Apparition (The Hungry Ghosts) (10 page)

“That was way before our time,” Newton replied.

“Maybe so,” Dan said. “But the longer we sit here, the more we sound like
brujos
. Let’s just get on with the vote.”

“Private vote,” Karina said curtly. “Now.” She reached into her large shoulder bag, withdrew a pad of paper, ripped off a sheet, and passed the pad on to the next chaser. She set a bunch of pens in the middle of the table. “And yes, we may all be friends, Maria. But there are chasers at the table who hesitate going up against you and Newton.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Maria said with a soft laugh, her eyes darting around the table, pausing on this chaser, that chaser. “Hesitant to go up against Newt and me? Really, Karina. You make it all sound so … well, conspiratorial.”

“All in favor of a private vote,” said Franco, “raise your hand.”

Ten out of thirteen hands shot up. Newton glanced around nervously, apparently realizing for the first time that he might not have the support of the majority. Maria and Simon, Charlie thought, looked pissed. “A private vote it is,” Charlie said. “Write ‘yes’ if you favor what Newton is proposing and ‘no’ if you’re against it. Then put your vote in the center of the table.”

Charlie quickly scribbled “no” on his piece of paper, slid it out into the middle of the table. Within minutes, all votes were cast. Charlie shuffled them, then he and Maria began to turn them over. Yes votes along the top, no votes beneath.

Once the votes were all turned over, he tried not to gloat. “Six yes, seven no.”
Too damn close.
Charlie suspected that Pilar and Alan or Dan had voted with his group. He knew that Newton and Maria would be lobbying behind the scenes to get one of them to change a vote. But for now, Esperanza had won a reprieve.

“Keep in mind,” Franco said, “that some of us who voted no might change our vote if provisions are included—something replaces Esperanza and people are given a choice.”

“Damn unlikely,” Maria muttered.

“You’d rather kill thousands?” Franco snapped, staring at her.

“It’d be easier.” Maria snatched her bag off the table, got up, and marched out of the café.

3.

Charlie and Victor walked up a narrow, cobbled alley that led to a park. Early morning light swallowed up shadows. Kali flew above them, her occasional screech echoing. “The bitch should be kicked off the council for that last remark,” Victor said.

“Fat chance of that. She and Newton are tight.” Charlie hesitated. “Listen, we may have a huge problem, Victor.” Then he told Victor what Ricardo had said to Tess.

Victor’s virtual form turned completely pale, his appearance went berserk. He gained two hundred pounds, all his hair vanished, his cheeks puffed out, and he looked like a squat little Buddha. He swiftly shed the weight and his clothes changed from khaki pants to toga to business suit. Charlie glanced around uneasily, not entirely certain if they were visible to the living. But the alley was deserted. When he turned back to Victor, his appearance had stabilized—middle-aged man in jeans, a sweater, boots, salt-and-pepper hair, a prissy mouth.

“Sweet Christ, Charlie.”

“You
knew
Dominica had a brother?”

“There were rumors. There are always rumors. Thing is, Wayra knew her better than any of us and you know how tight-lipped he is. Even after he and Illary disappeared Dominica, he refused to tell the council where he’d taken her. Frankly, we didn’t give Dominica’s brother much thought. We had bigger problems.”

“Well, now it looks like Ricardo may pose a tsunami of problems.”

Karina, Liana, and Franco suddenly fell into step alongside them. “Good work, people,” Karina said. “But the reprieve may not last long.”

Victor cast Charlie a warning look:
say nothing about Ricardo.

“Whatever happened to following rules?” Franco remarked.

“Probably Maria’s doing,” Liana said. “She’s appallingly naïve. I’m still not sure how she was ever voted onto the council.”

“Newton wanted her,” Victor said. “After Eva reincarnated, we had to fill her spot on the council and he lobbied hard to get Maria on. She’s staunchly loyal.”

Karina snickered. “It doesn’t have much to do with loyalty. They’re sleeping together. I heard they’re planning to reincarnate soon to work out some other life issues they had way back.”

Franco shook his head. “At the rate they’re going, they may end up with lives in Afghanistan or some other hellhole.”

