Three worlds collide, p.26
Three Worlds Collide, page 26
Elena sat in the backseat between the two guards, sobbing quietly. “Is the girl hurt?” ABCs asked.
The man who had dragged her into the car answered, “Nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises.”
“Good. Keep it that way. She is not to be touched. Give her some water.”
Unconcerned with the carnage he had just left behind, the failure to capture Jackie pissed him off. She would have fetched an impressive price. But at least he had the girl. Perhaps I’ll add her to my collection. An unspoiled American girl alone was worth the trouble, but she had cost him at least one, maybe two of his men. He shook his head in disgust as he looked back at the unconscious man in the seat behind him. He didn’t care to ask. ABCs shrugged imperceptibly. I can always get more guards. He had left the third guard lying in the parking lot. He must be dead after the hit he took from the landscaper who had appeared to be possessed by a beast.
And what was that guy? Where did he come from? Why now? ABCs asked himself. He recalled the savagely inhuman yell and the glowing white eyes as an otherwise normal-looking guy fearlessly charged them. “Mi mala suerte,” he muttered, cursing his bad luck. He had recognized something there—an underlying power to rival his.
Under the guidance of his Shaman, ABCs immersed himself in the occult to strengthen the depravity of his reputation, giving him an edge in the paranoia and mysticism revolving around the cartel world. But this... glowing white eyes and a roar that sounded like it came from a large grizzly bear, was something else entirely. Whatever fueled him seemed to also disrupt ABCs’ connection to the demon. He had not felt the strength he normally would. Something had been... off. He would need to reach out to the Shaman for advice when they arrived at his compound.
A whimper from Elena broke his concentration. “Be quiet, girl.” His thoughts shifted to her and what she might look like in a few years. If she matured to resemble her mother, this girl alone could make him plenty, but not soon. He would have to wait for her to mature. Otherwise, her prime earning years would be spoiled. Her mother, on the other hand, could be put to work right away. Again, he cursed his bad luck.
I’ll go back for her.
It would not be the first time he had gone to great lengths for a beautiful woman.
𓂓
Armando left the cantina in a funk. Although he didn’t’ want to admit it, seeing his mother in the hands of his rivals had affected him. Feeling nothing for her didn’t bother him, it only fueled his hatred for the Knife Cartel and what they’d done to his family. They had driven them apart and set him on a lifelong path of vengeance. But seeing her did more than remind him of why he must hunt them down. Seeing her had opened a door.
He sat in his soft top car, obsidian paint gleaming in the midday sun like volcanic glass. Not long ago, a rival cartel killed the man who had given him meat when he was a child. When he received word of the man’s death, Armando arranged ownership of the shiny-white-car-with-the-soft-roof. But after driving it for the first time, he felt the need for a change in order to make it his own. So, right after obtaining the car he had it painted black... black like tar. He drove slowly and proudly along the dusty road, sorting his plans for the evening.
Market is today, I can stop and walk among the people. With that, Armando steered west toward the nearest tianguis in the hill country along the Durango/Sinaloa state border hoping to find some rare animal from the south he could have his cook prepare for dinner.
Strolling through the busy mercado, Armando walked, hands in pockets among all the ordinary people of the surrounding villages. He enjoyed the smells of the Chili Uchu and chicharrones cooking, the shouts of vendors negotiating with tourists, and the cacophony of background sounds that coalesced to take him away from thoughts of his heinous responsibilities. Since taking down the Knife Cartel, he had risen to top enforcer within the Scorpion Cartel. He had no real title. But he only took orders from the leader. His work had been bloody and frequent and he was in no hurry to get back to it.
Pausing at a spice cart for a package of seasoned salt he had a taste for, Armando fished in his pocket for coin. Looking down to select the right amount, he did not see the women approaching. He handed the coin to the vendor, took his salt without a word, and turned to head toward the wet market. Folding the package of salt into his pocket, he stepped into traffic without looking and nearly bumped into them. A flash of color filled his vision and he snapped his head up, a cross expression on his face ready to admonish anyone who would dare get in his way. But their smiles filled his vision with a joy he had never witnessed.
Three women of stunning beauty in traditional Aztec dress. Armando recognized the colorful clothing from pictures in the magazines he’d been reading. The Inti Raymi was upon them, and he had wanted to learn all he could this year so he could attend and attempt to enjoy the festivities. Stunned by the shimmer of their long straight dark hair, Armando felt as though he stood before Incan Royalty. They all whispered apologies and made their way past as he stepped back for them, bowing his head slightly, extending a hand to bid them by. It was a gesture so foreign to him that, after they passed, he wondered what inspired him to act like that. He stood for a moment, caught up in the feeling, and turned to watch them go. As they walked through the market, Armando noticed others in the crowd pause and bow their heads to them. A little girl saw them go by and jumped up and down, screaming excitedly, “Mama, Mama, look!” The women paused and one reached out a hand to touch that of the little girl, who nearly leaped out of her shoes with joy.
Armando stepped back to the spice vendor and asked, “Who were those three women?”
The man looked after them and said, “You don’t know?”
Armando shook his head.
