Chapter Twelve Fonsi
CHAPTER TWELVE
FONSI
After waving goodbye to Linda, Fonsi made his way through Penn Station.
The noise from construction crews grated his nerves.
They were still fixing the escalator that had been possessed by a spirit during the Equinox and sent travelers plunging to their doom.
And he was still reeling from what he’d learned from Linda about how her abilities worked.
It was the first time he’d ever met a Guardián empath, a rarity in his order, just like his cousin was a rarity with her manipulator gift.
And just like his cousin, Linda seemed ambivalent about her power. Which was fascinating.
Am I destined to be an advisor to super-powerful women…
who for some reason don’t want to actually USE their power?
Fonsi mused. He’d reviewed everything he could about empaths in El Gran Libro Negro.
Not a lot of intel, but some Guardián scholars thought that the orisha Elegua had bestowed the gift of mystical empathy upon those who were strong enough to hold the memories and emotions of others.
It was a crossroads gift, meant to help humanity better understand their place in the world and make clearheaded decisions.
Fonsi could practically see the lines he’d read repeatedly days ago in El Gran Libro floating in his head…
an empath’s power, if used with insight and training, is limited primarily by their strength and imagination.
To Fonsi’s comic-book-loving brain, that made them sound like some sorta psychic Green Lantern.
“She’s a tight one,” Estelle had told him when he said he was going to DC at Linda’s request. “Don’t take anything too personally if she’s not warm and fuzzy.
” Fonsi agreed. He could see how hot Linda got when responding to his questions, like she was on the verge of cussing his ass out.
He thought it best not to press matters further.
You didn’t survive and thrive as a business owner in the South Bronx without becoming adept at risk assessment.
Linda was a former cop and PI, trained in hand-to-hand combat, might even be carrying a firearm.
And she could mess with thoughts and emotions. No need to piss the woman off.
He received a text. Can you take a look at this?
From the source of his preoccupation. Linda then sent a photo of an amulet.
There was a face incorporated into what appeared to be a sun.
A close-up of an image from a bowl on Mr. Samuelson’s nightstand, which she sent as a second picture for context.
The amulet’s face was beautiful. Its eyes were closed, mouth open, as if in ecstasy.
Something about the face looked familiar, as if Fonsi had seen it before, maybe when perusing El Gran Libro. He immediately deemed it a ward to keep away evil spirits, what everyone had gotten into practically overnight. Maybe even associate pastors who were living in the closet.
There was someone he really wanted to speak to. He video called Matteo, brought his dude up on the screen.
“Hey, hon-eey,” Matteo said and kissed the screen twice.
“Hey. I know you’re about to start teaching class, but I just wanted… I just felt like seeing your face. Um, can I come over tonight? I gotta open the shop soon. But I’ll be done by seven, the usual.”
“Yes, yes, come, of course. You never have to ask, Fons. I’ll be home by six. I’ll make dinner, do a salada de palmitos with frango. I’ll douche, we have sex. Ah, students are arriving. Besos, love you.”
Matteo’s face vanished from the screen and Fonsi felt an abrupt emptiness.
He made his way through the gray tunnel that would take him to the 2 train amid throngs of morning commuters.
The evening couldn’t arrive fast enough.
After the tensions of the past twenty-four hours, he just wanted to be in his boo’s arms.
And then he abruptly wondered, Who does Linda have?