Chapter 2 Thieves in the Night
THIEVES IN THE NIGHT
Cesar
“Please, sit.”
Luana Hurtado swept her hand in a wide, spreading arc over the bureau in her home office.
The motion pulled an uncomfortable looking hard wooden chair on the other side of the desk closer, indicating that was where she wanted me to sit.
As she continued her movement, her bat sleeves swaying, the chair swung around to meet me.
A myriad of potions in decorative vials lay scattered before her, along with the family grimoire.
A quill scribbled words into a book that sat precariously on the corner of the workspace.
From the giant picture window behind her, palm trees rustled in the tropical night breeze, and moonbeams illuminated the room with a silvery touch. A multitude of black candles had been lit, reinforcing the bewitching ambience that Luana perpetually enveloped herself in.
“Am I to understand this meeting is being recorded?” I glanced at the enchanted pen.
I took a seat, cautious in my movements, with a gentle smile plastered on my face.
The Hurtado family belonged to the Obscurus clan, and dealing with anyone from this faction of society warranted some measure of vigilance and attentiveness.
Luana, the matriarch of one of the city’s most powerful lines of hereditary witches, required attentiveness to every word she spoke and each gesture she made.
The witch was cunning, despite the current pleasantries.
“Cesar, I must say, we are disappointed.” Luana’s paltry grin quickly evaporated as she spoke. I hadn’t even fully seated myself yet and the confrontation was afoot. “Tea?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, Luana, I’m not sure I understand?
And certainly, oolong if you have it.” I tucked my hands into my robes.
The sheen of sweat forming across my back and the cold hands that had a touch of arthritis in them had nothing to do with the balmy temperatures.
No, they were the result of being in the presence of my hostess.
Luana’s mouth quirked up on one side as she nodded gracefully, then waved her hand. An imp crawled off her lap and scampered away, presumably to fetch the beverage.
“Dia de Muertos is in less than a week, Cesar. I sent word to you at least a month ago inquiring about your abilities, and I have yet to hear back. It would be a shame for your work not to be recognized, and by representing us, you would gain a certain elevated notoriety.” Luana clasped her hands in front of her.
Her pointed, highly crafted nails were painted black as night.
The colour matched her dress, her hair, and her soul.
“After all, this family only wants to be represented by the best in the business. At least, that is what I am led to believe? You do come highly recommended. Would you say you’re the best? ”
Her questioning of my abilities was a bit of a slap in the face.
“My deepest apologies, Luana. I don’t remember receiving your letter.”
My brain scrambled to think back over the past few weeks to the parcels and letters that had been delivered to my house. It was difficult to reconcile, but lately, I’d been having a hard time remembering everything.
“It’s quite possible that your inquiry sits on my dresser, unopened. You know with the season and its demands how busy I can be this time of year.” I couldn’t recall the invitation she spoke of, and I knew for certain that I had opened every letter.
Hadn’t I?
After all, the Norcturnus festivities was when I made the most money. Not enough to sustain me throughout the year, but enough to bolster the wages, fortify the savings, make the mortgage payments, and keep me comfortable.
Damn my age. Every day now there were more things I struggled to remember.
Grocery items, meeting times, names of distant relatives – all seemed to fly out of my head the moment I needed to recall them.
At fifty-seven, I shouldn’t be having such a challenge with my memory, and yet the fact of the matter was, this wasn’t going to get any better.
If anything, it might steadily get worse.
Just like my mother’s brother, Tio Orlan.
He, too, had been a bone witch, like me.
He had begun to lose his memories in his late fifties.
Our talents allowed us to pull history, memories, and affinities from bone.
It also allowed us to reanimate the dead.
But doing so caused our own brains to lapse quickly.
I had arrived at the inevitable, it seemed. The curse of my talent had finally appeared to darken my doorstep.
The inevitable jinx of being born with the ability to influence life and death—that’s what bone witches do. We manipulate the skeletal structures of the living and the dead alike. Some called it necromancy, but bringing something back from the dead was only a portion of our talents.
I could piece together mismatched bones and create little golems.
Every animal, from birds to reptiles, had innate characteristics, and so creating charms using their remains had long been the mainstay of my income.
