The Beckoning of Broken Things (The Beckoning Series) (16 page)

“Are we really going to do this?” I whisper.

“You tell me,” he says softly back, his blue eyes beckoning. “Do you want to?”

“Yes.”
I run my fingertip up and down the pulsing vein in his neck. “What about the hunt?”

He shrugs. “
The trail will only be an hour colder - or two - or three.”

Oh, God. Oh, Holy Mother of God.
I’m really going to do this.
I lean in toward Rafe. My lips are parted, ready to yield to the kiss. I beseech the heavens for answers.
If this is wrong, just give me a sign.
Just as our lips are about to connect, we hear another scream. This time, whoever is screaming is going to be really, really sorry.
I’m
going to give them something to scream about.

I grab a shirt from Rafe’s dresser drawer, and we race to the source of today’s screams. Scrambling to pull the shirt over my torso, our legs propel us down the driveway to one of the small storage barns at the edge of a row of small coffee trees. Outside, Renata, Carmelita, and Amalia are all screaming at the top of their lungs. Carlos is trying to herd a group of field-hands into the barn - field-hands with heads and long necks like geese. The men’s arms flap like wings. They’re making a cacophony of honks and squawks.

“Help me, Mr. Rafe. Help me, Miss Engles. I need to get these men out of sight before anyone else sees them.” Carlos darts right and left, trying to keep one of the goose-men from escaping.

The group moves in a unit, much like a flock of geese. They surge to the left. They surge to the right. They honk, blare, and hiss.

Rafe dashes over to the barn, props the double doors wide and yells to me. “Get on that side, Marissa! I’ll take the other. Carlos, you take the rear.”

Together, we corral the group into the barn.

Rafe bellows to Carlos. “Carlos, see to the women. Calm them down. Marissa and I will deal with this. Close the doors quickly on your way out. Go!” He thrusts his
index finger toward the opening.

Without hesitation, Carlos races outside and slams the tall, sturdy wooden doors, trapping us inside.

The men are quite hysterical, moving right, left, and in circles. Some of them clutch their feather-covered necks. One of them clenches the neck of another and shakes and squeezes, hissing at the man’s face, pecking him with his blunt bill.

“Break it up, break it up,” Rafe says to them, pushing the men apart. “Everybody. Calm down. We can fix this
, but only if you’re calm.”

The goose-men grow quiet, staring at us with their beady brown eyes.
Their feathers are a beautiful brown, much like café au lait. Their slender necks emerge gracefully from their stocky human torsos. They continue to stand, watching us.

“They’re pretty. At least the heads are,” I say to Rafe.

“Yeah, they look like Ruddy-headed Geese. They’re nearly extinct down here, but Armando is bringing them back. In a slightly different form.” He snickers. “Sorry guys. Sorry to be making fun of you.” He shakes his head and stills. “Can you do your thing here, darlin’? Think you can work your magic on a group?”

“Maybe.
It’s only…”I turn to face him and cup my hand around his ear. He places a hand on my back with new familiarity.

“It’s only what?” he says, nice and low.

“I don’t think I can restore them all at once. I’ll work as fast as I can, but I don’t want them to see me stream with light. The last time that happened…well…that’s where I met you.”

“Right.” He speaks to the men in a commanding voice. “Miss Engles here is going to make things right. Only thing is, she doesn’t like to be witnessed when she does it. We’re going to have to blindfold you.”

The men honk and hiss in protest.

“We can just leave you this way. It’s your choice.”
He pivots as if to walk away.

The hissing and squawking
ceases.

Rafe spies several stained cotton rags sitting atop bags of roasted beans. He picks them up, tosses one to me and starts tearing them into strips. “You get the shorter men, I’ll do the taller ones.”

I bring one to my nose. “Maybe the coffee smell will calm them down. It always does the trick for me.”

“We can only hope.
Before it jacks them up, that is.”

