Relic (18 page)

Eyes wide, I turned to go. “Sorry—”

But at the same time, the woman spun around. It was Granada. Her red dragon gown was disheveled, almost completely falling off on the top. The man she straddled sat up a little.

Álvar, his shirt unbuttoned, his coat flung somewhere on the ground.

Heat burst across my face. I was frozen with embarrassment.

“Ah, Maggie.” Álvar slid Granada off his lap and stood. He smoothed his shirt a little and nudged a stray lock from his eyes. “I was hoping I would run into you before you left.”

I shot a tense look to Granada. Sure enough, she looked as mad as a wet hornet.

“I have a very special guest coming into town tomorrow,” Álvar continued, as if it were nothing at all that I’d stumbled upon them in such a state. “We are holding an event to welcome him. I do hope you plan to be there. He has something you very much need to see.”

“Of course,” I said, trying not to stammer stupidly or meet Granada’s enraged gaze. “I’ll be there.”

“Excellent. I shall be looking for you.”

I forced a little smile, curtsied, and turned to leave as quickly as I could.

Chapter Twenty-three

The next day, all of the Hacienda was buzzing about the party. Apparently, the new guest had arrived with full fanfare and entourage. I had wondered last night if Álvar wasn’t talking about the East Coast relic scholar, but it appeared not. It was disappointing news, but my mood brightened significantly when Esperanza mentioned that Álvar had invited his
vaqueros
to the event.

Landon
. I hadn’t seen him since the night of our kiss, which seemed ages ago. Night couldn’t come soon enough.

On account of the glorious weather, Álvar called for the reception to be held out in the gardens. Hundreds of multicolored paper lanterns had been strung along the trellis that stretched above. The servants also strung rope after rope of glittering beads to catch the light. Round tables of food and drink had been placed in strategic locations for the guests who wandered the flowered paths.

I stepped into the modest crowd, searching for this new guest who warranted all the commotion. A pair of men watched me as I passed, grinning with approval, and I suppressed a smile. For this party, I’d picked out a dark rose satin with black crystal beading that shimmered in the lamplight. During my time at the Hacienda, I’d grown more and more accustomed to being dressed up like a princess and admired. In fact, I couldn’t deny I was starting to rather enjoy it.

As I crossed into the main mingling area in the open, brightly lit courtyard, I searched for familiar faces, for Landon. But my gaze fell on Adelaide, striking as always in a deep blue gown with a gleaming sapphire necklace. It seemed like forever since our last meeting, and I’d never been happier to see her. I was about to run over when I noticed the man standing beside her.

I wondered if it were the rancher from El Dorado, the one Adelaide was expected to entertain at Connelly’s command. He was a tall, rough-faced man, probably in his late fifties, with long silver hair in a ponytail. The way he stood, both feet planted firmly on the ground, the way he cast a commanding gaze around the crowd, you could see he had money and power, and that he’d come about it through sheer grit. His arm was tucked around Adelaide’s slender waist like a proclamation of ownership.

Adelaide caught my gaze. I must have looked as sorry as I felt, because she shrugged one of her shoulders and gave me a half smile as if to say she was fine. I knew better. Perhaps once she hadn’t minded the forced caresses of other men, but now, with her heart so completely given to Bobby, I knew she hated every minute with her clients. And Bobby would be here tonight, too, just out of reach, while Adelaide would be paraded around like a prize steer. The injustice of it all coiled in my chest. I wanted to march over there and rip that man’s arm away from my friend. If only I could.

“Ah, Miss Davis. Excellent to see you.”

I spun around. Álvar stood behind me, dashing in his Spanish regalia. A dolled-up Granada, dripping with jewels, clung possessively to his arm. The men with Álvar all had a Haciendella as their own dates for the evening, and the three women appraised me as they would a rat crawling into their home.

“Surely you remember my colleague, Señor Bolger?” Álvar said, motioning to the huge man beside him.

Emerson Bolger’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as I curtsied. Apparently, he hadn’t forgotten our encounter outside the fairy ball, either. “Charmed,” he said, sounding anything but.

Álvar set his hand on the shoulder of the other man standing beside him. “And this is my most distinguished guest, Sheik Nadir Ibrahim.”

The man bowed low, and I tried to curtsy to match. Sheik Nadir Ibrahim had black hair and dark olive skin, though his eyes were a striking hazel green. In his black suit and white tie, I’d assumed at first glance that he was a Haciendo. The only thing that hinted at his distant homeland was a rich emerald cap, embroidered with red and gold, that he wore at the crown of his head.

