The Sacrifice

by Peg Brantley

She shook those thoughts out of her head. They were both worthless and potentially detrimental. Her job was clear, and although she was loath to admit it, the outcome could very well seal her fate. The ritual she’d been preparing for was the biggest in her career.

  Pilar looked in her direction. “I hope everything has been to your satisfaction.”

  Part of the Diviner wanted to rip Pilar’s throat out and tell her to stand with her power. Don’t acquiesce. Be the future of Santeria. The other part rather enjoyed the platitudes and subservience.

  She was so close, so terribly close. She had to believe. Victory was only a couple of days away. Eternal glory. Riches beyond imagination.

  Or maybe punishment. Even death. She would not put it past her client to try and free his fear through retribution. Her failure to ensure his success could very well mean her life. It had happened to others.

  “It appears you have been

  exemplary, Pilar. What we both need to hope for is that all we have worked toward will result in a satisfactory outcome, and that those who look to us for answers will feel gratified.

  Hopefully, neither one of us have made any errors prior to this point.” The Diviner hoped she’d made herself clear —and provided a potential scapegoat should one be needed.

  Pilar paled. “Errors? No, no. I assure you, I have made no errors.”

  “We’ll know soon.”

  Dia sat her napkin next to her plate and worked her jaw until her chin jutted. “Pilar doesn’t make mistakes. She knows what she’s doing. She’s been teaching me.”

  “And,” the Diviner said, “as a student you’re able to detect perfection how?”

  Dia slumped low in her chair, trying to hide her face behind her hair. She mumbled.

  “What did you say, girl?”

  “Nothing.”

  The Diviner wanted Dia to exhibit a high level of character mixed with healthy respect. That would increase the power of the ritual. She softened her tone. “Sit up. Speak to me. Tell me what’s on that child’s mind of yours.”

  “Pilar has always been there for me. She has always helped me. She is leading me in my Santeria studies. I trust her.”

  Pilar pushed back from the table. “I need to take a walk.”

  Dia stood. “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, Dia. I need to be alone.” Pilar looked at the concerned expression on the little girl’s face. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

  Dia sunk back in her chair.

  The Diviner reached out and brushed the little girl’s arm. “This is okay. It will give you and me a chance to get to know one another.” She winked. “I don’t bite, I promise.”

  “When will Luis and Hector be home?”

  “They are picking up a few items for me in Pearl River and Slidell.”

  “What items?”

  “This and that for our big

  ceremony.”

  Dia brightened. “When will that happen?”

  “Soon. We are waiting for the client’s arrival.”

  “Client? Someone you’re reading for?”

  The Diviner nodded. The girl knew more about Santeria than she’d considered at this point.

  “Is the client important?”

  “Very.”

  “But you must be even more important if the client is willing to come to you.”

  “Ah, child. It is simply that his request is very big. So big that everyone associated with making it happen becomes bigger.”

  “What does he want?”

  “That is a private matter.”

  “Does Pilar know?”

  “She does.”

  The Diviner watched Dia process the information, no doubt calculating a way to get Pilar to tell her.

  “Do Luis and Hector know?”

  “I’m not going to lie to you, little one. Luis and Hector know as well. But you must not ask them. If they share the confidence with you or anyone, they will put the outcome in peril. And that could impact their futures.”

  “It’s that big?”

  * * * Sedona closed the book she was

  reading, her mind unable to concentrate on the words. VV may not be much of a reader, but he stocked a full library to impress visitors. Considering his business, she was a little surprised at his extensive crime fiction collection. The bad guys generally paid the price every time. Fictional justice when reality often missed the mark.

  She rose and began to pace. Late afternoon sun spilled into the room. How much longer would she be held here? What if Teo failed to rescue Dia? Was there some way she could get word to Vicente? If she could, would he help her or kill her? She shared history with VV’s father but she also knew that blood meant more than any kind of history.

  Who kidnapped Dia? The answer came fast—someone who wanted to extort something from Vicente. It must not be money. Vicente Vega could pay and would pay whatever price the kidnappers demanded. It must be something else. What? He held a lot of power in the Senora-Ciento cartel. Could it be a coup?

  The door to her room flew open. VV entered with his usual

  flourish.

  Sedona ground to a halt and waited for him to speak.

  He looked tired, as if at the end of his rope. A piece of cracked glass ready to fall into fragments. Did he love his sister this much?

  What did Teo look like right now?

  “Your brother has yet to find my sister.”

  She remained silent.

  “Dia is vulnerable. Do you understand? She is a baby in so many ways.”

  Sedona nodded but didn’t speak.

  Suddenly VV was on the floor at her feet. “Don’t you understand? She’s all I have that connects me to our mother.” His voice crescendoed and then cracked. “Do you remember anything about us?”

  She sank to the floor and held her arms out. VV immediately filled them.

  Tears ran down her cheeks and mingled with those of the tough young cartel man.

  She’d made so many mistakes.

  The two sat for the next several minutes in silence. Connected. Sedona began to hope that VV would have second thoughts regarding her captivity.

