The Caledonian Inheritance (The Athena Effect) (15 page)

Layla bolted to her feet, unable to bear the tension for another moment. “What’s happening?”

“I think they’re going to dance now.”

The band started playing again, and they joined the crowd that gathered to watch the birthday girl dance the first dance with her father, her full skirt billowing out behind her as they turned on the bricks. When the song ended someone brought out a chair and the she sat while her father kneeled down to remove her slippers.

Layla stretched up to whisper in Ramon’s ear, “What’s going on?”

“He’s giving her high heels,” Ramon
whispered. “It’s to show that she’s all grown up now.”

Layla watched the exchange, thinking she
’d never seen emotions so sweet and true in her entire life. The totality of what she had been denied came crashing down on her all at once, and an overwhelming sorrow overtook her.

When she didn’t reply he looked down at her, surprised to see her eyes fill with tears. She turned away, wiping at her face with the back of her wrists, trying to hide and struggling to compose herself at the same time. Ramon reached over to pat her back.

“Are you okay?”

She looked up at him with shining eyes. “I’m sorry, that was just so sweet.”

He’d halfway expected her to find all of the traditions ridiculous, and he liked seeing the softer side of her. “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “It is.”

The birthday girl stood up, a little taller on her high heels, and her father passed her gloved hand over to a handsome boy who started to dance with her.

Soon the area was filled with couples swaying to the sweet music, and Ramon leaned close again, “Let’s dance.”

“D
-dance?” she stammered, looking around frantically for a way out. “No. No, I couldn’t.”

“Why not?

She whispered, “I don’t know
how
.”

He held out his hand. “It’s easy. I’ll show you.”

She let him lead her into the crowd of dancers, standing stiffly while he took her hand and waist. “Just relax,” he said. He started to move in time with the music and she followed along, loosening up little by little.

Ramon leaned in to speak in her ear, “How come a beautiful girl like you has never danced before? I bet the boys were lining up to take you out.”

What was she supposed to say? What could she say? That she’d witnessed every perversion known to mankind but she’d never been asked to a dance? That she’d been trained to manipulate people and steal their money from the time she was old enough to speak? That with one glance she could make him laugh, or cry, or maybe even… fall madly in love with her?

“No,” was all she said, stiffening up and pulling back a little.

For the life of him, Ramon couldn’t figure out this Jekyll & Hyde girl. One minute she was cool, aloof and sophisticated, the next, she was as soft as a marshmallow. He couldn’t really tell if she liked him or not, but he was more enchanted each moment he spent with her. She was endlessly mysterious, and it was driving him mad.

When the song ended the twins came rushing up to Ramon, begging him to dance with them in chirpy little voices. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he said with a smile, taking them each by a hand to spin them around as they giggled with glee.

“He’s their favorite uncle,” Rosa came to stand by Layla’s side. He’s sweet, isn’t he?” she asked. “He’s always been such a big help to us.”

Layla nodded, watching their antics. She certainly couldn’t imagine Conrad clowning around that way. She felt the heat of a stare again, and looked to see the old woman glaring at her. “Who is that woman in red?” she asked Rosa. “She doesn’t seem to like me.”

“Oh, that’s just our Abuelita… Don’t worry, she always looks that way.”

The band took a break, and a cart was wheeled out bearing an enormous layer cake. It was frosted to look like
the quinceanera dress, with big pink ribbons of icing, each tier separated from the others by ivory columns. It was the birthday cake of Layla’s dreams, and Ramon brought her over a big piece, leading her back to their seats to wash it down with more champagne.

“Well?” he asked, nodding at her empty plate with amusement. “How did you like it?”

She smiled shyly, “I always wanted a birthday cake just like that one.”

He shrugged, “Me, I always went for chocolate. What kind did you have?”

She got a faraway look in her eye when she spoke. “Teddy didn’t believe in sweets, so we always had a cheese plate after our birthday dinner.”

“Cheese?” Ramon was shocked.

Layla felt it, and tried to explain, “He said cake was only empty calories… And that it would overly exite us.”

Just then a couple of screaming kids ran by. “I guess he had a point,” Ramon laughed.

Layla looked so sad all of a sudden that he felt bad for asking. He took her hand in his, lacing his thick fingers through her delicate ones. “C’mon, dance with me again.”

He led her back out on the dance floor, just in time for a slow, romantic song. He drew her dangerously close this time, and she didn’t shrink away from him. Her cheeks flushed when she could feel his hips pressing against hers.

There was that blush again, he thought. It drove him crazy. “You seem to have the hang of it now,” he murmured into her pink ear, his lips brushing against her cheek. He pressed his fingers into the small of her back and she sighed, relaxing into him ever so slightly. He smelled good, and they swayed in time with the music, drifting into each other a little more with every step.

A woman’s scream split the warm night air, and the band stopped playing.

~

Chapter Thirteen

REVELATION

~

Everyone froze in their tracks as another shriek echoed into the night, followed by loud shouting coming from the front of the house. Ramon’s mother came running out to him, calling out something frantically in rapid-fire Spanish. Ramon took Layla by the arms, his dark eyes blazing into hers, “Wait right here!”

She watched him race through the house, followed by several other men from the party. The rest of the crowd milled about uncertainly, bleating like a confused herd of sheep. Layla overheard a few snatches of English, just enough to make out something about a fight and the police being called. She had a bad feeling as the shouting voices grew louder.

She edged back around the house the way Ramon had brought them in, emerging behind the source of all the commotion. A big man had Rosa in a headlock on the front porch, drunkenly waving a knife at the men from the party that stood before him. Ramon’s mother was standing off to the side clutching the twins, whose once smiling faces were now filled with terror.

