Born Into Love (28 page)

Teodoro’s blood scent existed only on a trail used by the archers. That would not lead
him to the antidote. He needed the path the man took when he was alive. That path was swallowed by the jungle, its plants, the animals, the mists, in short, nature. And his damnable potion.

And then, picturing his body,
Diego realized what had been missing. Teodoro’s headband. The flexible feathers. The place where he’d tucked the seed and according to Mercedes, the leaves.

He
knew where he had to go.

He
fed and then gathered his bat cousins. He loved them for their natural simplicity and for whatever bizarre union they had with each other. Herded by the flapping of his larger wings, they burst over the campsite like a sudden storm. The mercenaries startled, some covered their heads. They were prepared for a human invasion not for flying mammals. He veered away from the swarm into the tomb.

Inside,
his thoughts were too clear, too human! Was that good or bad? Bad. His control continued weakening. The scent of Teodoro’s headband and the leaves came to him at first like an undertone. He inhaled deeply of their scent and heard a growl.

From
himself!

Now lupine,
he drowned in the sorcerer’s leaves. His paws dug into the headpiece. He had not willed the change.

* * *

Mercedes dove between two bound cartons. The bats scoured the camp, squeaking. Then, without a shot being fired, they were gone. The colonel stood over her and in back of him, José, whose protective nature gave her a moment of comfort. He took a deep breath and stepped around the colonel.

“Drink.”

So she must look even worse than she felt. The water cooled her mouth and throat, but her stomach twisted with its arrival. “Thanks.”

The colonel studied her. “You die. Bad thing. Breasts good.” He cupped his hands.

She opened her mouth but José quickly put the canteen to her lips. Fear coated his face and he checked the trees making sure the bats were gone. She took another mouthful. The colonel stomped off.

“José, everybody’s a creep except you.” He smiled. “Where’s Remy?”

“With sorcerer’s book. It too hard for him.”

“And Diego?”

“In forest.” José stood. “Tomorrow we leave. If you not dead, they kill you.”

“I know. These are bad guys. Get away from them.”

He slung the canteen over his shoulder. “Big money.” He walked to the fire and sat with his back to her.

* * *

Now Diego’s undisciplined cells chose his form. He was human. Each breath squeezed his lungs in the tight space, so he stopped breathing. He needed food or this would also be his crypt. And he could not let that happen. Not now, when he had the scent.

A squeak. Would the creature draw near? Nothing in the jungle equated with the blood of cattle and no bovine blood equaled that of a human in richness and potency. But as weary as
he was, anything would be better than nothing.

The animal drew closer. And then its snout touched
his lips. He bit into the head and sucked the animal dry. The quick burst of life sufficed. Willing himself to be smaller and winged, he flew.

Out! Up!
He held the thought until in the moist jungle he fed again. He circled the camp. Finally, armed with the scent he realized the odor he needed hung like an invisible mist on all sides of the camp. Except he never knew.

The canopy lightened enough for
him to study the foliage. He smelled what he needed before he saw it. Running, forgetting any caution, he leaped over a tangle of blood-red roots, took in the blossoms, the ripe and unripe fruit, and the leaves with undersides also blood red. Hungry birds, unsullied by a sorcerer’s magic, scrambled among the branches, eating through the fruit and cracking the seeds. Was that the joke behind Teodoro’s laughter? That the black and white birds whose feathers adorned his headband, had been the answer all along?

He
grabbed an armful of fruit-laden branches and raced to camp.

* * *

Mercedes, feverish under the netting, did not recognize
him. José placed a damp cloth on her forehead. Remy, a bottle of liquor in his hand, sat near the fire with the jewel box under his arm staring into space.

Diego
spoke to José. “Have you given her anything?”

“Water.”

Diego lifted a wet strand from her forehead. “Mercedes, fight the poison.”

She tried to open her eyes.

“You must live!” he shouted.

José jumped and hurried away.
Diego squeezed the pale fruit. Drawing her into a sitting position, he dropped the liquid on her lips.

“Sweet.”

He crushed seeds into paste with his fingers. “Mercedes, hold this in your mouth.” She tilted her head toward him and parted her lips. He placed the mash on her tongue.

“Chew it.”
He took in the twitching of her muscles; the poison attacking her nervous system. “Chew it. Then swallow.”

The muscles in her jaw relaxed.
He started to lower her.

“No. Let me
sit.” She touched his face. “How did you do it?”

“When I dragged Teodoro from the tomb, his headband stayed behind. I went after it to capture the scent.”

“I’m dreaming. This is too good.”

He
nestled her in his arms and wanted to weep, but that was not possible. When he released her, he placed his lips on her neck. Her heart beat strong and steady.

“Am I cured?”

“I do not know.”

“Can we find more?”

“Yes. You will eat the seeds every day until we can get your blood tested.”

The colonel coughed drawing their
attention. “So. She lives. That is good.”

M
ercedes stroked Diego’s chest. “Good for him; bad for us.”

* * *

In the morning the mercenaries tied boxes of artifacts to their backs. The colonel and Remy seemed to have bonded for they joked probably counting their money before it reached their hands.

After a breakfast of porridge and fruit paste, Mercedes shifted her backpack and wiggled her shoulders getting ready for the impending trek. She stared at the men as they lined up. “Where do you think we’re going?”

“Remy must have arranged a meeting place. The men cannot carry the artifacts too far.”

