And that is why I am grateful the gods grant us these small mercies. I thank the saints that there is a barrier between us mere mortals—the hunted—and the hunter’s wrath.
CHAPTER 25
Lalo
Lalo had just changed outof his soiled clothes when something crashed on the first floor. Voices hollered.
“What in the devil?” Lalo ran across the room.
“Lalo!” a gruff voice yelled. “Fernanda!”
Lalo opened the door to his room and peeked out to see—oddly enough—Señor Fuentes bolting up the steps. He seemed furious. His massive hands gripped the railing with bone-crushing force; a sword swung at his hip. Lalo jerked back. Did Señor Fuentes know about him? Was he here to slay the resident beast?
Lalo searched for a proper place to hide. But his brain had stopped functioning. He was going to die. Here. In some drafty home. Without a single chance to retreat. He braced himself for whatever was to come, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would shield him from his impending doom.
Señor Fuentes’s heavy footsteps clomped into his room. “Lalo?”
Lalo opened a single eyelid. Confusion twisted Señor Fuentes’s face, then something like relief relaxed his features. El señor let out a long sigh. “You’re all right.”
“Am I?” Lalo asked.
“Aren’tyou?” Señor Fuentes tilted his head, surveying Lalo as if he were one of his prized bulls.
Lalo’s brain gave a painful jab, and he winced. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “If you count feeling like my head might explode and having someone break into my home all right, yes.”
El señor’s mustache twitched. “Apologies about your front door. We thought…” He paused. “We were concerned for your safety. There was an incident.” He ground his teeth together. “My men were killed last night. We’ve found three dead sedientos, but we believe there might be more.”
Lalo’s heart thudded inside his chest. Did Señor Fuentes think it was him? The man was truly going to kill Lalo, just when he’d gotten Carolina on his side. They were going to fix this.
“Señor, about the attack…”
“I know, it is a tragedy indeed. Fear not, we will find every leech responsible and cut them down.”
Lalo blinked hard. Did he hear that correctly? Señor Fuentes wasn’t here to avenge the victims?
“If I may be so bold,” Lalo dared to say. “Why are you here?”
“Come with me,” Señor Fuentes ordered.
Lalo followed el señor down the steps and into the library, making sure to give a wide berth to the shafts of sunlight slipping through the windows and open door in the foyer. There wasn’t much as far as food to offer the man, but there was some rather nice port his sister kept hidden behind a stack of romance magazines. And Señor Fuentes looked like he could use a relaxer.
“I know it is early, but care for a drink?” Lalo asked.
“That would be nice.”
As Lalo moved toward the stack of books nuzzled against the large armchair his sister had claimed for herself, el señor’s eyes scoured over every window within the study. They were covered with thick draperies. The place was a tomb at all times so Lalo could sit with his sister.
“Why are the curtains drawn so tight?” Señor Fuentes inquired.
“I am prone to headaches.” This wasn’t a lie. “Brighter days make them worse.”
He handed Señor Fuentes a full tumbler. The man drank it down in a single gulp, his eyes burning into Lalo.
“Is there something else, señor?” Lalo queried.
Señor Fuentes placed the empty glass on the small table beside him. He sat on the leather couch and leaned back in his seat as if he owned the home. “We are used to random attacks by sedientos. My guard is always prepared, but the monsters have grown bolder as of late. Never in all my years have we had so many strikes against el pueblo within a week.” His jaw muscle twitched.
Lalo braced himself for the accusation sure to come—you brought them here and now you will die.
