Immortal Love

“He just told me.” Showed me would have been more accurate for I had recognized the dam in the image Becquer had sent me as the one closing the southwest side of Lake Galena. But I didn’t feel like explaining my vision of Ryan drowning, afraid, perhaps, that saying it aloud would make it real.

“Becquer talked to you?”

“Yes.”

“You two are connected?”

I nodded.

“Is that why my mother took Ryan, to get back at you for taking her place?”

Like Federico had before meeting me, Matt concluded that I was to become Becquer’s blood giver.

“No,” I said, too loud to sound convincing, for the assumption irked me more than it should have. “I don’t want to take your mother’s position.”

“But you’re connected to Becquer,” he repeated.

“Yes and no. He gave me some of his blood today. The effects will wear off soon. There will be no further exchange between us. But you’re right,” I continued, feeling slightly guilty for screaming at him. “Your mother thought Becquer meant to replace her.”

“Mother has big plans. She wants to help people. That is why she wants to be immortal.”

A part of me understood Matt’s need to excuse his mother’s behavior. But if the image I had seen was real, Ryan’s life was in danger at this very moment because of Beatriz, and that made her my enemy. So I kept my eyes on the road, luckily empty at this late hour, for I was going well over the speed limit, and didn’t answer.

We reached the lake by its southeastern shore and followed the road that surrounded the water. In the last parking lot, the closest to the dam, a car I recognized as Becquer’s BMW stood dark and alone. And empty, I confirmed after getting out of mine. Where was Beatriz’s car? I wondered. Was she gone or was her car on the other side of the lake? I pushed the question from my mind. What mattered now was to find Becquer and Ryan. I’d worry about Beatriz later.

“Let’s go,” I said. Without looking back to see if Matt was following, I ran toward the lake where I could see two figures emerging from the water. Two shadows in the moonlight, Becquer and Ryan, both standing, both alive, I told myself to assuage my fears, even if one of them, the shortest one, stumbled as I watched and fell to his knees in the shallow water. The other, Ryan, stopped. Holding Becquer by the waist, he helped him to his feet then dragged him further ashore.

Matt reached them first. He set Becquer’s right arm over his shoulders, wrapped his left around Becquer’s body, and after nodding to Ryan to indicate he could let go, started toward one of the wooden benches that dotted the lake.

I called out to Ryan, who looked up and came to me. I took him in my arms or, more accurately, he took me in his because he was almost two heads taller than I was now, which made it difficult for me to hug him.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“It’s all right,” I said, and meant it. Everything was all right, for he was alive.

“What happened?” I asked him as he pulled away. “Where is Beatriz?”

Ryan pointed at the upper ground that closed the lake. “She threw me in the water from up there. Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know,” I said, because I didn’t, and because I didn’t know what else to say.

“Why did she take me? Why here?” he asked, question following question as if they were just crossing his mind. “She told me Becquer was my father. Can you believe it? She must be mad,” he concluded. “For how could … ” He frowned. “He’s not.” A note of concern crept into his voice as he added, “Becquer is not my father, is he Mom?”

My guess was that Beatriz had told Ryan Becquer was his ancestor, but now was not the moment to explain.

I shook my head. “Of course not, Ryan. I only met Becquer last week.”

Ryan sighed. “He saved my life,” he said, looking over my shoulder. “I have to thank him.”

Without waiting for me, he started toward the bench to our right, where Matt had taken Becquer. I followed him.

When we reached them, I saw Becquer sitting back, his eyes closed while Matt bent over him.

“Is he all right?” Ryan asked.

Matt’s back straightened and turning to face us he pointed at Becquer’s neck. “Did my mother do this to him?” he asked me. His voice was close to panic.

“Yes. Back at the house. But, don’t worry. He’ll be all right,” I said. I lied to calm him down, for I had no idea what was wrong with Becquer, and the fact that his mind was closed scared me.

Matt said nothing.

“Let me see him,” I said.

As Matt stepped back, I moved closer and sat by Becquer’s side.

The blue scarf Federico had wrapped around the wound was gone and the glass left an ugly, swollen wound, clearly visible. It was not bleeding now, but the collar of Becquer’s white shirt was stained with blood, as was probably his waistcoat also, although the blood was invisible against the vivid scarlet of his vest.

“Becquer,” I whispered and took his hand. It was cold like winter rain. I shivered, not only because of the cold that settled on me now with the rush of adrenaline gone and I was not wearing a coat, but out of fear that he might be dying — “We call ourselves immortals, but that name is a misnomer,” Federico had told me. “We can die.”

The intensity of my fear must have reached his mind, because his eyes flickered open and his voice was in my mind. Tell them to leave.

“He’s all right,” I told the two young men staring at me, “but he needs a bandage. Ryan, do you have a clean shirt in your bag?”

Ryan frowned.

“I drove your car here. Can you bring me a clean shirt?”

“Sure.”

Ryan turned to go.

“Change into dry clothes, first, or you’ll catch a cold,” I called to his back.

“I’ll do it later.”

“No. Do it now. Matt can go with you and bring me the shirt.”

Matt hesitated for a moment, reluctant to leave Becquer. But Becquer nodded at him, flinched at the pain the movement must have caused him, and whispered, “Your mother is all right, Matt. Do as Carla says.”

Matt smiled, a quick smile of relief that make him look even younger. “I’ll be quick,” he said to me and started after Ryan.

Becquer followed him with his eyes, and then winked at me. I thought they’d never leave.

Chapter Ten: Ryan

I felt relief at first upon hearing his voice. Relief that he was well enough to play games. But soon my relief gave way to anger, because I had been worried about him.

“So you were pretending,” I said aloud.

“Pretending I’m half dead? No. But I wanted them gone so I can talk with you alone.”

“About Beatriz?”

Your mother is all right, he had told Matt before dismissing him. Maybe Beatriz was badly hurt and Becquer had not wanted to tell Matt.

Becquer stalled. “Beatriz? What about her?”

“Did you ki — hurt her?”

“No. We talked. Then she left.”

“You let her go?” I asked in disbelief.