Chasing Shadow (Shadow Puppeteer) (19 page)

When I pulled the door open for him, I expect a gust of heat. Instead, we walked into an ice box. The cold air was dense between these walls. At least the light bulbs proved the building wasn’t void of all modern technologies.

“Is it always cold in here?” I asked.

I moved away from the door and my foot slid out from under me. I landed hard on my tailbone and elbows.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, nothing new,” I said.

The fresh blood on my hands glistened under the stark white lights. I pulled myself out of the small puddle, smeared by my body slam, but there were more puddles that lead up to Jose. His eyes followed the puddle too, coming to the same notion I did.

“He’s bleeding badly,” I said.

“I’ve seen him bounce back from much worse.”

As confident as he wanted to sound, his words were pinched. I dropped my shields and sent feelers of energy out towards him. When his head shot up, I withdrew from his emotional bank.

He felt me. No one has ever felt me before. Maybe I underestimated him.

I pressed the elevator button, hoping we didn’t have a long weight. It took longer than I liked and I could see the questions brewing in his eyes when I glanced back at him.

“Do you know everyone personally?” I asked.

“There are a few that need a little more watching than others,” he answered.

When the elevator doors closed, it felt like we were buried alive. There was no music in the elevator, and the gears jerked and grinded. I stole small glances towards the young man, which was easier than looking at Jose. I was tempted to do the empathy touch again, to see if I could feel his emotion, but that was playing with fire.

The elevator gave a ding to let us know we reached our destination. I stepped closer to the exit, wanting off first, but the doors didn’t open.

I slapped my open palm against the door. “We’re stuck.”

“Calm down,” Jose said.

It was hard being calm when we were stuck in a box. I was ready to slide my nails into the crack and pry the door open when gears moaned into action. The hallway was dim and in bad need of upkeep, but it was safer than the street. Dark sheets covered two of the doorways and angry dogs barked behind closed doors further down the hall.

“B422,” Jose said.

I found B422, though the last digit was more like a stain on the door where the brass number fell off. I knocked louder than I intended and the door rattled on its hinges. There was no way anyone would answer. It sounded like I was trying to rob the place.

The silence on the other side was broken by numerous locks being opened. There was nothing but a chain link to keep the door partly closed, but the gun that was pointed straight at my forehead was enough to get me to back up a step.

“Katrina, get the door open. D’s hurt,” Jose ordered.

The door was slammed shut and the chain unlatched. When the door swung open, Katrina held the gun at her side. She was an older woman, made tall in six inch heels. She was beautiful in her youth because bits of that still sparkled around her aged and tired features.

“Oh-My-God,” she said through clenched teeth. There was the slightest hint of an accent. I was starting to feel more like the foreigner. “Come in, come in.”

“Get some towels for the couch, he’s bleeding,” Jose ordered.

She stepped away from the door to allow Jose to walk in first, and then abandoned the door for me to shut behind us. I flipped a few locks in place, though there were seven in all. There was safety and then there was paranoia.

Katrina walked fast in heels, returning with a group of ratty towels. Jose held the young man upright while she stripped him of two coats and a ripped black skull shirt that hugged a lithe frame. His skin was so pale under the blood that coated it. I stepped closer, trying to sort what were bruises and what were tattoos. He was probably my age or a few years older.

Before now, I’d never met anyone who could project their feelings past my shields. His emotions were confusing. I hated the world and he felt sorrow for it.

“The tub first, then I will sew his wounds,” Katrina said.

They carried him down the hall, leaving me forgotten in the living room. There was one naked bulb overhead that gave the room an orange shade. Everything here was worn. The couch was threadbare and lumpy. The rug was a canvas of documented stains. The walls had huge holes and the paint was dingy.

I could see the kitchen from where I stood and some of the cabinets were gone. The windows were patched with boards and there was even a spot between the two windows that the boards barely covered the hole. The place felt like a refrigerator. It was colder in here than the lobby.

