The Beckoning of Broken Things (The Beckoning Series) (11 page)

“Well, I am. Prepare for a feast.”

We wander through the house with all its luxury and wealth winking from the artwork on the walls, to the sleek wood furnishings, the stone and marble walls. It’s all done in a style that’s not me, however, since until a week or so ago, I had no inkling that the place existed. And I sure could not have imagined that it would be mine, bequeathed to me by El Demonio upon his untimely demise. I make a few plans in my head for home decorating as we enter the kitchen. The refrigerator still has food. The pantry is loaded. There are even some food items that will fill Sober’s belly.

“Sit,” Rafe says. “I’m going to make you, me
, and the mutt some breakfast.”

“And then we need a plan,” I say, pulling a stool up to the huge wooden island in the center of the room. “We’ve got to get Daniel free.”

“I think we should let him linger in there and pursue our own destiny. I could be good for you. And very good to you,” Rafe says, pulling out bowls, spoons, and ingredients.

“I’m sure you could
, but I’m spoken for.”

“But have you done any of the speaking
, have you had a choice in things?”

“It does seem that a lot of stuff has been done
to
me,” I agree. “But that part’s mine to sort out. I made a deal with myself to stop being everyone’s victim. I intend to make my own life choices from this point on.”

“Good call, Marissa. I support that. And I intend to be your friend throughout the process. And whatever else I can get on the side,” he adds with a soft mutter.

“Just make breakfast, buddy. We’ll find someone to service your needs after this. Rest assured.”

“I don’t want to find just anyone. I’ve already found her.”

“Rafe!” I say, rolling my eyes. “We’ve had this conversation.”

“And we’re having it again. I believe in wearing people down.” He laughs. “I’m kidding, don’t worry.”
But I know he’s not. This is going to be difficult for me, as well as for him. The best thing we can do right now is develop a really compelling plan and get to it - before I lose my way.

“So tell me,” I say, dabbing my lips with a napkin. “What kinds of jobs did Armando hire you for?” I’ve just had a fabulous meal, my dog is full, and I’m feeling quite benevolent.

Rafe, however, is starting to shake. His
left hand is trembling like a maraca, and he keeps pinning it to the table with his other hand as if it doesn’t belong to him. A nervous tic starts to spasm in his face. “Shit,” he says. “I think the food has stirred the substance inside. More touch?”

I shake my head left to right and pop a toothpick in my mouth. “Sorry,” I
say, chewing lightly on the tiny wooden stick. “I’m afraid you’re on your own.”

His foot starts bobbing
like a ping pong ball bouncing on the San Andreas Fault. The nervous tic in his face increases. He lurches to standing and starts pacing. “Can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop,” he mutters, pacing to and fro. “Can’t stop.”

“Alright, alright,” I say, impulsively. “Here
…” I thrust my hand in his direction, and he grabs it. Same as before, he instantly calms, I immediately heat up. My body glows like a 1,000 lumen light. “I feel like your pacifier.” I yank my hand away quickly, before being consumed by arousal. “That’s enough.”

He sighs. “Okay. I can live with that.” The only remaining symptom is the nervous tic. He presses his hand over his face. “You were asking?”

“What kinds of jobs did Armando hire you to do?”

“You know nothing about
our world, do you?” He starts with the agitated pacing again.

“Can you sit down? You’re making me crazy.”

“Let’s go for a walk. Show me the grounds, and I’ll talk. This drug withdrawal is making me agitated and jittery.”

“It’s pretty hot outside.”

“Well, I can think of something else to occupy you and soothe me. What do you say?” He flashes me a wicked grin.

“A walk it is,” I say, getting to my feet.
“Sober, come.”

This hilltop house
, perched high like a bird of prey, is surrounded by beautiful, well-kept gardens which are fringed by the surrounding jungle. Monkeys and parrots squawk and chatter in the distance. Colorful Hibiscus, Trumpet Vines, Primrose, Geraniums, and silky Dormideira flowers compel the eyes to admire and the nose to smell. Red Bromelia and purple Walking Iris line the walkways.

“So this whole
place is yours, huh?” Rafe says.

“Apparently so. I own a coffee plantation, too. It’s somewhere out there.” I wave my hand down the hill.

“You don’t know where it is?”

“I didn’t get a chance to memorize the surroundings
,” I respond sarcastically. “For one, I was kidnapped. For two, I had no idea this would all be mine. I don’t even speak Portuguese.”

“I know a phrase or two.”

