The Beckoning of Broken Things (The Beckoning Series) (12 page)

“Okay, we’re going to swing him and then release him. Ready?”

I nod.

“Okay, one, two, three.”

The limp form arcs and then falls in a clump somewhere in the bushes. He’s landed halfway down the hill. All I can see is his arm, sticking out from the middle of the bushes.

“No,” Rafe says to me.

“No, what?”

“No, you are not going down there to arrange him in repose. He’s dead. Let the jaguars have him. Let’s go.”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming. Will a jaguar really eat him…er, it…er, what do you call a dead body?”

“
Call it Jose.”

“What? Why?”

“That’s what his dog tag said. And yes, a jaguar could eat it. It’s not badly decomposed, and it would be an easy meal. The jag wouldn’t have to throat-bite and suffocate his prey, or crush his skull with his jaws. Jose is like a picnic for the taking.”

“Ew! He’s not a picnic.”

“What is he then? He’s no good to anyone around here. He may as well be food for some other species.” Rafe digs around under the steering wheel and yanks a couple of wires out. “Any chance of making a wire cutter?”

I quickly paint it in my mind. It appears in my hand. I thrust it at Rafe. “Here…”

“Thanks.” He strips the ends of the wires and twists them together. The engine starts up with a rumble. “There…hop in, darlin’.”

I settle into the passenger seat
, and Rafe guides the jeep down the bumpy road.

“Do you have any idea where the plantation is?”

“Somewhere to the right. We came right from there to here. All I remember is that it was a long ride.”

“Will you know the plantation when you see it?”

“Yes. It’s big. It covers several hillsides. The house is like a modern looking castle. I wonder who’s in charge now that El D is dead?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?”

We barrel down the road, through small creek-beds, past terraced hillsides, past jungle terrain. Finally, we see a landscaped entrance to a well-maintained dirt road. A huge stone corner stands on either side of the driveway.

“This is it,” I say.

“Great,” Rafe says, clearly in a sour mood. He turns right and speeds up the driveway. The red dirt billows all around us.

“Slow down,” I yell.

“No can do. It keeps me sort of calm to speed.”

The huge home I woke up in when I was kidnapped looms in the distance. We zip through coffee bean trees, laden with the red beans. A few workers turn and stare at us. One of them looks up, stares straight at my face as it whizzes by
, and his mouth drops open. I whip around to see him pointing at me and chattering to another worker. We race toward the house. When we reach the circular driveway, Rafe slams on the brakes, creating a swirling sea of gravel and dust. I have to brace myself with my hands to keep from slamming into the dashboard. Sober sails over the side, using his wings to stop from hurtling into the dirt. He shakes out his body and trots off to greet the other dogs on the property. I leap out and glare at Rafe as he steps out of the car. He looks like he’s broiling mad now, about to blow. “Jesus, Rafe, I thought I was going to be a new hood ornament.”

“Yeah, but here you are.” He stalks away from me.

“Where are you going now?”

“To look around. Ask questions. Can’t you sense the lingering essence of
Armando? Didn’t you learn anything back there?”

As I race to keep up with Rafe, I do notice the sensations and smells I got back on the hill. They’re less distinct now, like this was his first stop. “Okay, I’ve got the scent. It’s subtler than it was up at the other house.”

“That’s because the scent at the other house was fresh. This one’s old. He probably was here first.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Good for you.” Sarcasm drips from his tone.

We reach the five car garage. “Could you use a more civil tone with me?”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder,” I say.

Rafe whirls and pins me to the garage door.

His forearm is pressed on my neck with such force I can’t breathe. My eyes dart wildly
, and my hands push at his strength.

“I’m this close to losing it, Marissa,” he hisses in my face. “This close…”

He’s so close to me I can see the small, fine hairs of his cheeks. I smell his sweaty, manly scent. His lungs are heaving with what I hope is the effort to not crush my windpipe. If danger is a scent, it’s Rafe. My mouth is open wide, gasping for air, my eyes feel like they’re going to pop from my head, and I’m starting to get dizzy.

Corralling the light in my body, I focus it in my arms and shove Rafe backwards. “I don’t care how close you are to losing it, Rafe. Don’t you
ever
do that to me again! Do you hear me?” I say, rubbing my neck, drawing huge gulps of air into my windpipes. I lean over and put my hands on my knees. When I stand back up, Rafe is still standing where I pushed him. His jaw is open and a horrified look is on his face.

