Читать книгу The Resurrectionist - Sierra Woods - Страница 10

Chapter 2

The sound of a skateboard on the sidewalk always gets on my nerves. I never know whether I’m going to get run down by a herd of teenagers, or if there is a message from my mentor, Burton. This time it was Burton and the muscles in my back tensed. I’m going to need a painkiller by the end of the day if this keeps up.

“Where you been, chica?” He knows that any reference to my ethnic backgrounds will get my immediate attention. When I went to nursing school, I applied for scholarships based on my three ethnic groups, but was denied two of them. Bastards.

“Oh, get off it, Burton. What do you want?” Sometimes I have no patience for the man. Sometimes I want to cuff him just because he’s such a piece of work. Any spiritual entity that’s four thousand years old shouldn’t be such a smart-ass. There’s just something wrong with that.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay? I’m fine.” I narrowed my eyes, immediately suspicious. Him, I never quite trust. “You’ve never asked me how I am before. What’s up?” That niggle between my shoulders was aching again.

“The other-siders have a sense something’s changing in the universe. They want to make sure you and other resurrectionists are unharmed.”

“Unharmed?” Maybe that was why Sam and I had had uncomfortable feelings we couldn’t name. “Who would want to harm us?” Aside from the obvious.

“The Dark.”

“What the hell is that?” As if I needed something to screw up my life more. The judicial system was enough.

“The entity who has disrupted the balance, and grows larger and more dangerous every time evil wins out over good. It is a congealed group of dark souls that has banded together from the deepest part of the nebula. They had been banished for their misdeeds while earthbound and have gathered to form a darker, stronger being. It’s made a declaration to stop the resurrectionists, but most especially you.”

“Me? Why me? What about the others out there?” He said it as if this thing had challenged me to a game of checkers. Was he serious?

“Of that we are uncertain. They ask that you take no unnecessary risks until the threat has passed.”

Jeez. Could they be more nebulous? Unnecessary risks? What the hell was that? Every day I take on a case, and the risk I take with my body and my life to send killers to the nebula is a huge risk. What about that seems unnecessary? I thought they were out there to help me. And I know that most threats generally don’t just pass by without slapping you upside the head.

“Uh, how will I know when that happens?”

“That is unknown. At this time we are offering the warning to all.”

“Well, that’s some comfort, I suppose.”

“Do not underestimate the power of this entity. It has been dormant for millennia and now seeks its vengeance.” For a moment I saw every one of his four thousand years revealed in his eyes, and a chill rose over me as the full effect of his warning got to me. Then the moment was gone, and the teenager with a goofy grin returned. “Man, this is just too much fun.” Hopping on his board, he was off in a flash and a whoop of delight. Too bad more people aren’t pleased so easily. I’m certainly not, though a big gun and a frozen margarita come close.

“I don’t understand what you see in that kid. He’s nothing but trouble.” Sam was right behind me, and I nearly jumped, but I controlled the urge to clobber him. My instincts are finely tuned, and I could have given him a bloody lip just then, or driven his testicles up into his eye sockets, but I restrained myself. Turning, I gave him a glare instead, but the sunglasses made it less effective. Sometimes I’m just too nice.

“What are you doing? You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.” Especially now with universal warnings of doom and gloom on the horizon.

“I know, but with you?” The shrug said it all and his army Ranger training proved it. He liked to live dangerously around me. “That kid’s trouble.”

If he only knew. “He’s harmless. He’s probably just like you were at that age.” Yeah, right.

Sam glared down at me, and I was surprised his shades didn’t melt. “Don’t ever compare me to that kid. Ever.”

O-o-o-kay. An unintended arrow hit a tender spot I hadn’t known existed. “Why not?” I just had to know.

“Don’t go there, Dani. It’s none of your business.”

“You’re the one who made it my business by giving me a bone with nothing on it.”

“Forget it. I heard him mention not taking any risks right now. Is he threatening you?” Sam stepped forward, violating my personal space and trying to pressure me into telling him something I don’t want to. Won’t work on me. I’m immune to that sort of pressure.

