Chapter Eight

We loaded up the bags and started driving after that. It was going to be another long, jolting day. It was hot, it was windy, and we needed water and gasoline. According to the map, we would pass close to Dalton in the afternoon. If we turned west, the town would be only a mile out of the way. Also according to the map, Dalton was larger than Mil Flores. It was our best chance. Clear choice. Except outside of Dalton there was a roadblock. There were two men and one woman standing guard. They were professionals, or at least they looked like they were. I said, "You two stay in here, and don't do anything hinky." Paulina and Eli looked a little offended, but screw 'em. I slid out of the car and advanced to the wooden barricade. I held my hands out, empty. "Can we come into town and get water?" I said. "Who you guarding, gunnie?" The woman was older than me, her blond hair in a long braid running down her back. The two men were grizzled and bearded, hard to tell one from another except one was shorter and his hair was darker. "Two strangers from Holy Russia," I said. "They grigoris?" Thanks to Paulina's face tattoos, there was no way to lie about it. "The woman is," I said. "Nope. We don't let none of them in," the shorter man said. The barricade was weathered. This had not been set up to stop us specially. This crew was paid to stop grigoris and other suspicious strangers from entering Dalton. No point arguing. "I understand," I said. "You got any water we could have? We'll just go back to the main road, with or without. Peaceful. But I'm asking." They looked at one another, had a silent palaver. The woman said, "We can spare some. Bring us your canteens." Keeping my hands up, I went back to the car to fetch 'em. Eli and Paulina looked at me, questions all over their faces, but I shook my head. "We ain't welcome," I said. My invisible mother gave me a poke in the head. "We aren't welcome. They're giving us some water, though. Smile and nod." I gathered up our canteens, including our spare. Though Paulina's face made it clear she would rather have done something painful to the guards, she inclined her head like a queen, and Eli produced a passable smile. It was clear these two had never been told they weren't welcome somewhere, so I guessed they hadn't been out of the HRE real often. I walked back, my arms still extended, two canteens hanging from each hand. If I'd stuck a pistol in my back waistband, I could have dropped the canteens, pulled the gun, and shot the three of them. They hadn't been challenged by a professional in a while. It was like the shorter man read my mind. "Stop!" he called, and I obeyed instantly. "Turn in a circle!" he told me. I did, keeping my hands out far. "Okay," he said when he'd had a good look. "You can come on." They had a big barrel of water. I saw it when I got close enough to hand over the canteens. The taller man turned on the spigot and filled 'em, all four. The tall man handed the canteens back to me over the barricade. He wasn't going to come out. Maybe something about me spooked 'em. Maybe they were always this cautious. I offered them six bullets, as goodwill for the water. The blond woman accepted, with thanks. So we were square with them. We didn't linger. No point, and discourteous. Paulina made an efficient U-turn and we returned to the main road . . . though calling it a road was a big compliment. At least we could take a drink, and if the car overheated, we had some water to put in it. We jolted along. I am used to tough living, but I was getting worn down. The movement, the heat, and the long day—after a night that hadn't been exactly restful—made me dull. But maybe the biggest lack, as keen as that of water, was that I had no one to talk to . . . at least, no one I could trust. No friend. It wasn't that the two grigoris were killers that bothered me—Tarken, Martin, and Galilee had all been killers in the line of work. I hated the idea that people could be not what they looked like. The witch the night before, she had been both a beautiful woman and an ancient crone, and I didn't know which was her real face. The not knowing, it made me queasy. Not only that, but the grigoris could take life in weird and horrible ways. Removing the blood. Sucking away the soul. In comparison, gunshots seemed honest and straightforward. I knew that wasn't fair. Dead was dead. Anyone who'd been gutshot would be glad of having his blood extracted instead of writhing in agony for terrible minutes. Someone whose wound had become infected, whose blood was being poisoned, might be glad to have her soul removed rather than suffer a slow death. It would be an easy death. Well, an easier death. I'd seen this, and my head knew it to be true. But I couldn't change how I felt, even though I knew it didn't make sense. At least, not now. While we headed southwest, I studied the map some more. We might be able to reach Paloma. We were going up and down hills again, and the road was winding and sometimes steep; but the paving was a bit better, and if our gas lasted, we'd be fine. For once, we were fine. The road was suddenly a real road instead of a suggestion of one; it