Alexander Death (The Paranormals, Book 3) (10 page)

“You're right, I could.” Jenny snagged the roll of money from the table and stuffed it in her pocket. “Okay, have fun working. I'm going down to the beach. You want to go to the beach, Kisa?” Jenny pointed at the girl, who nodded.

“Whatever you want to do,” Alexander said.

“I know,” Jenny said. She grabbed the bag of coca leaves from the table. “And we're taking these with us. Kisa, how do we get to the beach?” Jenny pointed over the edge of the cliff.

“Beach?” Kisa smiled. She motioned for Jenny to follow.

“We're going to the beach,” Jenny said, stuffing a few more leaves in her mouth as she walked. “See you at my party.”

Kisa led her into the old adobe barn, where the Jeep and a couple of banged-up old trucks were parked.

“We're driving?” Jenny asked.

Kisa opened a doorway at the back of the garage, into a small, dark room.

“Um, this is the way to the beach?” Jenny asked.

Kisa nodded.

Jenny stepped into the doorway. Kisa raised a large trapdoor in the floor of the room, revealing a rocky hole beneath the floor. Jenny peered down into the opening. It was a sloping cave chimney, with steep steps carved into the rock. A spot of sunlight glowed far below.

“Hey, nice shortcut,” Jenny said.

Kisa took a kerosene lamp from a hook on the wall and ignited it. She started down the steps, holding the lamp high. Jenny followed her down.

The cavern took them most of the way down, and then they stepped out of a small nook in the rocky cliff. There were more steps here, but they were harder to find among the thick weeds, and sometimes at strange angles to each other, as if someone had wanted them to blend with the cliff side.

Kisa removed her sandals before stepping onto the sand, so Jenny stopped and took hers off, too. The gray volcanic sand was soft under her feet.

They walked out to the edge of the ocean, letting the clear water flow around their ankles. Jenny gaped out at the endless blue ahead of her. She'd never seen so much emptiness.

“What ocean is this?” Jenny asked Kisa. “The Atlantic? Pacific?”

Kisa gave her an amused smile. “Pacific.”

“Okay.” That gave Jenny a slightly better idea of where she was. Somewhere in the southwest of Mexico. She opened the woven bag and took out a few more leaves. “And this is what they do? Alexander, and his boss, Papa Calzone or whatever? They grow cocaine. And they use zombies to do the work.”

Kisa took the leaves from Jenny's hand, placed them in her mouth, and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Oh...I guess you missed my point.” The leaves inside Jenny's mouth were turning dry and bitter, so she spat them out.

Kisa pointed to Jenny's gloved hand. “Why no touching?”

“Oh...that's hard to explain,” Jenny said. Thinking fast, she removed one of her gloves. Then she pressed her fingertip to the inside of her forearm. She concentrated on sending the pox to that spot in her arm, until a diseased blister opened. Then she removed her fingertip and showed Kisa the damage. The girl's eyebrows raised and her mouth dropped.

“My skin is very sensitive,” Jenny said. She pointed to the damage. “Weak. My skin is very weak.”

Kisa nodded slowly. She looked Jenny in the eyes. “You are witch?”

“No. What? I'm telling you, I have this disease where my skin breaks and bleeds very easily.” Jenny didn't like hearing the word
witch
. People who called her that usually ended up trying to lynch her in front of a courthouse.

“
La Bruja
,” Kisa said. “The witch. For Alexander, for Papa Calderòn. For the dead.”

Jenny knelt and rinsed her arm in the salt water. “No, not a witch.”

“It's good,” Kisa said. “Papa Calderòn...has many...
cómo se dice?
Witches?
Los astrólogos
?
Las psíquicas?
” She grew visibly frustrated, then spoke rapidly in the unfamiliar tongue Alexander used with Kisa and her family.

“I'm sorry, I don't know Spanish,” Jenny said. “
Je parle...je parle un peu...français,
” Jenny attempted.