  The young man pulled away and pushed himself to his feet. He walked to the window where he took each forearm and wiped his face exactly as he had when he was a little boy.

  With his back to her he said, “You know I can’t let you go. Others know. It’s more than just Dia now.”

  Cartel pride. Beat or be beaten. Any sign of weakness and you’re as good as dead, even if you are Vicente Vega’s son. Especially if you are Vicente Vega’s son. Sedona had lived long enough in Monterrey to know the score. It hadn’t taken long. More than one family had let its own blood flow— even been the cause.

  “You and your sister have always been special to me.”

  “That makes little difference now.”

  “I don’t suppose so.” Sedona wiped her hands against her thighs. “I just wanted you to know.”

  VV’s entire body seemed to shrink. Without another word he moved to the door and quietly left.

  Sedona’s heart sank.

  It was up to her brother to make things right. And damn, she couldn’t count on him. After all, his choices had gotten her family killed, and he just might get her killed now.

  Damn you, Teo.

  She drew into herself and squirreled into the corner of a sofa. The view out the window was spectacular, but Sedona barely noticed. This would not end well.

  VV’s housekeeper walked in with a tray. Another mojito and some

  tantalizing epicurean temptation to go with it.

  Fine. Sedona motioned for the tray to be placed on the table near the balcony doors.

  “Thank you.”

  The housekeeper put the tray where she wanted it, then moved to leave.

  “Wait.”

  The staff member halted, froze in place for a second or two, then pivoted to face Sedona. “Yes, señorita?

  “Do you know Vicente Vega?”

  “Yes, I do
.”

  “Would it by any chance be in your interest to let him know I’m here? Against my will? And that his son is involved?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “But would you at least consider it?”

  The housekeeper looked at her, eye to eye, for the first time since she’d been held captive. Then she was gone.

  Damn it. Sedona tried to think of a way to escape. Unfortunately the armed guards who patrolled the grounds torpedoed each and every one of her ideas.

  Please, Teo. Do this job. Save the girl, save Dia. Save me.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Mex and Cade sat at her table at

  Boudreaux’s, picking over a pile of crawfish, their conversation centered on the missing little girl. A missing girl whose backpack, he would bet his life, sat in a house in Pearl River, Louisiana.

  “What are we not seeing?” Cade asked. “Do you think she’s already dead?”

  Mex pulled out his phone and punched a number. The idea that they were overlooking something made him realize they’d stayed too focused on Luis Alvarez.

  “Hey Darius, it’s me. How’s your family?”

  “We’re solid. Nothing wrong with being cautious.”

  “Glad to hear it. You up for some peripheral involvement?”

  “You know it.”

  Mex tweaked a brief smile. “I need you to find out the names of everyone in the Slidell and Peal River areas that may be associated with Luis Alvarez or his family. I’m not interested in neighbors and casual acquaintances. The ones I want would also be involved in Santeria or have ties to the La Familia cartel, preferably both. That means some extra digging and some extra favors called in. While you’re at it, include Pilar Villanueva. You up for it?”

  “Already online. I’ll get back to you if I find something interesting.”

  Mex picked up his home brew and pointed the top of the bottle in Cade’s direction, using it to punctuate his words. “If Dia is still alive, and I’m betting everything I have that she is, then she’s somewhere close. She’s being held at a location that has connections with the house in Pearl River.”

  “My sister’s place was close to Pearl River. Deep in Honey Island Swamp. Nobody ever went there so it was perfect for her.”

  “I know there are a lot of swamps in this part of the country. I’ve never heard of Honey Island.”

  “You and most of the world. Honey Island is one of the least explored swamps in America. Legend has it that pirates used to stash their plunder there.”

  “Hell, if there was even a rumor of treasure, surely the place would have been overrun by fortune seekers.”

  “Well, there’s another legend that sort of counters those who are after an easy score. Honey Island also has its own Bigfoot.”

  “Really? A monster? What’s it called?”

  “Well, around here we have a very special name for it.”

  “What?”

  “The monster.”

  “You’re kidding me. All of the imagination that has settled here and you call it the monster?”

  “Between you and me, mon cher, the lack of a name ascribes a certain authenticity.”

  They continued to pick at the meal Boudreaux had prepared for them.

  Mex stuck some meat in his mouth. “Tell me about your sister.”

  Cade closed her eyes and sighed. “She’s never very far away from me. I loved her and worshipped her as my older sister. Why I didn’t follow her into voodoo, and out to the swamp, I’ll never know. Even with the teacher who believed in me, my sister’s influence was strong.”

  “What was the draw of Santeria?”

  “Delphine was beautiful both inside and out. But she didn’t see it. She only saw herself as lacking. She had a hole that needed filling—an empty ache. When she discovered voodoo she saw it as the way to fill that ache. My sister, my beautiful, sweet and smart sister, was drawn in from the first time she was exposed to the religion.

  “I always compared her to a crack addict. You know, the person who’s addicted after the first hit? Delphine went to one lousy ceremony and that was the beginning of the end.”

  “Is suicide a part of Santeria?”

  “Not that I’ve ever found.”

  Mex tried to find the right words, and couldn’t come up with any. He decided to be blunt. “So why do you think she killed herself?”

