Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Hennessy: You become what you focus on and like the people you spend time with.
I ransacked my uncle’s bathrooms, trying to find a first-aid kit, but came up empty. Although going back outside was the last thing I wanted to do, I had to get to the convenience store down the road to find medicine for my arm before it got infected. Praying like hell it didn’t already.
I had no clue what Onyx was into, but I had a strong intuition he was the man behind that mask, and the fact that he just mixed our blood freaked me the hell out for obvious reasons, including any diseases. Grabbing the bike I was going to take earlier, I walked it outside of the garage.
On my way out of the estate, I saw Deja driving into hers. She was in front of her gate, sitting in her BMW convertible, typing in the code to open it. Her music was blasting, and I didn’t think she’d be able to see me in the dark. Somehow, she did.
She shrieked, her hand over her heart. “You just scared the shit out of me!” Her stare immediately shot toward my arm. “Oh my God! Are you okay?” Before I could respond, she ordered, “Get in! I have a first-aid kit!”
Reluctantly, I did, knowing I was entering enemy territory.
Was Onyx behind that mask? Is that why my body reacted to him?
I couldn’t tell you which was worse: him stalking me or it being a stranger…
I thought about it the entire time she parked her car in an enormous garage.
There were maybe forty, fifty special editions, so many one-of-a-kinds, just parked there, looking pretty.
It was giving luxury warehouse for vehicles and not someone's personal parking space. This was the first time I’d stepped back into this estate since I arrived the night of my welcome surprise party.
Memories tore through my mind, and I tried to focus on the present, too consumed with what just happened.
Is this the plan? Why did he mix our blood?
It felt sacred, ancient, even demonic, and I hated that most of all.
Brujería, also known as black magic, was a big part of my culture, and because of my last name and what it already stood for, I stayed away from it.
It didn’t mean I didn’t believe in it. I knew wholeheartedly about its power.
It was engraved into us as children. Right from the womb, a red string or a gold bracelet was wrapped around our wrists for protection.
Babies and children were the easiest to succumb. It didn’t take much to spook a child. Even if they didn’t mean to, a stranger’s stare could be that potent to an innocent life. It was why they were heavily protected from our families at such a young age.
My mom and grandmother were constantly doing la limpia con huevo, an egg cleansing of your body, to protect you against negative energy or ward off the evil eye.
Spiritual magic existed every day. It didn’t sleep; it didn’t need to rest; it was available for the taking from anyone, anywhere.
It was what made it so damn powerful, and in the wrong hands, it could do a lot of damage while destroying lives in the process.
Mythology proved that gods always required sacrifice in some form. Good or bad, it didn’t matter. Sacrifice was the exchange to get everything you ever wanted, especially when it involved blood.
Before we even made it into her home, I grabbed Deja’s arm at the door, stopping her from facing me.
“The initials B.O.B. What do they mean?”
Her eyes remained on mine, not saying a word.
“It’s the Brotherhood Luna warned me about, right? What do the other letters stand for?”
“Hennessy—”
“No, don’t bullshit a bullshitter. Tell me the truth. Please, I’m begging you.”
“Hennessy—”
“Please, Deja!” With praying hands, I expressed, “You want me on my knees too? Just give me something, please...”
She glanced all around the garage, blinking one eye at me. It was her subtle way of letting me know she couldn’t share anything there. We were being watched, giving me hope that maybe she’d actually answer my questions.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you with that, but I can help you with your arm…”
I faintly nodded, inhaling a deep breath before following her inside.
Her mansion looked the same. Nothing was out of place, similar to my uncle’s.
Their staff was everywhere, but nobody looked in my direction.
Deja wrapped a new towel around my wound.
Luckily, it hadn’t bled through, but something told me the staff would’ve still minded their own business if it had. They were paid to.
Once we were in her bedroom, I felt a little safer, if that made any sense.
She rushed into her bathroom, exiting with a first-aid kit in her hands.
Her room was the size of someone’s whole house.
It was what I’d imagine her suite would look like.
It was very her, with the over-the-top gold details in the build and the furniture.
I could tell every piece of furniture and the decor was passed down.
She held millions of dollars’ worth of antique pieces alone.
From the paintings on the walls to the sixteenth-century rugs and the seventeenth-century gold canopy bed frame.
It just screamed wealth. It looked like a queen lived in there.
