A Snake in the Grass (13 page)

Her glare lasted a few more seconds before it
folded into defeat, and she sank down onto the bench next to me,
twisting her apron in her hands. “He is very much like his father,
you know. Headstrong, willful. Miguel was gentler, calmer. Joaquin,
too. Miguel was younger than Estéban, when he took up the machete,
but he was older on the inside. Estéban…he is so very young.”

I reached out and took one of her hands in
mine, because it seemed to be what she needed. “He’s a good kid.
Smart like you would not believe, and he learns so fast. Trust me
when I tell you that he
can
do this, if he has to.” Crap.
This was the exact opposite of the speech I really wanted to give,
but I couldn’t sell the kid short. He’d earned every bit of the
respect I had for him. “But he can’t do it if you’re still clinging
to his sleeve the first time he goes.”

She gave me a smile that was more than a
little tearful, but the glimmering drops caught on her eyelashes
and didn’t fall. “I know. I do. But… I have buried two of my sons
already. A parent should not ever have to bury a child.”

On that point, I couldn’t agree with her
more.

The herd descended for breakfast in waves,
without any sign of Estéban. With Sveta’s promise to look out for
him as she prowled the property during the day, I was surrendered
to Terrence and Carlotta’s tender ministrations again.

We didn’t get very far. At the first touch of
Terrence’s magic, the souls under my skin made it very clear that
they were not pleased to be subjected to more poking and prodding,
and they framed their protests in the form of brain-scrambling
muscle spasms across my shoulders. Every muscle I had – and some I
think I must have borrowed – clenched up and twisted into
impossible knots, contorting my torso in ways it was never meant to
go. Any more, and I was afraid my head really was going to spin
around like the Exorcist. “Enough! God, enough, just stop touching
them!”

Carlotta and Terrence both withdrew to a
corner of the small building, conversing in hushed whispers as I
tried my damnedest not to curl up into the fetal position on the
floor. I breathed through my teeth, concentrating on the feeling of
the barely contained life force throbbing along my spine. It felt
like they’d moved, the line of fire continuing up the back of my
neck right into my long hair, and tracing a path all the way down
the back of both thighs.

“You guys gotta quit this, you’re killing me
here,” I told them, not sure if I was talking to the souls, or the
spell casters. The coiling, churning pain across my back seemed to
relax a bit, and I stretched, trying to loosen up something enough
that I could sit up straight. “Just settle down, ease up. No one’s
going to hurt you. Or me, for that matter.” Bit by bit, the pain
died down, and the sensation of the iridescent tattoos retreated to
their proper locations, stopping just at the top of my shoulders
and the waistband of my jeans. Relieved, I took a few deep breaths,
offering them silent thanks.

“I despise admitting this, but I fear that
Señor Smythe may have been correct yesterday,” Carlotta finally
said, including me in their little secret magic conversation.

Terrence was as surprised as I was. “I was?
About which?”

Carlotta nodded toward me. “They listen to
him. They react to his situations, they react to threats to
themselves and to him. They are not simply spells bound to him,
they are living entities, even separated from their true hosts. It
may be that they will
not
leave him, unless it is their will
to do so.”

“So…what? I just ask them nicely to go away?”
I stared at them both, incredulous. If this was seriously that
easy, I thought I might go and beat my head against a convenient
wall.

“No…no, they must have a home, a vessel.”

Terrence nodded his agreement. “You can’t
just have bits of soul floating around unattached, it doesn’t work
like that.”

I think I liked it better when they were
fighting. “So we’re back to square one, then. No place to put them,
and even if we find somewhere, we can’t be sure that they’ll
migrate willingly.”

“Possibly. Though I have to wonder, if you
spent some more time fostering a relationship with them, if they
might be more accepting of your request, when the time came.
Terrence and I can then spend our efforts trying to devise a
receptacle.”

“You want me to make friends with them? Take
them out on a date, maybe? Seriously?”

She gave me that mom look. “Think of it as
meditation. This is something you were teaching Estéban, yes? It is
good for you.”

