Chapter LXXVII
CHAPTER LXXVII
The third of the recovered children, the girl taken from Devin Vaughn’s home, was consigned to the care of Blas Urrea’s people at a rendezvous point in Marriottsville, some twenty-eight miles west of Baltimore. La Senora had held the body in her arms, crooning to her in their common tongue, before surrendering her to a pair of Urrea’s underlings. They would reunite the girl with two of her siblings at a private terminal on the Patapsco River, there to await the arrival of the last of them before all four were returned to Mexico by sea. Seeley noted how the Mexicans deferred to la Senora and did their damnedest not to look at her directly. If they weren’t sure of who she was, they knew enough to be frightened of her.
Seeley had spoken with Urrea following Devin Vaughn’s death, and was now aware of certain facts that had been concealed from him. Urrea had called to congratulate Seeley on what he had achieved so far, and to confirm that a bonus payment would be made to his account.
“I need to know,” said Seeley.
“Know what?”
“About the woman.”
“Why?”
“Because if I know about her, I can quantify her, and if I can quantify her, she won’t disturb my dreams.”
“She came out of the mountain,” said Urrea. “With something inside her.”
SEELEY AND ACREMENT WATCHED the van containing the child drive away. La Senora did not follow its progress but kept her head lowered. Had she not been so withered, so parched within, Seeley might have thought she was crying.
“We may soon have to part ways,” said Acrement.
“Are you troubled?” Seeley asked.
“Troubled doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
“You aren’t alone. When the children are safe, I may be forced to make new arrangements. I feel the call of foreign climes.”
Behind them, the woman slid into the back of Seeley’s car and lay down.
“She acts like she’s their mother,” said Acrement, “but their mother must be long dead. Like them.” He tugged at his bottom lip. “Like—”
“Better not to reflect too hard on it,” said Seeley.
“Did Urrea tell you who she is?”
“He said she was a god, or carried a god within her.”
“Not a goddess?”
“He wasn’t prepared to commit.”
“Fucking woke is everywhere. So which god?”
“Urrea wasn’t sure.”
“Jesus Christ,” said Acrement.
“But not that one, I’ll wager.”
Acrement glanced back at the car.
“What will she do when this is over?” he asked.
“Sleep, I imagine.”
“No,” said Acrement, “I think she’ll decay.”
“Let’s call it ‘resting,’?” said Seeley. “It sounds less disconcerting.”
THEY SWITCHED VEHICLES FOR what Seeley hoped would be the final time. He and la Senora picked up I-66, then 495 North to cross the Potomac into Maryland. Seeley would have preferred to avoid the highways, but the paucity of bridges restricted his options and he wanted to leave Virginia behind as quickly as possible. They entered Pennsylvania, where they stopped at a hotel for the night. Seeley booked two adjoining rooms, unlocked the door between them, and slept soundly, knowing the woman would not close her eyes. He woke refreshed to the noise of late-night traffic and considered finding a convenience store or fast-food restaurant. He knocked at the connecting door out of politeness and opened it without being invited to enter.
La Senora was sitting in a chair by the window, the blackout blinds raised but the thin drapes kept in place so she could observe without being observed in turn. Seeley tried to keep his expression neutral. La Senora had aged visibly during the time he’d been asleep. There were more lines on her skin, which was now little more than a pellucid membrane over bone. Her hair was finer, her body frailer, and her eyes were rheumy. Perhaps consuming pieces of her victims’ hearts was an effort to sustain herself—Seeley hadn’t cared to ask—but if so, it was failing.
“We are almost at an end,” she said, and Seeley knew that she was referring both to their mission and herself.
“What can I do?” Seeley asked.
“Help me finish it. Take me to the last of my children.”