Shady Lady

move along.”

Since I agreed, I didn’t argue. Logistics posed a problem, however. “But where?”

He canted his head while the day brightened around us, as if listening to silent voices. Then he pointed. “That way.”

“Did your archangel tell you how far it is too?”

Kel almost smiled. “No. I don’t call him—he calls me.”

“Oh.” I fell into step beside him. The dirt track led toward gently rising hills. “So what did you do just now?”

Once, I never would’ve bothered asking, but there was something between us now, even if impossible, ephemeral, and fragile as spider silk. He waited to answer until we had left the village some distance behind. I concentrated on walking.

“I can . . . ask questions,” he said eventually. “Mine information.”

“Kind of like a divine Internet?” The concept amused me.

“A little. But it’s not as comprehensive.” He looked as if he wanted to explain further, but in the end, he chose not to, and I didn’t press.

The path led toward the mountains in the distance, hulking and dark, wreathed in mist at their peaks, but the way before them lay green and bright. My steps followed a route that looked as though it had been worn by horses and donkey carts. I didn’t think cars had ever been out this way. It would take a helicopter to reach this hidden valley.

For this last leg of our journey, we had water, but no food. I regulated my sips and kept walking. In the distance eucalyptus groves rose, slim and straight, but far enough that we wouldn’t pass through unless the path turned. Instead we trudged through pampas grass, interspersed with the brightness of coral trees, orchids, dusty ferns, and lady’s slipper. Other plants defied my ability to name them, blooming in a profusion of yellow, scarlet, and shades of pink. The landscape was a study in contrasts: here brown, there green, prickly and delicate by turns. I particularly admired a plant with veined oval leaves and red bell-shaped flowers that hung in a graceful cluster.

Now and then, Kel slipped off to forage; he found breadfruit, wild potatoes, and a couple of custard apples. The first two needed to be cooked, but we could eat the latter now. As if in response to my thought, he broke one of the apples in half and I took the offering. Inside, the green tuberculated fruit was pale, dotted with dark seeds. I pried those out and tossed them away; then I ate greedily, finding the taste a perfect blend of pineapple, strawberry, and mango. I’d never had anything so good. Using my fingers, I scraped out the last bit and then dropped the skin.

“There’s another one,” he said, “but we should save it for later.”

I nodded. After taking a little more water, I had the energy to go on. My muscles burned, and I had bruises and cuts from the confrontation with Caim; I didn’t mention them. Kel might feel compelled to heal me again, and my crazy reaction to his blood sounded worse than bearing the pain.

Come nightfall, he built a fire and roasted the breadfruit and potatoes on sticks. By that point, I was ravenous, and could hardly wait for the food to cook, let alone cool. I burned my tongue as I ate and didn’t care at all. Insects and birds serenaded through the meal, though the smoke kept the worst of the former away. Kel broke the last custard apple and I devoured it as dessert. The temperature dropped enough for me to be grateful for the sleeping bag after we finished the meal.

It’s a good thing he didn’t go comatose, I reflected. I would’ve had no way to get out of the village, no way to move him, and the villagers’ animosity would’ve manifested, if Kel had been unconscious. One lone woman wouldn’t seem like a threat with her protector down. If the Peruvian villagers weren’t worrisome enough, failure to move on would’ve earned Montoya’s sorcerer another shot at us. Without him, I wouldn’t know which way to travel or how to find food.

Even now, he protected me, per his orders, but it was more too. He set his sleeping bag no more than five inches from my own. Part of me wanted a repeat of the night before by crackling firelight, beneath this star-studded sky, though the rest of me knew it would be ludicrously unwise.

“Will you remember?” I asked into the silence.

Maybe time fades it. Maybe he won’t. But, I told myself, he recalls Asherah. And there was no telling how long ago he’d lost her. While I awaited his reply, lyrics from an old Sarah McLachlan song ran through my head.

But Kel knew what I meant, and his answer pierced my heart. “Yes. Always.”

That was comfort of a sort. Even when I died, as I inevitably must, last night guaranteed me some form of immortality. Silence fell and I closed my eyes.

In the morning, we had the rest of the breadfruit and potatoes. We walked on.

Eventually the track widened and went from dirt to rough pavement. Miles farther, I heard the roar of a distant engine. Civilization at last.

I waved my arms frantically as the rattletrap truck barreled toward us. A raised thumb might not convey the urgency. At first, the driver passed us, and my heart sank, but he slowed and pulled to the shoulder. Without looking at Kel, I summoned the last of my energy and sprinted toward the vehicle.

A quick conversation and the last of the cash convinced the driver to take us to the nearest city, where he was headed anyway. At his request, we got in back. I didn’t blame him; we smelled pretty rank.

The trip took most of the day, and the wind whipped my face like mad, but the weather was clear, and by dark, we arrived in Huánuco. This city was big enough that our appearance drew attention in a different way from in the village.

The streets were narrow, cobbled in places. Many of the homes were adobe, as in Mexico, but there was a faintly Mediterranean influence as well in the open terraces and breezy arches. Stone walls marched up gentle inclines to the market; this was a proper zócalo filled with merchants, artists, and artisans in a beautifully landscaped garden. We didn’t linger there.

People gave us a wide berth. Not that I cared. I wanted this madness to be over, so I could see my friends again, and then take the next step toward handling Montoya. He’d killed a man I admired and respected, along with Ernesto, who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Montoya had nearly slain me twice. I felt hard as I never had before, coolly determined. As long as I had Kel beside me, I feared nothing; I’d come to rely on him more than I cared to admit.

Outside a tiny convenience store, I found an outdoor outlet for my cell phone. We worked quickly to disable the deterrent measures; then I plugged in and powered it on. It wouldn’t be long before someone caught me and shooed me away. My tired eyes located the street sign—oh, God, it was littered with “Q”s, “L”s, and “A”s, not Spanish. I’d never pronounce it, assuming I could get hold of Escobar.

He’d put his number in my directory as Efraín. I hit the green button on my keypad and lifted the phone to my ear. It rang three times and then: “Bueno. I trust you have good news for me,” he continued in Spanish.

I answered in kind, though my mind was slower at translations than I would’ve liked. So damned tired. “I have it. I’m in Huánuco, on . . .” I spelled the street for him and then glanced at the store for the number.

At that point, the owner stepped onto the walk and started cursing me for stealing his power. The socket had been secured; Kel had snapped the padlock and I’d pried the cap off it, so I couldn’t argue with his outrage, and I had little currency to soothe his distress. My partner in crime overheard.

“Give him the phone,” Escobar ordered.

I did as instructed.

Five minutes later, the owner handed it back with downcast eyes and he hurried back into his shop. I honestly didn’t want to know what Escobar had said or promised. “¿Ahora qué? ” I asked. Now what? It was a good question.

“Wait there for my men,” he answered. “The proprietor has been instructed to offer you food and drink. He will be recompensed.”

“Hecho,” I said. Which meant, roughly and in short, You have a deal.

Since, after that, I had permission to use the outlet, I sent texts to both Jesse and Shannon. I didn’t feel up to long phone conversations with either of them. Doubtless Chuch and Eva would want to hear my story too, so