Devotion Calls

by Caridad Piñeiro

  “Samantha is…” A vampire. Not that he could say that any more than he could tell her his powers didn’t come from being a santero. He took another stab at it.

  “Samantha is…intuitive. She senses things, much like I do when I connect with…” Nature and all those other physical forces around me.

  “Your orishas?” she asked when he hesitated.

  He couldn’t control the flicker of surprise that crossed his face. “You remembered that?”

  “Yes. And I read a little about Santería. I know that Oluron—he has the ashe. The spiritual energy the orishas bring to you.”

  “Sí. That’s how it works,” he lied.

  “And Samantha?” Sara asked, obviously wondering about the other woman’s supposed abilities.

  “I can’t explain how she is able to sense things, but she can. The other day we both connected with something. Then the cats disappeared. And tonight…”

  Sara shook her head, not sure she followed his explanation. “Something was on the roof. Something you think you sensed? Something that stole your cat?”

  He had the grace to look chagrined, seemingly aware of how ridiculous his explanation sounded. Placing his hands on his thighs as he knelt before her, he rubbed them up and down in an anxious gesture before expelling a harsh breath.

  “I know it seems—”

  “Loco? I’m not buying this.” For emphasis, Sara waved her hands before her.

  He slipped his hands over hers, his touch gentle. A wry smile erupted on his face. “You’re right. It’s crazy. I’m crazy, but I swear, it’s the truth.”

  Amazingly, she believed him. There was just something in the way he said it. In the way he held her hands and in the warmth coming off them. It was a comforting warmth, starting where she was twining her fingers with his.

  “What is this?” she asked. “What is this when we touch?”

  Ricardo wished he could tell her. Wished even more that he could control himself around her and keep from letting his force spill onto her the way it was touching her now. Only, like before, she wasn’t running. Because of that, he took the risk.

  “This energy is part of what I am. What lets me help people.”

  More easily said than he had expected.

  Sara inched to the edge of the sofa, tugged on his hands until he came into the V formed by her legs. Once he was there, she released one hand and cradled the side of his face.

  A tingle began there, much like that radiating upward from their joined hands. “So,” she began, and ran her thumb across his lips, “you’re telling me that what I’m feeling is…some kind of power.”

  He gazed up at her, at those golden-hazel eyes he wanted to slip into, and whispered, “Yes and no. Part of it is power from what I can do, and the other part is…attraction. It’s what I’m feeling for you.”

  He was probably crazy, Sara thought. She was probably certifiable, too, but she couldn’t deny the heat that pooled deep inside of her at his words. At the way his eyes traveled over her face, as if memorizing every detail. She found herself doing the same. Her gaze wandered over his high, perfect forehead and the slick wings of his brows, down to his eyes, reminiscent of a dewy forest, to his lips, the outline of which she traced with her thumb.

  Only suddenly, as insane as this was, it wasn’t enough.

  She leaned over and replaced her thumb with her lips. Opening her mouth against his, she held his smooth face in her hands and tasted the clean mintiness of his breath. When her tongue engaged his in an age-old ritual, he accepted her silent invitation.

  He wrapped his arms tightly around her, till her torso pressed against his hard chest. He ran his hands up and down her back. The air in the room grew heavier, charged with…anticipation.

  Ricardo inched his hands beneath the hem of her shirt, which had come loose at the back of her pants. He experienced the warmth of her skin, and imagined that heat against him everywhere.

  He knew then he was about to lose what little control he possessed, and as pleasant—

  Pleasant? Who was he kidding? This was absolutely amazing. But it had to end.

  It took all his willpower to rein in his passion and sit back on his heels, providing them some much needed space. He allowed himself only to join his fingers with hers.

  “Wow,” she said shakily, but with a smile.

  “Sí, wow, but…” He hated getting serious, given where the interlude had been heading, but he needed to know. “Do you believe me?”

  Puzzlement washed across her features for a moment. “You mean about Samantha, your weird feelings or this power thing?”

  Clever, and, as she had warned him, blunt. “All of them.”

  Her grin broadened. “Then I guess my answers would be a yes, a no and a maybe.”

  He chuckled and squeezed her hand. “Well, I guess that’s a start.”

  “I do believe it is,” she said. Just to confirm it, she kissed him again.

  Chapter 11

  S ara’s presence lingered for days in his apartment, even in his shop, just as her kiss lingered on his lips. He couldn’t wait to see her again. Consulting his calendar, he saw he had three appointments for later that afternoon. If he timed them just right, and if Sara wasn’t tired from another unexpected double shift after her day off, he might be able to convince her to go to dinner, then come back to his place. Maybe they could pick up where they’d left off the other—

  A scream rent the air, shattering his romantic images. The appointment book fell from Ricardo’s hand and he ran to the front door. Another scream, longer and louder than before, greeted him as he yanked the door open.

