Lina woke with a start. She sucked in a startled breath as she sat up, smacking nose-first into Augustus’s cheek, close enough to the angle of his jaw to catch a sudden whiff of Serge Lutens’ Borneo 1874.
With a happy little groan, she breathed in deeply, closing her eyes as she stretched her limbs, cat-like and sleepy. For some strange reason she couldn’t quite remember, she felt like her body had turned into taffy, all warm and gooey. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, not by a mile, and she allowed herself to sink back into it—and the scent of Augustus’s cologne—rather comfortably.
“You smell really good,” she murmured. “Have I ever mentioned that?”
“You have not, no,” he replied, the tone of his voice lending itself to a smile. “And thank you.”
She opened her eyes again, blinking sleepily. At first, all she could focus on was him—his face, the measure of his mouth, the upturned corners of his lips as he regarded her. Or, more specifically…
“You’re glowing.” Her hand felt strange as she lifted it, as if her muscles had all been replaced by helium balloons, and it now rose almost effortlessly, weightlessly from the nest of her lap. As her fingertips brushed his cheek, she giggled. “You’re all sparkly…like that movie vampire.”
“Your eyes are still light sensitive from the bloodlust,” he told her, catching her wayward hand—from her perspective before it floated off toward the ceiling, untethered—and lightly kissing her knuckles. “That’s all.”
The bloodlust.
Up until that moment, she’d had only hazy, distant, dream-like awareness of anything or anyone around her except for Augustus, and none whatsoever about their circumstances or surroundings, or how they’d come to be in either. But all at once, it came back to her, crashing into her brain with all of the force of a runaway freight train, and she sat bolt upright, her eyes flying wide.
Oh, shit! She swept her gaze around and saw Tejano sitting across from them on a nearby sofa. The blonde from the hot tub, Peaches, sat beside him, all smiles as she sucked on an orange wedge.
Lina had come to be reclined across Augustus’s lap, with his arm around her shoulders and his other hand rubbing almost idly up and down the length of one of her legs. His suit coat had been draped over her from shoulders to mid-thigh. A quick peek beneath confirmed what she vaguely recalled and had clearly dreaded—she was naked.
Oh, shit.
Her hand fluttered up to the side of her neck. She felt the ragged, tender edges of two small wounds. Bite marks.
Oh, shit.
“How…long was I out?” Lina said through her teeth to Augustus as she forced an awkward smile.
“Not long,” Peaches said brightly. Leaning forward, she traded the now-desiccated orange slice for a fresh one from the fruit tray on the table. “I guess maybe a half an hour or so.”
At first, Lina saw no sign of Mercedes, but then caught a glimpse of her just beyond Tejano’s shoulder, on the far side of the room. She had her back to the couch and was on her knees in front of one of Tejano’s henchmen, obviously sucking on something that was not an orange wedge. Judging by the big, shit-eating grin Peaches awarded Lina as she wriggled closer to Tejano, she was delighted with this fortuitous turn of events.
“How are you feeling, belleza?” Tejano asked Lina with a knowing sort of smile that suggested he knew exactly how she felt, and found it funny as hell.
“I’m fine.” Lina hunched her shoulders, trying to hide better beneath Augustus’s coat. “But I hope you got the license plate of that Mack truck that ran me over.”
Tejano tipped his head back and laughed. “The juice—it’s powerful stuff,” he said. With a wink, he added, “And as with so many things, the first time’s always the roughest.”
Lina faked a smile again. “Yeah. No kidding.” She glanced at Augustus and was grateful to see that the illusion of him glowing had diminished considerably. Everything still looked a lot brighter than normal, but nowhere near as dazzling as when she’d first come to. She noticed a pretty good sized damp patch on the front of his shirt near her cheek and winced. Great, she thought. I drooled, too.
And, if memory served, that wasn’t all she’d done, at least as far as Augustus was concerned. She found herself hunkering down all the more, trying to burrow beneath his jacket and hide.
“Getting back to matters of business, Augustus,” Tejano said, adding with another leering sort of smile at Lina. “Although the distraction wasn’t entirely unwelcome or unpleasant…”
“Of course.” Augustus tipped his head in a nod. He continued speaking aloud, and kept his gaze directed at Tejano, but his telepathic voice in Lina’s mind made her jump. Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I?
He sounded worried.
No, she replied. I mean, I’m alright. You didn’t hurt me. My pride’s a little bruised up, maybe…
Why? he asked. Because of what happened?
You mean me giving you a drug-induced lap dance? Lina asked, and God, she felt her cheeks blaze with humiliated color just to admit it. Yeah. That.
It wasn’t a drug. He chuckled in her mind. It was the bloodlust, ma chéri, he said. I told you before, its effects are very powerful, virtually impossible to ignore. It would seem Tejano’s juice has given you a modest taste of what it is like to be of the Brethren…and what we must struggle against every day.