Rafe and I make short business out of blindfolding their
small heads. When we’re done, Rafe asks them, “None of you can see, right?”

Their heads shake right and left as one.

“Do your thing, darlin’,” he says to me. He turns to the men. “She has to do this one by one, so as your face is restored, I’m going to ask you to leave your blindfold on. We’ll let you know when you can take them off. Got it?”

The heads nod in synchrony.

I move as quickly as I can this time, letting the electricity flow through my hands, picking up the eraser in my mind, erasing the feather covered goose heads and restoring the face to human with my imagination. I love painting with oils and acrylics. This form of painting, shaping light into form, is one of the oddest things I have ever done. And yet there’s something truly magical about it.
We’re all shaped from light in some way or another,
I think solemnly, putting the finishing touches on the last man. When I’m done, I nod to Rafe.

“Remove your blindfolds, please,” he tells
the field-hands.

The
y do so and immediately start to chatter to one another. Their eyes are wild. Some of them look like they’re going to faint.

“Quiet!” Rafe yells
at them. “Anyone speak English?”

A couple men nod.

“We need to find out how this happened. What were you doing when you turned into geese?” He repeats the words in Portuguese.

They immediately shut up and look back and forth with shifty, guilty eyes.

“Well? I’m going to give you 10 seconds. If no one speaks up, I’m sure Ms. Engles can turn you back into geese.” Once again, he repeats the words in Portuguese.

One of the men, a younger guy, blurts out. “
Miguel!” His hand jacks into the air in another man’s direction.

Miguel immediately lunges for the young man.

“Enough!” Rafe roars.

I glance
over at him. The guy’s pretty darn impressive when he’s in charge.

“Qual é o seu nome? What’s your name?” he asks the young man.

“Adolfo,” the young man answers. He proceeds to talk in rapid fire Portuguese to Rafe.

Rafe brings
Miguel into the conversation and a heated exchange ensues. When it’s done, Rafe flings his arms over his head and says, disgustedly, “Go! Rápido!”

Even I know what that means.

The men hustle from the barn like a bunch of cattle being shocked with cattle prods.

Rafe sits down on a bag of roasted coffee beans
and leans against the wall. I sit next to him.

“
Whew! That was intense! What did you find out?”

His eyes glance at my shirt. “Nice outfit, by the way.”

“I try,” I say. “And the answer is?”

“I’m pretty sure it was another one of Armando’s tricks. Same as before. One of the men heard from a friend of a friend of a delivery of cachaça. That’s a favorite drink of many Brazilians. It’s like rum. Anyway, this so-called deliver
y was to be done at dawn in the field near this barn. Miguel rallied a few of his friends for support. They gathered here to find the treasure before any of the other workers arrived.” He paused and rubbed his jaw, propping his elbow on his other arm. “Apparently, it was to be a delivery of the dark cachaça - that’s an aged version. They were going to drink their fill, take some home, and sell the rest at top dollar. Instead, they passed a bottle around and…well, we saw the results.”

“Wow, rum for breakfast?” I shake my head. “That’s kind of early to get pissed, don’t you think?”

Rafe smirks. “Different strokes,” he says.

“So Armando seems to prey on human greed
, need, and weakness. How could he know the weaknesses of my team here? Does he live here?”

“I don’t think so.
His central home is somewhere along the coast near Amapá. That’s way north of here.” He tapped his lips with his index finger. “But it’s easy enough to find a person’s weakness. All he’d have to do was ask around, make a few inquiries. Most people are more transparent than they’d like to believe. In any case, these men are now dangerous to your work force. They’re going to talk. Fear will spread. Plus, they’ve already shown a lack of integrity to begin with. We’re going to have to consult with Carlos to come up with a plan before everyone quits. We might have to fire them. Only then they’d spread their gossip in neighboring villages.”

“Carlos told me they already lived in fear when El Demonio was in charge
.”

“Yes, but they let down their guard when they heard he died.
When they heard that the Light Rebel was now the owner of this place, they grew complacent.”

