Ann Aguirre - Shady Lady

The dog looked unconvinced.

Once we finished, I called Chuch. “Hey, how are you guys?”

I wished I could ring Jesse, but he didn’t have a cell phone at the safe house. But as soon as news hit about Montoya’s demise, Glencannon would spring him, and we could talk. We had a lot of things to settle; Shan and I needed to go apartment hunting. Maybe starting over in Laredo wouldn’t be so bad.

“Great.” I could hear the glow. “I got a little girl.”

“I’ll swing by. What hospital?”

He told me, and then belatedly realized aloud, “Shit, if you’re here, then—”

“Yeah. It’s done.”

Chuch whooped and then somebody shushed him, probably a nurse. “Gotta get back. Eva’s dying to see you.”

Circle of life, and all that. I was dying to see her too. I started up the El Camino and drove over to the hospital. I knew where it was: same one where Jesse had been laid up recently. I hated hospitals, but for this, I’d go in smiling. I hid Butch as we went through the automatic doors.

It wasn’t hard to find the maternity ward, even less difficult to locate Eva’s room. Between her mother and all the Ortiz cousins, they were driving the staff crazy. I figured one more person didn’t matter, though there was barely room for me to step inside. Watching, I felt more alone than I ever had, because they shared a support network that I’d never possess.

But maybe, maybe with Jesse.

Eva waved at me from bed, offering a half smile, and the feeling passed. “Glad you could make it.”

“Better late than never.” I stopped in the doorway, not wanting to fight the crowd to get closer.

She looked exhausted and blissful, long black hair sticking to her forehead. Dark circles under her eyes didn’t diminish her beauty at all. The baby was so tiny, red faced, wrinkly, and wearing a wee pink hat. She had a bracelet on her wrist, and she seemed like she might start wailing at any minute. Relatives milled around me, murmuring in Spanish. Rather than making me feel out of place, it felt homey and familiar. I’d gotten to the point where I had to remember to speak English in the States.

“What’s her name?” I asked a random Ortiz.

Chuch materialized behind me. “Camelia Corine.”

Everything I’d been through lately—and that did me in. So I was crying when I spotted Chance. He perched on the window ledge, foot propped on the arm of the chair. Some woman sat beside him, gazing up at him dreamily.

“What’s he doing here?” I demanded, low.

Chuch followed my gaze. “He’s her godfather. Figure it out.”

Oh. I was not disappointed; for me, it was Jesse Saldana from this point on. But I couldn’t help the wild dread that Chance could undermine my resolve when my ex cut through the crowd toward me.

After assuring Chuch I wouldn’t miss the baptism in a couple of days, I made a quick exit. Today was Eva’s—and Camelia’s—day to shine. Only a total drama slut would get into it with her ex in front of her friend’s family. Better for me to leave quietly and avoid taking the focus away from the glowing mom. Sure, we could participate in the ceremony later and be polite in front of the family, but otherwise, there was no need for us to socialize.

The grimoires weighed heavy on my shoulder. I increased my pace until I was running, my Converse sneaks making no sound on the tile floor. The lights seemed too bright, and I needed to get away. Butch whimpered in protest; I murmured an apology and kept going. I caught a stern look from the nurses’ station, but I didn’t slow until I got out the doors, where I stood in the night air, drinking in great, gasping breaths.

My fingers shook as I got out my cell phone. God, I needed to hear Jesse’s voice right now. I wanted his arms around me, but I’d settle. Hell, I’d leave a message if Glencannon hadn’t heard about Montoya yet.

To my vast relief, he answered, his voice weary and tight. “Yeah?”

Looks like Escobar moves fast.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Me who?”

Was he being funny? “It’s Corine. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Did the lieutenant spring you and Shannon?”

Frost turned his tone icicle sharp. “If this is a prank, it’s not funny. You have information on an investigation that you shouldn’t possess. As for Shannon, you leave her the hell alone. She’s a good kid, and she’s been through enough.”

No. Oh, no. Dread built inside me. I’d never worked that spell before. Just like the lucky penny, I gave it too much power. Stupid untaught witch.

“Can I speak to her?”

Surely Shan remembers me. We’re besties.

He muted the call for a few seconds, and then came back on the line. “She doesn’t know any Corine. Look, lady, I’ve got your number now. If you bother either of us again, I’ll take it badly.”

And he hung up. I was left standing in the dark with a dead phone in my hand. Shaking set in. Maybe it’s not permanent. Maybe they’ll remember me in time. It’ll wear off. Other people will talk about me and prompt their recollections. I hope. Tears filled my eyes, even easier this time since the baby had opened the floodgates. I didn’t get to tell her the name of our shop. Spooky Vintage. I leaned against the solid wall just outside the doors and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to contain the reaction. Stupidly, I felt as if they’d both died.

But maybe I deserved this. Maybe it was a punishment for what I’d done to survive. If I lived, I had to pay for it, so the universe removed the truly good people from my sphere of influence. The wound swelled within me in a scream I couldn’t let out. Salt stung my cheeks and my nose started to run.

Not Jesse. Not Shannon. I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes, hoping the external pain would balance the devastation within. As I fought for composure, the nearby hospital doors swished open and footfalls pounded toward the parking lot. It wasn’t until they slowed and then angled my way that I opened my eyes.

Chance. Well, of course he wouldn’t be able to resist an opportunity to tell me how well he was doing. By comparison, I’d lost my best friend, seen murder done, and been wearing the same clothes for three days. The breaks always swung his way. Maybe he’d even show me a picture of his new woman, and ask if we could be friends. I braced for salt in the wound.

Instead of such a gambit, he stopped before me and stood silent. Gazing. Even in the poor light, he was unearthly in his beauty: angular features, sculpted mouth, and almond eyes shining cat-gold. He never had five-o’clock shadow, not even at midnight. Why had I never noticed that before, or the faint sheen of his skin? In the moonlight, he didn’t look quite human. I’d always just felt grubby by comparison and never wondered why.

“You look tired,” he said. “Lovely, but tired.”

I didn’t. Not lovely. I could believe tired.

I spoke in staccato bursts, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “You got here quick. The baby’s beautiful.”

“I was already on the way.”

I raised a brow. “Did you have a premonition?”

The dream I’d had in the trailer came back to me, an odd echo. Maybe that was something my mother could do, those true dreams. I wondered if she could control them. Not for the first time, I wished I could ask her—so many things.

“No. Look, can we go somewhere? Talk?”

“I passed a park on the way here.” Even if I had a hotel room, I wouldn’t take him there. I probably lacked the energy for this, but at least it was a distraction from my latest fuckup. What a cherry-topped disaster that forget spell turned out to be.