Chris, the paramedic who was to ride with us, helped me into the back of the ambulance then motioned me to sit by Bécquer. I had barely done so when the strident sound of the siren broke into the night, drowning the roar of the engines as the vehicle started.
Despite David’s efforts, Bécquer had never been totally conscious back at the house. But now he opened his eyes.
“Bécquer,” I whispered and leaned closer in order to hear him over the blaring of the siren.
He stared at me for a moment then frowned. “Carla?” His voice was hoarse, almost inaudible. “What are you doing here?”
He tried to sit as he spoke, but his arms gave way and he fell back.
“Don’t move.”
Bécquer moaned. “What happened? Where am I?”
“There was an accident. We’re taking you to the hospital.”
“An accident?” For a moment he looked confused then, as understanding dawned in his eyes, he grabbed the tubing from the IV and yanked it from his arm.
Immediately Chris was upon him. Bécquer fought back with energy I didn’t imagine he could have. But the fight didn’t last long. Soon, the paramedic had him restrained and bound to the stretcher. Once the IV was again dripping in his arm, Chris moved back.
“Don’t get him excited,” he told me, as if I were the one responsible for Bécquer’s reaction. But seeing no point in arguing, I nodded and sat again by Bécquer’s side.
“You have to help me,” Bécquer asked me in Spanish now, to keep the paramedic from following our conversation, I guessed. “I was supposed to die tonight.”
“I won’t let you die.”
“Carla, please, don’t make this more difficult for me. I can’t live. I don’t want to live.”
“I’m sorry, Bécquer. I’m so sorry.”
“So you know?”
“Richard told me.”
“Richard? Oh! You mean he told you about my legs?”
I nodded. “Is it true, Bécquer? Are you human?”
He didn’t deny it. He just stared at me with his dark eyes that seemed even darker now, sunk so deep in his gaunt face.
“The Elders … ” I hesitated, “did they make you human?”
“Yes. My punishment for making Beatriz immortal.”
“But you didn’t change her. She stole your blood.”
“That’s a technicality, Carla. I sired her, and the sentence was that I should die. I begged Cesar, the Elder’s messenger, for a week to finish your contract. And when he agreed he asked for my word that after the week was over I’d kill myself. So, you see, I’ve no choice.”
“Yes, you have,” I bluffed. “Federico will talk to the Elders. He will convince them to change their sentence.”
“Federico knows?”
“He’s coming tonight.”
Bécquer groaned. “Why did you tell him? There’s nothing he can do. The Elders have already decided. You must let me be.”
I shook my head. “I won’t.”
“Why not? You broke your contract with me today. You were not to see me again. What difference does it make to you whether I live or die?”
“I ended my contract with you to keep my children safe. I don’t want you to die.”
“Do you hate me so much that you want me to live like this, broken and impotent, a shadow of the god I was?”
“You cannot really mean that. You’re still you, Bécquer. No matter what has happened. Taking your life is selfish.”
“Selfish?”
“Yes, selfish. Are you really so blind that you don’t know you have friends who care for you and would be devastated were you to die?”
“Do I really?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know that Richard is totally smitten with you. He’s certain your clients will wait if you decided to take a break. And Federico is worried sick about you. And Ryan looks up to you. You can’t let him down.”
Bécquer closed his eyes while I rambled on, as if embarrassed by my barely concealed distress. He opened them when I finished and fixed his dark stare on me.
“And you?” he whispered. “If I die, would you mourn me for a day?”
My vision blurred by tears. I was still struggling to find my voice when the ambulance came to a stop, and Chris asked me to move aside.
Powerless I watched, as they wheeled Bécquer away.
Rachel was talking with the receptionist when I came into the hospital.
Even though Richard had insisted that Rachel and Bécquer were not in a relationship, her distressed behavior that afternoon and her already being at the hospital seemed to suggest otherwise. Yet, on the list of people who cared for Bécquer that I had just enumerated for him I had forgotten to mention her. A simple mistake or an unconscious wish that Richard was right?
The girl turned from the desk as I came in, and as our eyes met, she rushed to my side. She was wearing a short plaid parka over tight black jeans, a yellow scarf around her neck. In her perfectly made-up face, her eyes were no longer red, but the tension was clear in her voice as she asked, “Where is Bécquer? Will he be all right?”
Her face relaxed a little when I told her Bécquer had been conscious when I left him.
“David called me,” she explained as we walked to the waiting area.
I had guessed that much.
“So, he’s conscious,” she repeated when we sat facing each other in a corner of an almost empty waiting room. “That’s a good sign, isn’t it? He’ll recover.”
“Yes. But … ” I couldn’t tell her Bécquer’s life was still in jeopardy because the Elders wanted him dead. Not without learning first how much she knew. “He seems depressed,” I continued watching for her reaction. “Not surprising, of course, given his recent prognosis after the accident.”
“It was not an accident.” Rachel’s voice that had been subdued before was now so loud several of the people scattered around the room looked up. “A man came to see Bécquer last Monday,” she continued in a lower tone. “A man, tall and dark. ‘Cesar,’ he said, when I asked him for his name. He didn’t wait for me to announce his arrival. As soon as I let him in, he dashed past me to Bécquer’s study as if he owned the house. So I assumed they were friends. But I was wrong. Bécquer was not happy to see him, that much was clear, although he smiled at me and told me I could take the afternoon off.”
“I thought it was you who found Bécquer.”
“I did,” Rachel said, her eyes somewhat unfocused. “I didn’t leave as he asked me to. Cesar made me uncomfortable, and I didn’t want Bécquer to be alone with him. So I waited. And waited. But he never came out of the study. When I gathered my courage and knocked at the door, nobody answered, so I went in. Bécquer was unconscious on the floor and Cesar was gone.
“Bécquer told the doctors he had fallen down the stairs, but that is impossible. He was nowhere near the stairs when I found him. I think Bécquer and Cesar fought and Cesar is responsible for his condition.”
“You don’t believe me?” Rachel asked when I said nothing. “I knew you wouldn’t. That’s why I brought this.” She reached into a canvas bag hanging from the back of her chair and produced a manila envelope. “Bécquer gave me this in the morning and asked me to mail it to you, even though you were coming in the afternoon.”
“It’s addressed to you,” she explained as I frowned. “My guess is that he wrote to you to explain what happened.”
I took the envelope she offered. Inside I found a leather-bound journal filled with Bécquer’s florid handwriting. A letter-size envelope was concealed among its pages.
My heart beating hard, I tore open the envelope, unfolded the letter, and started reading.