I almost laughed. Burton? Threatening me? Pfft. But this new thing? Had me thinking. “It’s fine. See you later.” Some secrets are mine to keep, and I don’t have to explain them to anyone. Not even the man who watches my back.

“Dammit, Dani, if something’s going on I need to know about it. If I’m to protect you, I need to know what’s going on.” He followed me at the pace I set.

“You need to trust me, that’s what you need to do.” I won’t be controlled. After one disastrous relationship like that, I was never doing another, not even with Sam.

He said nothing because he knew I was right and wouldn’t admit it. He didn’t trust anyone. Me more than most, but not enough to sit down and have share-time over coffee. That pissed me off, so this conversation was over. We were at a stalemate on the issue, but at the moment it didn’t matter. I knew he had his reasons that were related to his military service and probably his life growing up in the barrio. These were areas of his life he spoke little of, and I respected that, but I didn’t like it. “Catch you later.”

As I walked away I felt Sam’s eyes watching my ass, not my back, so I put a deliberate saunter in my stride and took a quick look over my shoulder. There he was, feet spread apart, arms crossed over the chest I’d like to spend some time crawling across. Seriously, there ought to be a cartography class for women who want to map out a man’s geography to remember fondly later. Then, I caught his gaze over the rim of my sunglasses, and there was nothing except complete male appreciation in those eyes. The look said he’d have me on my back with my feet in the air if he thought he could do it without getting his jewels crushed. That made me laugh, and I turned around again, leaving him with his tongue hanging out.

It’s good to know that there are some consistencies in life I can depend on and for some men to behave like men. That thought made me smile a little bigger, and the tension of the day eased a bit. Sam was nothing if not dependable.

* * *

There’s only one thing I hate worse than weepy women, and that’s weepy men. Today, I had ’em both. They’re manipulative, whether they mean to be or not. People come to me all the time to resurrect their loved ones, but if it isn’t for the right reasons, I won’t help them no matter how much they cry. I hate being manipulated.

A young couple, Juanita and Julio Ramirez, sat across the desk from me in my office. The pain in her eyes reached out to me. “Please, please, Miss Wright. You have to help us.”

“But this isn’t what I do. You need a psychic, not me. I come in at the end when everything is settled. I don’t find lost people.” I charge in on my white steed and send the bad guy away, but not till all the shootin’s done.

“No one else can do it. He’s our only child, and he’s gone!”

That did it. I was on the job, whether it was normally my job or not. I couldn’t not help, even if all I did was offer comfort.

I have an unfortunate kinship to these people, but they’ll never know it. My personal loss must stay buried in order for me to work successfully with others like me.

Before I could move away, Juanita took my hand in hers. Unable to remove my hand from her grip without looking totally stupid, I had to sit there while she cried onto my skin. My nerves are raw and the sensations I pick up are extreme. That’s why I don’t touch people very often. I pick up their vibes, their emotions, and their life force if I’m not careful. The skin reveals a lot in the sweat, the texture, the nerve endings that send out little pulses, and we just don’t realize it. If people knew others picked up all of that information, we’d never touch each other. Don’t get me started on the bacterial transmission.

With Juanita hanging over my arm and sobbing on the desk, I had no choice except to ingest the energy she put off, and I tried to resist it as much as possible. It was like being simmered in menudo. A greasy soup of animal parts you don’t want to have identified.

“Juanita.” I tried to focus and push away the overload oozing out of her. She was a terrified mother, and I felt every emotion, every pulse of her terror knifing through my head. I had to get the woman off me or we were both going to be on the floor sobbing and nothing would get done to save her son. “Sit up and tell me what’s going on.”

After one last wail, she sat and released my arm. Oh! What a relief. I could breathe again. I couldn’t think without having her emotions bleed into my brain. It was sad enough in there. It didn’t need any help.