  Cade drained her home brew and signaled for another. “I’d been out to see her a week earlier. She told me then that she was tired. Something had

  discouraged her. I knew better than to ask her what. Her religious practices had long been banned territory for the two of us. I was equally certain that there was no love interest in her life. I would have known.”

  “So what then?”

  “I will never know for sure, but what I believe is that a part of her had begun to seriously question the faith she’d put into the orishes and proverbs and sacrifices of this belief system she’d totally committed to. This thing that once felt like a calling had betrayed her in some way. Not lived up to her

  expectations.”

  “She would kill herself over that?”

  “Because of that, she had alienated herself from everyone in her family except me. Because of that she had cut the trajectory of her life short and forced it in a new direction. Delphine may have believed there was no way back.”

  “Even to get back to you?”

  A tear slid down Cade’s cheek. “Even back to me.”

  * * * Darius had arrived home about two o’clock in the morning to a stressed out wife and two cranky children who had undoubtedly been influenced by their mother’s anxiety regardless of how she tried to hide it. It took a hot bath at three o’clock, with candles and a Maxwell CD, for Pamela to finally unwind. Because the kids were whining and fighting, somehow wired, he’d taken both of them to the other bathroom for a middle of the night bubble bath so Pammy could have some time to herself. Maybe if it worked for their mother, it would work for them.

  Darius loved bath time with his children. It wouldn’t be very long before they wouldn’t want to bathe together, and they for sure wouldn’t want either of their parents in attendance. He tried hard to etch these times in his memory, and this one would certainly be a highlight. Less than twenty minutes later, both of his angels were bathed and sound asleep.

  After her bath, he and Pamela lay together in bed while he brought her up to date on everything. If someone had dragged his wife into this, she deserved to know everything he knew. Typically, her concern was for the little girl in imminent danger and—because her family was now safe—she was no longer as afraid for her own loved ones.

  “It’s because you’re here, Darius. I know the threat is still out there, but you’re home now. The bad guys can think you’ve backed off the search.” She had taken his face in her hands at that point. “Please tell me you haven’t backed off the search for Dia.”

  Darius had never loved Pamela more.

  He’d spent the last several hours organizing his notes and pulling together an outline for his book. He’d give anything to be back with Mex right now. Anything—except his family.

  After Mex’s call, he got a few names from Deirdre of people connected to both Santeria and La Familia. None of the names were familiar. Then he’d contacted Martin Van Buren to see what he could come up with on the property rolls. He was gonna owe these two contacts big time. Van Buren he could deal with. Deirdre, on the other hand, might be a problem.

  Darius pushed his readers on top of his head, then rubbed his temples. The computer screen cast a glow in the darkened room.

  Pamela walked up behind him and began to massage his shoulders. “You were an investigative journalist for a long time before we met, weren’t you?”

  Darius arched his neck, loving the deep touch his wife applied. “Yeah.”

  “If I remember right, some of those, especially at the end after you’d become well known, required an alias. Do I remember right?”

 
Darius scrunched his face. “Yeah.”

  “So now you came home to protect us and call off the bad guys. You’ve done both. The bad guys know you’re here and no longer with Mex.”

  “Yeah…”

  “So what I’m thinking is that you get back to Louisiana using another alias. You help your friend find that child.”

  “But—”

  “I’ve thought about this. If you use an alias, take my laptop and leave yours with me, I can go online every now and then and get on Facebook or something else to make them think, if they’re watching, that you’re home. We’ll be safe and you can help Mex. You can help that little girl.”

  “Am I hearing hormones or Pamela?”

  His wife smiled her sweet smile. “Probably both. But I didn’t marry a dummy and I’m expecting you to jump on this offer.”

  Darius felt the tingle he’d always trusted as a journalist. “Yeah?”

  “The drama has passed. They know you’re home, and if we play it right, they won’t know you’ve left. If I can play a small role in saving a life that’s what I want to do.”

  “What about the danger to you?”

  “That’s where the subterfuge comes in, Mr. Journalist.” Pamela stopped the massage and moved around to where he could see her.

  She wore a determined look on her face. “Look. We’re safe. We can relocate to other locations if we need to. That sweet thing isn’t safe and she has no options. No place to relocate even if she knew she needed to, which based on her situation, I’m guessing she doesn’t.

  “Mex is good. He’s smart. He has the best chance of making this turn out right, but he has a better chance if you’re there to back him up.”

  Darius rose to wrap her in his arms. “I love you, P.J.”

  “Yeah, well… I’m also counting on your book sales to put our three kids through college.” She pulled away a bit. “I’m also counting on not finding another headless creature in our mailbox. If you stay under the wire, and I pretend to be you from here… we’ll be good. Right?”

  “You are an amazing woman. How did I get so lucky?”

  “Just tell me we’ll be good.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Mex pushed his coffee cup away with one hand while holding his phone to his ear with the other. He dropped his voice and glanced at Cade, moving so his back was to her. “Are you sure about this, Darius? What about the threats to your family? Is Pamela okay with you leaving? Coming here?”