Lina frowned. Spare me the bullshit, Augustus, and tell me if you see my clothes anywhere close.
He cut her a glance. You felt it for yourself, he said, seeming genuinely surprised. You still don’t believe there are portions of our nature that are incontrovertible? His brow arched and as she started to grumble in reply, he added, Because if you don’t, then what I’m left to believe is that what happened earlier between us was by choice—our free wills. That our behavior was well within our power to control or prevent…and we both chose not to.
She glared at him because goddammit, he had her there. Shut up, Augustus.
He laughed out loud.
“Something strikes you as amusing?” Tejano asked.
“I beg your pardon,” Augustus said. “Of course not, no. Another…distraction.”
As he spoke, Augustus stroked Lina’s leg along her calf, and if it hadn’t felt so goddamn nice, she would have slapped his hand away. Catching on that she’d been Augustus’s distraction, Tejano smiled and nodded.
“While we’re on the subject again, let me tell you one thing that has kept distracting me tonight,” he remarked, leaning forward and pouring the last of the tequila into a shot glass for himself. “And that is the coincidence of you finding me, our paths crossing as they have.” Raising the glass, he downed the liquor in a single swallow, no salt or lime chaser needed. Smacking his lips together appreciatively, he regarded Augustus, his brow raised. “Tell me again, amigo, how it is you came to contact me.”
His tone was amicable enough, his mouth spread in a charming sort of smile, but there was something in his eyes, a hardened glint of icy light, that made Lina shiver, despite the warmth of Augustus’s hand against her leg, his jacket over her body.
“Of course.” If Augustus took notice of this shift in Tejano’s eyes, he gave no outward indication. He was either oblivious as hell, or had a terrific poker face. “I’ve been in town for the past week visiting my paramour…” With this, he draped his hand against Lina’s left thigh. “Her mother lives here in Bayshore. She has been ill of late.”
“Ah.” Tejano nodded once, cutting his gaze briefly to Lina. “My sympathies.”
“Thanks,” Lina murmured.
“I heard mention of your name on the news,” Augustus continued. “I recognized it right away…as I’m sure there are few who did not.”
Tejano seemed to visibly relax a bit at this. His smile grew a bit broader, and some of the subtle tension that had tightened his shoulders eased. “You’re too kind,” he said—but it was obvious his ego had been stoked, which Lina suspected had been Augustus’s very intention.
“I was given your contact information by a mutual acquaintance…someone I believe you know better of the two of us? Aaron Davenant.”
“I know Aaron, sí,” Tejano murmured with a nod, his eyes taking on that glittering, hardened cast once more. “And his brother, Julien. Quite well.” Turning his head slightly, he spat onto the floor. “They’re both biche panochas—fucking pussies.”
That’s not what your girlfriend says, Lina thought, remembering what Peaches had told her about how Julien “scared the shit” out of Tejano.
“I’ve only recently had the pleasure of introductions to the former,” Augustus remarked. “But not the latter, I’m afraid. Aaron sought me out in California before I left. It would seem that he, too, has an interest in seeing his father deposed.”
Tejano laughed. “Yeah. Let me guess. The mammon finally got sick of being the goose that lays the golden eggs—without getting any cut of the profits—so he’s decided to pimp his blood out to the highest bidder.”
“He did express an interest in receiving a greater percentage of any profits a future partnership might earn, yes,” Augustus said, speaking slowly and tactfully, but with an arch to his brow and a hook to the corner of his mouth meant to convey to Tejano that he, too, considered it a crock of bullshit.
“He also suggested eventually cutting you out altogether,” he added pointedly. “By having you set up the distribution network on our behalf and then…dissolving our partnership with you.” He gazed with pointed solemnity at Tejano. “By that, I do not believe he meant a simple contract breach.”
“I know what he meant.” His brows furrowed and he leapt to his feet. “¡Que culo, se la come doblada! Voy a matarse, el punetero.”
Peaches giggled. “I love it when he goes off in Spanish,” she said, leaning forward and speaking to Lina as if the men weren’t even there, and couldn’t possibly be privy to their conversation. “I don’t know what he’s saying, but damn, it always sounds so hot!”
“I believe he referred to the younger Mister Davenant as a cocksucker,” Augustus told her with a wan sort of smile. “That he sucks a crooked cock and that he’d kill him if given the opportunity.”
Peaches blinked in wide-eyed amazement. “Wow.”
“Augustus speaks thirty-five languages fluently,” Lina supplied. “He’s been around awhile.”