had been built well and patched, and we were able to go faster. The ride was smoother. Before it fell dark, we saw Paloma. After Mil Flores, it looked like a city, though it was only a couple of streets of stores around a courthouse, surrounded by a few more streets of smallish homes. But there was a choice of hotels, there were restaurants, and there was running water and electricity. Best of all, there wasn't anyone standing guard to tell us we couldn't come in. We stopped at the first hotel, one of the new kind, one story with parking spots in front of each door. It looked pretty busy. Since I looked more like a regular person, I went into the lobby to ask about rooms. There was only one available, with one bed. I went back out to the Tourer to consult with my bosses. "We can make do in one room," I said without any enthusiasm. "If you want." But we'd all had a bad night the night before, and some good rest was high on my list of wants. Paulina and Eli agreed to look further, so we drove on a little ways. At the second place, a large, two-story wooden structure a block off the main square, there were three rooms available on the second floor. "And we got four bathrooms up there," the owner, a middle-aged woman named Margaret, said. It was hard to stop myself cheering. We took all three rooms, and my relief was so great that, again, I wanted to cheer. I needed some time to myself. The second floor was one long corridor. I took a quick look at the other two rooms before I stepped into mine. They were all more or less the same: a double bed without any trough in the middle, a lamp on the bedside table. As a backup, there was a candle in a heavy candlestick (harder to sneak out) on a little wicker table beside a matching chair. Nothing looked suspicious in any room. I'd done my duty. I was able to shut the door of mine, the grigoris on the other side, without any guilt. I could not grab a towel and clean clothes fast enough. The hall bath closest to my room was in use, but the second one was not. I pulled off my dirty clothes and ran a big tub of hot water. As soon as I was clean, I washed my nasty clothes, quickly as I could, and wrung 'em out. I put on a shirt and pants that didn't smell, returned to my room to hang out my wash, and looked forward to eating some decent food. I would have enjoyed exploring by myself, but the grigoris had told me they'd meet me in the lobby. They were my bosses. I met them. Margaret was still at the reception desk. "What's the best place to eat?" Eli asked her. "You want to eat? Or you want to eat and drink?" Margaret was a plain and plainspoken woman. "Eat," said Paulina. I could have used a drink or two, but it would not have been smart to drink around the grigoris, or while I was working. "The Angora, two doors down, is the cleanest place in Paloma," Margaret said. "Dusty's, off the square, is good, too, but sometimes you pay for eating there by staying up all night." Without discussion, we went to the Angora. The sun was just on the edge of going down, and some streetlights came on while we were walking. I'd seldom seen such a thing. It was real convenient to have a little light to see by, but at the same time it felt funny, as in unnatural. The restaurant had its own light pole outside, and a million bugs were whirring and bashing into the yellow glow. People spilled out onto the sidewalk, some of them with glasses of whiskey, or cigarettes, or both, in their hands. The Angora was doing a good business. Paulina made an impatient noise. "I will see how long we must wait for a table," she said, and vanished into the brightly lit dining room. "I'm sorry," Eli said the minute she was out of earshot. "What for?" So much had happened, it was hard to pick out exactly what he should apologize for. "For landing on you like that last night." So we were going to talk about it. "I didn't know if you were going to kill me or have sex with me." "I didn't know, either." There was a moment of silence while we both tried to figure out where to go next in this conversation. Eli said, "If you hadn't shot the witch, we'd have all been under her control in another minute. How did you do it?" I didn't know. "She wasn't really focused on me," I said. I was just thinking out loud. "She was after you and Paulina." "She didn't focus on you because she knew you were not a grigori," Eli said. "You should have fallen under her spell right away, faster than Paulina and I did. Instead you pulled away enough to kill her." This was becoming real awkward. I shrugged uneasily. "That's what you hired me for." "You saw Paulina harvest her." So that was what they called it. "Yeah. I saw that." "Not all of us . . ." He trailed off. I didn't know if he meant he would not have done that, or if he could not have done that. Either way. Bad. "Does she do that often?" I really wanted to know if that sucking thing was a common practice. "It's supposed to give you a lot of power." He looked away. Not really an answer. "Why is everyone trying to kill us?" I thought I might as well ask while I could. I could see Paulina turning from the host to come outside. "Isn't that why you're along?" He smiled, just