THE PIER
GRUENWALD COMMONS
FRIDAY, 1:57 AM
They talked as Esperanza drove toward Gruenwald Commons. They had a lot to catch up on, and Silas had to admit, much of it wasn’t bad. Like him, she wasn’t evil per se. Amoral would be a more appropriate term. But she had always been ambitious. Self-centered. Her Purpose had never been enough. She always wanted more. And like her namesake of legend, Lilith, she was hungry for it, ready to devour anything that got in her way.
Still, through the millennia, the two of them had had good times.
“By the way, we never got around to it at the bar,” Silas said. “What did you have to tell me earlier?”
“Tell you?”
“You wanted to meet me. Said you had some information you wanted to share.”
“Did I?”
He rolled his eyes. They’d had some good times, sure enough…but that didn’t mean he could believe a word that came out of her mouth.
“So, it was just a ruse to see me?”
She laughed. “Ruse? Who uses ‘ruse’ anymore?” She turned on the blinker and turned right, in the direction of the harbor. “What if I was just wanting to see you again, mi amor? Is it so wrong for a wife to miss her husband?”
“You know we’re horrible together.”
“I thought we were wonderful.” She almost squealed with sensual pleasure as she spoke the word ‘wonderful’.
“I’m sure the victims of the Bubonic Plague didn’t think so. We got a little carried away.”
“We were merely distracted by our love for each other. Nothing more romantic than only having eyes for one’s mate.”
Silas pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.
“You always did invest too much in these humans, you know,” she continued. “None of us ever understood it. You actually pitied them.”
He didn’t say anything for a few moments, reflecting on the centuries. “It wasn’t pity,” he finally said. “In fact, I think it’s more like envy. Many of those we’ve taken departed for their Reward—something we’ll never experience. Others, sure. Some were downright pitiful. But in the end, the only thing I’ve ever done is follow my Purpose. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Purpose.” She scoffed at the word. “That’s all you ever used to talk about. You never looked toward the horizon. Never saw the bigger picture.”
She pulled the car up to a long metal warehouse and put it in park. Silas could hear water lapping up against wooden pylons on the other side of the building. The gentle creaking of the pier swaying under the harbor’s current.
“Omo Sango? He’s not at the storage facility?” Silas asked, intentionally changing the subject. Last thing he needed was for them to get into a full-blown argument in Narco gang territory.
“He doesn’t spend all his time there,” she said. “He does run a business, you know.”
She opened the door to get out, but Silas grabbed her arm like a striking viper. “Wait.”
Esperanza looked at him in surprise.
“Before we go see him, tell me what you wanted to tell me.”
She eyed him up and down, as if contemplating her options.
“I know you didn’t just want to see me for old time’s sake, Essie. There was a purpose to reaching out to me. What was it?”
She hesitated a moment. “I wanted to warn you.”
“About?”
She brushed a stray hair from her eyes but wouldn’t look at him directly. “They’re gathering, Ankou.”
There was no need for her to elaborate on who ‘they’ were. Silas had been expecting this.
“No big surprise. You’re in town, too.”
“Water is wet.”
“And I assume they’ll be calling for an enclave soon?”
She nodded. “They’re all drawn to the Hand. Just as you were. It calls to them. Soon, there will be a gathering of our kind. A motion for a vote of no confidence has already been issued.”
“By who?”
“I don’t know. They won’t discuss it until the time of the meeting.”
Silas figured as much. An enclave was the next logical step to the dilemma. His rule and ability to deal with the mortal in possession of the Hand of Cain would be called into question. He’d be forced to defend his position…and someone—one of their own kind—obviously had their sights set on his throne.
“And you swear this isn’t your doing?” he asked her. “You’re not the one to make the motion?”
She shook her head. “Never. You know I’d never stab you in the back like that. When I take you down, you’ll see me coming all the way.”
She smiled mischievously at him and he could do nothing but grin back. She was right. Essie was all about open attack. She wasn’t averse to using subterfuge from time to time, but a play at the throne…she would want it to be a fair fight.