“Really?”

“Sure. I know a lot of languages. It’s part of my job description,” he says with a smirk.

“Speaking of job descriptions, what do you do?”

“I told you I’m like a gun
-for-hire. I do what people hire me for.”

“And what did Armando hire you for?”

His eyes dart away from me. “This and that.”

“What kind of this and what kind of that?”

“Marissa, this kind of thing isn’t exactly discussed. I’d prefer not to say.”

“So we’re back to preferences, are we?”

“I’m just saying. All of my work is done in secret. It needs to stay that way.”

“Come on!” I plead.

“No!”

He says the word so sternly,
so forcefully, I’m momentarily stunned, like he smacked me in the face with the back of his hand, hard. I stop walking, and my jaw drops open. Rafe continues ahead of me in a solemn looking march. I wonder if I’ve pissed him off. I stare at him. And then he just disappears.
Good one, Engles.
A few seconds later, his body snaps and crackles in and out of view like a wire shorting out.

He assumes form.
“Goddamn it! Goddamn, mother-fucking Haloperidol.” He fritzes out again. Crackles into the corporeal. Disappears. When he reappears, he’s mad as hell. He throws up his arms and stomps away from me.

“Where are you going?” I race to catch up with him.

“Anywhere! Nowhere! I don’t have a mother-fucking clue where I am, and this goddamned Haldol is driving me crazy, you won’t have sex with me, and I need to have sex with someone
now.
”

“Uh oh. The aggression is kicking in?”

“It’s starting to. I’m about to become a fucking maniac.”

As if in answer, w
ithin seconds a Dolomite Brown Mercedes - yes, that’s the color, I did an ad layout for Mercedes a month ago - a Dolomite Brown Mercedes appears, driving up the dirt road leading to the house.

“Maybe that’s
your latest conquest.”

“At this point
, I’ll take anyone.”

The driver slams on the brakes as he approaches the huge, electronic metal gate. A man leaps from the car, runs up to the metal gate and waves a card in front of the
sensor. Nothing happens. He waves it some more.

While he’s busy with the key card, Rafe tackles me and envelopes me with his invisible skill. W
rapped in his Stealth Numen abilities, we’re peering through what looks like warped glass.

“Stay down,” Rafe hisses in my ear. “That’s Armando Navid. He’s got a card to the
gate sensor, but he can’t get in due to your boy toy’s spell.”

I hear the words
, but the only thing I’m focused on right now is how this guy makes me feel. With him pressed against my back with full frontal contact, I’m about to burst into flames of pleasure. “Oh, God,” I moan. Rafe’s hand claps over my mouth.

“We’re invisible
, but we can still be heard. Shut the fuck up.”

“Quit being so bossy.”

“Bossy is the last thing you have to worry about now, Engles. I’m also aroused as hell. And pissed beyond belief. And a bit psychotic. I’d say you’re in danger.”

He whispers the last sentence into my ear
, and it burrows inside of me like a warm, hard…
Stop it, Engles. Stop thinking about his…
I can feel Rafe’s erection, hard as sin itself, pushing against me. He’s focused on Armando.

Armando
swipes. Swipes the card again. Pulls another plastic rectangle out of his wallet. Waves that one. Curses and swears. Whips out a wand-looking thingie. Twirls that in a circle. Approaches the fence. Quickly backs away from the fence as if he’s about to get electrocuted. He leaps back in his vehicle and powers away, swerving and fishtailing down the driveway.

Rafe drops his forehead onto the back of my
head. He breathes warm puffs of air into my hair.

I want to
grind my ass up against the guy. I want to roll over and glide up and down him. Instead, I force words to come out of my mouth. “Get off of me,” I whisper.

“I need this, Marissa.”

“Not with me, you don’t.”

“You’re the one person I need it with the most.”

“No.”

“You want it, too.”

“That’s an illusion. I’m, like, under the influence.”

“Only partly.” He rocks his hips into the crack in my ass.

“Shit. Stop it.”

“I’m so close.”

“Rafe, don’t. Get off of me. Now.”

“I know you want it, too.”

“I told you, I’m under the influence of your Stealth Numen abilities.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not
entirely human. You can stop it if you like.”

Hearing that, I swiftly buck him off of me
and roll away in the dirt. We pop back into substance, out of the invisible shield. “What did you say?”

“I said,”
Rafe begins. “You’re not fully human. You’re a Light Rebel. My abilities only affect humans that way. You actually want me for me.”

