Born Into Love (20 page)

She donned a pair of cotton socks because the tiles held the cold. The thick door banged open striking the wall. Remy shoved past her. Booze and sweat clung to his wrinkled clothes. “I saw Cadaver Man leave. Gave me the creeps.”

“He’s wherever he wants to be.”

“
He’s probably slurping blood off some dumb tourist. How can you love a monster?”

She folded her arms across her chest. He sniffed. “Soap. A little perfume. Good, I like my women clean.” He licked his lips and thrust his pelvis toward her. “Now I’ll show you what a real dick can do.”

She kicked him in the
cajones
. Playing offense felt good.

He doubled over and retched. Cradling his genitals, he rolled onto the floor going fetal. She backed away. His mottled lips widened like the mouth of an enraged animal. “You’re dying. I’m going to live, but no one can save you.”

“You’re the one on the floor.”

He scraped himself up just like on the plane and lunged for the door. For several moments he teetered, holding onto the jamb. Without a backward glance, he faded into the hall. Mercedes slammed the door. A cold draft sent by the surrounding peaks entered through the open window. Her hands trembled and her foot hurt from contact and thrust. “Where are you
, Diego?”

Thirst, hunger, and shock, pounced on her as if they’d collaborated in an attack. She wrapped herself in a hand-woven wool blanket from the only closet. She knew, without raising her head from the huddled bundle she’d become that Diego had joined her. “You just missed Remy.”

“I regret having to leave you. I wanted to be by your side.”

“But you aren’t. You can’t be. And I took care of him.” She pulled the blanket tighter. “Beast that he is, he had to repeat that I’m kicking the ole bucket.”

“They consider us already dead. Need I say the obvious about myself? And you are making an effort to be polite. I am grateful.”

The phone
rang and she answered. Seconds later she disconnected. “The monster wants us in the dining room.” The hammering in her head resumed. She closed her eyes. She missed the comforts of lower altitude. When she looked in Diego’s direction, a jolt of fear mingled with her renewed physical discomfort. “What have you done?”

“I spread a shroud on the floor. Underneath it is a sprinkling of dirt.”

His eyes held torment. Her heart softened but just around the edges. Then he tried to make a joke.

“As you can see, I am a flexible traveler.”

She wanted to cry. “Please, shut off the lights and let’s find out what Teodoro has to say.” Whether or not she liked it, she and Diego shared a tomb. “This is the longest, worst day of my life.”

Chapter 12

As a human Diego challenged anyone who sought to humiliate him. As a vampire, he experienced complete power. He could eliminate Teodoro and Remy now before his strength waned, but then he would be the killer he despised and Mercedes and her sister would die by default. His fault.

Their strange
captor handed Mercedes her meds, while he and Remy, as if in a tableau, watched. Teodoro spooned sugar into his coffee, tasted the beverage and sipped small amounts into his mouth.

His rigid expression bore a faint resemblance to the faces molded on Pre-Colombian ceramic pitchers. But they had grace. From the mouth of the figurines came chicha, water or juices. What would spill from Teodoro’s? Beetles? Worms?

Remy reached for a freshly baked quinoa roll. He looked at Mercedes with hate. If she were going to die, he would watch with a smile. The trick was not to oblige. She swept a strand of hair from her temple, the gesture a preamble.

“The longer we sit here, the closer my sister gets to delivery.”

Teodoro patted the corners of his mouth with a cotton napkin. “We leave at my command. Let me review the procedure. You carry your own gear, so plan accordingly. And, as before, I will inspect everything.”

Would another glance at the scattered lines of Rodrigo’s map jog
his memory? Diego wanted to be sure. “I want to inspect the ingots.”

“Diego, your interest is most satisfying.”

Mercedes swallowed her medicine. She left untouched the fruit plate waiting before her. His beloved would make a good warrior in the heat of battle, but a failed strategist when cool heads must prevail. Teodoro’s false friendliness pricked her skin and she found his behavior cowardly. How did he know? He read her body language and so did the others.

Diego
extended his hand, waiting for the ingots.

Remy stood. A cascade of crumbs fell from his shirt. “What’s the hold up? We should be at the airport.”

Teodoro ordered Procteur to sit. Like a good servant, he obeyed but could not still his need to strike out. “Bet dead meat didn’t tell you why he’s so meek.”

A knife grazed Remy’s shoulder. The blade clattered against the plaster wall and crashed onto the orange tile. Teodoro’s voice shot out as deeply threatening as the weapon he’d thrown. “You’re a fool.” A black-suited guard entered by what summons
Diego do not know. Teodoro spoke slowly, each word a slap. “Show Mr. Procteur to his room.”

Mercedes waved good-bye.

Diego reminded the sorcerer of his request. “The ingots?”

From his photographer’s vest
Teodoro withdrew a carrying sack closed by a drawstring. “Handle them with the napkin.”

“Of course.”
Diego stared at the lines trying to see anything that could be a help. They kept their secrets. But when he turned them over, his heart broke. Rodrigo’s initials stared back at him.

“What’s the matter?” Mercedes asked.

Teodoro obliged. “Your lover has had a surprise. The oral history of my people spoke of a signed map. Finding Rodrigo’s marks thrilled me.”

A knock ended Teodoro’s gloating. The guard carried a message. The sorcerer read the note and threw his empty cup against the same yellowed wall where it crashed to the floor, company now, for the knife. The messenger fled.

Diego returned the ingots, but let his fingers glide over his brother’s script and felt what was almost invisible to the eye and almost indiscernible—two letters looking much like random scratches: m and e for
monte
and
este
. Mountain and east.