“I say we cut this deal with him,” Tejano said to Augustus, pacing now. “Yeah. We agree to whatever that little panocha wants. Then when everything’s underway, we take his ass down. We put a hacksaw to his motherfucking feet so he can’t run. We string him up by a motherfucking meat hook like in Texas Chainsaw Massacre and we take that maricón’s blood whenever we want! Cut me out of a motherfucking deal!” His pace quickened as he ranted and raved, and the cleft between his brows grew deeper and deeper, any pretense of gentlemanly civility gone from his manner and his mouth. “¡Que puede chupa mi verga! ¡Voy a meter por la garganta y ver que se atragante en él, ese puto!”
Lina glanced up at Augustus. You do realize you just got Aaron Davenant killed, don’t you?
Augustus only smiled. Trust me, ma chéri, he said with a nod to indicate Tejano. That pendejo couldn’t land a punch against Davenant, never mind kill him. I’ve sicced a Chihuahua after a Great Dane. I’ll let you lay the odds from there as you will.
With a crazed light in his eyes, Tejano whirled to face Augustus. “Here.”
He tossed something to them, throwing it from across the room where he’d retrieved it from the mantel, with enough force to make her cringe in anticipation of it connecting solidly with her head. But she needn’t have bothered; Augustus raised his hand from her leg and caught the object deftly, moving with a grace and speed that startled Lina as much as the throw itself had.
“What is this?” he asked, his brow raised with curiosity—but as he opened his hand and looked down, he knew the answer. As did Lina.
The wayob, she thought, her eyes widening.
“That, amigo, is how we’re going to stick it to Lamar Davenant and his huele bicho sons,” Tejano said, beaming. “That way, you and me—we fuck all the Davenants who’ve tried to fuck us over.”
“I don’t understand,” Augustus said. It wasn’t obliviousness, Lina decided. He had a hell of a poker face.
“Old Man Davenant—he’s been after that for over a year,” Tejano said. “My brother Pepe’s dead now because of that son of a bitch. He made me set him up here to try and find that thing. The gang who had it—Valien Cadana and his fucking corillo—they killed Pepe to keep it.”
“What is it?” Augustus asked.
Tejano spread his arms wide and laughed. “You got me. Maybe some kind of antique. It’s got to be worth something big. Like I said, the old man’s been after it awhile. Been bugging the motherfucking shit out of me to get it.” To Augustus, he added, “That’s why I’m here. He sent me. Then Julien comes crawling up my ass—you know what that motherfucker tells me? They’re ‘losing confidence’ in me and my crew. They’re thinking I ‘can’t handle’ this small-town Mayberry bullshit job, maybe I need some help remembering what my priorities are, where my loyalties lie. You believe that shit? My motherfucking priorities!” Balling his fist, he slammed it against the nearest wall. “I’ve got at least thirty million dollars’ worth of coke shipping into Miami every goddamn week. He pulls me away from my motherfucking business so I could get a goddamn rock for him, and I don’t fucking understand priorities?”
His face flushed with rage, he marched over to the table and picked up the tequila bottle. Realizing it was empty, he snarled, then threw it across the room. It smashed into the wall by the guard Mercedes was still blowing, and she jerked away from him in start as shards of glass scattered.
“You want to fuck with Lamar, you send an Instagram of you smashing that motherfucking thing with a sledgehammer, amigo,” Tejano said to Augustus, pointing to the wayob as another henchman, as if on unspoken command, came scurrying over with a fresh bottle of Jose Cuervo in his hands. Unscrewing the lid, he drew the bottle to his lips and canted his head back, guzzling it like it was Gatorade and he was the star quarterback fresh off a winning homecoming game. “He’ll shit his motherfucking Depends. I goddamn guarantee it!”
“Sounds like fun,” Augustus murmured, reaching up to accept the bottle as Tejano offered it to him. From her vantage, Lina could see that he only pretended to drink this time; like her, he’d obviously realized losing control of his faculties was ill-advised in their present circumstances, and he covered the open mouth of the bottle with his tongue to block it as he tipped his head back.
“And you, pinche puta—put your goddamn mouth on his motherfucking cock and keep it there until you choke on his motherfucking jizz!” Tejano roared at Mercedes, who scrambled on her hands and knees back to the waiting guard. Given her ashen face and petrified expression, Lina nearly felt sorry for her.
Tejano glanced beyond Augustus and Lina toward the main entrance to the room. “Here we go now,” he said, his mouth stretching in a maniacally wide grin again. “Here’s the panocha who’s caused me so much goddamn grief. Here’s el hombre de la hora—the man of the motherfucking hour! Bring him here, Camilo. Bring that motherfucker where we can see him!”
Lina raised her head enough to glance over Augustus’s shoulder, watching as the big, burly guard who’d greeted them earlier in the foyer now dragged Valien Cadana, his hands bound in front of him, his face visibly bruised and battered from a recent—and violent—beating, toward the sofas. As they drew near, Camilo gave Valien a shove, sending him stumbling forward. He crumpled to his knees with a soft cry, landing almost directly in front of Tejano.
“He’s like us,” Augustus said, feigning surprise in his voice.