quick and gone. "To make sure no one does?" Eli was big into not answering. "That's why you're paying me," I said, and if I sounded grim and grumpy, I figured I had good reason. Paulina beckoned from the door. "There's a table," she called. The food was good, just as Margaret had said. Grilled steaks, fresh bread, onions cooked in butter in the skillet, snap beans. My stomach hadn't been so happy in days. As soon as I was full, I wanted to sleep. I thought of the bed, of being alone in a room. That sounded so wonderful it was hard to keep myself seated with Paulina and Eli. They were talking about nothing more important than whether or not they should order pecan pie. The answer was obvious (yes), so I let my eyes wander through the crowded restaurant. The bar was visible against the north wall, and I looked at the mirror facing me. I could hardly believe it when I spied a face I recognized. His eyes met mine in the mirror, and his weather-beaten face spread in a smile. We were moving toward each other the next breath. "Chauncey Donegan!" I called, and we wrapped our arms around each other. "Lizbeth," he said to my scalp. "Jesus, girl, what did you do to your head?" "If you're talking about the scar, I got clipped. If you're talking about the hair, it's growing back," I said, pulling away from him. I ran my hand over my scalp; yep, it was coming in thick "What you doing here?" He nodded to two men sitting together at a small table near the front window. They were staring. When they saw me looking, they turned away quick. "Guarding them two. They're from Britannia. They got some business here." "What kind?" "Who the hell cares?" Chauncey had never been too interested in the underpinnings of his job. He was a surface kind of guy, and he'd done well that way. He was at least fifteen years older than me, and still alive. Gunnies don't live too long, mostly. "How's Martin?" he asked. "That truck still running? And the rest of the crew?" "They're all gone, Cee. Killed on the Corbin road." "You all on your own? Come here for work?" he said, after giving the dead a minute of respect. "I got me a job for the moment. I'm taking the grigoris somewhere." I tilted my head, indicating Paulina and Eli. Chauncey gave them a hard look. I didn't check to see if they were looking back. "Jeez, gal, they're some kind of scary," he said. "How'd you find them?" "They found me. My lucky day." My voice told him it was just the opposite. "But it's paying well." "Smooth trip?" "Not so far. Yours?" "Quiet as the grave. Nobody seems to want to kill Mr. Harcourt or Mr. Penn." He sounded kind of regretful. "Even you?" "Only every other minute." He laughed, but it was forced. Well, that makes two of us, I thought. "Don't get too bored," I said. Being bored means being sloppy. "I guess you all are staying the night?" Chauncey asked hopefully. "Yeah, we're at the Palacio." "Maybe we can have a drink after we put the clients to bed?" I was powerfully tempted. "That would be so great. But we've had shooting and whatnot and I can't leave 'em alone. How's Nancy?" Chauncey looked away. "She passed of the pneumonia last winter." I shook my head. "Hard times, Chauncey. I'm real sorry." He shrugged. "Least I still have my boy, Milton. He's fourteen now. He stays with my mom while I'm working, helps her out." I gave him another hug, a quick one. "It's great to see you, Cee. I got to get back to the grigoris. You keep your two Britannians safe. You got to get back to that boy of yours." He gave me a whiskery kiss on the cheek and returned to his spot at the bar, where he could keep an eye on Mr. Harcourt and Mr. Penn. After their first quick look, they hadn't glanced our way. Chauncey could have been dancing with a voodoo queen, for all they knew, or he could have had a snake wrapped around his neck by an enemy. They cared as much about Cee as my grigoris did about me. Well, maybe the jury was still out on Eli. Paulina and Eli were making for the door, so I made haste to catch up with them. Looked like we weren't going to have pie. They didn't speak, but I could tell they knew I was right behind them. When we were out on the sidewalk, which had grown a lot quieter, Paulina said, "Are you going to spend the night with your friend?" "I am not, because I am working," I said, biting out each word. "I don't recall asking you who you were spending the night with, Paulina." "He just seemed fond of you," she said with a real cold innuendo. "Yeah, fat damn lot you know," I said. "He just lost his wife. Not that you ever asked, but my man got shot and killed on the Corbin road less than a month ago. So you just go take your ideas about me and stuff them somewhere you have a hole to fill." I hadn't realized how angry I was until I let this fly. There was an awful silence. I should have stopped with "He just lost his wife." They didn't need to know about Tarken, or any part of my personal life. "I spoke from anger," I said, and though I was trying, my voice was stiff and unrepentant. "But you should know I don't leave people I'm guarding, especially when the trip's been as busy as this one has." And I walked away, hoping like hell they'd follow me.