought. Besides the wondrous light, there were lots of well-fed pets and strays, in all shapes and sizes. He had his eye on one specimen in particular—a plump pooch he had spied passing by his sewer grate every morning. He would have to keep an eye out so he could snatch it.

  The delicious calico he’d recently grabbed rested in his lap. As he stroked his talons over the cat’s silky fur, one torn ear twitched at the caress.

  “P-preet-ty.”

  At the sound of his voice, the cat struggled weakly beneath his hold. “Sssof-t. Ssso soft.”

  He picked up the calico, rubbed its lush fur against the side of his face. The animal renewed its efforts to escape, aware of what would come next.

  He had fed from it many times, but had not drained it completely as he normally did. He was a patient man. Patience and reserve were signs of breeding, after all, the stamp of a gentleman such as he. As special as the cat was, he had wanted to savor it slowly, the way one might sip an expensive wine.

  Over and over he petted the cat until it stilled, maybe almost purred.

  It was time, he thought, and he whipped his head around and sank his long fangs into its neck.

  The taste of its blood was luxuriant. Rich. Thick.

  Special, he confirmed. This animal had been touched by the light for which he himself hungered. As he sucked the cat’s blood, he imagined the energy of the brilliance filling him. Reaching deep within to find what was left of his humanity. Urging that humanity outward, to drive out the creature that had taken him over. That had stolen his soul.

  By the time he finished sucking the calico dry, its uncommon power ran through him. He fancied that it had changed him, restored some of his former self.

  So as to not waste any of this precious gift, he slipped a nail beneath the fur at the cat’s neck and slowly slit it open at the throat.

  As he peeled away the fur and skin, muscles gleamed in the morning light slipping in through the sewer grate.

  The cat’s skin went up to dry on a screw protruding from the sewer wall. He didn’t normally keep trophies, but this was a remarkable animal and he wanted its essence to linger with him. Because of that, he devoured its flesh, leaving nothing but glistening bones, devoid of any meat or marrow. He found another place for the bones, intending to fashion them into some kind of talisman until he could meet the source of the light face-to-face.

  The light would know what he wanted. The light would help him, he was sure. And if it wouldn’t…he would find a way to make it happen.

  Chapter 7

  T he cat food sat untouched. It had been a few days now since Bob had come by for a meal. Louis had similarly vanished.

  Ricardo walked to the front window of the shop and gazed out at another sunny spring day that promised winter was at an end.

  Across the street, Mr. Rivera’s cat paced on the sill, anxiously shifting back and forth along that narrow perch, its tail twitching, in constant motion.

  Ricardo focused on the Siamese and opened
himself up to perceive its energy. Angry whirls of red swam around it, and its ears quivered nervously. The anxiety of the animal called out to him.

  Maybe another cat was bothering it?

  Ricardo looked down to the ground, where the Siamese’s feral friend usually lounged in the sun. Today, the spot was empty.

  Another missing feline? Ricardo wondered, and decided it was time to do something about that and the unsettling sensation that still loitered around the neighborhood. The shadow of evil he had encountered remained, a strong presence, worrying him.

  He put the Closed sign on his door and walked down the block to the Artemis Shelter and Samantha. He hoped her vampire powers could confirm that his worry was unfounded.

  He knocked on the door and waited. Then waited some more, thinking that he should have called. With all the women and children in the shelter gone for the day, Samantha might have decided to surrender to her vampire needs and indulge in a daytime nap. He had moved off the top step when the door opened wide.

  Samantha stood there, hastily tightening the belt of the robe she had carelessly tossed on. Her nearly black hair hung in disheveled waves about her face. She pulled it back with one hand and said, “Ricardo, I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

  “No. We weren’t,” Peter Daly said as he stepped from the parlor to stand behind her. He, too, was in a robe, his blond hair in disarray and a flush on his tanned cheeks. Guiltily, Ricardo realized what he had just interrupted.

  “Sorry. Really,” he said, holding his hands up in apology.

  Samantha laid a palm on his arm to keep him from leaving. The uniqueness of her undead force pushed at him. “Is it that pressing?”

  His friend knew that only an important reason would make him come unannounced to her door. Was a missing cat important? he asked himself, but then forged ahead.

  “Is Louis back?”

  An annoyed sigh escaped Peter before he tossed him an equally disbelieving glare. “You came to ask about her cat?”

  “Bob is gone.” For Pete’s sake, he explained, “The cat I feed. So’s the stray across the way.”

  “And a cat—”

  Samantha put up her hand to silence her lover. “You think the presence you sensed is responsible?”

  “Sí, but I’ll call later so you can get back to—”

  “We most certainly will get back to it,” Peter said, and wrapped his arms around Samantha’s waist in an almost jealous gesture.

  “Sure. Let’s talk later,” Samantha said, but elbowed her lover as she closed the door.

  Ricardo stood there on the steps of the shelter, gazing up and down the street. A normal, ordinary street, just like any other in the barrio. Unlike him. Not in any sense was he normal or ordinary, not with his powers.

  Then why not put those powers to work, he thought, and find the source of his disquiet?

  Sara arrived at his store just as he was closing. Dusk colored the sky with a dismal cloak of grays and blues that would soon give way to the satin blackness of night. Unfortunately, Ricardo had been awaiting another visitor that evening—Samantha.