“This is Maggie Davis,” Álvar said. “The girl I was telling you about.”

Sheik Nadir nodded slowly with recognition. “It is indeed a pleasure to meet you,” he said, his voice heavy with a strange but alluring accent.

“Pleasure’s mine,” I said.

“Stay close, Maggie,” Álvar said with a twinkle in his smile. “The main event of the evening begins very soon.”

“I will, certainly.”

As they walked away, Granada whispered something in his ear, and they both laughed as he slid his arm along her slim waist and gave her hand a quick kiss. I watched them for a moment.
Of course
it was silly to ever imagine a man as distinguished and wealthy as Álvar would ever bother with a sixteen-year-old nobody like me. The past few days had proved his interest in me to be purely relic related. Clearly Granada had been wrong. And in this case, I was sure she was happy to agree.

A flourish of the trumpets called everyone’s attention to the wide platform that had been set up in the center of the garden’s courtyard. Álvar and Sheik Nadir stepped to the middle of it, beside a small pedestal draped with velvet cloth. Álvar raised his hands to silence the crowd.

“My friends,” he announced. “As you know, I have called you here for a very special treat. Most of you already know the esteemed Sheik Nadir Ibrahim.”

The crowd applauded politely.

“From the far-flung desert of Arabia to our own humble desert, he has brought with him an item so rare that many have doubted its existence. But no longer. Señors and señoritas, I present to you the main event of the evening.”

With dramatic flair, he pulled the velvet cloth from the pedestal.

“I present the rare and amazing Djinn relic.”

A shocked murmur rippled through the crowd. My mind raced through the pages of Papa’s almanac—no djinn. In fact, I’d never even heard of it in stories or gossip. Álvar must not have been exaggerating about its scarcity. I lifted on my toes to try and get a better look.

“A lucky number of you will get the chance to experience the magic of this relic,” Álvar said, “and I assure you, it will be an experience like none other. The only payment is that you must share your tales with the other guests, so we might all take part. But in the meantime, perhaps we can enjoy the fine champagne and some excellent entertainment.”

On cue, a line of extravagantly dressed flamenco dancers glided out into the courtyard, and the crowd cheered as the music began. I wanted very much to catch a closer look at that relic, but Isabel and Olinda, two of the kinder Haciendellas, ran up to me and insisted I join a game of Ghost Coyote.

We ran to hide, and the “ghost coyotes” were supposed to sense our thoughts and find us. It wasn’t really a game, more an excuse for the nobles and Haciendellas to pair off in the dark corners of the gardens. Not particularly wanting to be “found,” I bent behind a large trellis, covered in purple lilac blossoms, deep in the hedge maze. I could hear Olinda giggling somewhere nearby, followed by the deeper laugh of one of the nobles. I bent even farther behind the trellis.

A pair of hands slid around my waist. “Surprise.”

I spun with a start, only to come face-to-face with Landon. It was as if my pulse had been struck by lightning.

Taking advantage of my shock, he pulled me close. “Where have you been, Maggie Davis? I about thought I’d scared you off forever.”

“No,” I said, breathless. “I’ve just been…busy.”

Landon ran his hand up my back, curling his fingers in my hair. “Busy, huh?”

He pressed his lips to my temples, then slowly moved them down my cheek. “When are you coming back?” he asked between kisses. “Isn’t Ella better yet?”

For some reason, I’d dreaded having to explain this to Landon, even now knowing that Álvar had no interest in me as his mistress. I tried to avoid answering, but Landon pulled away a little to meet my gaze.

“It’s complicated,” I said, lowering my eyes.

“How is it complicated? If Ella’s better, you just come home.”

“Ella doesn’t want to leave, for one thing.”

“And?” Landon asked.

“And I’ve been given an…opportunity. Álvar thinks I have a talent with relics. He’s been training me. Him and Moon John.”

Landon was quiet. I set my hand to his cheek. “I missed you, though. I meant to write to you, but…”

My voice trailed off. Landon moved closer and pressed his lips hesitantly against mine. The kiss sent a hot shiver over my skin. I tilted my head back to enjoy it, but in the corner of my mind, I remembered that Connelly was here, probably patrolling the grounds with those beady eyes. He’d make trouble if he caught me with Landon.

“We’d better be careful,” I said, turning my head away.

Landon pulled back abruptly. “Why? Who would care?” There was an edge in his voice. “Álvar?”

“Excuse me?”

He released his hold on me with a frustrated sigh but, stung, I pursued it further. “What are you trying to say, Landon?”

