That lit a fire under me. We searched room to room, looking for any sign of more kidnapped girls or Yi Min-chin. We found evidence of Kel’s or Chance’s passage in several corridors, strewn bodies and pools of blood where they had swept through and cleared the way for us. Jesse and I had covered almost the whole second story when we entered a lavish bedroom. It looked like a woman would sleep here, and as I stepped inside, I smelled Min’s perfume, White Linen.
“She was here,” I said. “I’m sure of it.”
Saldana held the light for me while I searched. I went through the room like a blind person, touching everything. When we opened up the desk drawer, my fingers grazed a metal object that threw a spark.
“Something?”
Chance and Eva stood in the doorway. I hadn’t noticed their arrival. Kel and Chuch crouched behind them, keeping watch for more of Montoya’s men. The mechanic muttered beneath his breath about the need to hurry. “Yeah. Something,” I replied.
Drawing a deep breath, I curled my hand around the pen, accepted the pain as the price of my gift. Agony sizzled through me, echoes of fire, and then I saw a simple image. Min sat at this desk, writing a note. I watched her, and then she rose, folded the thin paper into a tiny square, and slipped it into the frame of the painting that hung beside the window.
The pen slipped from my fingers, struck the floor. Wordlessly I beckoned to Jesse, who aimed the flashlight for me. My hands shook as I delved for what she’d left behind.
Yes, here.
In the circle of light I read her words with him. The shepherdess.
“What the . . . ?” I took the Maglite from Jesse and shone it around the room until I found a white and blue statuette on a high shelf.
“What did it say?” Chance asked.
I sensed his tension as he came toward me. I passed him the note as I moved toward the far wall. And the corridor exploded.
“Incoming!” Chuch shouted.
Oh, Christ, not fire. Not. Fire. Despite my near-prayer, the hall blazed, flames licking up the wall. Shit, they were trying to burn us out. Smoke filled the room in a deadly haze. Chuch fired at Montoya’s men, who were running away. They’d turn this building into our pyre, which meant Montoya was safe somewhere.
Jesse had mentioned something about a panic room. Well, I needed to be there because I could feel terror rising in my brain, threatening my ability to think and reason. A scream caught in my throat, choking me.
I staggered toward the shepherdess. Min had found it important enough to mention, so I’d take a look at it if it was the last thing I did. And it might be.
Eyes watering, I reached up to the shelf and touched it. Tried to pick it up, but it wouldn’t budge. The room swam, and the heat threatened to blister my skin. I could hear the others coughing. I pitched forward and the statue slid forward as in a groove. Through distance roaring in my ears, I heard a click.
Then someone said, “Corine found a door. Let’s go.”
If These Shadows Have Offended
I did what now?
I felt dimly aware of an arm wrapping around my shoulders to guide me down some stairs, but I’d inhaled too much smoke to see anything but a bizarre whorl of messy colors. My flashlight spun around the walls until someone took it from me.
“Close the door!” I thought Saldana said that. “It’s reinforced steel behind the plaster; it’ll provide a fire break for us.”
“Everyone okay?” I tried to ask.
One foot after the other. I could do this. We’d reached the bottom of the staircase before I had all my wits about me again.
“Chuch got burned.” I heard Eva’s voice, but I couldn’t see her until the Maglite shone on her face, now covered with blood and soot. Her eyes glistened with tears, rage, or both. “I don’t know how bad.”
“Molotov cocktails are a bitch,” Chuch grunted. “But I’m okay. Just need some aloe. Don’t worry about me, nena. I’m tough.”
If Chuch got burned, Kel probably did too. But nobody gave a shit about him. In a weird way, that saddened me.
She sniffed. “That’s exactly why I worry about you. You’re too ‘tough’ to admit how bad you’re hurt.”
Kel rejoined us then. I hadn’t even realized he’d slipped off to scout. “It’s like a vault down here,” he reported. “There’s another reinforced door down at the end of this corridor, and it’s locked. Nothing else. There might be another exit from inside the room.”
“Panic room. He probably dug himself an escape tunnel to where they keep the chopper,” Saldana said. “I know I would.”
“The hijo de la chingada better be in there,” Chuch growled. “He owes me some skin and blood.”
Chance had been oddly silent. I sensed his tamped fear and anguish, but we could only move forward. We’d find Min here, one way or another.
“I have a grenade,” I said then. “Any way that’ll get us through the door?”
“Not without a little luck,” Chance said.
Saldana had the flashlight, so he shone it on my ex, and in the beam of light, I saw Chance smile.
So be it.
“Take cover in the staircase,” Saldana ordered.
The others complied. I pulled the pin, took aim, tossed, and then dove around the corner. The subsequent boom certainly alerted Montoya that we’d found his hidey-hole, if he hadn’t already fled, but we couldn’t help that. Time to finish this: for Maris, for Lenny, for those unknown girls, and, not least of all, for Min.