And just like that, I was dismissed. Like, go
away kid, you bother me. I blinked at the door as it shut in my
face, then turned around to find myself alone in the Perez
wilderness. Or something.

“You gotta be kidding me,” I muttered,
rubbing my hands over my face. “See what you guys got me into?” The
sensation that rolled across my skin can only be described as
bubbly, like someone had poured fizzy soda pop down my back. They
were amused. “Not helping.”

Whether or not I thought relating to my inner
souls was an option, Carlotta had been right about one thing. I
hadn’t meditated in months. It used to be something I did every
day, rain or shine. It kept me centered, it kept my mind clear, it
let me truly ponder the
bushido
code that I held in such
high esteem.

There hadn’t been time for meditation,
lately. There was Estéban to teach, and my family to take care of,
and my real job, and then that whole demon slaying thing that
seemed less about slaying demons than it did just trying not to die
on a regular basis. There were demon wars and spying angels and
hitchhiking souls. Who had time to just sit and stare into
space?

Well, I did, dammit. I’d make time, I decided
right then and there. Time to get back to my roots, time to
remember who I was and why. Maybe that would help alleviate this
feeling of bleak helplessness that choked me every time I thought
about all things I could
not
do to get myself out of this
mess. And if the souls in my back wanted to get all zen with me,
then maybe we could come to some kind of arrangement. I wasn’t
going to hold my breath for that, but stranger things had
happened.

With my new mission firmly in mind, I marched
off to find myself a quiet place to get in touch with my inner
samurai.

Chapter 9

You would think that finding a quiet place in
a family the size of Esteban’s would be difficult, but there were
actually lots of nooks and crannies where someone could lose
themselves if so inclined. My nook happened to be behind one of the
smaller houses, a place where I could rest my back against a tree,
but still hear the children playing just out of sight. Women called
to each other, there was a hammer pounding across the way, life was
going on unimpeded. People were within shouting distance if I
needed them, and judging by the feeling of invisible insects
scampering up and down my arms, I was still well within the Perez
family wards. It should be safe.

While my environment seemed fairly conducive
to meditation, the rest of me really didn’t want to cooperate. I
sat and let the sun trickle over my skin through the leaves, just
breathing into my core and trying to find a balance point in my own
brain. My mind wasn’t exactly a restful place anymore, but with a
little concentration, I thought I could at least tie up the worst
of the distractions and stuff them in a dark corner.

Yeah, not so much. Everything was irritating
me, from the tiny bug that decided my ankle looked like a snack, to
the musical but incessant bird chirping somewhere over my left
shoulder. The air was too warm despite the occasional breeze, the
sun felt dry and prickly on my arms, and my nose itched. A lot. I
shifted my position, trying to find a better place to sit, but
there were pebbles and sticks digging into my backside and
obviously that one tiny bug had told all his buddies, ’cause there
was suddenly a horde of flying bitey things trying to make a meal
of me. After about the third slap, I gave up on trying to defend
myself.

This wasn’t like me. I normally prided myself
on my ability to focus, to drown out the world and get myself
centered. Sure, I hadn’t actually had time to sit and try to
meditate for…a while…but it wasn’t like I’d forgotten how. It just
wasn’t working for me, this time.

I knew why, of course. I had two hundred and
seventy-five really big distractions, and they were marching up and
down my back like the world’s worst pins and needles. Two hundred
and seventy-five lives, tied inextricably to my own, but with
feelings and instincts all their own. Hard to get centered within
myself when I was so seriously unbalanced. Top heavy. How in the
world was I supposed to find some harmony with those things when it
was next to impossible to be heard over their ‘shouting’?

Honestly, I could tell you about the hours
that I sat there, trying to figure out what was actually
communication from mystical life forces, and what was just my body
saying “Hey, dummy, you have to pee!”, but nobody wants to hear
that. Suffice to say that by the end of it, I was tired, hot,
frustrated, hungry, and had mosquito bites in places I don’t even
want to talk about. I can honestly say that I don’t think I’ve ever
had a more unproductive meditation attempt.

