Whatever I’d expected to find, it wasn’t this.
Min stood in the center of a ritual circle, much as she’d done in the warehouse. The room swam with candles guttering like a host of mad fireflies. Bizarre runes adorned the simple concrete floor. Four men surrounded her, but none of them held weapons, and it looked very much like she was in charge.
“Thank the spirits,” she said, as though she’d been expecting us. “Kill these sons of bitches, will you? I’m sick of their faces.”
With that, she dropped the candle in her hands and dove wide.
Everything seemed to happen at once. As weapons sparked, lending the room a bizarre staccato flash, I dropped to the floor. I couldn’t tell who was shooting whom, so I stayed down, listening to cries of pain and muffled thumps.
When Saldana swung the Maglite around the room, I found our people shooting at an empty tunnel. A trail of blood indicated we’d hit at least one of the men, but I didn’t know where they’d gone. And then we heard the distant sound of a chopper powering up. Jesse had been right, it seemed.
Chance hugged Min hard without saying a word. Now wasn’t the time for explanations. In the yellow beam of light, she looked exhausted and worn. We needed to get her out of here.
“We can’t go back up,” Saldana said. “We’ll have to leave the way they did and hope for the best.”
Dug from solid rock, the tunnel led deep into the mountain and emerged some distance from the house, which smoldered behind us like a symbol of divine judgment. Chuch hissed through his teeth as we moved, and I guessed he hurt more than he’d let on. At some point, Chance had been shot in the upper arm, a flesh wound that would hurt like a bitch. If it had been any one of the rest of us, that person would probably be dead.
Min hadn’t spoken, other than to thank us. She had a lot of explaining to do, but we were content to let her do so once we were safe, relatively speaking. As for me, I didn’t have the breath to speak as we hiked back down the mountain. I felt numb.
By the time we reached Jesse’s ride, Chuch looked greenish pale. Eva helped him into the back, where he leaned his head on her shoulder. The rest of them clambered into the vehicle, but Kel stood apart.
Our eyes met for a moment, and he inclined his head. His face bore faint burn scars now, but they looked ancient. He might heal, but he still suffered. And nobody cared.
Without a word, God’s Hand turned and walked into the night. Our alliance had ended for the moment, but I suspected I hadn’t seen the last of him. He’d spoken of a great evil, and we hadn’t vanquished it, just sent it scurrying for cover. This felt like the first skirmish in a coming war, one I wasn’t sure I wanted to fight.
I wanted what I’d always wanted—a normal life, my pawnshop, the freedom to drink too much tequila and dance like there was no tomorrow. Maybe I’d never possess the peace most people took for granted. That sounded like self-pity, so I quashed the thought in time to hear Chance ask:
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“No permanent harm,” Min assured him, but she would tell us nothing more until we were safe behind Chuch’s wards.
Strange, after what we’d done, to have them wave us through at the U.S. border. Something like that should write its story on a person’s face, but Jesse had a good, trustworthy mug, it seemed. He’d cleaned up with some bottled water, and they didn’t look at the rest of us.
When we got to Chuch’s place, Eva took him to their bedroom and bustled around gathering medical supplies while Jesse, Chance, and I sat in the living room with Min. Butch looked quite relieved to find me home. Well, he wasn’t the only one. I checked his food, refilled his water dish, and let him out to do his business. Nothing like a dog to ground you.
I felt quite impatient by the time we all reconvened in the living room, where Min had insisted we wait. Even dirty and worn, she radiated the command of a small, implacable queen. Disbelief and love warred within me; I couldn’t believe we’d saved her. I acknowledged then, as I hadn’t before, that I hadn’t thought I’d see her alive again.
“You have all earned my trust with your courage and your ingenuity,” she said at last, “and so you have earned my secrets.”
“It’s about time.” Chance smiled to show he was joking. Mostly.
Being uninjured, I took a seat on the floor and listened.
“Long ago, a lifetime ago, I practiced the art in Seoul. I made potions and charms, removed curses. To some I am a witch, a sorceress, a healer, a shaman.” She lifted her shoulders to show that the name made no difference to her. “But I did too well, and I gained renown. A local crime boss noticed me and wanted me to work only for him, only against his enemies and on his orders. He took me, kept me against my will.” Her nose wrinkled, as though the memory held an unpleasant smell, even now. “I did not like living as a slave.”
“What happened then?” I prompted, hardly aware I’d done so.
Min flashed me a smile, one warm enough to melt the ice caps. “He was part of an operation that smuggled girls to other countries. Mexico. I managed to hide myself with them, and that was how I ended up in Nuevo Laredo, where I slipped away from the guards one night. But I had no money, and I could not hope to survive without a nest egg, so I begged work from Dr. Rivera.”
All the pieces started to click. Chuch and Eva did not speak, nor did Saldana. I expect they thought this tale belonged primarily to Chance and me.
My ex ran a gentle hand over his mother’s hair and murmured, “Yes, I know.”
She continued as if he hadn’t interrupted. “At first I simply lay low and brewed potions and tinctures in the back room of his clinic. I rented a room above one of the brothels and thought only of hiding. But slowly I came to care about the girls for whom I made the medicines.” Min exhaled shakily, staring at her hands.
“Of course you did.” I knew better than anyone what a loving heart she had.
“When one of them came to me, weeping, I did what she asked. She said her lover had got her with child, but once she had the baby, her patron would steal her son and leave her to starve. She’d claimed a bruja had seen it in some bones. I did as she asked.”
Eva spoke for the first time, murmuring, “You made a potion to abort the child.”
“I did.” Min lifted her chin. “She had no money for a doctor. It was her choice.”
“Montoya’s son,” I guessed aloud. It was the only thing that made sense.
“Yes. He has been seeking me all these years.” Her shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. “If I had known the extent of his tenacity, I would never have returned to Texas. I thought he would’ve given up long before now. It has been so many years.”
“There’s got to be more to it,” Saldana said.
“He murdered the prostitute who refused to bear his child,” Min replied. “But as she lay dying, she told him she had hired a bruja to hex him—he would never sire a living heir, and the empire he had carved from his countrymen’s bones would crumble to dust. He is an old man now, and still he has no sons.”
“He thought you worked the curse.” Chance’s tone left no room for doubt. “That’s why he wouldn’t kill you until you removed it.”
“It wasn’t me,” she said, spreading her hands. “There is no curse, unless you count the magick of a dying woman’s promise. But he believes. The power of the mind is a strange and wondrous thing.”
“What were you doing in the warehouse?” I asked, diffident.
“Before I agreed to ‘remove the hex,’ I forced them to take part in a ritual that prevented them from striking at Chance, my only son. I thought it wise since they would eventually discover I have no power to impact Montoya’s inability to sire children, and Diego can kill me only once.” Her dark gaze hardened. “No matter. The spell is binding. Hell itself will come for them, should they renege.”
Eva smiled at Min. “Then you stalled. You needed rare ingredients, or the moon wasn’t right, or Montoya must have a cleansing fast and a purifying bath of goat’s milk—”