Kisa laughed. “I know...” She held her fingers a pinch apart. “English.” She widened them as much as she could. “
Español
.” Then she pointed to herself. “Maya.”

“Maya? That's what you speak?”

Kisa tapped her chest and smiled wide. “Maya.”

“Mayan? Like the people who built the pyramids?” Jenny tried to make a pyramid shape with her hands.”

Kisa nodded and copied the gesture, seeming to understand Jenny. “Maya.”

“I read about Mayans in ninth grade Social Studies, but I though they were ancient. I didn't know there were still Mayans in the modern day,” Jenny said.

Kisa just smiled—Jenny might have exceeded her English.

“Well, that's cool,” Jenny said. She looked up and down the deserted beach. “Can we go swimming?” She pointed to the ocean and mimed swimming.

Kisa shrugged, looked up and down the beach, then smiled and nodded.

Jenny set her shoes, jeans and shirt on a boulder and waded out into the ocean in her underwear. The water was like a hot, salty bath.

Kisa glanced around again, then removed her dress and followed Jenny into the water.

“
La bruja
,” Kisa said, pointing at Jenny's forearm.

Jenny looked at her inner forearm, where she'd created the bloody blister, supposedly evidence that she had some skin disorder. The blister had already healed itself, leaving no trace.

“You caught me.” Jenny pointed to herself. “I am a witch.”

Kisa laughed and dove into the water, swimming out and away from her. Jenny floated on her back, looking up at the expansive blue sky, the puffy white mountains of the clouds radiant with golden afternoon sunlight. Kisa seemed to understand that Jenny had strange powers, and to be perfectly okay with that.

“I'm really starting to like it here, Kisa,” Jenny said. “I think I could really like it here.”

The party began at nightfall, while the sun sank into the Pacific, filling the house and grounds of the walled compound with rich red and orange light. The burning hues of sunset lingered for an hour, and Jenny was beginning to understand why this place was called
La Casa del Fuego
—the house of fire.

Men had spent the whole day decorating the back yard with rows of potted bushes full of bright flowers, interspersed with large sculptures of skulls painted with cheerful floral designs. Candles burned everywhere, planted in neat lines along all the flower beds, or tied to the plants themselves, to light the lawn.

“What are those skulls?” Jenny asked.

“Day of the Dead decorations,” Alexander said.

“Oh, I've seen that on TV,” Jenny said. “It's like Halloween, right?”

“The day after,” Alexander said. “The first of November. But I brought them out tonight because I knew you would like them.”

“I really do,” Jenny said. “They're so...scary and pretty at the same time.”

Alexander sat at the head of the outdoor dining table, facing the setting sun. Jenny sat at his right hand. Kisa stood near Jenny's elbow to wait on her, and she refused Jenny's invitations to sit down and relax. Kisa also helped the elderly Noonsa, as well a couple of Mayan girls hired for the occasion, bring out wine and food from the kitchen.

Yochi and some of his cousins roasted piles of fish and shrimp over the firepit. Women brought out corn tortillas and a dark chopped-vegetable sauce that roasted the roof of Jenny's mouth, though it was delicious. Jenny sipped dark wine to cool the burning, then tried the hearts of palm in a cooler, vinegar-tasting sauce. The food was all unusual but very, very good.

“Have your dessert first. Life is short,” Alexander said, sliding her a glass tray full of tiny, delicate sugar skulls decorated with shells of bright candy and circles of dark, strong chocolate, richer and thicker than any Jenny had ever tasted before. She could have eaten a hundred of the chocolates.

Alexander introduced Jenny to the headman of the nearest Mayan community, a fishing village a few miles away, and his entourage, who took some of the empty seats at the table and conversed with Alexander in their local language, which Alexander seemed to speak fluently. They all laughed, and Jenny felt a little awkward. They went on speaking in Mayan for a few minutes, occasionally looking at Jenny, occasionally laughing.

Jenny elbowed Alexander. “What are you talking about?”