“You just met The Paititi Three.”
“And who are they?”
The vendor regarded him, slightly confused. “They are performers, well-known all over Latin America. They are here for the festival.”
Armando nodded but couldn’t take his eyes off the women in the distance as they melted into an adoring crowd.
After learning the women would be performing that evening, Armando decided to stay near the market for the festival. He had been turning in his mind a way to approach them. But in the throng of the performance, he would need an ‘in’. He spent the afternoon making calls and arrangements. He would decide after the performance which woman he would choose.
Within a few minutes, his phone rang, and he was given a list of numbers to call to make arrangements. Armando went to work. Normally, he wouldn’t bother with these sorts of details. He had grown accustomed to handing a woman coin and telling her what to do. But this proved to be an original and exhilarating feeling he had never known before—an infamous man planning his approach to women of fame. The irony. Smiling down at the phone as he dialed, he murmured, “It will make a legendary love story.”
Love.
Love was something so foreign to him, he thought he would never experience it. But seeing those women, the beauty in their eyes, and the way they were adored, Armando knew it had been love at first sight. He’d never been in the presence of such purity, not since the days with momma.
First order of business—find a room. He knew every establishment would be full because of the festival, but the cartel kept rooms in a decent hotel nearby. After confirming his arrival, he returned to his car and continued planning as he drove to the hotel. Armando had never been much of a caballero, but he could definitely dress like a gentleman. Certainly, women of this status would expect it.
After settling into his accommodations, he made arrangements for a car and driver to take him to the nearest clothier. Armando introduced himself and his tattoo, and the tailor immediately fitted him for a pair of slacks and a jacket for that evening’s festivities. Armando paid him double for the promise of delivery to his hotel within an hour. Then he went to a local cobbler who sold him a pair of refurbished shoes and a matching belt to go with his sleek outfit.
On the way back to the hotel, he stopped by a flower shop and arranged for three bouquets to be delivered backstage after the performance. Next, he called the best restaurant in town and reserved a table for four. He made sure to request a mariachi band to perform solely for his guests, at their request. Then he called the flower shop back and arranged to have flowers sent to the restaurant also. After wrapping up a few more details, he went down to the barbaria in the hotel for a haircut and a shave. Then he went across the street to a farmacia to gather fresh underwear and socks and a bottle of cologne. He spent extra time in the shower scrubbing the grime of a criminal life from every crevice, lining up his new Caesar cut in the mirror, detailing his pointy goatee, cleaning teeth and ear and fingernails, and anything else he could think of. When the jacket and pants arrived, he hung them from the door and admired them for a few minutes before getting dressed.
Armando stood in the mirror for several minutes regarding himself in his matching off-white outfit. He’d never in his entire life been able to afford or had the desire to dress as a gentleman would. The thought intrigued him, Perhaps I have higher to rise. Feeling the confidence, he called down to the desk and demanded a case of champagne be chilled and ready for delivery to his room upon his return. He knew there would be much to celebrate. During the call, the desk let him know his car had arrived. Armando headed down, but before he got in, he spotted a jeweler across the street. “Wait a minute,” he told the driver and hurried through traffic, pausing to look in the front window before going in.
𓂓
Clay sat in the third-row seat listening to the conversation between Jackie and Michael as Martha dressed his wounds in silence. They made no eye contact—it was an uncomfortable situation. So many questions roiled through his mind. This had escalated into something way beyond any experience he’d ever had. He wasn’t a police officer, or in the military, or anything of the sort.
What am I gonna do when we get to wherever we’re going to save Elena? Get my ass kicked again? Get killed this time?
Clay turned his head to look out the back window as Martha put the finishing touches on his dressings. After taking the Acetaminophen and finishing off the water, he felt better, physically. But this connection with Evan... What the fuck? So much to absorb all at once. He didn’t want to let Jackie down or abandon Elena, but he also didn’t think he could take another beating. He winced at the thought.
Martha picked up on the look of worry combined with the appearance of self-doubt. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.
Clay turned his head to her. His words muffled as he tried to speak through a swollen face and mouth. “As good as can be, I suppose. Just a lot to take in all at once.” He paused, then prompted her, “How about you? This must be pretty scary for you.”
“You could say that.” Martha smiled slightly and looked down at her hands to make sure she’d cleaned off the last of Clay’s blood. “But we’re all in this now. We have to see it through to the end.”
Clay regarded her with an assessing stare. She had just stepped into this mess a few hours ago, but seemed determined to stay with the group until they rescued Elena.
“Besides, Evan might not leave me alone if I left now. He knows I can communicate with him.” She risked a brief smile to help ease conversation.
“He’s here?” Clay asked.
Martha bundled the used towels into the bandage wrappings as she spoke. “No, not in the car. I’m not sure why. I suspect he’ll be at the next stop.”
“The last time, at the hospital, I was more aware of his presence. When we merged, it seemed like everything connected this time. I didn’t black out,” Clay said.
Martha nodded. “You were able to sustain the connection a little longer too, weren’t you?”
Clay thought for a second “Yeah, a little bit longer. But the connection quickly drained me. I just collapsed, exhausted. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t maintain it. If I had, maybe I could have gotten to Elena.”
