Without another word, they set off down the hall, following their insect guide. It moved at a pretty good clip, but they still had to pace themselves to let it stay ahead of them. There were a few more people in the inn’s common area, but no one who gave them much notice. Justin supposed around here, one more bug wasn’t worth paying attention to.
And sadly, he thought, this isn’t even the weirdest thing I’ve ever done.
Not by a long shot, agreed Horatio.
Darkness had fallen on the streets outside, though there was still enough light from the hodgepodge mix of electric and gas sources to illuminate the road and the beetle’s path.
Justin found himself thinking of Panama as they walked. He’d grown to despise that province in the almost four years of exile he’d spent there after filing a report claiming the existence of supernatural forces, but the more he traveled in other provincial areas, the more he began to appreciate it. Panama’s streets would’ve been full of revelers this time of night, along with the ubiquitous gangs that strutted around and vied for dominance. If you had no conflict with them, you could actually move about fairly safely after dark, since they were far more interested in each other. Here, the quiet streets had a more sinister edge. Regular citizens were inside and getting ready for sleep. Many of those who were out had more nefarious goals and were searching for easy prey.
Maybe it was because they seemed to have purpose that Justin and Mae were left alone. It wasn’t until they’d walked almost ten minutes that a shout up ahead made Mae stop in her tracks, grab Justin, and pull him over to a building’s side. She put herself between him and the movement ahead, her gun out without him having seen her draw it. The scent of her apple blossom perfume drifted over him, a bizarre contrast to the scene at hand.
The conflict on the streets had nothing to do with them, however, or any other unsuspecting tourist. It was between two local men, shouting and pacing around each other as each dared the other to make a move. Friends and curious spectators hovered nearby, eager for a fight. From what Justin could make out, the dispute seemed to be over a woman.
One man finally landed a punch on the other, igniting the tinderbox. The two went at each other, even dropping and rolling to the ground. Bystanders cheered, while wiser ones tried to pull the two men apart. The whole altercation lasted barely a minute, but Mae wouldn’t budge until the kicking and screaming combatants and most of the audience had left the scene.
Unfortunately, the beetle had also left the scene.
Mae swore in Finnish, but Justin had already realized they were in familiar territory. “I think I know where it went,” he said, pointing.
She lifted her eyes to follow the gesture, and he heard her catch her breath when she saw Mama Orane’s house.
“Well, why not?” Justin asked. “Makes sense that a supernatural attack would come from our known supernatural source around here.”
They walked a little further down the block and then came to a halt directly across from the house. Mae narrowed her eyes as she studied it, her hand still tense on the gun. Lights burned inside the windows, and a bodyguard paced outside.
“But why?” she asked. “If they’d wanted us dead, why not try it while we were there? They certainly had the manpower.”
“You,” Justin corrected. “You’re the one those things were after. She couldn’t tell what I was. As for why—”
“You!”
The bodyguard had noticed them and came jogging across the street, his automatic weapon bouncing almost comically at his side. Mae took up a protective stance in front of Justin and pointed her gun at the man’s chest. It took him several moments to notice, and he came to a slow halt.
“Don’t come any further,” she warned.
“You,” he repeated. “You’re electi. Come. You can help. You can help her.”
“Help who?” asked Justin.
“Mama Orane. Please. She’s in bad shape.” Grief and worry lined the man’s face as he looked pleadingly between Justin and Mae. “I don’t think he’s a threat,” Justin said.
Mae decided to agree and slowly followed when the bodyguard returned to the house, though she kept her gun out the whole time.
Inside, they found a flurry of drumming, chanting, and incense— much like they had at the ceremony. Only, whereas that had been celebratory, the main room was now thick with tension and grief. The bodyguard led them through the crowd, one composed not of tourists, but of worried friends and neighbors. He spoke rapidly in French, clearing a path to a staircase on the far side of the room. After a quick glance to make sure Justin and Mae still followed, he hurried up to a second floor that showed where the tourist money had been going. Modern furniture, electricity, and tech pieces that were antiquated by Gemman standards but state-of-the-art around here. Justin would’ve liked to study it all more closely, but his attention soon snapped to a bedroom they were ushered into, the center of which held a flower- strewn bed.
And Mama Orane.
Justin felt a lurch in his stomach as he took in the woman’s blood- stained clothes. Violence might be Mae’s thing, but it was nothing he would be ever be comfortable around. Someone had done a neat job of wrapping Mama Orane’s stomach with bandages, but they were already wet and slick with blood seeping out from beneath. Her skin was ashen and sweaty, her eyes unfocused.
“Help her,” begged the man who’d led them in. “She needs a doctor,” said Justin.
“We sent for him,” said a young woman, sitting by the bed. It was the pretty assistant from earlier. “I took care of her in the meantime. I wrapped her wounds and said all the prayers and songs.”
Mae grimaced. “Prayers and—never mind. What happened? Was she shot?”
“Stabbed,” said the assistant. “By a red-haired woman—one of the ones that was here earlier.”
Ask what she was stabbed with, ordered Magnus.
“What kind of blade?” Justin asked.
The assistant held her hands about a foot-and-a-half apart. “A dagger. It happened so fast—I could barely see it. It looked like there were bugs on it. We were sitting down for dinner, and she was gone before—”
“Bugs?” interrupted Mae.
The girl nodded. “Like golden beetles.”
Justin and Mae exchanged a brief glance. Before either could speak, Mama Orane stirred, causing the girl and the bodyguard to go rigid. Mama Orane blinked a few times and managed to focus on him and Mae.
“H-hello, electi,” she said. A trickle of blood appeared at her lips.
That was to both of us. She knows me this time, Justin told the ravens.
She’s dying, said Magnus. Those leaving this world have greater senses. She can see through the powers hiding you now.
Mama Orane’s assistant seemed to have the same idea the bodyguard had. “You can heal her?” she asked hopefully.
Mama Orane tsked. “That is not their province. And it’s too late anyway.” She tried to speak again but had difficulty forming the words. Her assistant offered her a small sip of water. “They didn’t come for you?”
“They did.” Mae’s eyes flicked to the blood. “But not in the same way.”
“I’m sorry.” Mama Orane swallowed and closed her eyes. “They came to find me, and I called you out. I identified you to them. It was careless, though not as careless as parading myself around. El Diable always warned me, and I wouldn’t listen. This is no more than I deserve.”
The big, hulking bodyguard stifled a sob.
“Who are they?” asked Justin. “Who do they serve?”