  Mrs. Lopez stood there, tugging Lucy, her frankfurter-like beagle, away from his shop. “Lucy didn’t do it. She didn’t,” she said, shaking her head so vehemently, her thick double chin wagged from side to side with the movement.

  He tracked her gaze down to the sidewalk, where the mangled body of a cat lay. The carcass was carefully stretched across his doorway, its legs angled to make it look as if the cat was walking, its fur, where it wasn’t matted with blood, slicked back smoothly and carefully. All around the body, placed as if in offering, were bits of gladioli, carnations and red roses, all wilted and crushed in spots.

  “Lucy didn’t do it. Dios mio, who would—”

  “It’s okay, Mrs. Lopez. Really. I know Lucy didn’t do it,” he said as he started to pull off his T-shirt, intending to cover the grisly sight until someone more experienced could look at it. Someone like Peter Daly. The good detective would know how to find out who had done this.

  You mean what had done this, he told himself. The closer he got to the body, the stronger the sensation grew. That slick, oily and evil feeling that had dirtied him the other day.

  He was so involved with Mrs. Lopez and the cat that he failed to see Samantha approaching. Her eyes opened wide, filled with horror, when she noticed the dead cat.

  He carefully placed his T-shirt over the corpse and rose. She stepped to his side, laid her hand on his biceps. “What happened?”

  “No sé,” he answered, and in turn, Mrs. Lopez defended her dog again. He slowly raised his hand, motioning for her to calm down. “I know Lucy didn’t do it. Why don’t you go home, Mrs. Lopez? I’ll take care of this.”

  “Gracias, mi’jo. Gracias.” She babbled on and on as she hurried away, nearly dragging the poor dog behind her on the leash.

  “Ricardo?” Samantha said g
ravely as she met his gaze. “Remember the other night when we thought the presence didn’t want to be found? Well, we were wrong.”

  Nothing could dispel the chilled malevolence that had come off the cat’s body and settled within Sara as she and Ricardo buried the poor animal.

  She’d come by the shop on her way home from the hospital, and, though tired, she’d been riveted by the grisly scene. Morbid curiosity? she wondered. Not really. Ricardo’s concern had been palpable and she’d been unable to leave him. She’d stood by him as Samantha Turner went to get her detective friend.

  Sara had heard rumors of them around the neighborhood. According to the gossips, the detective had moved in with Samantha several months ago, after helping to solve a drive-by shooting that had occurred in front of her shelter.

  They seemed like nice enough people. Detective Daly was laid-back and had the kind of looks she imagined fit better on a beach somewhere. He had a rangy, muscular body and longish, sun-bleached hair. Samantha was stunning, with her ice-blue eyes, black hair and skin like rich cream. She was Creole, descended from slaves and raised in New Orleans, people in the barrio said.

  Samantha had watched her lover—for there was no doubting now the emotion between her and the detective—as he examined the carcass and took samples for processing. After, he had promised to try and get more information while at the stationhouse. Samantha had kissed him goodbye, and then excused herself, leaving Sara and Ricardo alone.

  Time alone to bury the poor cat, after saying a hasty prayer over its body. A body in which nearly every bone had been broken. When Ricardo had lifted the animal in his hands, it had sagged immediately, as if there was nothing to keep it together.

  Sara shivered now as she sat in Ricardo’s shop, and tightened her hands around the cup of chamomile tea he’d made to soothe her. “What could have done that? And why?”

  Ricardo sat next to her on the couch, his arm draped around her shoulders. She allowed herself to burrow into his warmth, hoping that by doing so, she would feel relief from the overwhelming sense of foreboding gripping her. She was wrong.

  Ricardo shook his head. “Something strong. It would have to be to crush and snap the bones like that.”

  She shivered once again, and he rubbed her arm. “So it’s strong, but why would it kill the cat and leave it on your doorstep?”

  She felt the motion of his body against hers as he shrugged. “The way the flowers encircled it—”

  “Was totally creepy, I know. But why?”

  Ricardo had asked himself the same thing over and over again. Why? Suddenly it occurred to him that maybe the carcass had been intended as a gift. An enticement for his services, perhaps? The clients who were due that afternoon would bring some kind of offering. Was the carcass intended in the same way?

  “Maybe whatever it is needs me to help it?” he theorized aloud.

  Sara moved away, but faced him, sitting cross-legged across from him. “It needs a santero?”

  Discomfort squeezed his gut. They hadn’t progressed far enough in their relationship for him to reveal more than what he had the other night, so for now he had to keep up the santero facade. “Some rituals require great sacrifices, but I would never kill another living thing.”

  “Is that why you want the blood bank bags?”

  His stomach twisted more as the lies piled up. “Sí. The blood…Sometimes that’s enough instead of a life sacrifice.”

  “So what do we do now?” she asked, and took a sip of tea to calm herself.