Juanita was one of those unfortunate women who were too caught up in appearances. At around age twenty-four or so, she was truly beautiful, her skin flawless, her hair shoulder length and a thick, dark brown. It was the makeup that killed the effect. She’d shaved off her brows completely and drawn them in with a pencil in an unnaturally high arch on her forehead.

Maybe she thought it looked good. Maybe Julio liked her that way, but the effect made her look overly alert, as if she were questioning everything you say.

“Well.” She looked to her husband, who had yet to say a word. “Our son, Roberto, has been missing for two days. Two days! The police are too slow. He’s out there by himself.” The implication being that if he weren’t found immediately, he was going to die. The bigger implication was that he was already dead. I recalled hearing something about this case and feeling the urgent energy of the cops, but I tried not to watch or listen to the news too much. It overwhelms and depresses me.

With trembling hands, she slid a picture of an engaging-looking, happy little boy, about the age of six or so, with one front tooth missing. I didn’t touch the photo because I was certain I would end up on my knees in pain. I don’t like to do that in front of clients. Kinda puts people off when the expert loses her mind.

“When did you last see him? Is it possible he’s simply run away?” The truth is, if the cops don’t find a kidnapped child right away, the kid is probably already dead or out of state and unlikely to be recovered.

“He didn’t run away. He didn’t come home from school. My cousin, Filberto, was to get him because I had a dentist appointment, but Roberto never came out of the school.” She covered her face with her hands. “He’s gone!”

Never came home, my ass. If I had hackles they’d be standing straight up. You didn’t need to be a resurrectionist to smell something foul in the story. “Was Filberto questioned by the police?” Something in me sizzled when I said his name, and I jumped as if I’d been stuck with a cattle prod. Bad sign for Filberto’s team.

“Oh, sure, I know what you think, but he’d never hurt my baby. Never.” Wiping her eyes with a tissue, she was careful not to disturb the black mascara topping off her wide-eye look.

The skin on my back began to itch and crawl, as if maggots had already begun to eat my flesh. Not a good sign, either. Everyone has a sixth sense; some are just more highly developed than others.

Mine was on fire.

“I need to meet with your family. Can you set that up for tonight?” I looked at my watch. It was almost 6 p.m. “In a few hours, please. We have to move fast.” I was fairly certain it wasn’t going to be fast enough.

“We’ll do anything to get our baby back.”

Leaning forward over the desk, I focused on Juanita, cupped my hands around her face, and held her gaze for a few seconds. At first she was startled, but then she held my gaze. That’s not easy. I’m a little scary sometimes. She was true, and I released her. “Are you certain you’ll do anything to find him?”

“Yes.” She hadn’t blinked and neither had I. You’d be surprised what shit could happen in the blink of an eye.

“I’ll see you around eight.” I slid a piece of paper across the desk. “Write down your address.”

I walked them to the door with a mental sigh. It was going to be a long night. Calling Sam occurred to me, but after our conversation this morning I was feeling ornery. Besides, I wasn’t doing a resurrection. Just information gathering, so technically I didn’t have to call him.

I just love technicalities when they work in my favor.

* * *

I arrived at the Ramirez house a few minutes early. I like to watch a house for a little while before walking in. Opening the door for a person I didn’t know got me killed once. It ain’t happening again.

Instincts on full alert, I approached the door. Letting my senses reach out, I felt for imminent danger, but found nothing, so I rang the doorbell. Burton and the other-siders had to be mistaken. There was no big, bad darkness out to get me, just a missing boy who needed to be found. Looking overhead, I saw no threat. I was just a simple resurrectionist doing a job. I wasn’t any threat to a universal force.

But I kept my right hand free to grab my gun, anyway. I carry a 9mm semiauto. I also tuck a derringer in the top of my boot, but that requires a little extra maneuvering to get to. Most people aren’t used to women carrying weapons openly, so I wear a light blazer over my shirt and shoulder holster. Basic black, goes with everything. And hides the dagger strapped to my left wrist too.