“Oh, God, Marissa.
Oh, God. I told you what happens to me. I lose control.” He paces back and forth in a tight line. “Oh, God. I don’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. Never ever. Never. Oh, God.”

The nervous tic has resumed. The guy’s a basket case. Someone threw a monkey wrench into the plan when they gifted him with his abilities, that’s for sure. A wave of compassion floods me
, and I step towards my disturbed friend. Without thinking, I stop him and embrace him in a hug. I want to soothe him. I want to let him know everything’s going to be okay. I wonder how it is that I have developed instant amnesia, instantly forgetting what he just did to me. Instantly forgetting what will happen if I touch him. As his arms wrap around me, I’m enveloped by warmth. Something very hard presses into my abdomen.

Rafe leans back
, his parted lips are inches from mine. They look soft. And inviting. And sexy. His sky blue eyes are focused on me. He looks innocent…unafraid…beguiling. I lick my lips. My core throbs. I quickly disengage, lest I be consumed by wants and needs. “Rafe, no…I…we…we can’t.”

“You can’t. I’d have no problem.” He softly fingers my cheek.
“No one has ever done that to me before.”

I grab his finger and squeeze, savoring the sensation.
“Done what?”

“Overpowered me when I’ve gone berserk.”

“Should I feel proud?”

He smiles at me. It’s a soft, sweet smile that melts my inside like creamy chocolate on a low heat burner. It’s a slow, sweet, seductive melting that makes me want to…

Marissa…

I drop Rafe’s finger like it’s on fire.
Daniel…what?

I’m growing darker. I…I…stay away from me. Don’t find me. Please.

Rafe stands calmly, watching me.

My gut is wrenched with guilt, twisted in a knot of confusion.
What’s going on?

I’m getting darker by the minute. All this power. All this…

This what? Daniel? This what? Daniel? Daniel?
My hands coil into fists. I press them into my abdomen and try to quash my anxiety.
“Rafe. We’ve got to find Daniel. I think he’s in trouble. Where do we look? How can we find him? I don’t know where to look.” Now it’s me who’s pacing like a maniac. I seek Rafe’s eyes. They’ve shuttered over, the tenderness I witnessed a few seconds ago, gone. Replaced by the Stealth Numen killer sensibilities.

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea of where to look. I travel in shadows, remember?” he asks, turning away from me. “But first, we need to see about Armando.”

“We have to get Daniel! He’s in trouble!”

“Have you ever considered what will happen if Armando finds you out here, unprotected? He’s on your trail, girl. Don’t be stupid,” Rafe says coolly.

Rafe the
cold killer is alive and well. I glare at him. “But Daniel…” I splutter.

“Daniel’s a big boy who can take care of himself, I guarantee it. You’re a
barely hatched baby Light Rebel. You need a little guidance and protection out here.”

“And that’s you, I suppose.” I frown and fold my arms. “I can take care of myself.”

“Go ahead then. I’ll just find someone to fuck and be on my way.” He turns and stalks away in his super zippy fashion.

“Wait!” I call after him.

“No.”

I sprint after him.

“Why should I wait, Marissa? I have to take care of my needs. I don’t want to hurt you - ever. I can’t lose control. There are a million people out there.” He waves his hand back and forth. “That means half a million for the taking.”

The thought of him having sex with someone else makes my blood boil.
The thought of him having sex with me…well, that’s a different story. One with a completely different ending. It would taste good going down, but the side effects? I shudder. Think of Daniel. Bite my lip. Gaze into his eyes.

His mouth
falls open slightly.

Mine parts, too. I move a little closer to him.
My eyes roam his face. My gaze strokes his neck, landing on a vein pulsing with blood. Sweeps along his strong shoulders. Lingers on his broad chest. I use my eyes to caress his chiseled abdomen, evident through his sweaty, skin-tight cotton t-shirt. “How did you manage to stay in such good shape in a loony bin?”

“I
broke into the staff gym,” he says in a voice, low and deep.

Honestly, he could have said anything just then. The sky is blue. The water is warm.
I need milk. The words don’t matter. It’s the feeling and intent behind the words that melt my insides.

“Every day?” I ask. I can’t tell if what I’m feeling is excitement or terror.

“Without fail.” He steps even closer.

I swallow. The thought of him pumping iron, drenched in sweat makes my core throb.

His tongue flicks along his lips.

I inhale sharply.
That’s what Daniel does.
A scream interrupts this whole damn scene. I whirl in the direction it’s come from and take off running.