At the sound of her daughter’s name, Jackie turned to Clay and put her arm over the seat back, reaching for his hand. Clay lifted his hand and took hers, the touch both electrifying and soft at the same time. “Heyyyy,” she said with a distinctive sincerity Clay couldn’t doubt. “You did everything you could. I’m glad you’re okay.” She backed that up with a smile and a nod, then released his hand to turn back around, sensing Clay needed to have this conversation with Martha.
Martha smiled to herself at the newfound connection they all had. Small but significant sparks of light in the darkness attempting to consume them. “Clay, there are some things you should know... Some things that might help.”
𓂓
The Alphabet King’s Excursion approached the compound, driving into the setting sun. The hills behind the building casting lengthening shadows as the sun lowered. Glints of light caught the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, refracting the reds and oranges as if the structure housed a giant furnace. The souls of all who had passed there in death burned alive in the silent screams of the flames. The fading paint bubbled and peeled in protest against the heat, joining the bones of the building in silent disapproval, neither wanting to provide shelter any longer for the wickedness that occurred within those walls.
ABCs pulled the Excursion into the courtyard, jammed it in park, and opened the driver’s door. Gingerly, he slid out of the seat and steadied himself. Two punches from a woman and he felt like he’d taken a serious beating. Where was my pishtaco? I could not sense his power as before. The thought fueled his anger.
“Puta,” he spat before opening the driver’s side rear door. ABCs gestured to the other guard, who had been watching Elena, then reached for the unconscious man next to him in the backseat. “Let’s get him out and inside. I’ll take the girl.”
The two guards on duty inside came out to the courtyard and stood motionless, trying to comprehend the scene. They watched as ABCs and the other guard heaved the unconscious man out of the backseat of the SUV. As they struggled with the awkward weight, ABCs growled at them, “Get over here and help get him inside.” They came over and took the man’s arms under the shoulders while the other guard from the backseat took his legs. They carried him through the left door and into the hall to one of the rooms that had been set up for triage.
ABCs looked into the SUV and saw Elena cowering in the floorboard behind the passenger seat. He slid in behind the driver’s seat and grabbed her arm. Elena squirmed in his grasp. Soft gasps escaped her as she struggled to be free of his grip. “I want my momma,” she said without looking at him directly.
ABCs grabbed her other arm. “Look at me, ninita,” he said, snarling the words through his gravelly voice. Elena looked up. “You can forget about your momma. You will never see her again. Shut up and do as you’re told.”
Elena surrendered momentarily at the news and ABCs pulled her out of the SUV. Taking her by one arm as he walked her to the door, he said in a menacing tone, “I have some nice ladies for you to meet.”
“No,” she protested, struggling against him.
He paused and gave her a sad look, then spoke in a childlike voice laced with a bit of mock sympathy. “I was little older than you when my momma was taken from me. I survived. You will too if you do as you are told.”
As they approached the door leading inside, she resisted even harder. “No. Stop!” she yelled in an urgent voice, just like her mother had taught her.
He had to yank her several times. “Shut up!”
“Let go of me!” Elena smacked at his hand and resorted to screaming. “You have to fight if someone is trying to hurt you,” Jackie once told her. She tried to kick him, but ABCs jerked her hard back and forth, and she became disoriented then started crying.
Before opening the door, he paused and pointed a finger at her. “You will learn what happens to mischievous children who cause trouble.” Then he pulled the door open and yanked her through. ABCs paused again and barked at the guard, “Open it,” pointing to the door leading into the hallway.
The guard looked down at the child and hesitated, his jaw dropped in shock. He looked back up at ABCs from behind his mirrored sunglasses, his upper lip tensed with disgust.
Before ABCs could reprimand him, Elena seized the opportunity and pulled at his arm, getting close enough to bite the hand holding her. She let out a little high-pitched growl as she did.
“Goddammit!” ABCs shouted. He swung his free hand and smacked her upside the head.
She let out a sharp cry and let go but couldn’t stifle a brief smile that showed off bloody teeth. She spat on the ground at his feet, then looked up at him defiantly, nostrils flared, sharp breaths in and out.
ABCs and the guard leaned back slightly and looked down at her, momentarily frozen in shock, like they were trying to trap a wild animal that refused to relent.
She tried to pull away again, thrashing her body as she did, her little growl echoing in the main room.
ABCs raised a hand to hit her again, but the guard moved quickly and opened the door. “Sir!”
ABCs snapped his head, glared at the guard for a second, then lowered his hand and pulled her into the hallway. He held her up by one arm, her feet barely touching the floor.
The guard watched them go through. He sighed and shook his head as he released the door. Through the small pane of glass, he stood and watched with slumped shoulders as ABCs dragged her down the hallway, kicking and crying. “Esto es una mierda,” he mumbled.
Elena began to sob, tugging against him, feet sliding, stumbling as he pulled her down the hall to the rooms where the ladies were kept. He pushed open a door and dragged Elena through and released her. “Take care of her,” he commanded, and without another word, slammed the door shut.
