“Which Hun-Kamé will grant you,” she said.
“It is a gamble, of course. Hun-Kamé may fail, and if he does, I will find myself in trouble. His brother is harsh.”
Again here was a detail Casiopea had not considered, what it might mean to defy a god. She had followed Hun-Kamé because she thought it necessary, but a desire for freedom—even a “peasant” who has never owned a pair of garters can sense the call for adventure—had also pushed her forward, making her ignore the dangers she might face. Now that Loray spoke, it was obvious there was much to worry about. It was not only the words the demon said, but the way he said them, quietly, and she noticed that at no point had he spoken the name of Hun-Kamé’s rival.
Vucub-Kamé, she thought, and held the name in her mouth.
“I want insurance. That same insurance would prove beneficial to you,” Loray said.
“I don’t understand,” she replied.
“Inside you there is a strange thing, is there not? A piece of him, the seal of the underworld upon you.”
“A bone shard.”
She opened her hand and looked at her fingers. Whether Hun-Kamé had volunteered this information or Loray had found out by some other means she could not know.
“The Lords of the Underworld cannot walk Middleworld freely. They must use messengers to speak with mortals or else manifest during the nights, and then only for the briefest of periods. A single hour.”
“But we traveled in the daytime.”
“Because Hun-Kamé is not entirely a god. Because your human blood mixes with his immortal essence, cloaking him from the sun. It nourishes him too. Without it he would be lost, weakened as he is.”
She closed her hand into a fist and felt the shard there. It was like a living thing, hidden beneath the murmur of her blood.
“He said it would kill me, the bone shard.”
“It will. If it is not removed. But of course he cannot remove it, nor would he wish to in his state. And yet he must. The more life he absorbs from you, the more human he must become. It is a bad bargain for both of you, but there is no other way,” Loray said, his face serious.
The raven nodded his head, as if emphasizing this point.
“Yet this bargain may also be our salvation, if the tide turns and Hun-Kamé fails in his quest.” A smile formed on his lips.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Should he be unable to recover his missing elements, should his brother catch up with you and the situation be dire, cut your hand,” Loray said simply.
“What?”
He made a motion, as if he were holding a machete and slicing off his own arm.
“Cut it. It will sever the link to Hun-Kamé.”
“How will that solve anything?”
“It will help us. He will be thoroughly weakened.”
How easily he said “us,” as if they were old acquaintances. Any mortal would have been dazzled by the demon’s voice, the smile, his looks. Casiopea had enough common sense to be wary. Life had taught her to be untrusting. Dreamers and romantics like her father did not fare well, and though she had dreamed in Uukumil, she’d done so quietly, in secret. If someone chanced by, she closed the book she was looking at. She hid desires inside an old tin can. She never told anyone what she hoped for.
“The reigning Lord of Xibalba will look kindly at the woman who helped defeat his brother,” Loray said.
“And I will be without a hand,” she replied.
“Sacrifices have to be made at times. If it comes to it, cut your hand, not a big deal.”
“And injure him.”
“That is the point.”
“Why aren’t you trying to cut my hand?” she asked.
Bold, the question. She grew brazen, and quickly.
“Dear girl, if I pressed a blade against your skin, it would accomplish nothing. You’d be right as rain in a heartbeat,” he said, brushing past her, brushing her arm for a second, as if to emphasize his point. “No enemy can wound you, nor coerce you into wounding yourself, not when a Lord of Xibalba walks beside you. Not even one who has lost his throne. It must be by your hand and your hand alone. Free will.”
“Nothing of this makes sense.”
“Only know this final option is available to you. It might save you, and me,” he said.
There was amusement in the demon’s face, as if he enjoyed speaking these words. Under his politeness she detected a quiet malice.
“Vucub-Kamé would forgive you if you tell him you advised me to do this?”
She said the name to test his boundaries, since Loray was afraid of uttering it. And when she said it the demon did not seem amused.
“Perhaps,” he muttered.
“What if I cut my hand right this instant?”
“Too soon. Hun-Kamé might win his throne back.” He stood before the white liquor cabinet, throwing it open, and looked over his shoulder at her. “Besides, you have an unfortunately brave and kind heart.”
“How do you know what heart I have?”
“You’d make a poor card player, dear. Can’t hide yourself.”
She did not understand what he meant; it was her cousin who played games of chance, not her, although here now she’d stepped into a rather intricate game.
Loray poured himself a drink, and as he raised it to his lips Hun-Kamé walked into the living room in a white linen suit, a smart straw hat in his hands and a black handkerchief knotted around his neck. Again it was difficult to perceive the lack of an eye, the ear. Yet it was not as if he concealed himself. He was much too striking. Preternatural beauty; it made Casiopea dip her head and look down for a heartbeat.
“Good day,” Loray said, his voice cheerful. His raven had migrated again to his shoulder.
“Good day,” the raven said, echoing the greeting.
“I trust you obtained passage for us, Marquess,” Hun-Kamé said. “I do not wish to dally.”
Businesslike and to the point, but polite. Grandfather yelled, stamped his cane against the floor to make himself heard. Martín threatened her into obedience. This type of authority was alien to Casiopea.
“Would I fail you in this matter?” Loray said, sounding a tad annoyed. “There is a vessel departing from Progreso this evening. It is fast. You’ll reach Veracruz in a couple of days.”
“My tracks must remain hidden.”