Page 97 of The Hacienda
I gave a soft call into the dark; the night settled over my shoulders like a cloak. Invisible to the eyes of men, I slipped soundlessly through the gates of the courtyard.
My heart thrummed against my ribs; the darkness within me strained to leap forth, now that it knew I would call on it. I had to keep it in control. Beatriz’s safety depended on my success. I would enter, find where she was. Exorcise the house and stay with her until dawn broke and we proved her innocence. It was simple. All I had to do was act according to my plan.
The caudillo’s two men were stationed at the front door of the house, the closest to the capilla. One slept, the other stood watch. Though they had not lit their post with torches, the wakeful guard looked out into the night, alert to my silent approach, perhaps aware, as beasts were, of the presence of a predator.
Yes, I was here.
I slipped up the steps, around the man, behind him. A moment was all I needed to recite in his ear the prayer my grandmother used to sedate patients. He slumped against me. As he fell to the ground to the right of the door, I seized his gun, catching it so it would not clatter to the flagstones. I set it down at his side, then repeated the act on his sleeping compatriot just to be safe. I did not envy the throbbing in their heads that would plague them when they woke with the sun high in the sky.
It was time to enter the house.
I tried the handle of the door. It was locked, of course, but I had learned to bend locks to my will before I lost my first tooth.
Open, I bid it.
The house bucked; it threw me back a few steps, but I caught myself. I came back to the door. I touched the handle again, then snatched my hand back with a strangled cry—it was like ice, so cold it burned my palm.
I placed my stinging palm against the door and leaned into the cedar.
“Yes, it’s me,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “Yes, you hate me. I don’t care.Obey.” This time, I lifted the lid of the box inside me a crack, just wide enough for a sliver of darkness to accompany my whispered incantation.
Then I seized the handle, ignoring the cold that jammed my joints stiff. I braced, preparing to force the door open.
Somewhere from the copse of trees beyond the village, the hooting of an owl caught my ear.
I paused. Tilted my head to the side, listening. It was calling tome. Once, twice, pause—a third call. That was a warning.
I released the door handle and took the steps in a single bound. Once my feet were on earth, I centered myself and swept my awareness around the perimeter of the house. All my senses were alight, sharpened by the darkness awakening within me, by the taste of fear on the night.
Something was deeply wrong. My skin crawled with it.
Acting on instinct, I left the front entrance of the house, crossing the garden to its southern wing. First striding quickly, then running, I beat through the weeds and emerged near the chicken coops at the back of the kitchen. My heart pounded in my throat as I pulled around the corner and skid to a stop, and the long terrace that lined the back side of the house came into view.
A ladder was set against the side of the house, but that was not what stopped me dead in my tracks.
It was another taste, heavy as metal on my tongue.Smoke.
A dark figure perched on the roof. A plume of black smoke billowed near it, barely visible against the dark sky. My eye fell to the window of the study above the drawing room: it was illuminated from within by flickering hellfire, its lurid glow an affront to the night.
Juana may kill her first.
I fell back a step, my mind utterly blank, my limbs turned to lead by shock.
Juana had set the house aflame. Within minutes, Beatriz could be dead, either by smoke or flame or any other violent means Juana had.
My heartbeat hammered in my ears. My hand trembled as it reached for the pamphlet, then froze. I did not have time to search for the right glyphs, to plan and draw and chant. Unless I acted, and acted now...
I had to get to Beatriz. Through the kitchen, up the stairs... and if the room were already alight, what then? Titi could pass through flame if she willed it; once she had taken a child from a burning house and emerged unscathed, though she was barefoot and bareheaded. I had no idea if I was capable of the same. Beatriz certainly was not. I had to fight on two fronts, strike two foes at once: extinguish the fire and get her out.
I had to befast.
I dropped the pamphlet and backed up several steps, lifting my face and arms to the heavens, seeking, seeking, seeking as Titi did when the valley was parched.
The black clouds were slung low on the far side of the mountains, their bellies heavy with rain.
You, I called.Heed me.
The clouds did not turn their steely heads. The wind that ushered them, steady as a shepherd, swept me away like a fly from its hide.
