A Snake in the Grass (8 page)

I rolled my head back and forth a little,
trying to ignore the dance of goosebumps across my skin. There was
no danger here, obviously. How could there be? It was the sheer
quantity of magic, laid over everything like a thick comfortable
rug. The souls rippled under my shirt, under Axel’s spell, wanting
to explore their new surroundings. I closed my eyes for a moment,
silently willing them to calm. The last thing I needed was for them
to put on a show when every person in sight would be able to see me
going up like a homing beacon.

“Jesse!” I had an instant of warning before
arms were around my neck and I was being hugged whether I liked it
or not. With a chuckle, I returned it, then leaned back to look
down at the young woman in my arms.

“Rosaline. How have you been?” Miguel’s wife,
widowed so very young. My heart hurt, just thinking about it, but I
carefully kept those thoughts off my face. I hadn’t talked to her
much, since the fight to retrieve Miguel’s soul, mostly because I
was never quite sure what to say to her. Every time I tried, all I
could think of was how I’d feel if I lost Mira, and then my throat
got all thick and I couldn’t say anything intelligent. Best to not
subject her to my inane babbling.

“I have been well.” She grinned as she
stepped back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked
just like she had on the day she wed, dark eyes aglow with an inner
joy that had always been echoed in Miguel’s smile. They had been so
perfect together. “Mama Carlotta is teaching me to be a
midwife.”

“Oh! That’s…interesting.” I had no idea what
to say to that, but a part of me was very glad to know that
Rosaline had stayed with Miguel’s family after his death. He would
have liked that.

“It is very good to see you again.” She took
one of my hands in both of hers. “Everyone is so happy to have
Estéban home again, and honored that all of you have come.”

“Ah, speaking of everyone…” I turned to make
our own small round of introductions. “Sveta, Terrence, this is
Rosaline Perez. Midwife in training, apparently.”

Sveta inclined her head, which was as good as
a hallelujah chorus from her, and Terrence made a small bow as he
kissed the back of her hand, proving that he could be a charmer
when he was so inclined. “Missus.”

“Mama Carlotta will be along in a moment, but
she wanted me to tell you that we have rooms set up for everyone,
and there is dinner waiting, because she knew you would all be
hungry.”

“Wouldn’t say no to a small bite, and that’s
a fact,” Terrence patted her hand with his gnarled fingers, and
Sveta rolled her eyes behind his back. Funny how his mood changed
the moment a pretty face was involved. “And might there be a chair
for an old man to sit in?”

“Oh! Of course, this way.” Linking her arm
through his, Rosaline led Terrence toward the main house.

I looked to Sveta. “We just got stuck
carrying the bags, didn’t we?”

“Mhmm.”

Before we could pick up our gear and follow,
the crowd parted like the Red Sea, and the matriarch of the Perez
clan appeared, immediately enveloping me in one of those hugs only
moms have. “Jesse. It is so very good to see you.”

Carlotta Perez was a short woman, her head
barely coming up to my shoulder, somewhere in her late fifties or
early sixties if I had to guess. Her dark hair, cut short but
styled in neat curls, was a bit more salt than pepper since the
last time I’d see her, but her round face still glowed when she
smiled. She still had her apron on, with a fine dusting of flour
decorating one cheek, and I wiped it off for her with a chuckle.
“Baking?”

She nodded proudly. “There will be cake!” My
stomach growled at that, and she laughed, delighted. “
Carlos!
Pepito! Tomas! Cárguense las cosas!”
At her command, several
adolescent boys darted out of the throng to take possession of our
crates and luggage, and began the process of hauling everything
into the house. Despite her short stature, there was something
about Carlotta that made her seem eight feet tall, and even I had
to suppress the urge to hop to when she barked.

“Carlotta, this is Sveta.” It occurred to me,
not for the first time, that I had no idea what Sveta’s last name
was. Maybe she didn’t have one, like Madonna or Prince. I stepped
back so the two women could make their greetings, and Carlotta
tilted her head curiously as she looked the young woman over. Sveta
just returned the look, and the silence dragged on long enough that
I started to get uncomfortable. Had something gone wrong when I
wasn’t looking?