He let go of her arm and they got out of the car. Esperanza led him around the other side of the building to a chain-linked fence topped with razor wire. A gate stood just a few feet away with two gangster thugs standing guard. Automatic weapons rested snugly in the crooks of their arms.
She strode up to the gate and said something in Spanish to them. They opened the gate with bowed heads and let the two of them pass without a word.
Once past the guards, they strode casually down the pier toward a large yacht moored to the dock. Workers busied themselves removing crates from the craft and loading them into a waiting Mercedes Sprinter. A few of the workers tensed when they noticed their approach, then resumed their activity once they saw Esperanza.
Silas watched, scanning each person carefully as they walked. None of them appeared to have the same tattoos he’d seen his attackers wearing the night before. It didn’t mean they weren’t part of the crew, but he didn’t think so.
Without talking to any of the workers, Esperanza stalked up the gangplank to the top deck of the yacht and Silas followed without concern. As far as he knew, he was still under his bride’s protection and had no need to fear any of them. Besides that, he’d managed to put the fear of God into their leader, Omo Sango, yesterday and he doubted the big man would test fate by trying to kill his fabricated body during their meeting now.
As he stepped on deck, he had no trouble picking the Babalowa out from the rest of the crowd. With the man’s sheer enormity, he stood out from the crowd like a beach ball amid a set of children’s building blocks.
“Omo Sango,” he said, walking up to the leader of Los Cuernos del Diablo and extending his hand.
The big man accepted the offered hand and they shook in greeting.
“What can I do for you tonight, Senior Muerte?” Omo Sango said. He looked curiously down at Silas as he spoke. “You name it and it’s yours.”
“I have a favor to ask you.”
“He’s hoping you will perform the Diloggon for him,” Esperanza interrupted. She was getting impatient. “He is missing a human and needs you to divine her whereabouts.”
“She’s a bartender.” Silas handed the Babalowa the note he’d been given. “Her name is Courtney, not ‘human’. And I think she’s in danger.”
Omo Sango looked at the note, then back at Silas. “Sure. I will see what the Orisha tells me about her, but nothing more.”
“I understand.”
Omo Sango instructed everyone onboard to form a circle around him and he sat down on deck, crossing his legs. Then, he reached into a pouch attached to his belt, withdrew sixteen cowry shells, and tossed them on the ground in front of him. The big man began chanting under his breath, eyeing the patterns the shells made. He scooped them up in his meaty paw, gave them another shake, and cast the shells again.
Silas watched, taking in everything. His muscles tensed. It was a long shot this would work. He knew from personal experience that the Orishas were fickle spirits. And a few of them were no friends of his. He held his breath, waiting for the Babalowa to speak.
“This is ridiculous,” Esperanza whispered in his ear. “The girl is mostly likely long dead. You’re wasting our time.”
He gave her a sideways glance and growled. “Quiet. Let the man work.”
Omo Sango tossed the shells a third time, then let out a deep breath. “I see something.” He looked up at Silas, then at Esperanza. There was a pause, then she nodded her assent. “The girl you seek is alive, but in danger. On the run even now. Hiding. Hurt.”
“Where? Where is she?”
The big man looked down at the shells and squinted. “At the beach. Near the place where you first met her. She thinks it’s safe there. There’s a hiding spot she’s using among the dunes. But she’s about to be found.”
“Thank you,” Silas said, grabbing Esperanza’s wrist and dragging her off the boat. “Come on!” They ran down the pier, around the warehouse, and leapt into her car. Esperanza, irritated with his desperation, started the car and began to drive back to Summer Haven. “Do you have a mobile?”
“A phone,” she said. “They just call it a phone here.” With one hand on the wheel, she reached into her purse, pulled out a cell phone, and handed it to him.
Unsure how to operate the device, he held the device out from his face, turning it over and over in his hand. “I, uh…”
“Oh, for goodness sake,” Esperanza said, snatching it from his hand and punching at the screen. She handed the phone back to him and he put it to his ear.
“911,” a voice on the other end said. “What is your emergency?”