“Es un maricón,” Tejano snapped, seizing Valien by the crown of his hair and wrenching his head back. He’s a faggot! “He’s nothing like you or me. He probably feeds from the blood of pigs because he’s too big a pussy to taste a human!”
Valien had gritted his teeth, but when Tejano twisted his fist in his hair, he uttered another pained cry. Opening his eyes, he blinked dazedly at Augustus. Lina couldn’t tell if he recognized them or not; he’d been badly beaten, and was clearly dazed and in pain, only semi-lucid at best. “Ayudarme,” he gasped, twisting his hands against the steel handcuffs that bound him. “Por favor…!” Help me, please!
“Callate!” Shut up! Tejano drove his fist down in a sharp, brutal blow, plowing his knuckles into the side of Valien’s face and snapping his head toward his opposite shoulder. Blood flew from his nose at the impact, and he crashed onto his side.
Disgusted, pained, Lina grimaced and looked away. Had Tejano ordered Jackie beaten like this? She couldn’t bear to think about it; her entire body seized with furious, frightened tension.
“You don’t speak unless I speak to you…” Tejano reached down, grabbing Valien by the hair again and forcing him back up to his knees. Valien cried out, hoarse and hurting, and Lina felt her stomach twist. “You don’t think unless I put it in your head. You don’t do a motherfucking thing without my goddamn say-so anymore—you comprende me, puto? You’re my motherfucking bitch now, Cadana. You belong to me…” Looking up at Augustus, he grinned. “Me and my new partner.”
Lina heard a new scuffle behind them and looked past Augustus’s shoulder again. This time she drew in a sharp breath as Jackson staggered into the room, forced in tow by two guards who made Camilo the Gorilla Guy look more like a squirrel monkey. Like Valien, his hands had been cuffed. Like Valien, he’d apparently been beaten. Badly. One of his eyes had swollen nearly shut with bruising; his nose looked misshapen and swollen, the nostrils crusted with blood, his bottom lip split in multiple places.
“Jackie…!” she whispered, unable to stop herself, even though she’d promised Augustus—promised herself—that she’d keep her shit together. She hadn’t expected it to go like this—for Tejano to drag Valien and Jackie right out in front of them. She’d expected a fight to find them—and to find them on her terms, the terms she and Augustus had anticipated. Not like this.
Change my face, she hissed, hunching down low against the shelter of Augustus’s chest. Change my face like you did with yours at the police station. Change it now!
But it was too late. Jackie looked toward the couches and caught sight of her there. His uninjured eye widened with visible confusion and shock, and as his escorts shoved him forward, improving his view, he realized what she was wearing—or in this case, not wearing—and who she was with. He saw Augustus’s arm around her, his hand stroking her thigh. He saw the dried blood on her throat and shoulder and the wounds in her neck—Augustus’s bite marks. Jackson’s brows narrowed, his face twisting with a sudden surge of murderous fury because he thought he understood what had happened.
Only he didn’t.
“Jackie—no!” she cried, as with the enraged bellow of a Kodiak bear, Jackson wrenched himself free of his captors and charged forward.
Lina scrambled to her feet, losing Augustus’s jacket and standing there, naked as the day she’d been born as she clasped him by the hand, trying to yank him up. He stood, but it was too late. Jackson leapt over the back of the sofa and smashed into him like a runaway bull in the proverbial china shop. The impact knocked Augustus off his feet, and he flew into the coffee table with Jackson landing heavily atop him, the glass top shattering beneath them in an explosion of glass fragments and shards.
“You son of a bitch!” Jackson began swinging his bound fists, beating the shit out of Augustus. He roared, garbled, furious, inarticulate words, and Lina rushed forward, heedless of the broken glass under her bare feet.
“Jackie, stop!” she screamed, grabbing him by one massive arm and struggling to restrain him. “Leave him alone!”
Tejano’s guards seized him from behind and dragged him, swinging, kicking and yelling, away from Augustus.
“Qué chingados, mayate?” Tejano took the Jose Cuervo bottle and, brows furrowed, smashed it into the side of Jackson’s head. More splintered glass went flying, and the nearly full liter of tequila doused Jackson, mixing with his blood, drenching his skin and shirt.
Lina felt a swell of outrage at this. She’d grabbed Augustus’s coat from the floor and shrugged it on, but when she started to charge forward in her brother’s defense, she stepped down on broken glass hard enough to cut open her heel. The bright, sudden pain snapped her to her senses. She winced, sucking in a sharp breath, and hobbled sideways, just as Peaches rushed forward and caught her.
“What the fuck, man?” Tejano roared, clasping Jackson by the chin and shoving his head back while his guards held his arms. The blow from the liquor bottle had nearly knocked Jackie out; his knees had buckled, and he dangled, slack-jawed and dazed, between them. He grimaced as Tejano’s fingers crushed his jawline, but only struggled weakly.