“I’m not saying anything that hasn’t been said and laughed about ten times over by the folks back at The Desert Rose.”

I felt like I’d been slapped. “And you believe them?”

“No…”

“You obviously do.”

“I’m not sure what I think,” Landon admitted angrily. “But can you blame me? Everyone knows what he’s like. And maybe you feel like you owe him, since he saved your sister.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” I said, turning away from him. Hot tears pricked at my eyes. “From
you,
of all people.”

Landon let out a frustrated sigh. “Well, how was I supposed to know any different? I haven’t heard from you in a week. Not one letter. Not one word. You didn’t even look for me tonight at the party—I had to track
you
down. You were too busy playin’ around with the Haciendellas.”

“I did look for you,” I said, but a knot of guilt twisted inside me. I’d meant to write him. Why hadn’t I?

“And whatever happened to you trying to free that Apache?” Landon went on, ignoring my weak defense. “Or finding out who started those fires? The fires that killed your family. I suppose now that you’re some pampered Hacienda princess, you just don’t care anymore.”

“How dare you,” I said, hot tears pricking at my eyes. “How
dare
you bring up my family in such a way?” I turned and stumbled away from him, but I could hear him running up behind me.

“Maggie, wait.”

“Leave me alone!” I cried. I pushed through the nearby hedgerow to escape. The bushes and tangled vines scratched my arms, but I ran as fast as I could. My heart was aching, my head spinning.

Back in the loud crush of people and merriment, I should have felt relieved, but I didn’t. My skin pulsed where Landon’s hands had gripped me, and his words burned in my ears. I tried to catch my breath, but it felt as if the pain was sitting against my chest.

Then I noticed Álvar approaching. Given Landon’s words, he was the
last
person I wanted to talk to.

“Are you ready?” he asked with a sly smile as he came to my side.

I tensed a little. “Ready?”

“For the Djinn relic, Maggie. I wish for you to have a turn.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Álvar led me into another secluded area of the garden, an ivy draped pavilion surrounded by hedgerows and huge ceramic pots of rose bushes. Several nobles, Haciendellas, and curious onlookers filled in the gaps, watching. Sheik Nadir Ibrahim waited beside an empty chair, holding an elaborate lidded box, inside of which I assumed the Djinn relic lay. When I didn’t move from the entrance to the pavilion, Sheik Nadir smiled and motioned to the chair. I looked to Álvar.

He nodded. “Go on, Maggie.”

My breath trembled as I lowered into the chair. I was still upset about my conversation with Landon, but curiosity was rapidly taking over.

Sheik Nadir came before me, and slowly he opened the lid of his carved box. Inside, the relic, no bigger than a silver dollar, gleamed on the muslin lining. It was an iridescent violet, a color unlike anything I’d seen. I wanted to touch it, to hold it close to me.

“I understand you have a gift with relics,” Sheik Nadir said.

A little rush of pride filled my chest. “I suppose so.”

“Have you heard of the sacred Djinn before?”

I shook my head, unable to take my eyes from the gleaming piece.

“It is rare, indeed. Powerful and dangerous.”

“What does it do?” I asked, my voice little above a whisper.

Sheik Nadir’s green eyes flickered with a strange reverence. “When you hold the sacred Djinn in the palm of your hand, it will show you the deepest wishes of your heart.”

I started to reach for the glistening relic, but the Sheik grabbed my hand.

“A word of caution. The Djinn will show you these things on its own terms. Wide is its vision and clear its sight.”

I had no idea what he meant, but his words made me hesitate.

“Go on, Maggie,” Álvar said softly. He was standing behind me, and his breath tickled the back of my ear.

“Have you tried it?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Álvar said. “I suppose I, too, fear what I will see.” His eyes were shadowed with distant thoughts, a vague hunger.

Sheik Nadir moved the box closer to me. “Take it. Fearful you may be, but it’s unlikely that the chance to use such a relic will come your way again.”

He was right. I lifted the Djinn into my hand; it felt cool and smooth as a pebble on a river bottom. An energy pulsed through me, full of hunger and desire. Was it a shadow relic, then? I realized it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t let the piece go. A whisper of longing rustled through my mind—not so much a voice, but a call just the same. Drawing in a breath, I closed my eyes and bid the magic to do what it would.

Pale shadows, like white smoke, drifted over my vision, and flashes of gold light rippled in the background. In my ears, a wind rushed by, low and constant and hollow. My body seemed to dissolve into the gentle nothingness around me.

