Hungry Ghosts (Eric Carter #3)(63)

“Probably a lot of Norte?o music,” I say.

“Oh, joy.”

Tabitha calls dibs on the bath. She takes my Browning and the knife with her in case I get any ideas. I’m going to have to get them back at some point, but I’d rather do it in a way that doesn’t end with one or both of us dead.

While she’s getting a hot soak I’m outside scrubbing as much of the blood off me as I can. I’ve stripped down to the waist, making the jade’s progress even more apparent. My entire left side and most of my right is stone. It covers half my head, goes down my throat and completely engulfs my chest and stomach. From what I can see from my reflection in the water the only thing left of me that’s flesh is most of my right arm and the right side of my face.

On the plus side, stone is easier to rinse off than flesh, though the Ahuizotl’s blood makes even that difficult. It’s thick. Almost pasty in consistency. It coats my remaining skin in a thick sheen like layers of latex paint I can’t quite peel off.

I wonder what rain of shit’s going to come down on me for killing Quetzalcoatl’s pet. Sure, I’m not the one who sliced its throat open and yanked out its tongue, but he’s not gonna care. One more thing to toss onto the pile, I guess.

If I get out of this, Quetzalcoatl’s going to come gunning for me. If he can’t destroy Mictlan, maybe he’ll content himself with turning me into a smear. Lucky me.

It takes almost half an hour to get the worst of the blood off. My hosts come out and nervously give me a change of clothes and a rough towel to dry off with. The clothes are simple, a cloak, a short sleeved shirt and a loincloth.

There is no way in hell I’m wearing a loincloth.

The pair say nothing when they come out. They’re clearly terrified, whether from all the blood or because they can see that I’m almost entirely made of jade, I’m not sure. Hell, maybe it’s the eyes. Or maybe it’s just me.

I change into the shirt, can’t figure out how the hell the cloak’s supposed to be worn, so I don’t bother. I wad up my shredded jacket and shirt, transferring anything I still have in the pockets into my messenger bag. I should find a place to dump these. It feels weird to leave them out here. Like I’m committing some sort of sacrilege. Like that’s anything new.

It’s quiet here. Peaceful. I clearly don’t belong. Even so, the calm of the place is infectious. For the first time in weeks I don’t feel completely on edge. I know it’s an illusion and it’s not going to last. But for a few minutes it feels nice to just lie here and listen to the water lapping at the banks of the stream.

I can see how this could be somebody’s idea of paradise. At least on the surface. Tabitha said the people shape the place, and in my experience people don’t do peaceful well. The Aztecs were big on blood sacrifice. Do they still do it here? How? They’re already dead.

“Oh, yeah. They still do it. What do you think that big palace over there is for, anyway?” Alex. Sitting on the banks of the stream next to me. Every time I see this fucker wearing my dead friend’s face it’s a kick in the teeth.

“So now I don’t have to be asleep or concussed to see you anymore. Awesome.”

“For me, sure. I get to make fun of you for a little while longer. But for you it just means you’re changing faster.” I show him my jade middle finger. “Oh, I see you noticed.”

“What do you want?”

“Just a little chat. Pick up from before we were so rudely interrupted by our mutual friend.”

“I’m surprised you remember that.”

Annoyance on his face. “I don’t. I remember you remembering it.”

“So the fact that I don’t remember all of it must drive you batshit.”

“Two minutes. That’s all that’s missing,” Alex says. “And it’s not even missing. Just stuck behind a wall. I can’t believe you let Darius of all people dick around with your memories.”

“I trust him more than I trust you.”

“Really?” Alex says. “Do you have any idea how many deaths he’s responsible for? Do you realize how many people are here, or were stuck behind the mists because of him? He killed the other gods. He murdered my friends. My family.”

“Yeah, I don’t know anybody who’s murdered my friends and family.”

“That wasn’t me, Eric. That was your wife. And though I don’t like that she did it, I understand why she did it. She wants to make this place whole. She wants to undo all the crap that fucking Djinn did half a millennium ago.”

“I like how when you’re trying to make something feel like my fault you call her my wife, and when you’re just annoyed at her she’s your ex.”

“What did Darius tell you, Eric?”

“You know as much as I do.”

And that isn’t much. I remember Darius telling me he needed to give me information and that at some point I’d remember. Though when and how I have no idea. I have a vague feeling that I didn’t like what I heard, but besides that, I don’t know what the message was.

“Why do you think he did it? To hide it from me? Who am I gonna tell? I’m just a little chunk of Mictlantecuhtli cut off from the rest of me.”

“He hasn’t lied to me so far,” I say. “Unlike some people.”