Rafe overtakes me, his arms pistoning with precision like a soldier.

We reach the back of the house and Rafe barrels through the doorway, me in hot pursuit.

Renata, the young woman “assigned” to me while I was kidnapped, and Amalia, the woman who served me meals and helped me get my stolen jewels back, are the sources of the screams. Their faces are pale, horrified, as if unable to comprehend what they’re looking at. I follow their gaze to
the legs stretched out of the closet doorway. I position myself so that I can see the body lying there. My hand presses across my mouth. My stomach lurches, forcing bile into my throat, ready to spill the remains of breakfast all over the floor. The face of the man lying prone is the face of a rat - a real rat.

Renata is babbling hysterically. I catch the word “Carlos” over and over.

Rafe quickly moves to one side of the body, at the opening of the door. I move around to the other side. We peer at the rat face. It’s actually a part of the guy’s body. It’s extending from his neck like he was born that way. It’s got chocolate colored hair that’s probably the same color as this guy’s real hair. A small pink nose. A tiny mouth.

“Is he dead?” I whisper.

“No. Watch his ribcage. It’s rising and falling.”

“Who would have done this?”

“Who do you think?”

“Armando?”

“None other. He probably laid a trap in the closet, like baiting a mouse with cheese. There was something in there that this man wanted - badly. When the guy entered, he got caught by the spell, much like a mouse trap. And then…” He sweeps his hand toward the guy’s face. “When the transformation took place, he probably passed out from horror. Much like these women will do if we don’t calm them down.” He stands and turns to face the distraught women. He speaks to them in Portuguese. His tone is calm and soothing, as if he’s done this kind of emotional triage before. He places a hand on each woman’s shoulder, and they visibly relax.

I, however, want to slap his hands off of them. I’m both protective of them - they were
very kind to me when I was here before - and super possessive of this red-headed killer.

Rafe guides them out of the kitchen and away from this gruesome scene while I sit stewing with Carlos the rat man.

Carlos stirs. His whiskers twitch. I think he’s trying to speak because rapid fire rat squeaks erupt from his tiny mouth. He bolts to sitting. His round, brown eyes blink at me. I’ve never seen an expression of horror on a rat before but I’m looking at one now. His hands fly to his face, patting the extended snout, the hair covered face. His eyes zing and dart wildly. He jackknifes from the floor to standing.

Think, Engles, think.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I say to him, trying to adopt the soothing tone that Rafe used on the women. “Easy. It’s going to be okay.”

The man gestures wildly to his rat head.
He touches his face and his hands spring away as if they have been burned. His eyes blink rapidly. Tears emerge.

Can rats cry?
“I know, I know. My friend and I - we know who did this. And my friend will know what to do. Don’t you worry. We’ll have you back to normal in a jiffy.” I sure hope this is true. I can’t imagine how the guy will survive as the freak he’s been turned into.

I lead him over to a kitchen stool and urge him to sit.

He plunks down, leans over the huge butcher block island, and drops his vermin head into his hands.

It sounds like he’s weeping, in rat. “Uh,” I begin. “Let me get you something to calm your nerves. Something to eat or drink?”
Like what? Cheese? Grain?

Carlos shakes his head.

“Do you speak English?” I ask.

His head bobs up and down.

“Well, me, too!” I smile.
What an idiotic thing to say.
I shake my head and roll my eyes.
Think, think, think. You can do better than this.
I glance at the doorway. Rafe and the women are laughing in the other room. My blood boils again, and my stomach clenches. He’s left me with the rat man while he’s probably making a date with one of those women. I ball my jealousy in the palms of my hands and squeeze tight.
What a jerk.
An idea springs into my head. “I may be able to help you all by myself.”

Carlos’ tiny rat eyes look hopeful.

“I, er, have a few skills at my disposal.”

Carlos’ head bobs up and down.

“I’m going to have to put a blindfold on you.” I don’t want him to see the light show erupting from my body when I try out my idea.

His head shakes back and forth, back and forth. He squeezes his small eyes closed, indicating that he won’t watch.

“Okay, but keep them closed.”

He nods.

I take a deep breath and clench and unclench my hands. Pick up the paintbrush in my mind. I don’t know what the guy looks like, but anything human will be better than this. I imagine erasing his rat face. When the face starts to disappear, leaving nothing but half of a rat head on top of his neck, I reconsider. I think
Human
and quickly paint a human head. Someone Brazilian. And male. Dark hair. Dark eyes. My inner brush works quickly, filling in the details. Voila! I will my light to stop streaming so I appear normal. “Open your eyes.”