And then I saw them. Mama and Papa. Jeb. Josiah. They stood in the distance, surrounded by red, sun-drenched desert. Their images wavered in the heat, but they were calling to me. Reaching out and calling for me to come. Come and be with them forever.

Ella ran past me toward them. I tried to reach out to her—I wanted to run like Ella. I wanted to be with them, but I was nothing, less than sunshine or wind.

Landon appeared before me, closer than the others, but still out of reach. He beckoned for me, his eyes like blue flames. I wanted him to come and hold me. I wanted to feel his lips on mine.

But I was only made of want, with no body to act on it. If I could have screamed, I would have. I made one final attempt to go to them before a swift, blinding darkness took over. It blotted out the sun, poured down from the sky like pitch, filling the earth around me. It swept away Landon and my parents and Ella and Jeb.

And then, there was silence.

Smoke.

The smell of it cut into my being. I wanted to go far, far away from that smell. Because even in this black, endless expanse of nothingness, I knew that smoke heralded…

Fire.

First came the softest of orange glow. Then the heat. The glint of flames cast my shadow into the darkness before me, and I realized I had a body again. Though as I examined my hand before me, it looked different in a way my mind was incapable of understanding.

I could run away now, but instead, I turned slowly to face the flames.

Yahn stood in the middle of them.
Maggie.
His voice echoed in my being.
Have you forgotten?

He reached out his strong hand. In the flickering shadows, I saw the images of others like him. Apaches. Standing in the midst of the blazing fire, they called for me. Their voices mingled with the roar of flames to make a deafening blur. Again and again, they spoke a single word.

Sitsi.

I didn’t know what the word meant, but something deep inside me was certain it was important. It mattered. I had to remember.

I’m coming
, I shouted.

The fire raged, ready to consume me. Only Yahn’s dark eyes cut through the flames. I tried to reach for him. I screamed over the endless cries of,
Sitsi, Sitsi, Sitsi.

I’m coming!

A hand gently slapped my cheek; the contact stirred me from the vision of fire. From somewhere beyond, I heard a man speaking my name.

Another slap, and I realized it was reality. Somehow, I could feel that the Djinn relic was no longer in my hand. My eyelids fluttered open.

“Maggie?” Álvar sounded more nervous than I’d ever heard him.

I looked up through blurry eyes.

“She’s waking.”

“Can you hear me? Are you all right?”

I blinked hard.

“Forgive me, Maggie,” Álvar said, brushing the sweat-pasted hair from my forehead. “I should have known that with your talents, the Djinn would be too overpowering.”

“Help her up, Álvar.”

He and Sheik Nadir lifted me gently from the ground, where I had somehow ended up.

“Are you all right?” Álvar asked again, studying my face.

I released a slow, shaking breath. The images still flashed in my mind, so vivid it was as if I saw them with my waking eye. The fire. My family. Yahn. I couldn’t escape them, how I’d failed them. I sat up.

Álvar set a cautious hand on my arm. “Are you quite well?”

“I’m okay,” I said, standing on wobbly legs.

“Perhaps you should sit for a moment longer—”

“No. Please. I have to go.”

Without another word, I staggered away from the pavilion, away from the party. Away from this sparkling, empty world.

Midnight found me curled up in Ella’s bed, wide awake. After leaving the party, I had retreated immediately to her little attached room, crawled in beside her, and held her close. Ella’s warm, sweet breath fanned against my cheek. I squeezed her small hand, never wanting to let go.

Since coming to the Hacienda, I had barely seen Ella awake. Yes, we shared the same suite, but the chief nurse, Señora Duarte, kept her on a rigid schedule of studies and outings. And that, combined with my own constant parade of mindless teatimes and pampering, meant we rarely crossed paths.

It was good to be with my sister, but the vision I’d had under the magic of the Djinn relic haunted me. Yahn’s words,
Have you forgotten?
echoed more than anything else—maybe because I
had
forgotten. Landon was right. I had allowed myself to be swept up in the glamour and opulence of the Hacienda. Of Álvar and his relics. I had allowed myself to forget what really mattered.

But not anymore. With a determined clench to my jaw, I crawled out of Ella’s bed and sat down at the writing desk in our quarters. I would compose a letter to Sheriff Leander, insisting that he examine Landon’s findings about the Chimera Gang. I would demand that he begin a full investigation into the matter and, in the meantime, offer his most capable protection to the Apaches and to Yahn.

