“So much,” I breathed.
“Handsome?”
“And caring, gentle, intelligent, giving…”
“How did you lose them?”
“They were killed.”
Her sigh was small and sad. “In the war, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Which side did they fight for?”
I turned my head sharply and stared at her. “What?”
“There are two sides to every war. My grandfather fled here. It was after he fought for the wrong side in World War II. He made terrible mistakes and held awful prejudices. And yet married myabuela—she was, he would always claim, beneath him. She taught her children that no one is beneath another person. We are all equal.
“In this war, I should say that the humans are right. But those leading the fight are not inclined to worry about the little people, like me, you, my grandsons. They fire their weapons without care for those who are innocent in the fight. The others, the supernaturals, vampires, druids, just wish to live and be left to their own devices. I have no issue with them. I just wish to live, help my children live, and perhaps not be forgotten when I’m gone.”
She took my hand in her gnarled one. “So. Vampire or druid?”
I sighed. “Both.”
She chuckled. “I heard that was impossible.”
“It’s supposed to be. But here’s me. Impossible.”
“Mm.” She patted my hand.
“You’re not scared?”
“Of a woman weeping on the street corner because her lovers have died? No,querida. Not even a little. Tell me about these men.”
For the next half hour, I talk incessantly about Rilen and Roran, who they were, who they were to me, what it was like to be a part of their world, be included, be loved, and made love to by them.
Not once did I try to stop my tears, and not once did this little woman mock me, or yell at me, or even seem afraid of me.
“Did you kill the man who ordered their death?”
“Yes. I don’t regret that.”
“You shouldn’t. Lebedev was a horrible man. A Russian from the old KGB school of thought.” She waved her hand. “I know that means nothing to you, but it was a secret agency that had some awful ideas.” She nodded in the direction of the ocean to the east. “Most of the men who come out of the Russian military camp are dreadful. They are cruel and crude and…antiquated. Backward. They want to take us back to the Soviet way of thinking, and I don’t know why the government ever allowed them to land here. We aren’t a wealthy country, but we are a proud one, and there’s no reason for them to be here except to take over.”
She leaned in close. “Most of us knew of thevampirosin the far mountains. We didn’t care. They kept to themselves and weren’t evil like the military thinks they are.” She chuckled. “Some of us may have even traveled there as younger women to visit them for theDia de Muertosfestival they hold.”
I laughed. The way she dropped her voice, and the fond, forbidden memory that swirled around her was fascinating. I wondered if that was their version of theduranki.
“It is the military who wants this war. Of course, there are those afraid of what they are, but mostly, they’re afraid of someone coming to take their money.” She huffed. “They really should be more afraid of the revenge you can visit upon us for the death of those you love.” She cocked her head. “They have a name for you, you know. As you mowed down their generals crossing the country.”
I jerked back but couldn’t help smiling. “Do they?”
“Ah, si. It’s a wonderful name. You areLa Espada Ensangrentada.Magnífica, si?”
The Bloody Sword.Maybe not magnificent, but appropriate.
“Oh, yes.” I paused. “And you’re not afraid of me. I’ve literally killed hundreds, possibly thousands, of humans.”