His eyes pop open.

“Can you speak now?”

“Yes, I can speak.” His hands pat his very human
, very pale face.

I hope I got the features right. I hope he doesn’t look like someone else.
“You’re back!”

“Thank you. Thank you, Light Rebel.”

“How do you know who I am?” I say, frowning.

“Everyone here knows. Word spread quickly of
El Dem…of Alexander’s demise. We were told a beautiful Light Rebel did the deed and that she now owns the plantation. We’ve been waiting for your return.”

“Who’s been running the place while I’ve been gone?”

“I have.” The guy grows taller with pride. “I’ve been managing this place for several years now. But I was always at the beck and call of El Demonio…I mean, Alexander. I couldn’t do my job properly. If he had a problem with a worker, he’d just vaporize him.”

“I know. I saw him do that when I was here before.”

“You probably saw Felipe. He was the last man that Alexander killed.” His eyes grow misty. “He was my best friend. I stood and watched as my best friend vanished and there was nothing I could do about it.” He swipes his eyes with his fingers. “Anyway, I’ve been eager to put my skills to good use, to show you how well this place can be run if a caring person runs it, not a demon.”

I
reach to pat his hand, but reconsider. “I’m sure you’ve been doing a good job. You look like a kind, proficient man.”

“I try. I have a family to feed. I’ve lived in fear of my own disappearance for a long time. Who would feed my family if I were gone?”
He shakes his head. “We all lived that way. In fear for our lives. We were paid well enough to not want to leave. But one of the downsides of working here was the…” His voice trails off.

“Was the death.”

“Yes. And even if we did escape, he would always find the escapee and…” He drew his hand across his throat.

I
wince and pat his hand again. I study him. I’ve given him a kind face. A good face. The face of someone who works hard and cares, really cares about his job. “Care to tell me what brought you into the kitchen?”

His eyes s
lide back and forth…anywhere but on my face.

“You’re going to have to tell me. I’m like your boss now.”

He wrings his hands together and stares at the table. “Please don’t fire me. I need this job. I can explain.”

“Just tell me and then we can determine what to do.” I smile at him in a manner that I hope conveys trust.

“I got word that a medicine had arrived here at the plantation and was being kept in the kitchen pantry. My wife is very ill. We have many mouths to feed. I wanted to take some - just a small amount - to see if it helped her.”

I narrow my eyes and squint at him. “You have health care in this country, right?”

“We have the the Sistema Único de Saude, sí.
We are in a rather remote location out here, however. It is difficult to get to the doctor’s, and to be honest, there is a shortage of doctors and nurses in the closest places.”

“How does your wife get care?”

Carlos looks at his feet. “We employ the services of a curandera.”

“A healer. I see.”

“Don’t judge. She is one of the best around.”

“Is your wife getting better?”

“She was. Then she took a turn for the worse. We then turned to the oracionista.”

“What does the oracionista do?”

“She prays. She employs spiritual influence. She sings. She is very powerful. My wife’s health has been showing promise.”

I nod my head. Far be it from me to criticize another culture or odd practice.
Me, who streams with lightning.
“Who told you about this medicine?”

“A friend told me that a man had approached him when he was in town.
The nearest town is about an hour away, and my friend he had to…” Carlos shakes his head as if quashing the urge to reveal his friend’s intentions. “The man asked if we had received the delivery. My friend said he’d check with me. No such delivery had come in on my watch, but I am out in the field a lot. I…I came in the kitchen today to look when the staff was on a break.” His face reddens. He looks very ashamed.

“Do you know what this man looked like?”

“Older. Very handsome. He had several women around him. My friend liked the look of the women.” Carlos smiled. “Me, I am a committed man. I love my wife and family very much. But my friend is young and single. Of course he’d look.”

I’m certain the man
was Armando Navid.
Somehow he must have known what Carlos was going through at home. He must have thought to weaken my work force. Either that or send me a warning of what he is capable of. “Let me see what I can do about medical care. I want my workers to be well taken care of.”

“Thank you. Thank you, Light Rebel.”
He stood up and extended his hand.

I
regarded it warily. I don’t want to shock the guy, sending volts through his arm. “You know, nothing personal, but I don’t do touch a lot.” I give him my warmest smile. “And my name is Marissa Engles.”

“
Sí. I understand. The oracionista is the same way. She says the touch weakens her. Thank you, Miss Engles.”