“We could use the fear to our advantage.”

“We could. It’s one way to rule a herd. Are you certain you want to be known as a terrifying bitch?”

“
I was going for more of the forceful sorceress.” I smile at him. “How do you know all this?”

“I spoke at length with Carlos yesterday
morning. Before I, uh…” He pauses. “Before I went away to take care of…” He pauses again. “I make it my business to know everything about a place or a situation in which I’m involved.”

“I thought you were out…you know…getting your needs met. You were in a great mood last night at dinner.”

An impassive frost washed over Rafe’s face, masking any and all expression. “I took care of myself, yes.”

“How did you do that?”

“It’s a non-discussable topic.” He watched me bristle and then added in a softer tone. “For now, love. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“So we’re back to the trust topic. You, who doesn’t trust anyone.”

“I’m beginning to trust one person.”

I frowned and stared at the big barn door. “And who might that be?”

“Who do you think?”

My head whip
s around to face him.

“That’s right,
darlin’. It’s you. The more I learn about you, the more respect and trust I develop. It’s quite refreshing.”

Once more I
’m filled with shivers and quivers as we regard one another.

Rafe
is the first to break eye contact. “I believe Armando’s trying to destroy you from the inside out. He probably knows you can’t go back to Seattle. He knows that you inherited this place. He’s only begun to mess with you, I can guarantee you that. I told you. I know how the guy works.” He lets his arm fall by his side, resting against mine.

The warmth and familiarity of his arm are a comfort to me right now.
“How much damage do you think I’ll have to incur here before we find Armando and stop him?”

Rafe takes my hand in his and strokes my palm with his thumb. “Last thing I recall,
I was going to head out on re-con and take care of matters. But then we made a different plan. One that I would very much like to pursue.”

I swallow
and turned away from him. “Yeah, about that idea. I asked the heavens to give me a sign if it was the wrong thing to do. That’s when the screams began.”

He brings my palm up to his face and kisses it. “Ah, the old ‘give me a sign’ trick, huh? It was probably just a sign that in that moment it was not the best use of our skills. We were needed elsewhere.” He takes my hand and pushes it underneath his waistband, directly over his rigid erection.

I gasp. “Oh, Lord, Rafe. Of course you wouldn’t have any underwear on.” With the skin against skin contact, electricity immediately pulses into my palm.

“God, Marissa. Can you imagine it? With me, you’d feel like you were having brand new
, never before sex each and every time. With you, I’d feel…I’d feel…” He bites the words back as a groan escapes his lips.

“Rafe, I….” My eyelids flutter shut and my head falls back against the wall.

“Don’t say it. Don’t say this isn’t a good idea. I know you want it as much as I do. I’ve read it in your face. I also know you want to do the right thing. I think you know what that is.”

I open my eyes and turn my head
, rolling it against the solid wall. “I’m afraid I don’t know what the right thing is. I look and I search and I ask and I come up empty handed. All I know is that I’m left with hunger for you.”

“Then trust that. Go with it,” he says.
“Please don’t stop. I’ve never experienced this before, what I’m feeling right now. Please. Don’t. Stop. This is healing. This is food. This is more calming than anything I’ve experienced. Your touch is…” Another groan rumbles from his throat.

I stroke
my palm against his pulsing cock. A tiny drop of slippery fluid lets me glide over the head.
It feels like a nice size. A good girth. The kind of size and shape I would welcome into my mouth, welcome into my…

The barn door flies open
, and I immediately jerk my hand free.

“Mr. Rafe, come quick!” Carlos calls. “One of the men is having a seizure!”

“Goddamn it,” Rafe mutters. “This fucking coffee plantation and its emergencies….” He stands up and quickly adjusts his pants before sprinting after Carlos.

Once again,
I think as I huff and puff to the next emergency.
Once again the gods have vetoed this happening. Stupid gods…or are they just plain fucking right?