“What?” I leap to me feet and begin pacing
in a circle. “Are you saying I’m
not
under the influence?”

“I’m afraid not, love.” He stands up, his erection forming a tent in his pants.
“I’d hoped it was true, but this cinches it for me.” He strides back and forth. “Oh, man, I’ve got to do something. I’ve got to get some release.”

“You can’t take care of it yourself?”

“It will lessen it, but not stop it all the way.”

“The aggression?”

“Right. I’m getting angrier by the second. I’m just about to lose control.”

“Well, at least
you could do something…with your hand, you know.”

“Yeah. So you’re a definite no go, huh?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Fuck,” he hisses.
Rafe stalks away from me and heads for the jungle. I can barely see him through the foliage. He unzips, reaches inside, pulls it out, and begins to pump. He turns away from me so all I can see is his arm moving rapidly. I try not to look - I really do - but the guy’s all broad shouldered - muscular and 6’ 4” sexy, and I’m horny, too. I wonder if I should take care of myself. I pry my eyes away from him and search for a private place to, um…but then I hear a groan. I glance over to see Rafe’s head arching backwards. He falls against a tree and stays there for several long, long minutes.

Sober
emerges from the underbrush from wherever he’s been roaming. He trots over to me, his tongue lolling, his eyes bright.

“Hey, dog,” I call. I pat his head and wait for Rafe to recover. Finally, Rafe wanders back to me.

“You look pretty cool with lightning flashes shooting through you and from you.”

“Thanks.”

“Even fantasizing about you is better than regular sex.”

“Uh, thanks?”

He strides in the direction of the gate.

I trot after him. “Now what?”

“We memorize that rat bastard’s signature. And then we track him down and kill him, that’s what.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Not in the least.”

“I’m not into killing people.”

“I am. It’s what I’m trained to do.”

Great
. My soul bound lover commands the darkness and evil, and my sexy pal Rafe is a killer. I sure know how to pick them.
I stomp after Rafe, curious to find out how to memorize someone’s signature, horrified at the thought of killing. He’s right. I know
nothing
- literally
nothing -
about the world I have become a part of.

Rafe stands in front of the solid, 12’ high metal gate, complete with evil looking gargoyles. “You know how to open this baby?”

“Let’s see,” I say, patting my pockets. “No, no key card anywhere.
” I throw up my hands and glare at him. “Of course I don’t know how to open it. I told you, inheriting this place was a sudden surprise.”

“You’re a little testy,” he says, hands on his hips, contemplating the black metal.

“I’m with a maniac. He told me we have to kill someone.”

“You’re with a Stealth Numen who will turn into a maniac if he doesn’t get some
penetration soon. That’s not a joke or a threat. It’s a fact. You’ve got a pretty powerful badass bastard after you to get back at his son. You’re the one who’s in danger. I’d adopt a better frame of mind if I were you.” He fades from view. When he resumes form he’s on the other side of the fence. “Your turn.”

“What do you mean
, my turn?”

“Just that. Or else you could stay here and be on your own w
hile I go find Armando. Unless he finds you first.” He shrugs.

A shiver
shoots up my spine. “What am I supposed to do?”

“How should I know? Use your abilities somehow. Use it or lose it, that’s what they say.”

“Okay, let me think.” Sober looks up at me and wags his tail. “Thanks for the support.” I stare at the metal. “Well, this should be a mere parlor trick. No big deal.” My body’s still streaming with light. I close my eyes briefly, visualize a paintbrush in my mind, and imagine painting a hole in the gate. When my eyelids flutter open - voila! - the metal bars are completely bent and a hole beckons.

“Good job,” Rafe says as Sober and I crawl through the gate.

“Thank you,” I say, brushing my hands together. I smile at him.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Any fool can get in there now.”

“What about the protection spell?”

Rafe shrugs. “What about it?”

“It still works.”

“Suit yourself,” he says, striding down the dirt road.
“We’ll just have to take our chances, won’t we?” he calls over his shoulder.

“Wait a minute! Wait for me!” My head whips back and forth between his retreating form and the gate. I quickly visualize it back to solid perfection and race after him. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” he answers. He turns to face me. “I was just testing you.”

“Testing me how?”

“Testing you to see if in a pinch you could use your skills faster. You won’t always have the leisurely time to close your eyes and paint something with your mind. It needs to be lightning fast. As fast as the light streaming through you.”

“I’m still learning.”

“Learn faster.” He strides back up the hill. “Now let’s see what Armando tastes like, shall we?”