Finally, Carlotta sniffed. “You need feeding
up. You’re too skinny.” And then she pulled Sveta into her arms for
the same motherly embrace she’d given me. Sveta’s blue eyes went
wide, looking at me for help, but after a moment she relaxed and
awkwardly returned the hug. Like I said, it was something about
Carlotta. What could you do?

Estéban, suddenly appearing at my shoulder,
gave me a shrug. His cheeks were marred with lipstick from half a
dozen kiss marks, and he scrubbed at his face self-consciously with
the back of his hand. “Everyone is very happy to see me.”

“I can tell.” The crowd was breaking up,
hastened on in no small part by the shooing motions Carlotta was
making in their general direction.

She nodded her satisfaction as the family
slowly dispersed, then turned her gaze back on the three of us.
“Come. You will have dinner, and then you will sleep. We have
tomorrow for catching up.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“
Sí, Mamá
.” The kid and I exchanged
sheepish chuckles at our automatic responses, and Sveta just shook
her head at us, falling into step behind Carlotta as she led us
into the main house.

The Perez kitchen was enormous. It had to be,
to feed so many people at a time. Four ovens, three stoves, a
sprawling kitchen island with a butcher block top where they could
roll out loaf after loaf of handmade bread or piles and piles of
tortillas. Ropes of onions and dried peppers hung from the rafters
of the high ceiling, and there was a large pot of something
bubbling on the farthest stove.

The smells alone were enough to have me
drooling on myself, and I was a bit envious of Terrence who was
already seated at the large table with a bowl of something
soup-like in front of him. Rosaline sat next to him, giggling at
something he was telling her.

“Sit, sit. I will bring dinner.” We found
ourselves mom-bullied onto the bench seats at the table, and food
appeared as if by magic, everything from soup to tortillas to
something with a ton of seafood in it. “Simple food tonight, I am
afraid, but for the
fiesta
, I will be making
chilorio
.”

Oh God. I’d had her
chilorio
at Miguel
and Rosaline’s wedding, and I’d almost moved to Mexico after that.
It was a local specialty, mostly resembling the barbecue pulled
pork from back home, but then they fried up the meat in this chili
sauce that was…I just…no words. “If I wasn’t married,
Carlotta…”

She laughed and patted me on the head. “Eat.”
And we did. I personally ate until I was hurting, and even then
that last bite of homemade tortilla made me consider whether or not
I was really done.

“That was spectacular, missus.” Even Terrence
seemed happily content, which I counted as a small miracle. “Much
thanks.” He spoiled the moment with a thick belch, but no one but
me seemed to care.

“Now. Señor Smythe, you will be sleeping in
the room at the very end of the hall. Estéban can show you the way.
Jesse, I have put a cot in the boys’ room for you. Señorita, there
is an empty bed in the girls’ room that you can use, but you should
know that little Elena tends to have nightmares, so she may wake
you.”

Sveta frowned faintly at that thought. “It
would be better if I slept elsewhere, then.” I tended to agree with
her. That was just going to end all kinds of bad. “Could I not also
have a cot in the boys’ room?”

Estéban choked on a shrimp, and I pounded him
on the back until his face turned back to its normal color. “I…the
boys’ room is very small and crowded.” And the last thing we needed
was an armed woman sleeping in the midst of all the budding male
hormones, dressed only in her panties.

“Do not worry for me, then. I will find
somewhere.” It was Carlotta’s turn to frown at that, but Sveta
pretended that she didn’t see it. Easier that way, I’m sure.

The room at the end of the hall, where
Terrence would sleep, turned out to be Carlotta’s own room, though
she would never have admitted it. Rosaline quietly confided to me
that Carlotta would be sharing a room with her instead for the
duration of our visit. I was pretty sure Terrence would be offended
to know that he’d ousted our host from her own bed, but I said
nothing. Wasn’t my battle to fight.

The boys’ room, as promised, was not small so
much as it was occupied by six Perez males. Esteban’s bunk – yes,
there were bunk beds, lord help me – had been left empty for his
return, and the other five beds were home to two of his younger
brothers and three cousins of varying ages, all somewhere between
ten and fifteen years old. It was eerie, watching five almost
identical sets of dark eyes peering at me as I tried to get settled
on my assigned cot.