After five different drafts, I’d written a version of the letter that satisfied me. I read it over again, wishing I had better penmanship, and wondering if it wasn’t too brash. But did it matter? We had to get to the bottom of this, and Sheriff Leander needed to know the truth. Who cared if he thought I was too presumptuous? Besides, for all he knew, I had the ear of Álvar Castilla. And that alone gave me some small power.

I enclosed the letter in a gilded Hacienda envelope. It had to go out immediately, that night. With a firm nod, I pulled on my robe and tucked the envelope into my pocket.

The dim hallways stretched out with nothing but carpet and low-burning lamps. Most servants were probably out tending to the last guests at the party or starting the huge task of cleaning up. I searched for a single maid or valet but found only empty rooms.

Then, just as I approached a
t
intersection in the hall, men’s voices drifted into my hearing. Rough, agitated voices.

I halted where I stood. I recognized one of them all too well. Few men had a more unpleasant way of talking than Mr. Percy Connelly.

I flattened my back to the wall of the corridor. Part of me knew I should run back to my quarters as fast as possible, and yet the rest of me begged to stay. The clandestine tone in Mr. Connelly’s voice hinted at dirty dealings and some ripe, important thing.

“He’s a damn fool, I say. Having that ruddy Sheik shipped in with his gibberish relic. And all for what? For show.”

A second voice came. “I want to know how he’s paying for this. His family’s good name, no doubt? Or perhaps Hacienda bonds?”

Both men laughed. I strained to recall how I recognized the other voice.

“Castilla thinks relics are going to save him,” Connelly sneered. “He thinks that stupid girl is going to save him.”

I flattened even closer to the wall, squeezing in my breath.

“Nothing will save him from what I have in store,” the other man said.

I finally placed his voice. It was Emerson Bolger.

“I tell you this,” Emerson continued. “If Castilla doesn’t cooperate, he has reason to fear. He knows now what I am capable of. I will do exactly what we have discussed.”

“Careful what you say,” Connelly hissed. “These walls have a way of listenin’.” He sighed. “We’d better get back to that party before someone notices. Leave those in your room. We’ll talk more later.”

I heard the sound of a door closing, and then their footsteps growing more and more faint. My pulse throbbed in my head, beating out the sound of my own whirling thoughts.

I didn’t know exactly what to make of what I’d just heard. But it was clearly important. I peered around the edge of the wall. The hallway stretched out in both directions, completely empty. The only door close enough to be the one Bolger had closed was right in front of me.

My heart beating hard, I looked in the direction they’d gone. My mind hollered to me in two voices. One shouted to run back to my room; the other asked me what I would find behind that door. What
was
Bolger up to? The cruel way he spoke of Álvar caused a tug of loyalty within me. For all of his flaws, Álvar had been nothing but generous to Ella and me since we arrived. I’d hate to see men like Connelly and Bolger try and hurt his good name.

I stepped to his door and set my hand on it, the beating sound in my head drowning out all other noise. But I had to know. With a trembling hand, I twisted open the brass doorknob and stepped into Emerson Bolger’s room.

A stack of papers had been set on the desk right by the door. I bit my lip. What if I found something in those papers? Some incriminating tidbit, some way to solve the mystery that literally haunted my dreams? I tossed a glance at the open door. Surely I’d hear if Mr. Bolger was coming. I just needed one quick peek.

As gingerly as possible, I lifted the papers to the light. The writing on the first page had been hastily scribbled. Something about the Alkalie Mountains. Mining companies.

The border along the north ridge of Aldo’s Peak has proven highly lucrative in procuring mermaid relics.

I bit my lip and flipped to the second page. More random notes beneath it. I perked up slightly at what looked like the description of a relic.

Main color: red. Accented with black marbling. Strange dark glow. Will have S. Pritchard examine.

Frowning, I flipped through the rest of the pages. There were receipts and hand-scrawled notes about various mining ventures in other counties. Nothing I could use to directly incriminate Bolger, but they still got my mind humming. I couldn’t help thinking of my conversations with Álvar, of his words in the Harpy Caverns when he spoke of some men who would do anything to find the truth about the origins of relics. Was Bolger a man like that?

I set down the papers and backed out of the room, closing Mr. Bolger’s door quietly behind me. But as I turned to go back to my room, my eyes fell on the figure of a man rounding the corner at the end of the hall.

Emerson Bolger.

The sight of him shot through me like a bullet. My knees locked, and I suddenly felt as if I were made of stone. Mr. Bolger approached, massive, powerful, nearly a foot taller than me. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

I was still as a statue.

“Why aren’t you at that silly party?”