But Dia de Muertos – The Day of the Dead – here in Puerto Vallarta remained one of the largest celebrations of the year and the highlight of the Nocturnus festivities.
Every year, the Malecón would fill with catrinos, each one sponsored by the family or business honoring one of their ancestors.
Before the Revelation, the statues had been made from plaster, metal, and even fiberglass.
They were elegantly painted and decorated with marigolds, custom fabrics, and elaborate hats.
The swarms of onlookers that crowded the sea walk each evening as the sun began to set, ensured your stroll was slow and steady. Not to mention the heat at that time of year. Even at the beginning of November, the evenings were sweltering.
But that had been back then.
Before we came out into the light.
Now, the effigies of family members long since gone had been replaced. With people who were able to enchant and bespell, the statues had disappeared, and in their place, the reanimated corpses of the dead were exalted and revered.
It was not, despite my innate abilities, my favorite holiday.
The grotesque display thrilled the crowds, of course.
But truth be told, the dead made me nervous.
They were often dangerous and unpredictable. And the longer the body had been deceased, the more dangerous it was to instill the magical spark of life into them.
A reanimated corpse was rife with all kinds of diseases, magical and otherwise.
Raising the dead came with risks. We buried bodies for good reasons.
But every now and then, bringing someone back to life, however temporary, could help a family recover lost documents, regain forgotten or untold history, or even allow for closure from the loss of entwined souls.
Love will make you do crazy things.
Losing your loved one can be devastating.
That was probably the one thing I did enjoy in my profession: seeing loved ones reunited, even if only for an hour or two.
The imp returned and placed a saucer and cup in front of both Luana and me. The teacup rattled as the imp’s actions were jerky and uncoordinated. The scaly, oddly hairy species was erratic; they didn’t make the best house attendants. They were, however, loyal to a fault
“I completely understand.” Luana took a sip from her cup as she petted the head of her daemonic familiar. As her long nails scratched behind its pointed, floppy ears, the creature gurgled – a sign of enjoyment, much like a cat’s purr. “But you will help us, yes?”
“Of course.” I sipped my offering. The nutty, honey-tinged tea was delicious, and spoke of high-quality leaves — imported, obviously. “Do you have an idea on which ancestor you’d like resurrected to represent your lineage?”
“But of course. The one and only.” Luana smiled. Her eyes glinted in the candlelight; a flickering flame refracted in her pupils. “Mistress Magdalena.”
The name sent a shiver down my back as rivulets of perspiration trickled over my goose-pimpled skin. Ice settled in my bones. This was not good.
“I see.” I bowed my head and bit my lip.
“That won’t be a problem, will it?” She cocked an eyebrow.
“No, senora, it won’t. It can be done, despite the fact that we generally discourage resurrecting anything, or anyone, that’s been gone that long.
I can do it. But it will be costly, in terms of magic, the charms required, and the restraints necessary.
You know the older the corpse, the more erratic they tend to be. ”
My mind raced, thinking of all the precautions I would have to take.
Mistress Magdalena had died several decades ago.
Although she had been the most powerful oracle the Hurtado family had ever seen, the masses feared her, as her visions were more akin to a doomsday prophet than a seer of light and goodness.
But then, what would you have expected from a member of the Obscurus clan.
She was famous.
Everyone knew of Mistress Magdalena.
“We are happy to pay, and of course, a large bonus for ensuring her, and our safety.” She opened a drawer, pulled out a thick envelope and passed it over to me. “Half now, the other half after the festivities.”
I palmed the fat packet and slid the payment into one of the many folds in my robes. I didn’t need to count it to know the bulging wad of pesos would hold me for another year.
“Very generous. Muchas gracias, senora.”
“You should probably make preparations, as the holiday season is fast upon us,” Luana prompted, indicating my time with her had come to an end. I was expected to leave. I glanced down at the barely drank tea, regretful that I wouldn’t get to finish it.
It really was quite good.
“Yes, of course. Again, my apologies for the oversight.” I nodded and then turned to go.
“Make sure our family is appropriately positioned, Cesar. I would hate to see your reputation diminished.”