“You think you got balls, coming into my house, wailing on my hombre, mayate?” Tejano punched him in the face, and Jackson floundered sideways, nearly crashing to the floor.
“Hold him up,” Tejano snapped to his men. “Hold that motherfucker’s sorry ass up.” To Jackson, he snarled, “You gonna bust my motherfucking table?” Another punch, this time to the gut, and Jackie doubled over, whoofing for agonized breath. “Then make me waste my motherfucking Cuervo Gold?” Another blow, and this time Jackie collapsed heavily to the floor, crumpling in a shuddering, gasping heap at Tejano’s feet.
“Leave…him alone,” Valien cried out hoarsely. His fangs had dropped somewhat, his eyes rolling over to glossy black, but even the bloodlust couldn’t imbue him with enough strength to do more than stumble clumsily to his feet. “This…this is between you…and me, Cervantes. Leave him out of it.”
Tejano blinked at him, as if momentarily surprised by the younger man’s boldness. Then his pupils likewise engorged, his eyes yielding to obsidian with terrifying speed, the vicious lengths of his canines forcing his jaw open, viper-like and swift.
He reached for his nearest guard, his hand darting beneath the larger man’s jacket lapel. When he drew back, he pulled a gleaming, chrome-plated pistol from the man’s hidden shoulder holster. Without hesitation—without as much as a full breath—Tejano swung his arm out, his index finger folding inward on the trigger.
The report of gunfire was deafening, the cloud of sudden smoke acrid and hot. Peaches uttered a frightened, birdlike screech and hunkered down, clapping her hands over her ears. The shot struck Valien in the chest, knocking him backwards and off his feet. He whirled in a clumsy pirouette, a thin trail of blood trailing him in the open air before splattering to the pale tiles of the floor beneath him as he crumpled.
“No!” Jackson howled, his face twisted with stunned grief.
Oh, Jesus! Lina fell to her knees amid the ruins of the coffee table—the glass, spilled slices of oranges and pineapple, the scattered cubes of fallen cheese. “Augustus!”
His eyes were closed, his hair and clothing sparkling again, this time from the glass, not any illusions or light-sensitivity. His forehead and cheeks had been riddled with thin, deep lacerations, his pale skin smeared with blood.
Augustus, she pleaded, shaking his shoulders, trying to rouse him. Oh, God, Augustus, please wake up! You have to wake up!
“You think this is a game, mayate? You think I’m playing with you?” Tejano demanded, swinging the gun now toward Jackson and shoving the muzzle against the sweat-glossed crest of his pate. “Let’s play a game, then. I said let’s play a motherfucking game—you and me. Tag, motherfucker. You’re it.”
“No!” Lina cried, leaping to her feet, hands outstretched. “Don’t!”
Tejano whipped his head around to face her, his brow arched in momentary surprise. All too late, Lina remembered something Augustus had told her earlier when he’d been drunk. Something important. He’d said it with a smile, meaning it in good fun, but oh, God, the shit had just gotten real, and it had gotten deep—they were in over their heads now, all of them.
Don’t worry, ma chéri. As long as I’m conscious, those shields will hold.
The shields in her mind. The ones concealing the truth. Which, she realized in panic-stricken alarm, was no longer a secret.
Tejano’s eyes flew wide as he blinked between Lina and Jackson. “You pinche puta,” he gasped. “You…motherfucking bitch!” Glaring at his guards, his brows twisting with sudden, renewed fury, he screamed, “She’s a goddamn cop!”
She heard the distinctive, overlapping clatter as the men lining the perimeter of the room suddenly ratcheted the safeties off on their assault rifles, locking and loading.
Oh, shit! Lina backpedaled, her feet slipping out from underneath her in her haste. She crashed onto her side, landing in the glass shards and slicing open her hip and thigh, then tore open the soles of both feet as she scrambled upright again, leaping for the cover of the couch. As loud as Tejano’s single pistol shot had seemed, the sudden roar of automatic gunfire sounded like ground zero at the base of Mount Vesuvius—on the Pompeii side.
She screamed, hands clasped over her head, and ducked in a fetal position as bullets tore into the sofas, sending downy fragments of upholstery and insulation flying everywhere in a sudden, dizzying blizzard. More rounds sprayed the walls above her head; she heard more glass shattering as framed, oversized photos of vaginas exploded on impact.
“Kill that bitch!” Tejano bellowed above the ungodly din. “I said shoot that motherfucking chota!”
He apparently didn’t give a shit that Peaches happened to be in the line of fire as well. The poor girl wailed, eyes clamped tightly with terror, her fingers tangled in her long blonde hair as she cowered nearby. Lina crawled closer to her and grabbed her by the wrist, drawing her wide-eyed, frightened gaze.
“Tell me you have a gun on you!” Lina yelled.