  “We? I think you need to get some rest.” He set his own cup on the table and placed his hand over hers; her skin felt chilled, he noted. “You look tired.”

  The double shift had obviously taken its toll on her. She needed rest.

  “I want to help you,” she said.

  “Samantha and Peter are already helping.”

  Sara twined her fingers with his and squeezed his hand to reassure him. “One more can’t hurt. Besides, you’ve helped my family and asked for so little in return.”

  Ricardo’s smile grew brittle and his body tensed. He pulled his hand back from hers before it gave away any more of his discomfort. “So this is about payback?”

  She cupped his cheek and smoothed her thumb across the line of his lips. “In part.”

  “Just part of it? What’s the other part?” he said, unable to figure out her meaning. Unable to figure her out.

  A sparkle came to her eyes, making them shimmer like gold. Her grin was broad and infectious. Playful, but also decidedly sexy. “The other part—a much bigger part—is that I want to spend more time with you.”

  He remembered the other night and the pleasure of one simple kiss. How it had been so hard not to take it further. He was pleased that she felt the same, but still plagued by guilt for deceiving her about his abilities. The more time they spent together, the harder it would be to keep the truth from her. Due to all his misgivings, he couldn’t immediately say yes.

  “Why don’t you go home? We can talk about this after you get some rest.”

  She narrowed her eyes, as if trying to determine why he was pulling away from her. After a moment she nodded and said, “You can trust me, sabes.”

  He knew, and he wanted to promise the same thing, but the words snagged in his throat. “I’ll come by to get you later. We can decide what to do then.”

  Chapter 12

  H e should have known better.

  How could he ever deny Sara, or her help? That was why she sat at his kitchen table now, listening to Peter brief the unlikely foursome.

  “I checked the blotter and found an incident involving a dog. A woman complained that her—” Peter consulted his notebook “—bichon frise was kidnapped while she was walking it.” He stuck his notebook back into his suit jacket and continued with his report. “Something stinks about the facts of the attack, but the officers who logged it in weren’t on duty today.”

  Impatient, Ricardo asked, “So what do we do in the meantime?”

  Samantha obviously shared his desire for action. “This thing—whatever it is—will kill again. Any small animal it can find.”

  “But not humans, as far as we know,” Peter advised. “I don’t have any reports of unusual attacks against people.”

  Samantha leaned into his side and he slipped his arm over her shoulder. Worry marred her face as she said, “Maybe because no human has chased it, until now.”

  “It seems to want Ricardo’s attention,” Sara said. “We can’t risk not knowing more about it.”

  Samantha nodded. “No, we can’t.”

  The detective shrugged, as if well aware that with both women in agreement, the battle had already been lost. “You say you heard it on the rooftop, right?” he asked Ricardo. “So let’s team up and each take different sides of the street. Samantha and I, you and Sara. No one should ever be by himself,” Peter advised the trio.

  Ricardo nodded and turned his attention to Samantha. “You have my cell number. Call me if you see anything.”

  “Likewise,” she confirmed, heading out with her partner.

  “I hate this,” Sara said as she looked out over the neighborhood. The roofs rose and fell in an uneven pattern all around them. Occasional shafts of light shot up from the older buildings with skylights above their stairwells, or the topmost apartments. Here and there, wires ran from telephone and utility poles, creating a tangle of lines against the night sky. As well, on some
of the buildings microwave repeaters and satellite dishes cast eerie shadows.

  There was just one thing similar about all of the rooftops—no activity anywhere, Sara realized. Nothing to see except for the occasional wisp of smoke rising from a chimney or heating vent.

  “You hate what? The uncertainty? The waiting?” Ricardo asked as he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she stood by the edge of the apartment building closest to where they had heard the noise some nights ago.

  “The cold,” she said with a chuckle, and burrowed deeper into her down jacket. It might be spring, but the temperature still hovered in the low forties.

  Ricardo rubbed her arms, but that did little to dispel her chill. “Does this help?”

  “Not at all,” she admitted.

  He unzipped his own jacket, opened it and pulled her close, until she rested flush against his body. Some warmth, finally. She nestled against him, slipped her hands around his back and then underneath the hem of his T-shirt.

  He shivered in response. “You are cold.”

  “I warned you,” she teased, and tried to snuggle against him even more tightly.

  He eased his hands between them and slowly unzipped her jacket. “I think we need to get rid of this.”

  With a last tug on the zipper, he opened her coat, drawing her close so that the heat of both their bodies mingled.

  “Better?” he asked, his head bent near her ear.

  “Better,” she confirmed, and brushed a kiss along the hard line of his jaw.

  He murmured contentedly and nuzzled the spot just below her ear, generating a different kind of heat. “How about this?” He tongued her earlobe and the small gold earring there before teasing the shell of her ear.

  She mimicked his actions on his neck, trailing a line of wet kisses that had him hungering for more…until a vibration, sudden, strong and insistent, intruded.