Haunted

CHAPTER 24

THIS TIME, MARIA LEFT ME A PAIR OF JEANS AND A white long-sleeved blouse with a scoop neck and embroidery around the cuffs and hem. The clothes are laid out neatly on the bed. The dress or nightgown or whatever the hell that was is gone. I move Maria’s latest offering to the chest at the foot of the bed, intending to shower again after I take a nap. Now I strip out of my well-worn clothes and toss all except my belt into the trash basket in the bathroom. I won’t be packing anything to take with me. Then I crawl naked under the blankets.

It’s cool and dark in the room.

I close my eyes.

Max’s face is imprinted on the back of my eyelids. He’s laughing. He’s gotten to me and he knows it.

But he’s wrong about Stephen. Stephen won’t leave me because I’m vampire. The way Max did. If Stephen leaves me it’s because I came on this stupid campaign without telling him where I was going or what I was doing.

Why did I do that? Stephen could have handled the truth. Probably would have applauded my loyalty. Instead I kept it from him.

I press my fingertips against my eyes until sharp pinpoints of light explode behind my eyelids, obliterating Max’s sneering face and replacing it with shards of white light that spin like a mirrored pinwheel.

Fuck you, Max. I’m not going to think about losing Stephen anymore. He’ll either be waiting for me when I get back . . .

Or he won’t.

I’M AWAKENED BY A TAPPING ON THE BEDROOM DOOR.

I glance at my watch.

It’s late—after eleven. I’ve been asleep for almost six hours?

“Yes?” I call through the door.

“We’re waiting for you. Are you all right?”

It’s Max. “I’m fine.” Shithead. “Give me ten minutes.”

I hear him move away down the hall. It’s a good thing he didn’t let himself into the room. I would have had his head.

I roll out of bed, mind numb from sleep. Too long. I slept too long. I should have had Culebra wake me after an hour or so.

A scalding hot shower with a brisk icy follow-up clears my head, snaps me back. Gabriella’s clothes fit. I feel refreshed, rested for the first time in two days.

When I walk into the living area, Culebra, Ramon and Max are gathered at the bar; Ramon and Culebra are behind it, Max on the other side. He indicates I should join him. Reluctantly, I do. It would be too obvious if I ignored him. Even as hard as I’m trying to keep a lid on my aggravation, Culebra feels it. He raises curious eyebrows but doesn’t push with a question.

Ramon runs his eyes over my clothes. “Are you more comfortable now?”

I nod. “Thank Gabriella for me.” There is a map laid out on the bar. I point to it. “Is that a map of Santiago’s village?”

Max turns toward me. “This is a topographical map of the area. We’re looking for a way to get to the village where Santiago is said to be living. A way that will not expose us to the villagers or to Santiago’s air patrols.”

I don’t so much as glance his way but stay focused on the map. “Where is the village?”

Ramon places a finger on a point that, judging from the legend, seems to be about ten miles east of us. But the area does not look to be mountainous, just flat desert.

“Not going to be easy,” I say. “To approach unnoticed.”

“We can’t take the Jeep,” Culebra says, nodding. “Too noisy. But Ramon says there is vegetation so we’ll have cover. We go on foot.”

Ramon looks at me, then away. I read the skepticism on his face before he says, “It will be too difficult for a woman. Anna should stay here.”

He’s talking to the men, naturally.

“Don’t worry about Anna.” Max says before I can speak up. “She’s tougher than she looks.”

I stay quiet. I’m not about to defend myself again to Ramon. If my little display of bravado with the pilot didn’t convince him, nothing will. Besides, it might be better if he doesn’t want me to come with them. I can move far faster and with more stealth on my own. Tracking this trio should be a piece of cake. I look at Culebra and open my thoughts.

Culebra understands. You may be right. He lets a frown pull at the corners of his mouth and says out loud, “Perhaps Anna should stay here. We’ll move faster without a woman holding us back.”

I almost smile.

Then Max sends an astonished “what the fuck” expression Culebra’s way that is sure to be followed with some kind of spoiler about how strong and fast and what a good tracker I am. Was he listening at all when I told him Ramon shouldn’t know about me? Or has he been hitting the mescal again? I take matters into my own hands.

By smacking him across the face. Hard.

He yelps, hand on his cheek, and turns fire-flashing eyes toward me. “What the hell.”

“I know what you’re doing. Don’t think you can make up with me. I don’t want to go anywhere with you. You boys think you can do better on your own? Be my guest.”

Ramon lowers his head and says to Culebra, “Pensé que ella era homosexual. ¿Son amantes?”

“Evidentemente no más,” Culebra replies dryly.

Max finally catches on, though the anger blazing from his eyes at my smacking him is real enough. “La perra se queda aquí,” he snaps.

The bitch stays here.

Cute, Max. Nice way to get into character.

The three proceed to plot their course as if I’ve left the room. I plop myself into a chair to pout. And listen. When all the plans are made and they are ready to leave, that’s my cue to jump out of the chair and glare. “I’m going to my room,” I snap and flounce off.

No one, not even Culebra, bothers to say good-bye.