Alexander Death(44)

“I guess...”

“But governments feed on violence and discord, conflict, people living in fear,” Alexander said. “People looking to their rulers for protection. Peace and tranquility starve the state. If the world does not offer enough threats, the state must manufacture them. With violent drug gangs in the streets, the state grows more powerful. It is the prohibition itself that slowly destroys the society, and the rulers know this, yet they like the power it grants them.”

“But why are you doing this?” Jenny asked.

“The opportunity arose, and it interested me,” Alexander said. “You see how I use my share of the revenue to help the local people. I listen to their needs and do what I can to meet them. I've told you, I'm a builder.”

“Schools and clinics,” Jenny said.

“Just simple groundwork. There will be greater things in time. And so far as the violence...Papa Calderon is a man of the old school. He uses violence only where necessary, to defend his business and his people. His competition is the cartel run by Pablo Toscano out of Juarez, which is the largest cartel in Mexico. Toscano is truly insane. Bombing newspapers. Heads on stakes. Entire towns pillaged and burned to make a point. So long as the world is what it is, many people would benefit, many lives would be saved if Calderon took over the market from Toscano. There are many shades of gray between good and evil, Jenny, and the lighter shades are to be preferred, if we cannot have pure white.”

Jenny digested this. She still wasn't sure she agreed with him, but he clearly had a sense of morality about what he was doing, and a vision for helping to making things better for the local people.

“This all sounds pretty dangerous,” Jenny finally said.

“I know. Exciting, isn't it?”

“Doesn't any of it scare you?”

“Jenny, I've suffered every terrible death you can imagine,” Alexander said. “Drawn and quartered. Burned at the stake. Torn apart by tigers in front of a cheering crowd. There's nothing left on this earth that can frighten me.”

She found herself gazing up at him, as if hypnotized by his dark amber eyes. She didn't move when he leaned his face close, or when his lips touched hers.

It was like an electric jolt—Jenny jumped, and had a sudden memory of Alexander in a different body, purple cape lashing around him in fierce wind, walking a battlefield by spotty moonlight. He picked among the fallen, touching one here and one there, and they raised up on their feet, wearing their bloody leather armor and broken helmets, and they hefted their shields and swords, undead warriors ready for another day in the grisly march of conquest.

Jenny opened her eyes and staggered back from him. “Wait,” she said.

“Too much for you?” He smiled.

“I don't feel like myself,” she said. “I feel like I'm losing control.”

“You're not. You're just remembering who you really are.”

Jenny took a deep breath as she looked out on the rows of workers scrambling to harvest every ripe coca leaf. Put a shovel in their hands and they could dig a ditch. Put a sword or a gun in their hands, and they became unstoppable killers.

She felt sick to her stomach, and a little dizzy. Jenny plucked a few of the coca leaves, shoved them in her mouth, and chewed on them. Alexander removed one of her gloves and took her hand in his, watching her. Soon, her head cleared and she began to feel better.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN





Seth walked through the Pioneer Square neighborhood in Seattle with a picture of Jenny in his pocket. The day was gray and overcast, the cool summer climate a definite change from the broiling humidity back home.

Jenny's father had received a postcard from Jenny, sent from Seattle just a couple of days ago. Her note had been short and shallow—Doing great...Just felt the need to travel a little...Love it here...Hope you're doing well...Not much information at all. And no mention of Seth, either.

The postcard confused Seth's earlier idea that Jenny must have been kidnapped by Ashleigh and the others. He'd immediately booked a flight to Seattle, and now found himself trudging through the arts district, stopping at cafes and at every pottery shop or gallery he saw, asking people if they'd seen Jenny. Nobody recognized her picture, though.

Seth could imagine Jenny enjoying this city, especially here in the arts district—the Victorian mansions built of aging brick, the old-timey streetlamps with their clusters of bulbs, the trees growing through the sidewalk, statues and public art everywhere you looked. He stopped to look at a sixty-foot totem pole, staring at the enormous eyes and hooked beak of some kind of bird.

He wished he was here with Jenny now. She'd always said she didn't like cities and was scared to travel to them, for fear of infecting people with her touch. For her to come here on her own, something must have radically changed her feelings about those things. It didn't make sense that someone terrified of a city as small as Charleston would run to a city of millions like this one.