Peaches shook her head. “You’re a cop?” she cried, and Lina nodded grimly. “Shouldn’t you have a gun? Can’t you arrest him or something? He’s gone crazy!”
They both shrank, yelping, as another round of gunfire tore through the sofa above them, shredding the upholstery and peppering them with more downy fuzz.
“Help me,” Lina snapped at Peaches as she reached for Augustus, pawing at his sleeve. Hooking her fingers against his arm, she dragged him toward her. He was still unconscious and dead-weight heavy. Peaches grabbed a hold of the front of his shirt and the two of them hauled him closer to the shelter of the sofa.
Lina could see a trail of blood on the floor from where they’d dragged him, and more blood streaked in his hair. The frame of the coffee table was wrought iron; he’d struck the back of his head against it when he’d fallen.
“Augustus,” she whispered, cradling his face between her hands, trying to shield him from falling glass and debris with her body as she leaned over him. “Please wake up.” Choking on gun smoke, grit, and tears, she pressed her forehead to his and closed her eyes. Augustus, goddammit, we’re in trouble. I really need you right now!
Over the rapid fire of the six AR-15s aimed in her general direction, Lina became aware of another sound, one that grew steadily louder and louder until the furious roar drowned out the gunshots altogether—motorcycle engines, revved to screeching, deafening decibels. More than a dozen spears of bright, pale light suddenly pierced through the windows circling the terrace, and then Duke Parker, his daughter Taya, Siervo Ruiz and the remaining members of Valien’s corillo came crashing through the enormous panes, bursting in from the landscaped yard outside, sending more glass flying in all directions.
Peaches screamed again but the sound was swallowed by the buzz-saw crescendo of the motorcycle engines and the piercing shrieks as tire treads skidded and squalled for purchase on the slick floor tiles. Armed with sawed-off shotguns, high-caliber pistols and automatic rifles, the corillo didn’t even wait until their bikes had skidded to complete stops before opening fire on Tejano and his crew.
Lina felt Augustus catch her by the hand, and jumped in surprise. You’re awake! she exclaimed, unable to surpress a grin as she turned to look down at him. Without waiting for him to reply, she uttered a little cry of relief and fell against him in an embrace. Oh, thank God, Augustus, you’re alright!
That’s probably…a matter of…opinion, he replied, but when she drew back, he smiled weakly. What happened?
My brother tried to kill you, she said. Then Tejano tried to kill us both. At the moment, Valien’s corillo is trying to kill Tejano.
With Lina’s help, Augustus sat up and grimaced. Taking note of the flying bullets, he heeded her advice to keep his head down and glanced between her and Peaches. “I should’ve let you bring a gun,” he shouted to Lina.
“You think?” Lina yelled back. At that moment, one of Tejano’s guards flipped over the back of the couch, somersaulting ass over elbows and landing in a sprawled heap less than a foot away from them. He lay face-down and motionless; judging by the puddle of blood that began to rapidly spread from beneath him, he’d been dead before he hit the floor. His AR-15 was nowhere in sight, but an enormous pistol lay near his outstretched hand—a ridiculous-looking, gold-plated 9 millimeter with pearl inlays on the grip.
Augustus and Lina both caught sight of it at the same time. He held out his hand, and as if on an invisible line, the gun lifted off the ground, then flew toward him. Offering it to her, he said, “Will this work?”
Lina took the gun in hand, ejecting the magazine to check the number of rounds left. It wasn’t her first choice in weapons, but then again, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Slapping it back home again, she nodded. “It’ll do.”
Augustus nodded once. “Good,” he said. Then his eyes rolled skyward and he drooped sideways, crumpling against Peaches, who abruptly started screaming again.
“He’s dead,” she wailed. “Oh my God, get him off me! He’s dead!”
“No, he’s not,” Lina said, having scrambled forward in bright new alarm when he’d fallen. Laying him back against the floor, she pressed her fingertips lightly against the slope of his neck. “He’s just out again. It was too much too soon after hitting his head, using his telekinesis.”
“His what?” Peaches cried, shaking her head. Yelling to be heard over the gunshots, she added, “I don’t speak Spanish!”
As she swept her frightened gaze wildly past Lina’s shoulder, something grabbed her attention and she scuttled back, pressing herself against the ruined upholstery of the couch in obvious alarm. Lina swung around to look behind her.
“You…motherfucking…bitch!” Tejano seethed as he staggered around the edge of the sofas. “I’ll fucking…kill you!”
He bled from far too many glass cuts to count, his face and torso riddled with lacerations, his robe blood-stained and tattered now. He held an AR-15 clasped at the ready between his hands and leveled the muzzle at Lina.
Oh, shit, she thought, scrambling backwards even though she knew it was pointless—there wasn’t anything between them she could use for shelter and nothing she could get between them to protect herself, not in the split-second it would take for him to pull the trigger.