When debris stopped raining down, other than a dusty trickle of plaster, Chuch led the way down the hall. To my disappointment, the metal door stood intact, charred but solid. Then Jesse ran the light along the edges where it joined the cement.
“I never would’ve believed it,” Chuch said, jubilant. “The wall’s starting to crack.”
Thanks, Chance.
Eva took up his train of thought in the seamless way married couples sometimes had. “If we put our backs into it—” She trailed off, probably thinking it was better we just got to it.
After a good minute of solid shoving, the plaster and cement crumbled away and the heavy door toppled inward. I shouted in warning, hoping Min would stand clear. As one, we rushed into the room.
Whatever I’d expected to find, it wasn’t this.
Min stood in the center of a ritual circle, much as she’d done in the warehouse. The room swam with candles guttering like a host of mad fireflies. Bizarre runes adorned the simple concrete floor. Four men surrounded her, but none of them held weapons, and it looked very much like she was in charge.
“Thank the spirits,” she said, as though she’d been expecting us. “Kill these sons of bitches, will you? I’m sick of their faces.”
With that, she dropped the candle in her hands and dove wide.
Everything seemed to happen at once. As weapons sparked, lending the room a bizarre staccato flash, I dropped to the floor. I couldn’t tell who was shooting whom, so I stayed down, listening to cries of pain and muffled thumps.
When Saldana swung the Maglite around the room, I found our people shooting at an empty tunnel. A trail of blood indicated we’d hit at least one of the men, but I didn’t know where they’d gone. And then we heard the distant sound of a chopper powering up. Jesse had been right, it seemed.
Chance hugged Min hard without saying a word. Now wasn’t the time for explanations. In the yellow beam of light, she looked exhausted and worn. We needed to get her out of here.
“We can’t go back up,” Saldana said. “We’ll have to leave the way they did and hope for the best.”
Dug from solid rock, the tunnel led deep into the mountain and emerged some distance from the house, which smoldered behind us like a symbol of divine judgment. Chuch hissed through his teeth as we moved, and I guessed he hurt more than he’d let on. At some point, Chance had been shot in the upper arm, a flesh wound that would hurt like a bitch. If it had been any one of the rest of us, that person would probably be dead.
Min hadn’t spoken, other than to thank us. She had a lot of explaining to do, but we were content to let her do so once we were safe, relatively speaking. As for me, I didn’t have the breath to speak as we hiked back down the mountain. I felt numb.
By the time we reached Jesse’s ride, Chuch looked greenish pale. Eva helped him into the back, where he leaned his head on her shoulder. The rest of them clambered into the vehicle, but Kel stood apart.
Our eyes met for a moment, and he inclined his head. His face bore faint burn scars now, but they looked ancient. He might heal, but he still suffered. And nobody cared.
Without a word, God’s Hand turned and walked into the night. Our alliance had ended for the moment, but I suspected I hadn’t seen the last of him. He’d spoken of a great evil, and we hadn’t vanquished it, just sent it scurrying for cover. This felt like the first skirmish in a coming war, one I wasn’t sure I wanted to fight.
I wanted what I’d always wanted—a normal life, my pawnshop, the freedom to drink too much tequila and dance like there was no tomorrow. Maybe I’d never possess the peace most people took for granted. That sounded like self-pity, so I quashed the thought in time to hear Chance ask:
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“No permanent harm,” Min assured him, but she would tell us nothing more until we were safe behind Chuch’s wards.
Strange, after what we’d done, to have them wave us through at the U.S. border. Something like that should write its story on a person’s face, but Jesse had a good, trustworthy mug, it seemed. He’d cleaned up with some bottled water, and they didn’t look at the rest of us.
When we got to Chuch’s place, Eva took him to their bedroom and bustled around gathering medical supplies while Jesse, Chance, and I sat in the living room with Min. Butch looked quite relieved to find me home. Well, he wasn’t the only one. I checked his food, refilled his water dish, and let him out to do his business. Nothing like a dog to ground you.
I felt quite impatient by the time we all reconvened in the living room, where Min had insisted we wait. Even dirty and worn, she radiated the command of a small, implacable queen. Disbelief and love warred within me; I couldn’t believe we’d saved her. I acknowledged then, as I hadn’t before, that I hadn’t thought I’d see her alive again.
“You have all earned my trust with your courage and your ingenuity,” she said at last, “and so you have earned my secrets.”
“It’s about time.” Chance smiled to show he was joking. Mostly.
Being uninjured, I took a seat on the floor and listened.
“Long ago, a lifetime ago, I practiced the art in Seoul. I made potions and charms, removed curses. To some I am a witch, a sorceress, a healer, a shaman.” She lifted her shoulders to show that the name made no difference to her. “But I did too well, and I gained renown. A local crime boss noticed me and wanted me to work only for him, only against his enemies and on his orders. He took me, kept me against my will.” Her nose wrinkled, as though the memory held an unpleasant smell, even now. “I did not like living as a slave.”