Teodoro repacked the “maps” and they
disappeared into his jacket. “I gathered you expected to leave within the hour. But there has been a complication. We must wait a bit longer for our fuel.”

“Maybe the delay is a sign that grave robbing is the wrong path.”

“You criticize? Your fingerprints are on more bodies than I can name. The legend that scares the children is that of the fanged beast that flies into the villages and sucks the blood of infants.”

Mercedes shot to her feet. “Diego would never do that.”

Our captor dropped his napkin on the table. “You’ve mated with the undead. Your judgment is forever in question.”

She shook with rage
but she could not find a response, for what he said rang true. Diego tried to draw his wrath. “The feud is between us, Teodoro. Do not add to her misery. Since we will not be leaving as planned, let her be a tourist. Neither of us will flee. You have bound us too tightly to this misadventure.” The flattery appealed to the sorcerer. Nevertheless, he played a game.

“She might try to escape.”

Mercedes stamped her foot. “How? You’ve got my passport and you’ve threatened to kill my sister.”

Teodoro played with a pouch that dangled from a leather strip around his neck. “Very well. She may amuse herself.”

For this, she rewarded Diego with a smile. He wanted her away from Remy while he worked at a solution to the fuel and hunted for the antidote.

* * *

Mercedes changed into a pencil skirt and white cotton blouse barely taking time to comb her hair. She slipped into the rubber-soled sandals and wrapped a fanny pack around her waist. Was Annie all right?

“American dollars for soles, nuevos soles, por favor.” The concierge looked at his hands rather than face her. What did he know about the hotel’s guests, she wondered. Did he realize Teodoro lived among legends and magic?

“Can you help us?” she whispered.

The startled man shook his head. He slid a pile of nuevos soles across the countertop, grabbed her dollars and fled into a small office locking the door behind him. What had she expected? Who’d challenge a sorcerer powerful enough to control a vampire?

Only someone who had no
choice; someone like herself.

She grabbed the phone on his desk
and listened for a connection. When she heard none she wasn’t surprised.

In the Plaza de la Luna some women and children wearing multi-colored skirts and ponchos headed for home. The hats varied in shape and decoration. Some
vendedoras
wore black bowlers; other
sombreros
were elaborately decorated with lace and multicolored ribbons.

Already Peru was more than a change in location. The country offered another dimension and under different circumstances, she would revel in its wonders.

“The city’s great, isn’t it?”

Mercedes turned to a young backpacker. “Yeah. I was reminding myself to enjoy it. As soon as I make a call, I'm going to be a tourist at least for an hour.” She extended her hand. “I’m Mercedes and I’m looking for a phone.”

He pointed to a cross street. “Hang a right.” She turned the corner into a crowd of pizza-munching tourists and an excited gang of backpackers all talking at once in front of a cyber café and found telephones in a nearby building.

When Mercedes heard Annie’s voice she burst into tears.

“Mercedes, what’s wrong?”

“I’ve been so worried.”

“Calm down. I’m okay. Dave got me a book on Peru. Did you get that soroche stuff?”

“What is it?”

“Altitude sickness.”

“Yes. I’m feeling better now.”

“Where’s Diego?”

“
He’s planning our next move.” She had offered a response that put a positive spin on their actual situation. “How’s Dave?”

“Good. He and Luz get along really well. Mrs. Joyce is a big help too. I’m doing all right.”

“How’s Luz behaving?”

“She says she has to guard the mansion until Diego gets back and that she’s psychic.”

“No, just strange. What happened at the hospital? Did you have any treatments?”

“A transfusion and platelets. They look like egg whites.”

“As long as they work, we love them.” Mercedes struggled with tears and cleared her throat. “How’s my nephew?”

“Giving me indigestion. Dr. Mendez thinks he might come early.”

Mercedes fought panic. “How early?”

“I don’t know. He said j
unior’s moving into position. It’s something to be happy about.”

“I’m thrilled
as long as he says things are okay, then that’s all I need to hear.”

“Well, he actually said, things are as good as could be expected. What’d you buy me?”

“What do you want?”

“Something handmade. There’s a picture of a woman weaving on a loom as she sits on the ground. Get something homespun.
Oh and get something for junior too.”

“Okay. I miss you.”

“Same here. Where’re you staying?”

Mercedes didn’t know. “A place on a side street. We’re leaving when the helicopter’s ready. I’ll try to call again.”

“I’ll be here. I’m too big to go anywhere else.”

“Take care.”

“Don’t worry. Bye. And I don’t think you’re the worst sister in the world any more. I love you.”

“Bye. Love you back.” She stared at the phone, wanting to call again. Obviously no one at the cottage knew they were being watched or guarded. How would this disaster play out? Who would die?

A row of vendors stopped talking to pose for a tourist’s camera and a few feet beyond the men, a
vendedora
smiled at her and pointed to a selection of blankets, scarves, hats.

The delicate fabric practically floated. “So soft!
Vicuna?”

The woman nodded. Mercedes reached for her wallet. A tremor shook her hand. More soroche? Getting out of Peru alive seemed like wishful thinking. With her purchases tucked in a woven carry-all that she also bought she hurried back to the hotel.

Raised voices breached the dining room door. Eyelashes rubbing against the keyhole, Mercedes watched as Remy and Teodoro, faces burning with anger, glared at each other.

“You were responsible.”

Remy snorted. “Not my fault the fuel’s stuck on a road. I’m not the traffic police.”

“The altitude works against her and without her, we cannot control him.”