“We don’t know that for a fact, Val,” I corrected, straightening as tension ran through me. “There’s no proof he knew either.”
“Right.” He nodded, pity in his eyes. “Anyway, I know how much that thing meant to you.”
“Okay.” I eyed him cautiously.
“What I’m trying to say is…well, I don’t want you to feel like…shit, here.” Jerking his hand out of his pocket, he pushed his fist toward me and held it until I extended my palm. Immediately, his fist opened and a flat, gold link chain fell into my hand.
Curious, I held the pendant up for closer inspection. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen in my life. The top third looked to be gold, the sun dial looking top fanned above a woman’s skeletal face crowned with flowing long straight hair. Her open-boned rib cage stood pronounced and melted into a rose gold cloak. In her hand, she held a silver scythe similar to the Grim Reaper. It was both terrifying and beautiful.
“What is this?” I whispered, unable to tear my eyes from it.
“Santa Muerterosary,” he explained, unclasping the hook and twirling his finger in a circle, indicating for me to turn around. “In my culture,Santa Muerteis very sacred,Cereza. In ancient times, sacrifices were made to the Lady of the Dead in order to receive a peaceful death. The tradition passed from generations and has changed into many different meanings. The basic request always remained the same; however,Santa Muertecan be asked for nearly every need, mainly protection from one’s enemies.”
Glancing down at the pendent resting against my chest, I ran my fingers across the cool metal. “But…death? Isn’t that a little morbid? Especially since what we’re walking into isn’t exactly safe.”
“The powers associated withSanta Muertearen’t all negative, Eden. All men must answer to death. The greatest power in life is death. If we believe in that philosophy, thenSanta Muertehas the power to turn the will of man in favor of one or the other.”
Tracing the scythe, I tasted the name on a whisper. “Santa Muerte.”
“Protection,” he reiterated, kissing my temple. When I glanced up to thank him, he’d already reassembled his bags on his shoulder and walked out the front door toward the waiting SUV.
Closing my fist around the symbol, I stared after him, a feeling of inherent dread washing over me. “Protection,” I repeated.
* * *
Livingin Houston my entire life, I’d never legally crossed the border into Mexico.
I sure as hell hadn’t done it at one-hundred-fifty miles per hour in rough gulf waters.
After almost losing my breakfast in a speed boat, hitting wave after wave with a choppy resistance that had me dry heaving in Val’s lap, we docked off South Padre Island and took a waiting car down to Brownsville. I had no idea how Mateo and Emilio had arranged all the intricacies of the trip so quickly, but I knew not to question it.
In this instance, the less I knew the better.
Once in Brownsville, we easily walked across the border to another waiting car on the Mexico side in Matamoros. The entire trip took a little less than six hours, all said and done, but it felt like twelve. By the time the car pulled into a circular driveway, I could barely keep my eyes open.
“What time is it?” I whispered, dragging my head off Val’s shoulder.
Turning his wrist, he squinted at his watch. “Six o’clock.”
“Feels later.” I yawned, stretching as I studied the modest house in front of us. “Where are we? This doesn’t look like a drug lord’s mansion.”
Val chuckled and opened the door to the back of the SUV. “It’s not,Cereza. Do you actually think I’d bring you to the middle of a battlefield?”
“What? You promised!”
Leaning in, he hooked his fingers under my chin and pressed his thumb against my lips. “I promised I’d take you to Mexico. I never said anything about throwing you to the wolves. Did I?” Pouting, I shook my head. “This is my house in Monterrey. We’ll stay here tonight. Tomorrow morning, I have to claim my father’s body, and tomorrow afternoon, I’ll fly to Mexico City to his estate to handle business…alone.”
“But, Val…” I dove for the door handle, sprawled across his lap, effectively stopping his exit.
“But, nothing, Eden. These are my terms. Accept them, or I’ll put your ass on a plane back to Houston faster than you can shove it in my face again.”
Deciding not to push the issue, I shot him a look and crawled back to my side of the car. Throwing the door open, I hoisted my backpack onto my shoulder and stomped to the front door, Mateo hot on my heels. “Well? Are you going to open it, or do I kick it in?”
Mateo’s eyes rounded as he bounced a look back to Val.
Hiding a smirk, Val tucked a semi-automatic in the waistband of his pants and twirled a set of keys on his finger. “That mouth of yours,Cereza…I’m telling you…one of these days.”
* * *
