“When did you learn he was immortal?”
“He told me last year when he bought his house in Bucks County. I had just finished college and was looking for a job. He offered me free room and board and a salary if I looked after the house and the grounds and drove his guests when needed. I agreed, of course. It’s a great arrangement for me. It allows me to pursue my music while I build my freelance business. And the pay is good. But living so close to him, he figured I would notice … ”
His words faded as if sucked into a vacuum that silenced the world around me and stole the air from my lungs. It was a sudden change that came and went too fast for me to understand. A second frozen in time, I would have probably dismissed as a product of my imagination, but for the image it left, burnt in my mind, of a body suspended in midair between a concrete walkway and a dark mass of water.
Come. Bécquer’s voice, distorted and unreal, resonated inside my head, a command I couldn’t ignore. And again a vision overtook me. This time I saw Ryan swimming, fighting the churning waters that rushed toward the opened gates of a dam.
I’ll get Ryan. But you must come. Again Bécquer’s voice, sounding far away yet pressing, was in my mind. Then nothing.
I swerved off the road, braking hard until the car came to a halt.
“What’s wrong?”
“Didn’t you feel it?”
Matt stared at me.
“Never mind,” I continued, for the answer was clear in the puzzled look in his blue eyes, which I noticed were the exact shade of Beatriz’s.
I returned to the road, made a U-turn, and headed northwest.
“Bécquer is at Peace Valley,” I explained to Matt.
“How do you know?”
“He just told me.” Showed me would have been more accurate for I had recognized the dam in the image Bécquer had sent me as the one closing the southwest side of Lake Galena. But I didn’t feel like explaining my vision of Ryan drowning, afraid, perhaps, that saying it aloud would make it real.
“Bécquer talked to you?”
“Yes.”
“You two are connected?”
I nodded.
“Is that why my mother took Ryan, to get back at you for taking her place?”
Like Federico had before meeting me, Matt concluded that I was to become Bécquer’s blood giver.
“No,” I said, too loud to sound convincing, for the assumption irked me more than it should have. “I don’t want to take your mother’s position.”
“But you’re connected to Bécquer,” he repeated.
“Yes and no. He gave me some of his blood today. The effects will wear off soon. There will be no further exchange between us. But you’re right,” I continued, feeling slightly guilty for screaming at him. “Your mother thought Bécquer meant to replace her.”
“Mother has big plans. She wants to help people. That is why she wants to be immortal.”
A part of me understood Matt’s need to excuse his mother’s behavior. But if the image I had seen was real, Ryan’s life was in danger at this very moment because of Beatriz, and that made her my enemy. So I kept my eyes on the road, luckily empty at this late hour, for I was going well over the speed limit, and didn’t answer.
We reached the lake by its southeastern shore and followed the road that surrounded the water. In the last parking lot, the closest to the dam, a car I recognized as Bécquer’s BMW stood dark and alone. And empty, I confirmed after getting out of mine. Where was Beatriz’s car? I wondered. Was she gone or was her car on the other side of the lake? I pushed the question from my mind. What mattered now was to find Bécquer and Ryan. I’d worry about Beatriz later.
“Let’s go,” I said. Without looking back to see if Matt was following, I ran toward the lake where I could see two figures emerging from the water. Two shadows in the moonlight, Bécquer and Ryan, both standing, both alive, I told myself to assuage my fears, even if one of them, the shortest one, stumbled as I watched and fell to his knees in the shallow water. The other, Ryan, stopped. Holding Bécquer by the waist, he helped him to his feet then dragged him further ashore.
Matt reached them first. He set Bécquer’s right arm over his shoulders, wrapped his left around Bécquer’s body, and after nodding to Ryan to indicate he could let go, started toward one of the wooden benches that dotted the lake.
I called out to Ryan, who looked up and came to me. I took him in my arms or, more accurately, he took me in his because he was almost two heads taller than I was now, which made it difficult for me to hug him.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
“It’s all right,” I said, and meant it. Everything was all right, for he was alive.
“What happened?” I asked him as he pulled away. “Where is Beatriz?”
Ryan pointed at the upper ground that closed the lake. “She threw me in the water from up there. Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know,” I said, because I didn’t, and because I didn’t know what else to say.
“Why did she take me? Why here?” he asked, question following question as if they were just crossing his mind. “She told me Bécquer was my father. Can you believe it? She must be mad,” he concluded. “For how could … ” He frowned. “He’s not.” A note of concern crept into his voice as he added, “Bécquer is not my father, is he Mom?”
My guess was that Beatriz had told Ryan Bécquer was his ancestor, but now was not the moment to explain.
I shook my head. “Of course not, Ryan. I only met Bécquer last week.”
Ryan sighed. “He saved my life,” he said, looking over my shoulder. “I have to thank him.”
Without waiting for me, he started toward the bench to our right, where Matt had taken Bécquer. I followed him.
When we reached them, I saw Bécquer sitting back, his eyes closed while Matt bent over him.
“Is he all right?” Ryan asked.
Matt’s back straightened and turning to face us he pointed at Bécquer’s neck. “Did my mother do this to him?” he asked me. His voice was close to panic.
“Yes. Back at the house. But, don’t worry. He’ll be all right,” I said. I lied to calm him down, for I had no idea what was wrong with Bécquer, and the fact that his mind was closed scared me.
Matt said nothing.
“Let me see him,” I said.
As Matt stepped back, I moved closer and sat by Bécquer’s side.
The blue scarf Federico had wrapped around the wound was gone and the glass left an ugly, swollen wound, clearly visible. It was not bleeding now, but the collar of Bécquer’s white shirt was stained with blood, as was probably his waistcoat also, although the blood was invisible against the vivid scarlet of his vest.
“Bécquer,” I whispered and took his hand. It was cold like winter rain. I shivered, not only because of the cold that settled on me now with the rush of adrenaline gone and I was not wearing a coat, but out of fear that he might be dying — “We call ourselves immortals, but that name is a misnomer,” Federico had told me. “We can die.”
The intensity of my fear must have reached his mind, because his eyes flickered open and his voice was in my mind. Tell them to leave.
“He’s all right,” I told the two young men staring at me, “but he needs a bandage. Ryan, do you have a clean shirt in your bag?”
Ryan frowned.
“I drove your car here. Can you bring me a clean shirt?”
“Sure.”
Ryan turned to go.
“Change into dry clothes, first, or you’ll catch a cold,” I called to his back.
“I’ll do it later.”
“No. Do it now. Matt can go with you and bring me the shirt.”