Karina twisted her braid around her hand, then flicked it out in front of her. It came loose and a flowing black veil swung across her face. “Afghanistan’s too good for Maria. I think the South Pole would suit her.”

Charlie was thinking something worse, like the edge of time where Wayra and Illary had taken Dominica. “She can be very persuasive when she wants to be. She’s probably figuring all the angles right now and we can be sure she’ll be trying to use her powers of persuasion to change votes.”

“Right now,” Franco said, “our priorities are to make sure this blackness, this void, is completely gone from the hillside and get a better grasp of what’s going on in the Pincoya.”

They reached the end of the alley and the five of them gazed out into the park. Charlie heard water spilling over the stones in the fountain. The air smelled sweet.

Karina murmured, “It’s so beautiful and peaceful. I really do understand why
brujos
crave physical existence.”

Charlie and the others nodded. A kind of collective nostalgia for physical life swept over them. “Here’s something to consider,” Charlie said. “If Esperanza is taken back into the nonphysical and something else replaces it, it won’t just be
brujos
who are disempowered. Chasers won’t be able to assume virtual forms, the veil between the living and the dead will become a concrete wall…”

“You’re jumping way ahead, Charlie,” said Franco.

“Besides,” Karina said, slipping her arm through Charlie’s, “if any of that happens, then we’ll all be faced with the same choice that the living deserve—go with Esperanza or stay behind.”

Charlie barely heard her. He simply liked her nearness to him. She felt strangely familiar, like a favorite texture or color, smell or taste, or piece of music. He liked the way her arm felt against his, how warm and real her skin was.

“Well, there is a third choice,” Victor said. “We can reincarnate.”

The mood turned somber and they stood there a moment longer, watching Kali as she lifted from the trees, her blue and green wings painted with sunlight.

“Okay, people,” Liana said. “We’ve got work to do. First stop, the hillside.”

“Karina and I will go with you,” Franco said.

Victor rubbed his chin. “Charlie and I will check out the situation at the Pincoya. I want to know why these
brujos
stopped thinking themselves to where they want to go.”

“Maybe it’s just laziness,” Charlie remarked.

“Or it could be that the
brujos
are changing in some essential way again,” Franco speculated. “We’ll get together again when we have some answers.”

Karina leaned toward Charlie and whispered, “Let’s keep each other updated. Deal?”

“Deal,” he whispered back, and was surprised when her soft, cool mouth brushed his cheek. He caught her hand before she moved away from him and added: “You’re my coconspirator. That’s how this feels.”

“We’ll explore that, Charlie.” Then she squeezed his hand quickly and joined Franco and Liana. “You two ready?”

“Good to go,” Franco said.

The three hooked arms and faded away. Karina’s scent lingered in the air, a soft sweetness, like night-blooming jasmine. He and Victor crossed the street and sat on a bench in the park. The sound of the water in the fountain was louder, lovely, musical, and soothed Charlie’s anxiety.

“Do you want to reincarnate?” Victor asked, his forehead creasing with wrinkles.

Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t had time to give it much thought. I think I’d rather wait for the people I love to cross over so we could plan a life together. What about you?”

“In the twenty-first century?” He shook his head. “No, thanks. Twenty twelve is a major transitional year for the living, Charlie. Life is about to get very difficult, with a wider chasm between the haves and the have nots, more wars, more religious nuts, more natural disasters, and a whole lot of people crossing over because they can’t—or won’t—embrace the new paradigm. The world is in the midst of a massive shift. I think I’ll wait until the beginning of the twenty-second century when things have settled down.”

The conversation was beginning to depress Charlie. “C’mon, let’s shed these forms and see what’s what at the Pincoya.”

“It’ll be easier if we go in as birds.”

They shed their virtual human forms. Charlie thought his consciousness into the shape of an owl and Victor thought himself into the shape of a hawk. They flew into the sunlight together and eventually swooped down toward the Pincoya and sailed through a broken rear window.

They discarded their virtual bird forms and drifted from one neglected room to another, watching the bits of lights that were
brujos,
darting and flitting like fireflies through the darkness of the abandoned hotel. Their presence apparently wasn’t detected, which struck Charlie as odd. In the past, in his dealings with Dominica and her tribe,
brujos
usually knew when chasers were around. Did that mean these
brujos
were less developed? Or did they see him and Charlie and just didn’t give a shit?