“Miss Wright, please come in.” Julio opened the door and ushered me in. Here, everyone says Miss, not Ms., but it means the same thing. “We’re here, like you said. Tell us what we need to do.”

Oh, he might not like what I was suspecting he had to do. “Thank you. How about I just talk to everyone, and we go from there?”

“I don’t know if it will help.” He swayed slightly as he held on to the door, and I detected the faint odor of tequila leaking from his pores. After what he’d been through, I couldn’t begrudge him a shot or two of fortitude.

“Someone knows something.” He shrugged, but led me to the kitchen table, which was the hub of the family activity. This was a typical Catholic-Hispanic household with crosses of various sizes around the house and a small shrine in the living room. My grandmother’s house is nearly identical, except she has a shrine to Buddha. No matter, same deal.

“We’re here because I believe someone here may have information about Roberto they haven’t told the police. On his own he’s not going to survive for long.”

“You think he’s still alive? After all this time can he be alive?”

This question was posed by one of the family matriarchs. Although only two days had passed since his disappearance, I was certain it felt like an eternity. Anger and grief warred for control in her eyes. She was afraid to hope, afraid to believe he would be found, and terrified something she didn’t want to think about had already happened. I wanted to help this family, but I knew I was going to bring more bad news. That part wasn’t my problem to deal with. Recovering a child was. I hoped.

“That’s what I’m here to find out.”

“Are you a curandera?” she asked, watchful and suspicious.

That’s the Hispanic version of a witch-woman or a healer, depending on the interpretation. Not my gig, but most people, especially the highly superstitious, are more comfortable with that term. “No. I’m a nurse, not a healer in the way you mean.” Once a nurse, always a nurse. We’re kind of like the marines that way, but without the firepower and snappy haircuts. “Tonight I’m here to see if I can help find Roberto.” I looked away from her and the grief pouring out of her. That kind of energy messes with my mojo. “I need everyone to go outside and form a circle in the yard.”

This family understood the need for ceremony and rituals, so there were no complaints. I entered the circle the family created. Turning, I moved toward Roberto’s parents and held my hands, palms out, toward them.

I don’t have the power to see energy or auras that other resurrectionists do. I feel them, sense them, and almost taste them if they are strong enough. Not very palatable, but it’s not as if I have a choice. I’ll brush my teeth later.

The little charge of energy that flowed from Juanita and Julio was clean. I don’t know how else to explain it, but it wasn’t tainted with evil or deception. I guess I have an evil-ometer in my hands. I have to be careful of whom and what I touch because my senses pick up things when I don’t want them to. One of the undisclosed perks of coming back from the dead.

I focused on the present and the possibility of finding this child. Alive or dead, I wasn’t sure, but at least we could find out what had happened to him.

I moved around the circle with my radar on full alert. It was as if I had a bubble of energy around me with tendrils that reached out for information and drew it back to me. Kind of like an electrical octopus feeding information instead of fish. I felt the vibrations flowing around and over the bubble and absorbed some of the energy. Not unlike static feels when you rub a balloon against your hair. Assuming you have hair. You know what I mean.

One of the women shivered as I approached her and made the sign of the cross, then rubbed her arms. Whatever makes you feel better, I guess. She wasn’t my target, and I moved on. Women were rarely the perpetrators of crimes against children. Sure, you got the ones who murdered their entire families, but those people were mentally ill. They had to be or I couldn’t sleep at night. I was in search of a male. And I had found one. Possibly abused himself, but had never dealt with it.

My hands nearly glowed with golden light, and I began to sweat. Damn. I hate being right sometimes. “Filberto?” I asked. Fear and shame oozed out of this thin young man. In his early twenties, he still carried that uncoordinated stance of a teenager who hadn’t quite found his place in the world. Filberto was going to find his place in the world, and it wasn’t going to be to his liking.

The hairs on my arms stood up, and my evil-ometer went nuts. This was the guy. I knew it. Looking into his eyes, I knew that he knew that I knew it, too. He stepped back, scared shitless of me. My eyes must have been going wild again. I’d have to work on that.

