Chapter 11 On Tiny Little Wings
ON TINY LITTLE WINGS
Cesar
Artur left after we’d slept in, cuddled, and made small talk.
It had only been a couple of days since our initial encounter, but his presence in my life had sparked some newness, joy, and despite all the compounding complexities and danger, a sense of peace.
I hadn’t experienced a serene night’s rest like that in years, despite the dream.
That nightmare, though, had burned itself into my memory. It was one of those dreams that couldn’t be forgotten. It had felt too real, been seen too clearly.
I shivered.
Mistress Magdalena had come to me in my sleep.
That was not a good sign, considering the task I had been hired to do for the Hurtados. A connection had been seeded, and you never wanted the dead to have ties to its animator. It spelled trouble.
I hadn’t talked to Artur about my nightmare.
Not yet. I would, as it was important. I knew why she had called me a thief – clearly the black tourmaline gem was important to her and the wight, Efraim.
And given that Tom thought it was a soul-binding stone, the couple would need it to resurrect their love, their ties to each other, after both of their deaths.
Perhaps that was the reason the Hurtados wanted Mistress Magdalena reanimated for the festival. Not only to instill fear and awe in the celebration crowds, but also to reunite the most powerful and dangerous couple ever to have existed in Puerto Vallarta.
I still hadn’t come up with a plan for declining Luana, as Tom from Fridas so strongly suggested. Nor had I gathered the right elements necessary to reanimate the matriarch for Dia de Muertos.
And I only had days left to figure out which path to follow and then carry on with that plan. I should have been figuring out my next steps, but instead, I found myself in my workshop, handling one of the tiniest skulls in my collection.
A hummingbird.
I had a minuscule awl, and as I meditated on what I should do, I let my hands feel the bone and let the tool scrawl and carve away.
A rose blossom here, a few witch marks of good fortune, there.
A well-placed hibiscus bud, and a twining vine along the beak.
All the elements for expressing love, happiness, and companionship.
And of course, I couldn’t possibly have created such lovely artwork while not thinking about my newest friend, Artur.
Such a kind man.
So much talent.
Loyal to a fault.
Gentle.
As my hands moved, the bone I held became enhanced, enchanted, emblazoned with beauty; it took on a new life of its own.
While carefully cradling my work in one hand, I sifted through several boxes of bones, and as I found the necessary missing parts, I spread them out on the workspace before me.
When I was done, I had the completed skeleton of a hummingbird.
Fragile and thread-thin, its tiny little wings, ribcage, short spine, and itty-bitty talons were stitched together to make the engraved skull attach to the body.
Finding a few feathers, some appropriate dried herbs, a few desiccated flower buds, and murmuring a quick magical chant, my charm became complete.
It was the first time in a long time that I had created something from inspiration, as opposed to a commission.
A knock came, pulling me out of my reverie.
Placing my meditative work down with care onto my workstation, I rose and went to the large wooden doors, glanced through the peephole—and instantly lost all the happiness I had drummed up.
Luana Hurtado and two of her henchmen stood on my front stoop.
“Fuck,” I mumbled.
Cinching my house clothes a little tighter and running a hand through my thick hair, I opened the doors while plastering on the widest and most welcoming smile.
“Luana! Good morning. Isn’t it just a lovely day.
Come inside, please.” I bowed slightly and gestured for her and her entourage to come into my home.
She sneered at my hospitality while the monster lackeys regarded me with deadpan glares.
They had no jeuje. No life, no style. And yet, they weren’t dead.
These weren’t reanimations.
Perhaps they were golems?
Regardless, they were imposing, to say the least.
“Cesar, it’s been a couple of days. We’ve heard nothing from you. I’m disappointed. Are you not going to represent our clan? The festival is but a few days away.”
“I’ve had some health issues.” It wasn’t a lie, and yet I wasn’t about to tell her the entire truth either. “Nothing serious.” That, however, was a bold-faced lie.
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that. You are capable of continuing, though? I have brought Mistress Magdalena with me. You’ll need to study her, and her bones, for the ritual, yes?”
I gulped.
It was common for the corpse to be brought to me, but I had never housed anyone so elevated or powerful before.
If Magdalena could come to me in a dream, after being gone for decades, her bones in my house could spell absolute disaster. Again, the potential for a deeper connection to develop was far too real.
