Bruja Born (Brooklyn Brujas #2)(67)
Dad looks down at the ground, then fixes his gray eyes on me. “One day I will have the answers you want, something that makes me worthy of you, all of you. But for now, please listen to me and stay away from them. They hunted our kind for centuries. They—”
Down the hall, there’s a knock coming from the front door, and since it’s not our house, we’re unsure if we should answer it.
“Anyone expecting company?” Nova asks.
But after the third knock, I see McKay dash past the kitchen in his boxers. I need an out, so I get up and follow him.
A tall, young guy walks right in, past McKay, whose grimace has nothing to do with the two hours of sleep he got last night.
“Good, McKay,” the stranger says. “Should’ve known. You’re all here. Saves me a trip.”
His face looks familiar, but I can’t place it. He wears a white shirt, jeans, and motorcycle boots. He keeps walking in until he stands in front of me, all up in my space.
“Lula Mortiz.”
Where do I know him from? His serious face brightens with a smile. Memories rush at me. Dark eyes framed by darker lashes. A square jaw tallied with thin scars that could be from shaving or from a fight.
“Who wants to know?” I ask.
He smooths the top of his hair, tied back in a knot. He stands tall, over a foot taller than me. His dark eyes take in every one of us, and he smirks.
“Lula Antonietta Mortiz, you are guilty of endangering the life of the humans of the tristate area slash the world, and are in violation of the Thorne Hill Alliance, Treaty of New York, section six: the reanimation of corpses.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I shout.
“I am here to arrest you on the authority of the Knights of Lavant.”
28
The monsters, the monsters,
they crawl in the night.
The monsters, the monsters,
they hide in plain sight.
—Witchsong #33, Book of Cantos
“I know you” is all I can say to that.
He ignores me and reaches around to his back pocket and pulls out a black chord that he winds around his hand. “You know the drill. I’ll have to search the premises, McKay.”
“Listen, Rhett,” McKay starts. His bare feet slap on the ground as he makes to stand in front of me. “You clearly waited until Fred was knocked out. You don’t want to do this. I’ll take you to the zombie heads, but leave the girl alone.”
“We can’t contain the threat,” the hunter says. “There are bodies piling up, and the human authorities are panicking, and nothing good happens when they panic. Someone has to answer for it. You can’t save everyone.”
Strands of Rhett’s brown hair fall out of place. His attention is drawn to my family, who emerges from the kitchen and surrounds him. Something like amusement lights up his deep-brown eyes.
“If you think you’re taking my daughter, you’re going to have a lot more to worry about than the undead plaguing these streets,” Dad says.
“Patricio, stand back,” Mom says, but I can feel the air thicken with magic.
“I don’t care who you are,” I tell the hunter. “I’m not going with you.”
He turns toward me on his shiny, black shoes, then lowers himself so we’re face-to-face. “You will.”
My heart thunders in my chest. It’s like a flash going off in my head. His tenor voice, like a warning, conflates with his face. A face that’s so clear and bright in this memory. You’re stronger than this. “You’re the nurse from the hospital.”
“Oh yeah,” Rose says behind me. “But he doesn’t seem as nice right now.”
He smirks. “I’m actually disappointed it took you so long to remember me. But I suppose you’ve been busy.”
“We thought you were the one who took the bodies at first. What the hell do you want with my sister?” Alex asks. She keeps her hands behind her back, but I can feel the pull of magic in the air, a living thing grazing against the back of my neck.
“I just said,” Rhett snaps at her. “Do you know how many of these creatures we’ve had to put down? And I know you’re harboring four more. The only way to solve this is for the witch to peacefully come with me and turn over the undead.”
And just like that, something snaps within me. The rage, the fear, the hopelessness I’ve felt for the past few days, even the past few months, bubble up inside me. I slap him across his smug face, and he stumbles back. “I am a bruja.”
“You’re the reason all of this is happening,” he says, cradling his now-reddened cheek.
“Please,” Ma says, the portrait of civility. Her dark curls are pulled into a bun at the top of her head. Amethyst crystal earrings swing against her brown skin as she holds her hands up in supplication. “We’re on the same side. We know how to fix this.”
“Carmen Mortiz,” Rhett says, raising his brows at her. “Healer to the poor souls of the city. How was the sea creature’s delivery last night? I do hope the sea princess has a speedy recovery.”
My mother’s face hardens, but her brown eyes don’t hold any anger. She’s afraid.
Dad, on the other hand, is less successful at containing his disdain for the young hunter. Dad’s white skin is stark against his salt-and-pepper mustache, and his eyes are narrow slits, waiting to attack until Rhett puts his hands on me.