Page 22 of The Salt-Black Tree
Or perhaps not. The mortals could sleep soundly now, for a few minutes at least, before they were called to work in the fields again.
MARISOL DE FLORES
There was no peephole. Nat hovered near the door, caught between uncertainty and curiosity. A soft, pregnant silence was broken by a faint drumming—fingertips marching in quick succession against painted wood.
A voice filtered through. “Drozdova?” A pleasant soprano, which ruled Dmitri out, unless he was a helluva ventriloquist. “You don’t know me yet; it’s Marisol. I don’t mean you any harm.”
Why would you say that first off, then?Nat swallowed dryly. There was a silvery chain on the door; she’d hooked it up last night as well as throwing the dead bolt.
Now she was glad. But if it was another divinity, a chain wouldn’t do any good, would it? Priest said “no nonconsensual violence,” but plenty of people decided to risk eventual punishment for a short-term gain.
Gods probably weren’t any different.
Nat unlocked the door, turned the golden knob, and peered out through a sliver of empty space. The chain stretched full-length, taut and creaking.
A tall, tanned woman with a long fall of straight black hair stepped back, obeying the unconscious dictate of personal space. A pair of red heart-shaped sunglasses was pushed up to keep that glorious hair back, echoing ruddy highlights in the knee-length flow. Her dark eyes sparkled with merriment, and her lips were candy-gloss pink. Her face was oddly familiar, highcheekbones and a lush mouth; thready golden earrings dangle-swung as she moved.
Her white-and-red sundress had a sweetheart bodice and a long full skirt, its straps melding to tender, smoothly muscled shoulders. Her nails were rosy, and her cork wedge sandals incredibly stacked. She grinned, a flawless pearly smile, and the divinity on her was almost as powerful as the sheer warm goodwill she radiated.
“Oh my goodness,” she breathed, peering through the tiny slice of open door. “Look how beautiful you are. Hello.”
What the hell?Nat’s jaw all but dropped. She was, in her mother’s words, catching flies with her silly mouth.
“I’m Marisol,” the woman continued, after an awkward pause. “Your elder sister, after a fashion—it gets confusing, you know? You’re Spring, I’m Summer.” Her smile didn’t alter, and neither did that deep, incontrovertible sense of benevolence. “I’m so glad you’re here. Normally I’d be in Florida, but something told me the City of Angels was better this year. And now look, I was right.” She cocked her head, the long waterfall of hair swaying.
Oh, boy.“Uh,” Nat managed.Divinitydidn’t quite cover this lady. She was, purely and simply, a goddess. “Hi.”
Another tight, awkward silence hummed between them. Marisol’s smile didn’t fade, but her perfect coal-black eyebrows drew a few millimeters closer to each other.
“Let me guess,” she said, quietly. “Maria never told you about me.”
That’s the understatement of the year.But now the eerie familiarity made sense, because this woman looked a little bit like her mother. Dark instead of blonde, tanned instead of pale, curvy instead of willowy, but still… the resemblance was overwhelming. Nat hauled her jaw back up, and found she could speak. “She never told me about anything.”
“Well, that would make it easier for her, wouldn’t it.” Watching this woman grow somber was like a raincloud passing overthe sun. Marisol took another half-step back, just as Nat might when eyeing a skittish stray creature in a vacant lot back home. “I’d’ve talked her out of it, except she’d never listen. Stubborn as her own storms, your mother. When I heard you were coming out west I thought,thank goodness Maria didn’t go through with it. But… that’s not quite right, is it.”
Oh, hell.Did everyone know her mother’s plans except Nat? It was depressingly par for the course. “She’s still alive.” Nat’s hands tingle. “Uh, let me get the door. Okay?”
“Sure, take your time.” She even sounded like she meant it.
Like she had all the time in the world.
Nat’s fingers were clumsy, but when she got the chain free and swept the door open, the woman showed no sign of impatience or anger. Her high-gloss finish was enough to make even a supermodel feel washed-out and pimply, but that forgiving, high-wattage smile bathed you in such a glow it was almost worth it. She stepped over the threshold, glanced at the suite, and her grin returned. “Oh, wow. I love it, it’s so fresh. We should get off on the right foot, don’t you think? Hi, I’m Marisol de Flores.” She extended one graceful hand, thin gold bangles chiming on her wrist. “I’m Summer. At least, on this continent. I’ve got a couple other faces, especially up north, but so do you. And I’m so, so happy to meet you.”
The moment their fingers touched a flood of heat passed through Nat’s body, soles to crown. The fear-copper in her mouth faded, the tension in her shoulders eased, and her sock toes tingled happily. “Wow. Hi. I’m Nat, Nat Drozdova. I guess I’m Spring.”At least, once Mom dies? Or until she eats me? Is that how this goes?
“You don’t have to guess.” Marisol’s laugh was like warm caramel. “You justare, no matter what anyone else says. You’ll get used to it.”
Will I?Nat swept the door closed. “So you know what I’m looking for, and—”
“You’re on a restoration tour, I’d guess. I’ve got the chariot safe and sound, and let me tell you, it’ll be a relief to get it out of the garage. But you’re probably going to fetch that damn diamond too. I heard you were traveling with Konets.” The woman turned in a complete circle, her hair swaying heavily. How she balanced on those towering wedges was a mystery; her ankles looked too slim to hold the rest of her. “Not like he’s going to put it back in his chest, but I’d suspect it’s the principle of the thing. Men are sotouchy.”
“You’ve got that right.” It popped out of Nat’s mouth, surprising her, and Marisol laughed. It was impossible not to chuckle with her, impossible not to relax. “But he’s not that bad. He was even trying to teach me, I guess.”
“Huh.” Marisol examined her from sock-clad toes to rumpled head, a slow unhurried appraisal. “I’ll bet he was.”
A flare of different heat rose in Nat’s cheeks. “Not like that,” she hurried to add, but Marisol chortled again, shaking her head.
“Little sister, you have no idea.” Summer’s laughter was like warm velvety caramel, coating every word. “Listen, I know you’re busy and just here to pick up the car, but I’d love to have breakfast. And since Maria didn’t teach you anything, it’s my job to help as much as I can, right? You must be so confused.”