Sveta herself prowled the room for a moment,
examining the windows, peering at the scenery outside. Finally, she
nodded. “It should be secure.”

“Hey.” I stopped her as she started to leave.
“Where are you going to sleep?”

She smirked. “Do not worry. I am a big girl.”
She flipped the light switch as she disappeared out the door,
dropping us into darkness.

Once my body was actually horizontal, the
long hours of the day caught up to me, and I almost groaned as the
aches and pains all materialized at once. Sleeping on a cot
possibly left over since World War I was not going to be pleasant.
“I’m too old for this,” I muttered, but apparently not quietly
enough, because I was answered by snickers from the bunk beds.

“Shh.” That was Estéban. “
Silencio
.
Ya váyanse a dormir
.” My mental translation was laborious at
best, but I got the general gist of “Shut up and go to sleep
already.” It had the exact opposite effect, as a chorus of
indignant protests broke out, and one pillow flew through the
darkness to pelt him in the head. “
Ay! Quieren que le vaya a
decir a Mamá
?” Even I understood the threat to go tell mom, and
the peanut gallery lapsed into silence.

The peace lasted approximately thirty
seconds, before one brave voice carried out of the darkness. “Señor
Dawson?” One of the younger boys, I thought.

“Hm?”

“The lady with you. She fights the demons
too?”

“She does. She’s very, very good.”

Estéban snorted softly from atop his upper
bunk. “And she sleeps with a gun, so do not try to surprise her.
Ever.”

The boys murmured amongst themselves at that,
though the Spanish was muffled enough to be lost on me. I knew
they’d come to some kind of consensus about what question to ask,
though, when they switched back to English.

“You fought the demon that killed Miguel.”
That from Estéban’s younger brother, I thought… Javier, maybe?
There were so many of them, I mostly called them “Thing 1” and
“Thing 2” in my head.

“I did. Estéban and I killed it
together.”

“He killed it. I just distracted it by
letting it chew on my arm.” The kid’s arm had healed well, really,
for as bad as the break had been. But he didn’t give himself enough
credit. I’d been injured already, gimping along, and without
Estéban, that demon – a hellhound the size of a small horse – would
have eaten me alive.

“You have killed many demons, yes?”

With a sigh, I leaned up on my elbows to find
a host of dark eyes gleaming at me expectantly. “Boys, I will be
happy to tell you stories all you want while I’m here, but right
now, I’m jet-lagged and stuffed full of your mother’s truly amazing
food. Let me sleep tonight, and tomorrow night, we’ll stay up ’til
all hours and talk about whatever you want. Deal?”

There was a disappointed chorus of agreement,
but they settled down, and I rested my head back down on the
extraordinarily flat pillow. Estéban watched me from his high
vantage point, and when I caught his eye, he smiled a little before
rolling over to his own rest. He wasn’t a champion to them yet, I
realized. To them, he was still just big brother, or cousin. He was
the same kid who had wrestled with all of them in the dirt, played
pranks, went fishing or surfing or whatever they did for fun.

Carlotta had mentioned a
fiesta
before, and I knew that was a simple word for something that was
going to be much more complex. A party, yes, for the returning
Perez family member, but also a time to finally lay Miguel to rest,
and to officially install Estéban as the family champion. Jesus, he
was only eighteen. So young. So freakin’ young.

Despite my overwhelming exhaustion, I lay
awake for a long time, listening to the kids snore. It reminded me
of Annabelle a little, and it made missing my girls a little easier
to bear.

Chapter 6

Morning in a household the size of this one
is always inhumanly early, and never quiet. I awakened to the
sounds of a herd of elephants stampeding down the hallway, and it
took me a few minutes to realize it was actually just a group of
teenage boys, trying to be the first to breakfast. Once the
intoxicating aromas from the kitchen wafted far enough to hit my
cot, I was up and right behind them.

The kids jostled and jabbed at each other,
elbows flying and forks clashing over eggs and chilis, beans,
tortillas. I admit it, I was right there in the midst of them. I
had a brother, I knew the drill, and it was amusing to see the same
antics with these kids that Cole and I had always engaged in. Some
things are universal, and a teenage boy’s appetite is one of
them.