  He peered up the block, hoping his friend would be late.

  “I wasn’t expecting you,” he said. He thought it best not to voice his pleasure at seeing her. “Please, come in.”

  “A friend called in sick and I had to pull a double shift, so now I’m off an extra day. Thought I’d drop off this in advance.” As she walked past him, she held up her knapsack, and he knew what that meant. She had the blood for his supposed rituals. Guilt clawed at his gut.

  “Gracias. Will your mami be able to make it on Friday?” He knew she hadn’t been feeling well, because he had called yesterday to check up on her.

  The smile that had been on Sara’s face as she entered quickly fled. She reached into her knapsack and once again extracted two blood bags instead of the usual one. “Here,” she said, and almost eagerly thrust them at his chest. “Maybe two will help you….” She motioned uneasily to the altar with the assorted statues of the saints and virgencitas.

  He knew she had been skeptical about his services from the get-go, being too logical and practical to believe in any powers that didn’t come from science.

  But neither science nor his powers could help her mami. Maybe only divine intervention could. While he wished with all his heart for that, he understood just how rare a gift that was. He needed to get that realization across to Sara.

  “Listen, Sara. Your mami—”

  “Will get better. I know it. In here,” she said, motioning to her heart.

  “Sara,” he repeated, and reached for her, but she pushed his hand away and stepped back.

  “If you can’t believe, how can you help her?”

  He advanced on Sara until she was against the display counter and could escape no farther. Then he laid a hand on each of her arms and tried to soothe her. “I want to believe, but…she’s weaker. I will try to do all I can, only…”

  He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t give voice to what they both should know. Instead, he took Sara into his arms. Though her body trembled with emotion, she wouldn’t yield to the comfort he offered, holding herself away from him. “I’ll do everything I can,” he murmured into her ear, “I promise you that.”

  The top of her head brushed the side of his face before she shakily said, “What if she’s not well enough to come on Friday? What if—”

  “It’s a couple of days away. Maybe she’ll be up to it, but if not, I’ll come to your apartment.”

  She quickly dashed a hand across her eyes, and the tears that pooled there. With a snort, she said, “Santeros make house calls?”

  He cradled her face and swiped at a stray tear with his thumb. “In your case, I’ll make an exception.”

  “Thanks. So I’ll see you Friday?”

  It was clear she wanted something more from him at that moment. Despite his better judgment, and the fact that he was expecting Samantha, he didn’t want to pass up the opportunity.

  “Have you had dinner?” he asked.

  “Not yet. And you?” Everything in her body language, and the warm glow of energy coming off her, told him she wasn’t disagreeable to sharing another meal with him.

  “How about some Cuban-Chinese?” he asked, and with her smile, he had his answer.

  It was late by the time he returned home after the impromptu dinner with Sara. They had shared rich, sweet mango shakes and Cuban food at La Caridad on 78th Street before returning to their block in Spanish Harlem.

  Their block. Their neighborhood. Their home, he thought as he perused the street for signs of anything out of the ordinary. He had that odd feeling again…and something else this time. Something more familiar, he realized as he approached the door to his shop. With the metal security gates down over his display window, he couldn’t see inside, but he knew she was there.

  As he walked in and turned on the light, after dropping Sara off at her apartment, he said, “Been waiting for me, Samantha?”

  His friend lounged in one of the chairs in the sitting area where his customers sometimes sat to browse his merchandise or drink an herbal tea.

  Samantha, however, wasn’t drinking one of his specialty teas. Wearing her vampire face, her life force completely energized, she drank from one of the blood bank bags Sara had brought. All around her, he perceived the telltale signature of the undead—a pale glow, like the light from the moon.

  It was the reason he had felt h
er presence beyond the door of his shop.

  Samantha looked exceptionally savage with her long white fangs protruding well below her upper lip, her irises a phosphorescent green that radiated brightly. “Thank you for the snack. May I assume from that smile that you were with Sara?”

  He nodded and plopped down on the love seat catty-corner to her chair.

  “It was nice?”

  He recalled the pleasant meal and the even more pleasurable kiss at her front door, and smiled. “It was. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  “I said I would come by. About the cats.” She shifted forward in her chair, leaned her forearms on her knees and laced her hands together. “Something’s not right. I know it and so do you.”

  All the joy he felt from his evening with Sara departed swiftly, replaced by concern. He mimicked her uptight pose. “I do feel it. After I dropped by today, I went for a walk to see if I could find something.”

  “And?” She arched her eyebrows over those strangely ardent eyes, which seemed to have grown even brighter.

  “I picked up a feeling, stronger than the other morning. But after that…nada.” He leaned back into the cushions and raked his hair off his face in frustration.

  “Maybe because whatever is causing that sensation isn’t around during the day.”

  He examined his friend carefully—his vampire friend whose abilities allowed her to sense what others, or even he, might not. “You’re saying it’s another vampire?”

  She shook her head and her long dark hair waved wildly with the strength of her answer. “No, mon ami. I can sense another of my kind. This is different. This is—”

  “Definitely not like you. There’s an oddness to it. I’ve felt it a few times now during my morning meditations.”

  Samantha examined him carefully, as if aware he kept something from her. “So you knew it wasn’t a vampire?”