Part of me wanted to know their significance, and the researcher in me was dying to take a closer look at the beauty before me. It was like a historical museum you’d see in Italy or Spain with cathedral ceilings and gold, avant-garde design and layout.
She handed me a bottle of 1942 tequila, yanking my attention back to her.
“You’re going to need it. This is going to hurt.”
I did as I was told, chugging down a few swigs. The liquor flowed through my chest, warming up my insides. I was used to drinking Peruvian liquor, Pisco, so this was new to me. She crouched to the floor by my feet, sitting on her knees while she pulled out a needle and thread.
“Whoa…” I called out. “You know how to stitch?”
“I could…” she warily replied. “But you’d probably pass out from the pain. You’re not my brother or his Brotherho…” she corrected herself, “friends.”
Quickly feeling the effects of the alcohol, I questioned, “How often do you stitch up your brother?”
She sighed, rummaging through the kit. “Often enough.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “He’s a dumbass.”
“So he gets into fights?”
She shrugged again. “He does fence and crossbow. Not just for the Academy, but for competitions and stuff…” She changed the subject, pulling out a tube. “I have medical adhesive. It’ll hold the edges of your cut as long as you don’t keep ripping it open. It’ll heal too.”
“You’re just going to glue me back together, Deja?”
“I can if you want me to. If not, I can call our family doctor to make a house call. Your decision.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t want this getting back to my uncle.”
“How are you going to hide it from him?”
“Considering I’ve barely seen him in the last five weeks, I highly doubt it’s going to be an issue.”
“I hate to break this to you, Hennessy… odds are, your uncle already knows.”
“How?”
“Secrets don’t stay hidden here.”
“Except for mine, right?”
She ignored my question, throwing back her own, “How about you tell me what happened while I fix you up because I don’t know.”
I didn’t waver. “Can I trust you, Deja? Are we friends?”
She eyed me cautiously for a moment, giving me more anxiety.
Unable to take the silence, I shared, “I went to the district this evening.”
She reached for my arm, starting to clean me up. “That town is dead. Most of it is under construction. Nobody goes there anymore. We haven’t in years.”
“Alfred suggested it.”
“Who’s Alfred?”
“Oh… umm… Jones, I think.”
“Your driver?” she acknowledged, looking up at me.
“Yeah.”
Her gaze connected with mine. “Why would he…?” She stopped herself. “What did you find?”
“So you know I found something?”
“You tell me.”
“You Devereauxs,” I sassed. “You’re amazing at avoiding questions.”
“Hennessy, I’m trying to help you.”
“You can’t help me. Your family hates me. Especially your brother.”
“Trust me,” she confirmed. “It’s not hate that he feels for you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Just tell me what you found.”
With my good arm, I grabbed my cell phone out of the pocket in my dress, showing her the pictures I’d taken.
Her eyes sharpened, immediately ordering, “You need to delete those! Now, Hennessy!” She was about to do it herself, but I snatched it out of her hands.
“Hell no!” I argued. “It’s the only proof I have!”
“Wrong!” She inhaled a deep breath. “That’s evidence! I’m serious, Hennessy, you need to delete those.”
“Or what?”
“Or someone is going to come looking for them to delete it themselves.”
“Who? How?” Now I sounded like a fucking owl. “Nobody was in there with me. How would they know—”
“That museum is filled with cameras.”
I never told her where I found them. “It’s being remodeled.”
“All the more reason to have it surrounded by surveillance.”
“Jesus…” I abruptly stood, yanking my arm out of her grasp. “What the hell is going on, Deja? I just got chased in the woods!”
She didn’t seem fazed by what I just admitted. Instead, she concluded, “Is that how you cut your arm?”
“No, I did that by breaking into the museum.”
“So you left fingerprints?”
With wide eyes, I exclaimed, “What the fuck? Is that who was chasing me? They saw I was in the museum from the cameras? Are these the people who are going to tell my uncle?” I didn’t stop.
I was too far gone. “Are you those people, Deja? Are the Devereauxs after me? Why? What does it have to do with my father and my uncle?” I was so out of breath, I had to rest.
Feeling a little dizzy, I grabbed my head.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.”
This time, we didn’t speak until she was finished bandaging my wound. Mostly because it hurt like hell. The liquor wasn’t helping.
Once she was done, she softly asked, “Do you know who was chasing you?”
“They weren’t actually chasing me. They were—”
She didn’t have to be told anymore, confirming for me…
“Hunting you.”