Shady Lady

snow.

“Is that all true? The saints and miracles.”

“I don’t know. I’m not Catholic.”

Again, the hint that angels and divinity lay outside the purview of organized religion. Oh, how his secrets intrigued me.

“This is meant to hide us, isn’t it? Keep us from Montoya’s sorcerer.” Pity no such spell lasted forever. I could quietly disappear. But crossing Escobar would be suicide, as that move would leave me with two cartel bosses on my back.

“It is.” He turned from me abruptly. “You should sleep.”

“I suppose you don’t?”

If that was the case, I should get off the chair, because he’d be sitting on it all night. Pity it wasn’t padded, but the room didn’t lend itself to such extravagance. There were no rugs, nothing that could be stolen or broken. Fortunately, I found the sheets clean, if slightly threadbare, when I turned down the bed. The gold and brown spread echoed the warmth of the wood, so the room was charming in its simplicity.

I’d almost forgotten the question by the time he answered, “I sleep.”

There was no reason to make this complicated; most of the time, he didn’t even seem to like me, so it wasn’t as if I had to worry about unwelcome advances.

“Then do. We’re safe, and it’s hard to know when we’ll see a bed again.”

In an economical motion, I peeled out of my jeans. I removed my bra in a tricksy maneuver without taking off my shirt and slid beneath the covers. I rolled over on my side, giving him the choice to take the chair or climb in behind me. He moved around for a little while, and then he switched off the light. Eventually the mattress dipped with his weight.

“Are you certain you’re not frightened?”

I thought about that, lying in the dark. Impossible question. I was afraid of what I might do in order to survive. I was afraid of the thing Escobar had sent me to find and the pain of reading it. I feared harm coming to my friends as a result of my bad choices. Hell, if I was honest, the idea of going out into the jungle scared the shit out of me too.

“I am. Of course I am. But you’re the least terrifying part of this.”

“It has been . . . long since I heard such. I’ve not been tasked with protection for many years.”

“You slay and move on,” I guessed.

I felt him nod. The pillow rustled, and I braved a look over my shoulder at him. He lay on his back, hands beneath his head. “They called me that, too, once.”

Slayer. Sword. Wrath. Those were old words. A shiver rolled through me. I admitted to myself that Hand of God sounded less fearful.

“If I asked how old you are, would you tell me?”

“Are you asking?”

I eased over onto my back, deciding it was rude to talk without looking at him. “I’m curious.”

“Older than the sands . . . and new like fresh-minted coins.”

“That’s no answer,” I muttered.

“Sleep now.”

Perversely, I didn’t want to, even though I knew it was sensible advice. The morning would come fast, and with it, unbelievable hardship. On a whim, I reached over and put my palm on his chest. He’d removed his button- down while I was facing away, leaving only the undershirt. Relief coiled through me when I felt the reassuring thump of a beating heart. I pulled my hand away, but not before he levered up on one elbow to stare at me, his tats kindling blue in the darkness.

I shrugged away his reaction. “I needed to know.”

“What?”

“How real you are.”

“Enough to think on things I can’t have,” he said softly. “Good night, Corine.”

Welcome to the Jungle

As it turned out, we didn’t have the same things in our packs. Kel had protein bars and other survival gear. Just as well—I wouldn’t have known what to do with most of it. We bought water first thing and headed out. I remembered Escobar saying it would take mental acuity to locate the item he wanted—and had told me squat about—so it seemed unlikely the map would lead us straight to it.

We attracted some looks on our way out of town, but nobody interfered with us. Whispers followed as we went. I didn’t look back.

A dirt track led toward the trees. I followed Kel, watching where I stepped, even though the real dangers began once we entered the long, green shadows. The air smelled mossy, rich with new growth. I felt particularly alien here, where the trees tangled together, and I didn’t recognize them.

Kel led the way. Soon the path we followed devolved into a nearly impenetrable wall of green. He drew a machete and went to work hacking our way to the river. I heard the water before I saw it. From there we headed north.

Roots grew thick and bumpy beneath the thin earth, creating a tiered path beside the river. The soil sank with each step, and the bugs swarmed me, biting like mad. I applied repellent Kel had in his pack, but it did a limited amount of good. Overhead, the canopy was so thick I could barely tell what time of day it was, apart from thin trickles of light filtered sickly green through the leaves. Animals prowled around us. I could hear them and smell them, but they seldom came into view. My arm hurt, but I didn’t whine about it; that never did any good.

Thus passed two of the worst days of my life. Between the bugs, heat, uncertainty, and exhaustion, it became everything I could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other. In the evenings, we camped in the open, made more miserable by the fact that it rained the second night. For countless moments, I lay listening to the jungle serenade, an endless drone, underscored with other insects whirring, chirping. The darkness amplified the noise, so that I could hear even the rain plinking on the leaves. Used to city sounds and tires on the street, I found it hard to sleep, and when I rolled over, damp and despondent in my light sleeping bag, Kel’s gaze met mine.

“You’re not used to this,” he observed.

“Are you?”

He considered. “Not any longer. In years past, I knew much worse.”

“You weren’t always God’s Hand?” It seemed unlikely he would answer, yet I couldn’t deny my curiosity.

“I came from humble beginnings. . . . I was a foot soldier. It took me a long while to earn my current title.”

I wondered what constituted a long while to him. Sometimes as we’d walked, I surprised a peculiar expression on his face. I didn’t know what to make of him, and something told me he didn’t know how to feel about me either. Maybe we were both guilty of prejudicial behavior.

“Do you think I have a chance?”

He was silent for too long. “I am tasked to see that you survive, and have chosen our course accordingly.”

My misery increased; I didn’t like being a job to him. Somehow it felt like hiring company for the night because nobody wanted to take you home. Further conversation could only upset me, and I didn’t need that, so I rolled over. Kel surprised me with a touch on my shoulder.

“Corine,” he whispered, beneath the rain, “I’d help you without orders now.”

Those words left me smiling. Soon enough, I slept; in the morning, we ate a couple of protein bars and continued on our way. It had been half a day since we’d seen other human beings, not that Kel counted. He was a capable companion, but I found his silence wearing. Since he didn’t complain, I was damned if I would. Instead I hugged his compliment to my chest and called myself ten kinds of fool.

As the day wore on, my muscles ached in places where I hadn’t known I had them, and sleeping on the ground left me with a bizarre kink in my neck. The new boots rubbed blisters through my socks, exacerbated by the