Bedlam Boyz(21)

Carlos' eyes narrowed even more dangerously. "Pick them up and give them to Roberta."

"The little bitch can pick them up herself—"

"Pick them up and give them to Roberta," he said in a voice like ice.

Kayla knelt and picked up the silver loops, handing them to Roberta. With all the dignity she could muster, she walked down the hall to the bedroom.

She sprawled facedown on the bed, trying not to cry. She couldn't stop the first few tears and angrily wiped them away. I don't know what's going on here, I don't know what they're going to do with me, but I'll be damned before I let them see me cry!

"Kayla?"

She rolled over to see Ramon at the doorway. "What do you want? I don't have any more jewelry to give away, sorry . . . how 'bout my sneakers? They're new too, Elizabet just bought them for me. . . ." She saw that he was holding the plate that she'd left on the living room table. "Go away, I'm not hungry."

He sat down at the end of the bed, setting the plate down next to her; Kayla edged back, closer to the wall. "I know it's difficult for you," he said awkwardly. "I know you don't want to be here. But you'll see, it'll get better. You'll be happy here, one of the homegirls. You have to understand, it's hard for Carlos and the rest of us, too. We're not used to anything like this, bringing someone like you here to our barrio. . . ."

"You mean, you don't go around kidnaping people all the time?"

He smiled. "No, not usually. Though there is a great family tradition of kidnaping our brides . . . of course Carlos is so handsome, he'd never have to do that. The women just fall at his feet, all the time." He looked down at his hands, clenched in his lap, then back up at her with those dark eyes. "We need you, querida. We need you to help us with your magic. Carlos should have told you why we need you, then you'd understand. It's a matter of life and death for us: if we lose, they'll kill us all. That's why we brought you here."

"Carlos should have told me this, instead of trying to kill me! He stabbed me, remember? I could've died!" Kayla's gut twisted, remembering. It still ached where the knife wound had been, a dull counterpoint to the exhaustion and secret terrors.

She saw the troubled look in his eyes before he hid it behind a smile. "But you healed yourself, didn't you? Carlos just wanted to prove that you could do it. You're fine now, it didn't do any real harm to you . . ."

"What if he'd been wrong? What if he'd picked the wrong house, stabbed the wrong kid?"

"But that didn't happen." Ramon shook his head. "It all worked out fine."

"Listen, please, I just want to go home, all I want to do is go home . . . can't you let me go?" She felt the tears threatening again, and bit her lip to hold them back. I just want to be gone, be out of here, go back to Elizabet's. . . .

"What, you don't want to be here with all of these handsome homeboys? Like me, Ramon, the handsomest of them all?" He brushed back his hair with one hand, giving her his most appealing look. In spite of herself, Kayla smiled.

"It'll be all right, querida," Ramon said reassuringly. "You'll see, everything will be all right." He picked up the plate of food and held it out to her. Reluctantly, she took it from him. "Eat some dinner, you'll feel better," he said. "Maybe tomorrow Carlos will let me take you out into mi barrio, show you our home. And I'll explain why we need you here."

He left the room, and Kayla lay staring at the ceiling for a long time. Her thoughts were moving too fast, racing through her mind, all the words blurring together.

They were going to keep her here, maybe forever. That thought hurt more than everything else. They'd keep her a prisoner here for the rest of her life, if they thought they could get away with it.

She crossed to the door and listened. It was silent in the hallway beyond. Maybe everyone had left the apartment, and she could just sneak out, get to a telephone and call Elizabet. . . .

Quietly, she opened the door. A man she didn't recognize was seated on a folding chair by the bedroom door. He watched her silently as she walked to the bathroom. Inside, she checked the window. It was the same situation as the bedroom, no way to climb down and too far to jump. She splashed some cold water on her face and walked past him again into the bedroom.

With the door carefully closed against the watchful eyes of the man in the hallway, she lay down on the bed and wondered how in the hell she was going to get herself out of this situation.

I want to go back to Elizabet's, she thought. I want to go home, I want to go home . . .

:Kayla, can you hear me? Kayla, child, where are you?:

She sat upright in bed. "Elizabet?"