“I apologize for talking business at dinner,” Alexander said. “We're in the middle of building a network of clinics to serve the local villages. Some are in desperate need of basic care. They will be free to the poor, cheap to those who can afford it, donations welcome.” He smiled.

“What's your part in that?” Jenny asked.

“I'm paying for it.”

“Oh. That's really nice of you.”

“Wait until you hear about the new village schools,” Alexander said. “The plan is to bring in the best of Western education, specifically science and math, languages and history, and I have some ideas about how to do this cheaply. The curriculum will also integrate detailed study of Mayan history and culture. I believe in helping to strengthen the local people in their struggle against the rule of Mexico City.”

Jenny had a million questions now, but he was pulled into a deep conversation with the men from the village.

Mayan musicians in bright woven costumes ornamented with tropical feathers played drums, flutes and a horn made from a conch shell, filling the party with fast-thumping music that attracted a number of party guests to dance. So far, most of the attendees were Mayan, and they wore a mixture of traditional and modern clothing.

The sun vanished into the ocean, the entire yard was lit only by candles. Costumed fire dancers performed to the music, swinging burning flames around themselves to create elaborate trace patterns in the air.

“What do you think?” Alexander asked, pouring Jenny a second glass of the spicy wine.

“This is amazing,” Jenny said, watching the musicians. Dancers in tall headdresses had joined them. One had two huge white wings made of real feathers, which fanned out from his back each time he raised an arm. “Is this some kind of holiday?”

“This is your welcome party,” Alexander said. “I brought everyone here to celebrate you. Still hate parties?”

“This one's pretty nice so far,” Jenny admitted. Not knowing any of the guests, or their language, actually put her at ease. All she could was smile and say,
“Taal teelo
,” a greeting she'd picked up.

“I have something for you.” Alexander placed a dark wooden box on the table in front of her, small enough that she could pick it up in one hand if she wanted. Its lid was engraved with a stylized image of a spotted jaguar with a squarish head and large teeth.

Jenny traced her finger over the carving. She tapped her fingers nervously on the little box. She was a little scared to see what he was offering.

“Go ahead,” Alexander said.

She slowly lifted the lid and set it aside. Inside, arranged on a bed of black velvet, was a silver bracelet wrought to look like a ring of Mayan skulls. Intricate little floral and geometrical glyphs were carved into each skull. The eyes were black opals with faint traces of blue and violet.

“Oh...” Jenny breathed. It was scary and beautiful all at once, overwhelming her. She felt her heart beating faster.

“You love it,” Alexander said.

Jenny couldn't take her eyes off the bracelet. “This is really mine?”

“That's how presents work. You love it, don't you?”

“Of course.” Jenny slid the bracelet onto her left wrist. It was sized to fit her perfectly. “Oh, thanks, Alexander.” She looked up at him and hesitated. Her first instinct was to kiss him. But Jenny had spent a lifetime learning not to touch people, especially out of affection. She reached out an arm toward him, thinking she might give him a hug. Alexander embraced her and kissed her cheek.

Jenny laughed and pulled away. The spot where his lips had touched her face felt like it was on fire.

“Thanks,” Jenny said. She studied the bracelet again, unable to look at him for fear of blushing or just losing control of herself. She struggled to ignore the deep, dangerous feelings he conjured up inside her.

“How did you know I would like this?” Jenny asked him, without daring to look at him. “A lot of girls wouldn't.”

“I told you,” he said. “I know you.”

“I'm into skulls and death, apparently.” Jenny thought of her first date with Seth, on Halloween, how much fun they'd had dressing as members of the undead and hitting the haunted houses. It had somehow been the most romantic night of her life. She tried not to think about it.

Fortunately, more guests arrived to distract her. Manuel escorted a group of four Hispanic men in dark suits and ties toward the table, and Alexander rose to greet them in Spanish. Alexander paid particular attention to one of them, a middle-aged man wearing several gold rings. The other three men were much younger than him.