She smoothed his collar. “He’s a grub. Maybe he’s going to ransom us.” She indicated the men extinguishing the fires. “Could we bribe them?”

“What can we offer? The credit cards hidden in our shoes?”

“The seeds are making me stronger. Let’s fight. When I look around, all I see are wimps.”

“The fresh seeds must have greater potency.”
He took her backpack. “You handle the pack riding your waist. I’ll manage the other gear.”

“It’s practically empty but it reminds me of civilization with zippers, plastic trim.” She cocked her head. “As for the meds, I’m afraid to take less. You’ll have to bear with
the new attitude. Look. The mercs made crates.”

“Mercs?”

“Mercenaries. Don’t you watch TV?”

“Not often.
”

She ruffled
his hair and he rejoiced to see her so animated. Remy appeared unimpressed with the saplings cut and shaped into protective mummy cages. José had a different reaction. He inserted a blossom into each woman’s bier. And the colonel? He observed all without expression.

Mercedes touched
his arm. “You never told me.”

“What?”

“Do you recognize the mummies?”

“The one I remember is not there.”

“Was she wrapped in gold?”

“Not at the time.”

“Maybe there’s another tomb.”

“Erase that thought.”

“Let’s go,” Remy shouted. He took second place in the line after the colonel who used a machete with a forbidding sweep of his arm.

* * *

Mercedes glimpsed bowmen in the shrubs. “Teodoro’s pals.
It’s nasty to have so many enemies. How long have they been with us?”

Diego kissed her nape. “Since we started.”

She cast a quick glance down the line. The mercenaries appeared unfazed. She’d hoped her favorite merc would help them, but now knew better.

The soil turned red and stuck to her boots. Several large trees had been felled and removed. Loggers? She let the thought go. The pace never slackened. Heat and flies, little
no-see-ums, tormented her most.

“Remy has a deadline,” Diego whispered.

“How do you know?”

“He has been on the clock since the colonel arrived.”

Suddenly a wave of excitement coursed through the men. Mercedes stopped. “Look. It’s a road.”

Procteur halted the group. The colonel peered over his shoulder at the troops. Satisfaction showed in the twitch of his lips and the lift of an eyebrow.

“We’re meeting friends,” Remy barked. “First one to hear the truck gets a bonus.”

Diego stood close to her. “How do you feel?”

She enjoyed a tingle of sexual awareness, completely out of place given the circumstances. “Like I could wrestle a carload of smugglers.”

In the distance an engine growled. Before anyone launched a victory cry, three archers stepped into sight followed by many others. Among them, stood someone she recognized, painted now and still unsmiling.

Chapter 18

Manuel.

He wore a headband of black fabric with the feathers favored by his relatives dead and alive. They pointed skyward from his temples. Black wings decorated his chest and upper arms. His merciless gaze flicked from
them to Remy.

Tucked under his arm hung a bow and quiver. Manuel’s rope-like muscles appeared thick as anchor chain and his parted lips revealed gums stained red.
At his side Mercedes shivered. Surely his mouth looked the same when he fed.

Remy accepted Manuel’s offe
ring. What gift would Remy provide? A flush covered Procteur’s skin indicating circulating blood and pleasure or embarrassment. He still carried on his back the chest of jewels. He pointed to Diego and Mercedes. “Take them and good riddance.”

Manuel raised a hand. The left flank of his guard surrounded
them. The colonel fired and Manuel lost a feather. Instantly each side raised weapons.

The colonel’s deep voice sank in the humid air. “I get woman.” He aimed his rifle at Manuel’s chest.

His deal gone bad Remy stood in the middle, eyes wide. Mercedes and Diego sank to the ground. He bent over her offering what protection he could.

Remy held up his hands, the bow and quiver mere appendages he could not use. “No one fire.” He decided to negotiate. He had to. Only he carried something the colonel would accept other than Mercedes.

Sweating under the tension, Remy untied the rope holding the chest to his back. Foolishly he had let the mercenaries see the contents. Trapped, he distributed a jewel apiece to the soldiers and a handful to the colonel then closed the box. He and the colonel shared yet another whispered conversation then Remy and he shook hands. A dubious deal made by cutthroats.

Manuel jabbed the soil with his spear near
Diego’s boot. He and his beloved scrambled into a standing position. She breathed the words as she gripped his arm.

Her jaw set. “I won’t die without a fight.”

He loved her courage, but fear cut into his admiration. Would they kill her or make her a slave? Use torture? He dared to face another horror. Their ancestors knew magic arts. Had they again found the secret to turn her into a creature like him?

Manuel jabbed at
their backs forcing them to march. The bowmen didn’t need a silver bullet since wooden stakes proliferated. Soon Mercedes’ shirt stained with perspiration. Shortly after, she collapsed and he carried her.

The first indication of a village came from the scent of smoke. Then huts appeared in a clearing that jumped out of the jungle like an ambush.

This village was not what he remembered and it was far from anything he recognized.

With dusk settling, the edges of the thatched roofs blurred. In the center of the community a large fire burned. That
he remembered. But this village resembled a Hollywood set, a simulacrum, solidly built, but centuries out of context.

The villagers darted piranha-like from their huts when the warriors chanted and pounded their bows into the soil. Old men, women and children hissed and beat
them with switches. Mercedes tucked her head closer to his chest to protect her eyes. Guinea pigs scurried under pounding feet. The cries of the people startled them into a frenzy.