A tingle ran down my spine.
“Cesar, you don’t look well. Are you sure you’re able? This is far too important for us. Do you have any tea? I’m positively parched.”
“Of course.” I gathered my robes and made my way to the kitchen, gesturing for Luana to follow.
“One moment, I’ll have my boys retrieve Great-Great-Grandma and bring her into the house. Where would you like them to place her?”
“The workshop, down the hall and to the left, up the stairs, first door on the right. It’s more a solarium than a workspace, but the moonlight I’m exposed to up there assists in my tasks.
” It was important for Luana to know that my job was important to me, and that she should have confidence in my abilities, regardless of the current situation.
That was something I didn’t want her to know about.
At least not yet. Once word was out in the community, it would spread like an itchy sexually transmitted infection.
So far, Luana hadn’t given any indication that my early onset dementia was known to her.
“Boys, please? Follow Senor Aguilar’s instructions.”
The golems disappeared, leaving me alone with Luana.
“Milk? Cream? Sugar? I believe I may have some organic honey as well.”
“No. That’s fine, thank you. Strong and black is fine.”
“Just like you, mistress?” I winked at her. Gaining some favour was important.
“Cesar, you flatter.” She grinned, but the action was steeped in malice. Her pointed black nails tapped against the surface of the stone countertops as we waited for the tea to steep.
“I will confess, I haven’t really found a suitable memory anchor for the reanimation.
Any suggestions?” Everyone knew the anchor used would help tie the bones to the memories embedded within.
It should be something that the dearly departed cherished, something that would help tether the bones to the soul, the lived experiences to a reanimated corpse.
“Now this is a conversation I had hoped to have a month ago!” Her eyes became slits as she contemplated my question.
Noises from the foyer indicated that the boys had returned with the Hurtados corpse. I could hear the footsteps ascending toward my workroom.
“Now that I think about it, I believe a black hibiscus bloom would work wonderfully well. It was a favorite in her garden, and Efraim would surprise her with new cultivars as soon as he could get them from the nurseries. I know she had at least three different kinds, but the Black Dragon bloom was her most favorite. The bloom was blood-red on the edges, but black as night in the center. It truly signified our heritage, our clan. To this day, the memory of that flower brings back cherished memories of family gatherings and Blood Witch rituals. The whole group of us would participate. They were magical times.” Luana smiled.
It was the first time I’d seen her looking human, almost normal.
But I was also certain, given the family’s reputation, that those rituals she spoke of spelled out someone else’s demise.
Still, the use of a flower was an intriguing prospect.
“Hmm. I’ve never used an object so organic. This should be interesting, perhaps even a challenge. But I’m certain I could source one bloom.”
“Excellent.” Luana stared at me. I handed her a cup of tea, steaming hot. She sipped the scalding liquid and never even flinched.
She set the cup down.
“Again, Cesar, I cannot begin to tell you how important this is to us. So many forces conspire to prevent us from being the family of stature we once were. We all long for those times—the prosperity, the wealth, the power. We crave it, you know.”
“Well, on some level, who doesn’t?” I responded.
“Most, Cesar. Most do not have the gumption to do what needs to be done in order to ascend the ladder of greatness. But I do believe you have that drive. I know you’ll represent us well. After all, think of the ruin that will befall us all should this not transpire the way we want.”
“I’m sure it will all be fine,” I said, but the hair on the back of my neck rose.
“Well, it might be. However, we are running out of opportunities to bring the Mistress back. After all, time is the one thing that can rot even the strongest bones. We don’t want that, do we, Cesar?”
“No, ma’am.”
She placed a hand over mine. It was dead cold.
“I am counting on you.” Luana stared. Her gaze could have frozen fire.
“Cesar?!” Artur yelled from the foyer.
Luana’s head whipped around to the sound of his voice.
“Additional guests?” She inquired.
“We are in the kitchen,” I yelled back over top of Luana’s head.
“After our conversation this morning—” Artur plopped a duffel bag stuffed to bulging onto the kitchen floor, and I couldn’t tell if the action was because the satchel looked heavy, or if it was because of my current tea companion. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me. I didn’t realize you had company.”
“Nonsense. Luana this is—”
“Artur Beaulieu.” Luana’s icy answer left no room for interpretation.