Mentally growling at myself, and the souls, I
opened my eyes to find Rosaline not three feet from me, an anxious
look on her face. “Christ! You scared me to death!” There was a
faint twitch from the marks on my back at my tiny adrenaline surge,
but they settled again as I pushed myself up from my seat, brushing
leaves and grass off my jeans.

“I am sorry, I did not mean to.” She bit her
lower lip, glancing back toward the big house, then seemed to come
to some decision, nodding to herself. “You must go get
Estéban.”

“Wait, what?” There was no mistaking the
tension in her shoulders, anxiety practically oozing out her pores.
“Where’s Estéban? What’s going on?”

“I am not supposed to tell you this. Mama
Carlotta says that it is family business and that we should not
involve you, but Estéban will listen to you where he will not the
rest of us. You must go and fetch him.”

“Rosa, you have to slow down. First, where is
Estéban?”

“He left an hour ago or so. With Paulito and
the others again.”

“Is this about the fight he got into? Is that
why you’re worried about him? The kid will be okay, he can handle
himself.” I reached to pat her arm soothingly, but she jerked out
of my reach, giving me a fierce glare.

“You do not understand. It is not what you
think, and it is no good for him. Please, just go down into town
and bring him home.”

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair.
“Rosa, he’s not going to be happy to see me if I come busting in
there, trying to save his butt like he’s some little kid.”

“Please, Jesse. Please, believe me and trust
me. There is a warehouse on the west side of town. That is where
they will be. Estéban should not be there.” Her dark eyes begged
me, and what can I say, I’m a sucker for a pretty girl.

“Okay. And I’m guessing I shouldn’t tell
Carlotta where I’m going, yes?”

“Oh yes. Oh, thank you Jesse!” The worried
lines vanished from her face instantly and were replaced with a
beaming smile. “Thank you so much!”

“Yeah yeah, it’s what I do.” I couldn’t help
but chuckle. “Don’t suppose I could borrow the keys to a truck or
something, could I?”

She fished a set of keys out of her pocket
and dangled them in front of me. “I came prepared.”

“I see that. All right, go on. And pack some
dinner away for us, okay? If anyone asks, I went down into town to
get some cell reception to call home.” Which wasn’t a bad idea,
actually, while I was down there.

I had no sooner settled into the driver’s
seat of the old pickup truck than something heavy landed in the
bed, and there came a tap-tap-tapping at the back window. I turned
to see Sveta giving me a raised brow, and I just leaned over and
unlocked the passenger door with a sigh. She joined me without even
asking where we were going, or why.

Cosalá seemed oddly quiet for so early in the
evening. Sure, there were a few tourists around, with bags of loot
over their arms and snapping photos at every vaguely photogenic
spot. But that was it, just a few out-of-towners. Maybe everyone
was hurrying home to their own dinners, but the days were getting
longer with the advent of summer, and you would think there would
be more people out in the streets. Running errands, coming home
late from work, chatting with neighbors, something. The few locals
we did see eyed the truck as we rumbled past quickly averted their
eyes, minding their own business so hard it had to be hurting their
heads. Nothing like a billboard-sized sign advertising “Something
Is Not Right Here!”

“This feel weird to you, Sveta?” She only
grunted in reply, but she shifted in her seat and I caught a
glimpse of the gun tucked away at the small of her back. “Yeah, me
too.”

“Warehouse on the west side of town” would
seem like a rather vague designation especially considering that
there were at least a dozen warehouse occupying a small industrial
area just past the town proper. However, at this time of evening,
only one of them had a parking lot full of vehicles, so I figured
that was our best bet.

The two huge guys standing watch on either
side of the big rollup door were also a key clue, and told me that
our company might not be welcome. “Shoulder holsters,” Sveta noted,
“Keep driving.” Didn’t have to tell me twice.
What the hell did
you get into, kid?
The next lot over was empty, and out of line
of sight for Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, and that’s where we
parked.