Tejano cut Augustus a glance and grinned, his teeth blood-smeared. “Both of you,” he said. “Lying ass…motherfuckers…think you can come up in here and punk me! Chingate! Vete a la verga culero!”
Lina watched as he folded his finger inward against the automatic rifle’s trigger in what seemed like extreme slow motion. All of the noise in the room seemed to have abruptly silenced, and there was nothing in that moment except for the soft click as the trigger fully retracted. As the gun discharged—set to fully automatic fire and releasing a sudden stream of bullets—she cowered, hunkering down to press herself against Augustus’s chest in her absolute terror. He must have roused somewhat, because she felt him draw his arm around her shoulders. Clutching at him, she clamped her eyes shut and waited for the pain, the moment of impact as the rounds ripped into her, shredding her to pieces, pulverizing muscle, tissue, sinew, and bones.
Oh, God, she thought, unable to scream, unable to breathe. Oh, God, please…please, no!
And then what felt like the leading edge of a massive wave swept over, then through her, a tsunami without water, the air rippling out in a tremendous, powerful surge. She felt her inner ears pop as if adjusting to the sudden changes in pressure of an airplane in flight and she gasped, because she’d felt these things clearly—but no bullets hitting her. Opening her eyes and lifting her head, she blinked in bewilderment.
The air between her and Tejano seemed to ripple and shimmer, like the turbulent surface of a disturbed body of water. Caught in this undulating yet invisible plane, she could see small, dark pinpoints, dozens of them, bobbing and nodding.
Bullets, she realized. Those are the rounds Tejano shot at us.
Augustus had managed to sit up. His eyes were open, his brows crimped so deeply, even from her vantage, it took her a moment to realize his pupils had enlarged from the bloodlust again. He kept his left arm around Lina, but held his right hand outstretched, his fingers splayed wide, as if commanding the very air in front of him to draw to a halt.
Jesus Christ! she thought in stunned disbelief. He stopped the bullets!
Tejano must not have realized this at first, however, because his face twisted with rage, growing flushed and slick with sweat. “Te voy a matar!” he screamed, firing again, wildly swinging the gun back and forth. I’m going to kill you!
“Augustus—!” Lina cried, shrinking against his shoulder again.
He uttered a low, breathless grunt, as if from exertion, and she felt his arm around her tighten. As she watched, the bullets flew directly at them, but like the ones before them, abruptly stopped, suspended in midair. This time, Cervantes realized he hadn’t missed; there hadn’t been a malfunction of some sort with the gun. He saw Augustus’s extended hand, his bloodlust-engorged pupils, and the enormity of the psionic energy he projected must have finally seeped through Tejano’s thick skull to register in his brain.
His eyes widened and he stumbled back, all of the color draining from his face, leaving him ashen. “Qué chingados…?” he whispered, lowering the rifle in confused shock. What the fuck…? “How…how did you…?”
“I’ve been around for awhile, motherfucker,” Augustus told him, his voice low and menacing, nearly a growl. And as he closed his fingers into a tight, sudden fist, the rippling effect in the air vanished. All of the bullets clattered to the ground, falling like rain to land among the broken fragments of glass and scattered fruit. In Lina’s mind, she heard him say, He’s yours, ma chéri.
It was all of the invitation she needed. Her brows narrowing, she raised the gold pistol, leveling the muzzle at Tejano’s face. Before he could even think to raise his own gun again, she squeezed the trigger, feeling the gilded stock buck powerfully against her palm.
She hit him right above the bridge of his nose. The round must have been hollow-point, because there was no exit wound, no backsplash of bone and brain matter. Instead, the bullet shredded his brain as it ricocheted violently inside of his skull, and his eyes rolled back as he pitched sideways, crashing to the floor.
“Nice shot,” Augustus said.
“Told you I was good.” Lina turned to him and grinned, but the smile faltered on her lips when she realized he was pale—too pale. With a low sigh, he tipped his head back, his eyelids fluttering closed. His hand, still extended, drooped heavily to the floor beside him.
“Augustus,” she exclaimed, grabbing him by the shoulders and giving him a shake. “Don’t do this to me, not again. Wake up!”
“I’m…alright,” he murmured, without opening his eyes. “Mon Dieu, I’m just…really getting too old…for this shit.”
* * *
Within moments it was over. Tejano had apparently only brought a light contingency of guards with him from Miami, and while the six who had been posted as sentries around the terrace had quickly been joined by at least that many more during the course of the firefight, in the end, Valien’s corillo had still outnumbered—and ultimately outgunned—them. As the dust and debris began to settle, Lina heard Taya crying out.
“Jackie!”
Even though Jackson couldn’t hear her, he hadn’t missed her grand entrance—on what looked like his bright blue motorcycle to boot. Bloody, battered, and half-dazed, he managed to sit up as she ran to him, crashing into his arms with a loud sob. “I’m alright,” he told her. “It’s all good, baby girl. It’s all good.”