“She’s
my
wife,” the man screamed, his face contorted with rage. “You stay out of our business!”

Layla looked at the children, helplessly watching their mother suffer. She
boiled with red-hot with anger at the sight. “I don’t think so,” she growled under her breath.

Rosa gasped, struggling to breathe, and
the angry man raised the knife to her throat. “You think you can just take my kids away? I’ll kill you first!”

Ramon held up his hands, coming a step closer. “Whoa… Take it easy Jose. Nobody needs to get hurt.”

“Shut up cop!” Jose screamed, spittle flying. Just seeing Ramon brought his white-hot rage up to a new vibrancy. “He thrust the knife towards Ramon. “This is all your fault!”

Layla went ice cold, and she rushed out of the shadows to get between Ramon and the blade. “Stop this,” she told Jose in a low voice, stepping closer to make eye contact. “Stop this right now.”

He screamed a string of curses at her in Spanish, but the language barrier was no problem. He was operating on pure, raw emotion, and that was a language that Layla was fluent in. Once her face was fully illuminated by the porch lights he couldn’t seem to look away, and she knew she had him.

“Layla!” Ramon
rushed forward to pull her back, but Jose had already lowered the knife. His arms went limp with a sudden overwhelming fear that short-circuited his ability to think about anything else. Rosa wrenched herself away with a sob, running to the porch where a group of women were gathered protectively around the twins.

The big man stood shaking, and Layla stepped in closer for the kill. “Jose?” she spoke to him, her voice gentle. When he met her eyes she sent him another powerful blast of bone-melting fear, watching with satisfaction as his face twisted in horror.

“You’re going to leave her alone now, aren’t you?” she asked quietly.

He nodded mutely, all the blood draining out of his face. The knife clattered to the pavement and she bent down to pick it up. When she turned around all eyes were on her, and her stomach dropped. In the heat of the moment she’d gotten carried away, and now they’d seen everything. 

Ramon had seen everything.

She handed the knife over to him, her voice small and shaky, “Uhm… Do you think you could take me home now?”

He nodded slowly, dark eyes full of wonder. A police car pulled into the driveway, and Layla stood apart from everyone else, watching as Ramon went to speak with them. A meek and fearful Jose was cuffed and taken away. The young people went back to their dancing like nothing had happened, but the older women were somber, rallying around Rosa and the twins, ushering them back inside the house.

Ramon returned to her side. “I’m going to check on Rosa… Then we can go… Okay?”

He went inside after everyone else, and Layla watched from the porch as his grandmother pulled him aside on his way back out, speaking to him with urgency. They both looked up to see her watching.

Great, Layla thought, as if things weren’t bad enough already.

When they were finally alone in his car he asked her the question she’d been standing there dreading, “What just happened there?”

“I don’t know.”

He twisted in his seat to face her. “Seriously… How did you get him to give up his weapon? How did you know that he’d cave?”

“I– I’m good at reading people.”

He looked at her with curiosity and amazement, and she braced herself for a barrage of uncomfortable questions. She heaved a sigh, winding up to deliver a fog of confusion followed by a blast of acquiescence. It was her specialty, a one-two punch that never failed to change the subject.

He put his warm hand on hers, making her forget all about it. “You were so brave,” he said, his eyes shining with admiration. Then he said something that surprised her. “You should do social work. You’d be really good at it.”

They drove along in silence for a while, and she could see him start to get a little anxious, glancing over at her frequently. “Hey… I’m not really ready to call it a night… Do you want to stop for a cup of coffee or something?”

She wasn’t ready to go home either, and it surprised her. “Sure… That sounds good.”

He drove to a nearby diner, and they took a booth in a far corner. She ordered tea, and Ramon watched with fascination as she prepared her cup with all the precision of a geisha. He scrutinized her like she was a painting in a museum, studying every little detail like he was trying to commit her to memory.

“What?” she asked, looking up to meet his eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“You’re just… I don’t know.”

Her brows knit together, because she found him perplexing too. She’d never met anyone so completely genuine, so comfortable in his own skin. He didn’t seem to have a deceptive bone in his whole body, but he still made her more nervous than she should be. She didn’t quite know what to make of it either.

“What did your grandmother say about me?” she asked, changing the subject.

He shook his head with a chuckle. “Nothing important.”

“She was giving me dirty looks all day.”

“Don’t mind my abuelita, she’s old school.” He laughed. “She’s got all these weird superstitions. She said when she first saw you that
she thought you were a Bruja Negra.”

“A what?”

“A black witch. You know, black magic and all that stuff.”

She laughed a little nervous laugh,
imagining what Cali would have to say about that.

“But don’t worry,” he said with a twinkle in his beautiful eyes. “She says she was wrong at first. Now she thinks that you’re a Bruja Blanca.” She looked at him blankly, and he added, “A white witch.”

Layla looked at him with outrage, “I can’t help it that I’m so pale.”

He
burst into his hearty laugh, throwing his head back without giving a single thought as to how he looked to other people. Layla looked all around them nervously, but she was starting to get used to it, and as his laughter subsided she grew increasingly indignant.

Her
face clouded over with anger. “That’s not very nice. Do you think I
like
being all… all… freckled and… and… pasty?!”

“No… you don’t understand…” he said, wiping his eyes.
He collected himself, explaining that his grandmother grew up in a small village in Mexico. “People there believed in witches. Good ones and bad ones. Black witches cast spells for mean or jealous people, and white witches use their magic to protect people from evil.”