They followed the darting bits of light into what had once been a ballroom and watched as the lights vanished through a wall of mirrors.
You think the portal’s in there, Victor?

Looks that way. You game?

You bet.

But as they shot toward the wall of mirrors, some of the bits of light encircled them and abruptly assumed virtual forms as large, muscular warriors wearing chest armor and carrying long spears. Charlie and Victor immediately assumed virtual forms—Victor as a towering Genghis Khan clone and Charlie in his usual white trousers, shirt, hat, and shoes.

“Well, well, chasers.” One of the warriors stepped forward and bowed at the waist. “Ricardo’s the name. You can’t pass through those mirrors, gentlemen.”

“We can pass through anything we damn well please,” Victor replied.

“It takes you through hell,” Ricardo said. “No chaser steps into hell and returns to talk about it.”

Charlie laughed. “Hell? Please. There’s no such thing.” He snapped the lid of his Zippo lighter open, shut, open and shut, again and again, a quick, staccato sound.
Hell lies inside this Zippo.

“Charlie Livingston.” Ricardo jabbed his spear in Charlie’s direction. “Met your lovely daughter. She tastes delicious. I gather she communicated my message?”

Prick
. “If you plan on turning your tribe loose on Esperanza, then get on with it. We’re ready for you.”

Ricardo and his fellow warriors exploded in near hysteria. “Right, sure you are.”

“Let’s take the city now,” shouted one of the warriors. “We can do it immediately.”

“I think not,” Victor snapped.

Charlie flicked his lighter once more and tremendous flames whooshed out of it, incinerating two of the warriors instantly. The others fled their virtual forms and dived into the mirrors. Charlie aimed the lighter at the glass and the flames grew brighter, hotter, and the mirror began melting. Victor threw his arms up into the air and hundreds of tremendous crows filled the ballroom, all of them cawing, shrieking, their long wings flapping furiously, fanning the flames as they dived for the bits of light that suddenly seemed to be everywhere.

“Charlie,” Victor shouted, and assumed the virtual shape of a crow.

Charlie thought himself into the shape of the gigantic white crow he had used several times on Cedar Key, during Maddie’s rescue, and he and Victor soared through the broken window, their wings passing unimpeded and uninjured through glass and brick. Outside, they soared into the sunlit sky. Charlie glanced down only once. Thick fog rolled toward La Pincoya, and within it glistened thousands of bits of lights, the
brujos
Ricardo had summoned, some of the ghosts within his tribe. So damn many of them.

We’re fucked, Charlie thought, and flew faster, faster.

Five

Café Taquina

1.

Every morning, Tess and Ian raced the first mile of their three-mile run. The loser was supposed to buy coffee and breakfast. But this morning when Ian exploded off the curb in front of their building, she simply didn’t have the energy to try to catch up. She jogged a halfhearted mile through light that seemed as sentient as the darkness that had swallowed part of the hill and café deck last night.

Some mornings, Maddie and Sanchez jogged with them. But after they had driven Tess and Ian back into old town this morning, Sanchez said he wasn’t feeling up to a run, so Maddie had backed out, too. Life was apparently in flux again and she hoped it wouldn’t mean a complete upheaval.

Tess circled back to the plaza where all the food stalls were set up and bought two
cortaditos
and a full Ecuadorian breakfast. Between the plaza and their apartment, she stuffed her face, appalled that she could eat so much and still be hungry. Since Ian wasn’t back yet, she headed to the shower, stripping off her sweaty clothes, leaving them where they fell.

When she was in the shower and the steam had thickened to the point that she could hardly see her feet, the door opened and Ian stepped inside.

“Hey, what happened to you, Slim?”

“I was too hungry to give chase.”

He squirted shampoo into his hands and began lathering her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp, then he nuzzled her neck. His soapy hands slipped over her breasts and tummy and then lower. She turned and sought his mouth and guided him inside of her.

For long, sensuous moments, they moved to a rhythm only they could hear, the hot water pounding around them, over them, steam rising up around them. The first time they had made love, they were transitional souls, staying in cottage 13 at the Posada de Esperanza. It had felt as real and magnificent then as it did now.