“Where’s Valien?” Duke asked. Lina had to admit, as big and burly as some of Tejano’s goons had appeared, Duke Parker made them all look like pussies. He stomped through the wreckage of Tejano’s once-luxurious living room like Godzilla through the streets of Tokyo, a deep-set scowl on his face and his mouth matching the grim downturn of his mustache.
Jackson was already on his feet and rushing to his friend’s side, with Taya hurrying after him. As Jackie fell to his knees next to Valien, he uttered a strangled, anguished sound, and Lina could see tears gleaming in his eyes.
“Is…is he…?” Taya asked, her voice little more than a hush.
Jackie looked up at her, his face twisted with helpless despair. “He’s still alive,” he said, his hands moving unconsciously, falling in tandem with his spoken words in the gestures and signs that he knew by rote. “He’s still breathing, but he…he…!”
One by one, the corillo members gathered around their fallen leader in a close-knit, grieving huddle.
“Goddamn it,” Duke said, choked and hoarse.
“Lina.” Augustus caught her by the hand. He still sat slumped against the couch base, his head tilted back, as if too weak and exhausted to move. But he’d opened his eyes and looked gravely at her now, his brows crimped slightly. “My pocket…in the suit coat.”
“What?” Puzzled, she shook her head. “I don’t…”
“The suit coat pocket,” he murmured, his eyes closing again. “Inner pocket…”
He meant his suit coat, the one she’d thrown on. Drawing back the lapel, she looked down the front panel, along the inner lining, and saw the flap of a small pocket. She dipped her hand inside and pulled out what he’d hidden there—a small terra cotta vial.
“The first blood,” she gasped, eyes widening.
Augustus nodded once. “Give it…to the boy. Make him drink it.”
Lina stared at the bottle in her hand. She thought of all of the things that blood could be used for—her mother’s cancer, her grandfather’s dementia, her brother’s deafness. Then she blinked at Augustus in stricken dismay.
Eleanor, she said, realizing at last that maybe Lamar Davenant hadn’t been the only one who had been desperate to get their hands on that vial. You want this. You’ve wanted it all along—for Eleanor. It would cure her.
He closed his eyes, his brows lifted as if he felt pain, his lips pressed together in a thin line. It is not mine to take any more than Lamar’s, he whispered. It never has been.
Cradling her hand lightly between his own, he folded her fingers in toward her palm, around the vial of first blood. It belongs to Valien, ma chéri, he said. Give it to him.
Lina nodded, but in that moment, her heart broke for him. She didn’t hate him for any ulterior motives he might have had, because she’d shared them. The first blood was too great a temptation not to.
She stood, drawing his coat around her slender frame more securely. When she approached the group gathered around Valien, she hunched her shoulders, feeling out of place among them. Jackie looked up as she eased her way through the crowd. His cheeks glistened with tears, his broad shoulders shuddering.
Valien lay with his head in Taya’s lap, and she hiccupped against sobs as she stroked his dark hair. He was still alive, but only barely from the looks of things. The front of his shirt was blood-soaked. Tejano’s bullet must have hit his lung, because Lina could hear a high-pitched, wheezing sound, even though Jackie had clapped one of his large hands over the entry wound in a failed attempt to stave both blood flow and air loss. Blood peppered out of Valien’s mouth with every ragged, labored gasp for breath; it dribbled in thin rivulets from his nostrils. His eyes were open, but glassy and dazed.
“Brandon…” he croaked as Lina knelt beside her brother. “He…he’s not…” His voice dissolved into strained coughs that left him writhing in pain, choking on blood.
“Hush now,” Taya soothed as her bottom lip trembled and more tears spilled. “Don’t try to talk, Valien.”
His brows furrowed and he grabbed Lina by the hand, his grip surprisingly forceful. “Brandon’s not…here,” he gasped. “Check…the house…make sure of it. But I…I can’t…I can’t…”
“He can’t sense him,” Jackie said to Lina, who found herself absurdly touched that, despite his own injury and pain, Valien somehow seemed more concerned about Brandon than himself. “He’s tried since we came here, but he…he hasn’t…”
“We’ll find him,” she promised Valien, trying to smile. “I have something that can help you. Something that belongs to you.” Opening her hand, she held up the small clay jar so he could see it. “It was inside the wayob statue. Do you know what it is?”
He shook his head, wheezing for feeble breath.
“It’s more precious than gold,” she breathed, slipping her fingernail beneath the edge of the tightly sealed stone cap and wiggling it loose. Her eyes stung with sudden tears and her throat seemed to close in on itself. Borrowing the words Augustus had offered her, she said, “It’s the blood of the wayob, the first blood, and it’s what made your species what you are.” She smiled again, less forced this time. “It will heal you.”