“Why was he out alone? We can’t risk him dying. We’re too close to the prize,” Jose was clearly pissed.

“He wanders. You know that. I left him at the club. When he wakes up, if he can string two words together, you can ask him.” Her accent was not the same as Jose’s. “And who is she?”

At Jose’s hesitation, I stepped around the corner. “My name is
Belen
.”

Jose eyes held mine and I knew he was going to come back with questions. I moved closer to the door so that I could see inside the bathroom. The water was already murky.

“Look hun, I mean nothing by it. It’s just that it’s real rough lately with the over population and the lack of provisions from World Congress. They’re hoping we kill each other or starve,” she shook her head to clear the thought. “My name is Katrina, this is D.”

“I can use her help,” Jose said.

Her smile grew weaker. “Can you give us a moment?”

I nodded again and slipped back into the living room, but I didn’t stray very far. I wanted to hear their conversation since it was going to be about me.

Jose’s voice lowered. “You think you can keep the chica for a bit? I have some street use for her. I have a feeling about her. She’s different from the others. She might be the one.”

There was something resigned in the way Katrina sighed.

“I’m sorry for your lost, but you have to let this go. You’re not going to find your daughter like this,” she said. An even longer sigh followed the next statement. “She can stay for now. It’s never permanent anyway.”

I came back into the hallway and pulled the money out. Katrina blinked at what I put on her counter.

“I can pay my own way,” I said. It was important that she didn’t think I was a charity case.

“I appreciate the effort, but money won’t do any good when the next boat brings more prisoners,” Katrina said.

The young man stirred the water, trying to sit up and failed. His eyes were half cast. He was out of it.

“You’re home now. You’re okay,” Katrina whispered. She rubbed a wet washcloth over his face.

D clutched her arm with one hand and raised the other tentatively to his face. His eyes locked on mine, so large and gray with dilated pupils.

“They come,” he said. His accent was the same as Katrina’s, only heavier.

His lip split again and fresh blood colored his bruised skin.

“He says that so often now, but I don’t know what he means,” Katrina said.

She was practically in the tub with him, trying to sooth his shaking. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her shoulder.

D’s next comment was in another language.

For my benefit, Katrina answered in English.

“She’s staying, D,” Katrina said.

Jose kicked away from the tub and motioned for me to follow him out into the hall.

“Will he be okay?”

Jose tapped his temple. “If we could fix his brain, he’d be a lot better.”

“Some of my older outfits are in the spare bedroom,” Katrina called from the bathroom.

“In there,” Jose informed, pointing towards the door. “You can clean your face in the kitchen and come back to change. I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.”

I started towards the kitchen and he caught my arm, pressing a small tin case into my palm.

“After you wash your face, put a little of this up your nose to keep the swelling down,” he said.

He didn’t wait for my question as he went back into the bathroom with Katrina and D, shutting the door behind him.

T
he room I changed in was as rundown as the rest of the apartment. The closet had no doors, the window was boarded up with pieces of wood and the mirror on the dresser was covered with postcards. I walked in further to exam the mirror. All the postcards were of wolves.

Some of them were pictures of grouped wolves, others were single wolves. None of the wolves looked at the camera, not like the large picture of the wolf framed on the wall. This wolf was staring at the photographer. Its fur was incredibly white, except for the grayish tinge of fur around its ears. It was so beautiful, right down to its muzzle.

That shadowy thing just behind my heart gave a pulse, reminding me of its presence. As if I could forget. What was it reacting to this time?

As inviting as the bed looked, I went to the dresser and explored the drawers until I found something I liked. Katrina wore limited colors. The fabric was either black or red.

Though Katrina was short, her clothes fit nicely. The black skirt was nothing special, but the black sleeveless top was low cut and hugged my chest giving me cleavage. I liked the deep v-neck, but I didn’t like how it exposed the scars on my arms. With everything that happened, I was too tired to give the scars a second thought, which was completely new for me.

