Page 42 of Saint of the Shadows

“The records, the books, the comfort food? Definitely sentimental.”

Hestepped out of the kitchen and held out his hand. “Dance with me.”

Scratch sentimental. He was delusional. “Um—” she gestured to her wheelchair.

“Activity will be good for you. Help you recover faster.”

And now she knew why patients scowled at her when she’d say that exact same thing. “I’m not objecting because of that. I can’t—”

He took control of the wheelchair and pushed her into the hallway, riding the back like she was a shopping cart.

Marisol braced for the impact of the wall at the end of the hallway. “Vincent! We’ll crash!”

He wheeled her in a circle, skidding her to a stop. He held out his hand. Marisol scrutinized the eager expression on his face. Surely, he was pranking her. But she found only sincerity in his twinkling eyes and silly smirk. She took his hand. He grabbed her other hand and swiveled her in alternating, sweeping arcs down the hallway.

She surprised herself as her hips swayed, despite being bound to a wheelchair. “I’ll give you credit. You can make a set of wheels dance.”

“I practiced with children recovering in the hospital.” He rolled her under his arm in a turn.

“That’s sweet.” Wait, he hadn’t danced with the kids since she worked there. “But you don’t do it anymore?”

He shrugged.

“A dance would mean more to them than a well-lit photograph.”

“Hm.” The grip of his hand loosened.

She sensed he was closing himself off from her. She pulled him in to face her. “Think about it. You and the kids smiling? A genuine story? If you danced at your so-called ball, you’d make serious bank.”

“It wasn’t the greatest environment for dancing. Too many egos in the room.”

Marisol chuckled. She remembered the ball and Annie standing in front of the board. They laughed at her when she mentioned the potential of her research. She mentioned her research at the ball. Then the Bloodsucker got her. Marisol gripped the arms of her chair.

Vincent stopped swiveling her around to the music. “What is it?”

The Bloodsucker had to be at the ball. “I think I know who the Bloodsucker is.”

15

Caballeros For Justice

Vincent tossed a legal pad on the dinner table. Marisol wheeled to the table. He took a seat and spun the legal pad to face him. He started to sketch. The pencil scratched swift lines onto the pad, reconstructing the layout of Vincent’s ballroom.

Marisol interlaced her fingers and stretched her palms outward. A satisfying click of her joints announced she was ready to work. “Whoever is behind all this, I think they went to your ball.”

“We’ll try to relive your memory of it.”

“Annie always had theories but only would share them with me… until that night.”

“What did she know?”

Marisol bit the inside of her cheek, and a knot twisted in her stomach. She made a discovery about Vincent’s dad and made a serum from it. And someone killed her for it. Her mind jumped to that fateful night in the lab, as if she opened a door thatshe wanted to close. She didn’t want to re-see the teeth, to re-hear the screeching and the gunfire. What did Annie create? “She thought we could create gene therapy by coding the chemical compounds ‘superhuman’ traits. Perfection in a pill. Sort of... a sharing of power?”

“Superhuman?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I know, right? Crazy theory.” She forced herself to roll her eyes, hoping Vincent studied the sketch instead of her face. Marisol rotated the legal pad and drew stick figures around the room. “She mentioned her theory at the ball to the board and you.”

“Anyone seem suspicious?”

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