Once we reach the gate again, Rafe turns to me.
“Okay, here’s where you can close your eyes. We’re going to get a good taste of Armando.”

“Don’t you already know what he, er, tastes like? You’ve worked with the guy before.”

“I have, true. A good sorcerer changes his essential signature frequently. I’m sure he’s shifted it since we worked together last. A guy like that can’t afford to take any chances. He can’t afford to stay the same.”

“I see.”
Not.
“So what do we do?”

“Close your eyes.”

My eyelids fall shut.

“Now notice
everything,
and I mean
everything.
Whatever you feel, sense, taste, hear, or imagine. Shout it out. Memorize it. Make an imprint in your brain.”

I open my eyes and stare at him. His eyes are closed
, his hands are outstretched. I do the same.
This is stupid. He’s just playing with me. He’s mad because I won’t put out and he’s just messing with my…
The strangest sensation fills my nostrils and wafts into my head. My nose tingles. A sharp, acrid smell tickles the end of my nose. There’s the slightest, teensiest fragrance of roses mixed with the sharp. The first scent is gag-worthy. The second scent is intoxicating. The taste in my mouth is strong, pungent, chemical, reminiscent of furniture polish or car wax. It makes my mouth flood with saliva.

“What are you getting?” Rafe asks.

“Weird chemical taste. Acrid smell. Subtle sweetness. Tingles at the end of my nose.”

“I’m not getting the sweet
, but now that you mention it…yeah…there it is. Kind of like roses.” He pauses. “That must be the memory of his wife. He keeps it close so he can find her. Or maybe the bastard just misses her. I doubt if he has a heart, though. Not with the assignments that he’s given me.”

Hearing that, I cringe.
I probably don’t want to know.

“
Keep going. Use your hands to feel and your inner sight to see.”

Eyes still closed, I lift my hands, palm out
, and make a slow sweep around me.
Nothing…nothing…nothing…nothing…
My hands land on something solid. I move them back to nothing. Move them back to solid. Whatever I feel is so solid, I think I must be touching an oak tree or a Brazilian Nut Tree. I squint and take a peek. I’m still standing in the middle of the dirt road. Rafe’s a few feet away. There’s nothing in front of me. I let my eyelids flutter shut.
There it is again.
It’s solid. Smooth. Black.
Yes, I’m getting the color black. A beautiful blue at the edges.
I press both palms against it and get a distinctive hum in my hands. It reminds me of Daniel, but darker. Edgier. Corrupt. Angry. Bitter. Hurting. This surprises me.
The guy’s in pain. He suffers.

What else you got?” Rafe asks.

“You first,” I answer.

“Solidity. I sense solid form.”

“Do you get the blue? The anger and bitterness?”

“
The rage, yes. The blue, no. You must see things differently. You seem to catch subtle details.”

A surge of pride washes through me. “
How much more do we need to sense?”

“Do you feel like you have a good impression of him? Could you find him in the dark?”

“How close would his signature be to someone else’s?”

“Everyone is different.”
Rafe scoffs. “We’re all like snowflakes.”

“
Snowflakes? Did you really say that?” I open my eyes and look at him. He’s looking straight at me. The gaze he’s flashing me makes me drop my eyes. The guy stirs me, what can I say?

“
I was kidding. Trying to lighten the mood and make you feel safe with me.”

My
eyes meet his again and my insides start to churn and stir. “I’m taken.”

“I know. I can still use my imagination.”

“It affects me.”

“Good.”
He turns and starts to stride down the hill again.

Sober and I race after him. The guy’s fast. “Where are you going?”

“We’re going to find Armando Navid. You might want to leave the dog, though. He might get in the way.”

“The dog goes, or I don’t.”

“Suit yourself. I don’t suppose you could whip us up a vehicle, could you?”

I ha
ve to trot to catch up to him. Breathless, I answer. “I could, but it wouldn’t work. I’m not a mechanic. I can only create with my imagination, and I can’t in a million years imagine how a car works. Too much to know. Too many details.”

“Bummer.”

His legs are working just like mine - step, step, step - but his forward progress is swift. “Can you slow down?”

“Not unless you want to witness me as a maniac. I told you, the hand job only works so much. I’m still going through Haldol withdrawal. Moving swiftly is the only thing I know to do right now.
Deal with it.”

“Yes, sir!” I have to trot again. Running next to him, I ask, “What’s your next plan?”