I turned away from the mirror, knowing that Jose was waiting. The gun sat on the dresser and I was tempted to grab it, but it was empty. It could cause more damage than good if I tried to use it. People on the island weren’t afraid of death. I grabbed the bone knife, wishing I had a sheath. I slid it into my skirt at the small of my back.

The bathroom door was open, but the two were no longer in there. They weren’t in the living room either, but Jose was.

“What if she won’t let me stay?”

Jose tsked. “She will let you stay. You saved her ward.”

“Ward?” I thought the lady was his mother. She looked old enough, and he looked young enough.

“If you ask Katrina, she’ll tell you about it. When I met D, his mind was already gone,” Jose said.

He handed me a jacket and I took it. I had to admit that I was pretty chilly. I valued his company while dreading the inevitable questioning. There was no denying that Jose felt me exploring his mental space.

I didn’t take my first real breath until we were back outside. Now that I had a guide, and a dangerous one at that, I wasn’t so scared. Maybe shock was setting in and gracefully numbing my brain. I stabbed a man and shot at another. Earlier this week I saw a man die at sea and my guardian of eight years was killed less than a few feet away from me.

It was getting harder to breath around the tension in my chest. My stomach was so knotted that I was surprised when it still growled.

“A wise man once said to keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” he said. “So which one am I to you?”

The question startled me. “I haven’t decided.”

I tried to stifle a yawn. Exhaustion was setting in. If the nightmares didn’t keep me awake, I’d be sleeping for a long time.

“Very wise,
chica
. I will tell you about myself to show I am on friendly ground. I was born in the country of Mexico, the state of Sonora. My parents were rebels and we escaped to the island before the mass murders began.”

What he said went in one ear and out the other. As interesting as it would be on any other day, I was ready to crawl in a hole. I followed him into the door of a well lit restaurant. ‘O’ was the only letter in TACO that hadn’t burnt out on the sign. He grabbed the door and swung it open for me. There was a comfortable rush of heat, probably from the ovens in the back.

The place was a cocktail of colors, dark oranges, and bright reds, spots of yellow and green. There were live plants in every corner and one very long vine plant that stretched from one side of the ceiling across to the other. It took a moment to realize that the cockatoo stationed on a swing wasn’t real.

“
Sombreros
and
maracas
,” Jose said, pointing to the line of beautiful straw hats and rattle instruments nailed to the wall.

I was in sensory overload breathing in the spicy scents. I felt like there was so much to learn and not enough time. “This is a restaurant? World Congress would kill to stop this.”

“Go find a table, and I’ll order,” Jose said.

Finding a table wasn’t hard since the place was empty. I pulled out a chair to a table that was pressed against the main window, but thought better and moved to a table by a solid wall. The last thing I needed was someone to recognize me and shoot me through the glass. The possibility was ringing in my head when Jose returned with two trays. His contained three items, mine had a little bit of everything stock piled.

“A little taste of Mexico. Comfort food to sooth culture shock,” he said.

The first bite made my eyes water. It was so spicy. I welcomed having something new to eat. If Jose hadn’t given me that small case of balm to put up my nose, I never would have smelled or tasted the food.

“You will meet a lot of people from around the world here. Most of them are others but a few are humans that knew too much about the real world,” he said.

I thought of Mexico and where that was on the map. It was a shame that World Congress closed its doors to travelers. All the pictures on the wall made Mexico look more joyous than Ardent. Even the dancers in their beautiful dresses looked like they enjoyed their lives.

“Those are pictures from here on the island,
Amiga
. World Congress would not permit these festivities in Mexico anymore.”

Being an outsider, the island appeared stifling, but in reality, it was the world governed by World Congress that was lacking.

Every time I looked up, I found him scrutinizing my appearance. I suddenly felt self-conscious about my looks. I knew where the conversation was heading before he opened his mouth.

“Those are interesting scars for someone so young. It looks like you’ve been battling for a long time,” he said.