Page 62 of Edge of Darkness (Night Prowler 4)
He shrugged again. “I cannot say. But I don’t think it would be breaking my contract with him to say that I think he knows you very well.”
Ember sputtered, “Your contract? With him?”
He peered at her. “This was a substantial amount of money, hermosa. Do you think there would not be a contract for so much money?” He began to tick off a list on his fingers. “It covers what happens if you move out, if the building burns down, if it’s bought by someone else, if you die—”
Ember gasped. “If I die! Jesus Christ, Dante!”
Dante was unfazed by her outburst. “It is no good cursing at me—I just sign the thing and take the money. This friend of yours is a very good business man, hermosa. He asked me what I wanted to do in case you ever moved out—where the rest of the money should go, because the rent is paid up for a very, very long time. Longer than you would ever live, hermosa. And I told him: to the charity for the cystic fibrosis. So it can help other little girls like my granddaughter Clare. So, you live here as long as you want—your whole life if you want—and if anything happens in the meantime the rest of the money gets put to good use.” His brow furrowed. “This is correct—put to good use?”
Ember sat down on the stairs outside Dante’s door, put her head into her hands, and groaned. From between her fingers, she saw Dante’s sock-covered feet shuffle forward until he was standing right over her. He said in Spanish, “Let me tell you something.”
She uncovered her face and looked at him. He said sternly, “Do not look a gift horse in the mouth.”
Ember felt like groaning again. Instead she put her head back into her hands and sighed.
Dante went on, “This is not something you give back. This isn’t a pair of earrings, Ember. This gift is big—very big—something most people would weep with joy over. You…” She felt his disapproving look. “You act like somebody just died. This is wrong thinking. I know you’re a smart girl and I know your father was a good man—he brought you up right, God bless his soul. So what you should do is tell this man—and I have not told you who it is, understand?—tell this man that you are very happy and grateful, and see if there is something you can do to make him happy and grateful in return.”
Ember lifted her head and peered at him with narrowed eyes. He grinned down at her, wiggling his eyebrows. Switching to English, he pronounced, “He is rich, smart, generous, and well-mannered. And I am no Asher, but even I will admit this friend of yours is muy masculino—any woman should be glad to have a man like this.”
Then he folded his arms across his chest and nodded in satisfaction, as if he’d just finished a commencement speech. Ember wanted to shout, “Yes, he’s amazing, except for one little thing: HE’S NOT HUMAN!”
Instead she put her head back into her hands.
“Ember?”
She looked up at the sound of Clare’s voice to find her standing in the doorway of Dante’s apartment, looking wan and tired in a flowered nightgown. A plastic tube was hooked over her ears and fitted beneath her nose, delivering oxygen from a small metal tank on wheels she dragged behind her. In one arm she clutched the largest teddy bear Ember had ever seen; it was almost as big as she was.
“Hi, honey,” Ember said gently. She knew instinctively Clare had gotten worse since they’d met. She glanced at Dante and a look passed between them: act normal. “It’s nice to see you, Clare.”
Clare smiled at her, a true smile, wide and happy, and Ember felt a squeeze inside her chest.
“I have to go back to the hospital tomorrow,” Clare said, matter-of-factly. “My bugs are getting bad again.”
The squeeze tightened. Bugs—she meant the infection in her lungs. Ember and Dante shared another look.
“I’m sorry, honey.”
“I’m not,” said Clare, resting her head against the fluffy bear’s. “I get to see all my friends there again. Nurse Montoya is really nice, and so is my doctor. She’s a lady doctor—if I ever become a lady I want to be a doctor, too. She helps a lot of people. That would be cool.”
If I ever become a lady. Translated: if I live long enough to grow up.
Oh God.
Swallowing her horror, Ember asked, “Can you take your bear to the hospital with you?”
Clare brightened. “Yes! Isn’t he cool? His name is Peter Parker!”
“She likes the Spider-Man,” said Dante, stroking her hair. She looked up at him and smiled wider, and Ember had to look away for a moment because she thought she might start to cry.
Why was life so cruel and unfair? Why would God inflict something like this on such a beautiful, innocent little girl?
Because there is no God, Ember. There is only chaos, and suffering. You of all people should know that.
Ember shoved that terrible thought aside and smiled at Clare and Peter Parker. “He’s beautiful. I’ve never seen such a big teddy bear before.”
“Christian gave him to me,” Clare announced, and Dante stiffened. His hand on her head stilled. He shot a fraught glance at Ember, but she ignored it, concentrating on what Clare had said.
“Christian?” she repeated slowly.
