Page 44 of Spiders in the Grove

“No,” I lie again, “Not about everything, Cesara—my feelings for you—”

I see a flash of white light cross my vision after Cesara’s hand lays across my face. She grabs me by the wrist and pulls me to her chest. “I can save you, Lydia,” she whispers, “but you have to stop this now; come with me and we’ll talk about it privately.” Her willingness to forgive me is even more reason to believe her feelings for me are real.

Many faces in the crowd are pushing in on us from both sides, trying to hear what Cesara is saying to me, but she pushes them back, and attempts once again to drag me with her out of the theatre. And once again, I snap my arm free and refuse to move, glowering at her. She glowers back. And then she steps back. And she stands there, looking at me as if she doesn’t know what to do with me. But Cesara is the least of my worries—Joaquin has already lost interest in us.

“Joaquin, I’m…I’ll give you what you want from me, just please, let them go.” I know I’m wasting my breath.

“I don’t want anything from you anymore,” he says.

The demon inside Joaquin smiles for him, and I see his finger move to press the heavy trigger; the guard’s finger moves to press the heavy trigger.

No…no…NOO!

I play the only card I have left.

“IF THEY DIE, I’LL MAKE SURE JAVIER KILLS YOU FOR IT!”

The world stops moving on its axis; stunned silence stretches on forever; the only movement in the theatre now is that of my own, is that of me sealing my fate and carving my betrayals in stone.

I don’t look at Cesara standing behind me, but I sense she’s there, unable to move, uncomprehending. I keep my eyes on Joaquin, watching as his finger moves away from the trigger; as the guard’s finger moves away from the trigger. Naeva’s lungs fill up with air, relieved that, at least for a moment longer, she and Leo are going to live. Leo doesn’t change; he remains solid, vigilant in Joaquin’s grasp, waiting for any moment he can to grab Naeva, and he never looks at me.

But everyone else is looking at me; even I am looking in at myself from the outside, stunned, wondering why I’ve done this.

“What did you say?” Joaquin asks—demands—breaking the silence.

I move toward the steps leading up the stage, and I take them slowly.

“You heard what I said,” I tell him on the second step. “Let them go now—and let me go—or I make the rest of what life you have left, a living hell.”

“And just how would you plan to do that?” Joaquin is detracting from the obvious—because he and I, as far as I know, are the only people in this room who know the truth.

“If you kill them,” I begin, on the fourth step, “there’s nothing going to stop me from killing you—unless you kill me. And if you kill me,” I say, on the fifth step, “or harm me in any way, your brother will have your head.”

He’s beginning to lose focus; he swallows, and nervously licks the dryness from his lips; he rounds his chin; his nostrils flare. “M-My brother? I don’t think you understand—”

“Javier Ruiz is alive and well,” I say, not just to Joaquin, but to everyone else in the theatre. “And I know this because I am the one who didn’t kill him that day. I am the one he went after himself, because I am the one he loved.”

Cesara gasps behind me on the theatre floor; a flurry of voices carries overs the room.

“Who are you?” Joaquin asks, probably already knowing inside who I am.

I take the final step and stand before him on the stage; then I take a deep breath, clear my throat, and whisper apologies to Victor in my heart.

“I’m the only person in this room as famous as Leo Moreno was. My name is Sarai. I was once called La Princesa. And I demand you let them go, and get word to Javier that I’m here.”

“What the fuck is she talking about, Joaquin?” Cesara snaps; her eyes dart between him and me.

“Is she who she says she is?!” someone from the crowd shouts.

“She’s a liar!” someone else puts in.

“Javier Ruiz is dead!” shouts a man.

“La Princesa? The woman who took Ruiz down? I can’t believe it!”

I have everyone’s attention, but the one that interests me most is Iosif Veselov; even he looks mildly shocked. And to my own shock, Iosif steps away from his table; his tall, looming Russian form approaching the stage. No…don’t do this now; don’t make this impossible for me.

“I vill pay ten million dollarrrs forrr prrrincess.”

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