“As far as Merc goes, he’s fine.”
“He wasn’t fine—before.”
Lautaro looked at her, as if assessing what she knew. “He has had a hard time of things.”
Ash watched the world go past the car. “Miracles aren’t real.”
“Are you declaring that or asking?”
“Both. What I thought happened here didn’t. It couldn’t have. It was a setup.”
“Are you sure?”
“Aren’t you? There has to be a logical explanation.”
“There are a great many mysteries in the world that seem to have no scientific foundation.”
“But they all do.”
“If you could know the science behind all of life’s mysteries, thereby taking the awe and magic out of them, would you?”
“Yes. They’re still awesome and magical; it’s just comforting to know they’re logical as well. It’s why I travel. I want to learn and understand. It’s why I couldn’t just leave this behind me—I have to know how it was done.”
“And what if the answer you’re seeking is terrible?”
“It is terrible. Three men were forced to sit in chairs until they died. Or three cadavers were somehow affixed to the chairs. Dozens of people lay down in a dirt trench to wait for their death—in the middle of a jungle, with all its terrifying predators. And there’s more. What about that time that Merc was surrounded by the guys he was fighting? The townspeople said he had a force field around him, that he danced and laughed as they unloaded guns on him.”
Lautaro grinned. “Is that what they told you?”
“Yes. It is. And it isn’t possible. I’ve come back because I need to know.”
“Hmm. What is that English saying? ‘Be careful what you wish for’?”
Ash huffed a sigh. “I have a week to figure this out.”
“Then I hope you get the answers you need—but only to the threshold of your tolerance for them.”
More cryptic commentary. Was everyone she knew in on the charade here?
17
The skies that had been dark when she left the airport now rumbled with thunder. The downpour started as soon as they stopped outside the same room she’d rented with her vlogger friends.
Lautaro gave her the key. “You have my contact info. Call me when you want to head out.”
“Do I have it for the week?”
“You have it as long as you want it.”
“What do I owe you?”
“Take it up with Sam when you get back.”
Ash shook her head. Strange how easy some things could be. “Well, thanks for the ride. Sorry to take you out of your way.”
“Not a problem. Let me know if you need anything.” He looked out of his window over to the little flat. Seemed something caught his eye. He grinned. She couldn’t tell what it was, but his humor lit him up.
She hopped out of his car and ran to the door, key at the ready in the torrential downpour. The door wasn’t locked and must not have been closed all the way, for as soon as she touched it, it opened.
Ash set her things down on the floor next to the old double bed. The little room had only two windows—one next to the front door and one in the kitchenette. At the moment, the room was dark as the storm raged.
Ash used the bathroom, then lingered at the sink as she washed her hands. The water was as warm as the room, but the sound of it running was soothing. She checked herself over with a critical eye. The madness in her mind showed on her face. There were lines that she didn’t remember being there bracketing her lips. A darkness colored half-circles beneath her eyes. Her eyes were filled with the hypervigilance of a refugee. She closed them and focused her attention on the sound and feel of the tepid water running over her fingers before it spilled down the drain.
She’d made it back to the village. She’d get to the bottom of this. She had a week to figure out what had happened here. She could do that, and then put the village—and Merc—behind her. And when she got home, she’d settle back into her old routine, really buckle down and focus, live the boring, mundane life that would fuel her next adventure.
She opened her eyes again, this time not looking at herself but at the old mirror itself. The metallic backing had chipped off in several places, leaving patchy blotches in the reflection. The mahogany frame with its heavily carved tropical flowers was broken in places, splitting in others. As she examined the mirror, she caught a movement behind her.
Very little light from the front window reached the back corner of her guest flat on a sunny day; none at all reached it now. The bathroom light was on, but it just made the room behind her even darker. She stepped to the right, giving herself a wider area of the mirror to look into.
There was a movement. She hadn’t imagined it. She froze, then realized she was unable to turn, even if she’d wanted to—she was stuck in place. All she could do was watch the murky light coalesce into a tall figure. A man slowly emerged from shadows that now seemed three-dimensional. He looked pale in contrast to the dark cocooning him. She couldn’t see much of him with any clarity, just his throat and chin. But then his eyes began that unholy glow she’d seen once before.
Merc.
How had he gotten in to her apartment? She’d locked the door.
“You,” she said as he came inexorably closer. Still unable to move, she could only watch him approach. He braced his elbows on either side of the narrow doorjamb and caught the upper jamb in his hands.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
He closed his eyes, covering that golden glow, as he drew a deep breath. When he looked again, his eyes were normal. “Why are you here?” he asked.
Ash clamped her jaw shut. She couldn’t tell him the truth. She didn’t even know what the truth was.
As he waited, their eyes locked together in the mirror. That golden glow returned. How did he do that? Some weird costume product? At first, she’d thought it might have been a reflection on his contacts, but she’d never seen contacts behave that way. Did he even have contacts?
It creeped her out. She didn’t know what he was going to do next. The power was his, but the tingles were hers.
His nostrils flared, as if he was breathing her in.
Was he dangerous?
“Yes.” His voice was quiet and rough.
Ash took several breaths to calm herself when she realized she was breathing too fast. She still couldn’t turn around. It was like dream paralysis—she was awake and aware, but unable to move.
“Yes to what?” she asked.
“To all of it.”
She closed her eyes, fearing what would come next. The hairs on her neck and all down her arms lifted, as if he’d moved closer, standing so near her that her body reacted to his energy. She felt him bend close to her shoulder, zinging her skin with that electrical thrill as he dragged his face along the line of her shoulder to her neck.
She realized suddenly that she could move once again. She spun around, but he was gone. Had he ever been there?
Had she conjured him in yet another fantasy?
She stepped out of the bathroom and into the main portion of her room. There he was, bent over, looking in her fridge. He must have heard her, for he straightened, looking shocked. “Hey. How’d you get in my room?”