“El Demonio de la Muerte had a lot of militia around here, right?”

“How did you know?”

“It’s a demon sorcerer thing.”

“Okay, so…?”

“So, he’s got to have hidden garages or stashes of camouflaged Jeeps or some kind of vehicles hidden somewhere.”

“If they’re hidden, how will you find them?”

He tapped his nose. “Even metal has a signature. It smells a certain way. Use your head. You know that to be true.”

I tip my head in the air as I race along next to him. “That way,” I call.

He zips in the direction I have indicated. Sure enough, we reach what looks like a vehicle covered loosely with brush.

“They didn’t do a very good job hiding it.”

“They were probably trying to escape when your boy was doing his thing.”

“How do you know what Daniel did here? It wasn’t that long ago
, and you were at the Bellevue clinic.”

“Your boyfriend is a fucking legend,” he says, spitting out the words. “I heard it in an ether meeting. Everyone was all ‘ooh, ahhh, the Night Numen is such a badass.’ I do shit like that all the time
, but I do it in secret so no one knows about it.”

“Oh, poor baby. It sounds like someone needs a little praise.” I make the last two words sound like
baby talk - “wittle pwaise.”

“It could be a nice change.” He shoots me a dagger-like look out of the corner of his eyes. “People think I’m nothing but a rogue slut.
I’d rather not be fucking anything that has a hole in order to maintain - anything human, that is. I’d rather not turn completely berserk if I don’t get any. I told you - I’d rather be in love.”

“Find someone to love, then.”

“I already did.”

His words land in my stomach and cause a stormy sea of passion to rock my insides. “
Jesus, Rafe, you can’t keep doing this.”

“I can
, and I will. I told you, I’m hoping to wear you down.” He winks at me. “Now, help me clear the branches off of this Jeep.”

We peel away branches, leaves, dirt
, and debris.

“Well, that proves it,” Rafe says, pulling off a particularly large branch.

“Proves what?” I say, brushing off a pile of leaves. I turn my head to see a dead man, his face frozen in a scream. I scream.

Rafe laughs. “Shit, Engles, grow a pair. Haven’t you seen a dead man?”

I back away. “I’ve seen far too many in the last few weeks. This one takes the cake.”

Rafe grabs the guy’s shoulders. “Help me out here.”

“Help you what?”

“Help me get him out of here.”

“No.”

Rafe whirls to face me. “Goddamn it, get over here. I need your help. Stop being a little princess. We have work to do!”

I pick my way next to him. “What?” I hiss.

“I’ll pull him out of the seat. You grab his feet. We’ll pitch him into the brush over there.” He uses his head to indicate the direction.

I’ve never touched anything dead in my life. Not with my hands, at least. I remember poking a dead badger in the woods with a stick, but that’s the extent of my cadaver practice.

The dead man lands with a thump on the ground. He’s still locked in a silent scream.

“Can’t we close his mouth? He shouldn’t scream throughout time, should he?”

“Do whatever you want. Just do it fast. We have to move.
I
have to move.”

The nervous tic is starting up on his face again. “Will it pop or crack or anything?
Will his jaw even move?”

“See for yourself.” He starts to drag the uniform clad body towards the brush. “A little help, please.”

“Wait. Stop.” I reach down and gingerly touch the guy’s chin. I give it a push and it closes. I arrange the cool, dead lips into less of a grimace. Next, I close both his eyelids. “There. Now he looks like he’s asleep.” I look around for something to wipe my hands off with. I spy a rag in the back of the Jeep. When I return, Rafe is doubled up in silent spasm of laughter. I frown. “Did I do something funny?”

“You did.” He squeezes out the words between paroxysms of laughter.

“How can you laugh so quietly?” I ask, my hands on my hips.

He bursts into loud gales. “It’s a Stealth Numen thing.
I had to learn it. I told you we can still…we can still…” He wheezes, overcome with his belly laughs. “We can still be heard even while in stealth mode.” He laughs so hard he has to grab his stomach. “Oh, God. I don’t remember ever laughing so hard.”

“Care to share what was so funny?”

“You, Marissa. You’re like a fairy princess Light Rebel. Light Rebels are notoriously badass and brutal. You bring a soft quirkiness to the tradition. ‘He looks like he’s asleep.’ That’s precious. You’ll go down in history, I have no doubt.” He wipes the tears streaming down his face. “Now, let’s get Prince Charming to bed, shall we?”

I heft the dead man’s legs
, and we carry him over to the sloping hillside.