“Get away from me.” He backed up. I stepped forward.

“What did you do?” I didn’t want to touch him and see every blasted detail of it in my mind. I wanted him to confess to these people. Making him tell of his crimes was so much more powerful on the universal scale. It wouldn’t balance the scale, but at least it would help add a stone or two to the side of justice. There needs to be equal parts of good to counter the evil in the world.

Gasps and screams filled the air and broke the circle apart. Juanita wailed the way only a wounded mother could, and the sound set my nerves on edge. I had made that sound once. But now I couldn’t let it or my memory interfere with what was going on in front of me. Filberto continued to back up until he stepped against a large cottonwood tree. “Get away from me. Witch!” he cried and held out his hands. Pfft. As if that was gonna stop me.

I stepped into his personal space, and we both began to glow. From my feet all the way to the top of my head, I was encased in a golden light. It was both healing and protective. Filberto, however, glowed sort of a dark green. Bad news for him. So maybe I’m seeing auras after all.

He broke into a run. Shit. That meant I had to chase him. I hate running in boots. Fortunately, all of the yards in Albuquerque have some sort of fencing. To keep things in or out, I was never sure. So I had to chase him only a few feet and caught him as he was trying to climb over the fence using the trumpet vine like a ladder.

I grabbed him by the back of his jeans and yanked. He came flying, and we landed in a heap. Screams and hysterical Spanish, most of which I didn’t want to have interpreted, landed on us as the family descended. Filberto was ripped out of my hands, and I was left in a heap all by myself. That’s sort of hard to do, so I got up and went after them.

I had to stop them before they killed him. We needed information, not another murder. That wouldn’t be justice for Roberto, and it wouldn’t balance the scale, giving evil more weight. The Dark’s been growing enough from what the other-siders have said. “No! Wait.” I squeezed through the mob and landed on my knees. Crawling forward, I maneuvered myself closer and stood again. How could I stop this before they killed the only person who knew what had happened to Roberto? I could shoot my gun into the air, but in this part of town it probably wouldn’t get any attention.

Fortunately, my years of martial arts had given me some muscle, and I used it now. Elbowing my way through, I nearly fell on top of Julio, who was pummeling his fists into Filberto’s face. The men of the family, some of whom were certainly armed, stood in a protective half circle around the two and let Julio wail on Filberto.

“Stop it!” It was like talking to a couple of pit bulls who had their teeth into each other. I tackled Julio. What else could I do? We fell to the ground, and Julio pulled back with an elbow that landed in my chest. That was gonna hurt later. “If you kill him, we’ll never know where Roberto is.” I didn’t say I thought Roberto was already dead and we needed to recover the body, if possible, for a resurrection and life-swap.

Julio stood abruptly, then I realized he had help. Sam had yanked him to his feet and shoved him into the arms of his cousins. “Hold him.” He pointed to two of the larger men. Without question, they complied and held on to Julio. Now, why don’t men react like that to my direction? That’s just disgusting. Machismo at its finest.

I grabbed hold of Filberto’s shirt, yanking him to a sitting position. He was bloody, and his eyes were swelling shut. Most of his wounds appeared superficial, like a fat lip that bled as if he’d bitten through it, but who knew about what was going on in his brain. He could have damage I couldn’t sense.

“Don’t touch me,” he cried and put his hands up like a girl.

“Oh, please, give it up. You’re caught, so just can the innocent routine.” I hated touching him, even by the shirt, but had to.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Sam, who glowed with his own sort of angry-red aura.

“I followed you.” Sam moved closer to me. “You were supposed to call me if something came up.”

“Had a late case come in.”

“What did you do to my son?” Julio cried and strained against the arms of his cousins. Though he wasn’t the biggest man in the yard, he was fueled by the need for vengeance and to tear something apart. That’s different from the need for justice, which is where I came in.

“Where’s my son?” Juanita collapsed on the ground at his feet, sobbing. The night was alive with cries.

“Yeah, Filberto. What did you do to Roberto?”