Bedlam Boyz(34)

"So, are you going to kill me?" Carlos asked calmly, as if he was asking the time of day.

Her hands were shaking; she couldn't stop it. She thought about pulling the trigger, sending a bullet ripping through Carlos' chest, through his lungs or heart, shattering everything in its path. She saw him lying on the floor with the blood trickling from his mouth as he died. Another dead body, no life singing in it, nothing that she could touch. And it would be because of her, because she had done it to him.

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

And stopped.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't kill him.

She stood there, shaking, as Carlos moved toward her. With a muttered curse, he took the gun out of her hand. He shoved it under his belt and hauled her to her feet. She was barely able to walk; he manhandled her across the floor and dropped her next to another wounded homeboy. Blinded with tears, she felt the magic reaching out to the guy, drawn to his pain. When she was finished healing him, Carlos shoved her to another fallen body, to heal another wounded kid.

And another. And another.

It turned into an endless blur of pain. She was caught up in the magic, unable to stop or break free. Agony and exhaustion and terror pulled her down, and she felt as though her own life was draining out with each healing, leaving her unable to move or think. Through the haze of pain, she felt Carlos lifting her again, setting her down next to another hurt homeboy. Then the magic took her again, sending her into another wave of pain as she healed again and again.

She lay on the floor, not aware of anything but the sensation of the cold concrete against her face, trying to keep breathing. It was more and more difficult, just breathing in and out. She could still feel the magic in her hands, but it was sputtering and dying, fading away. She felt her heart falter once, skipping a beat, and then another. Everything hurt, more pain than she had ever dreamed could exist, and all she wanted to do was let go of it all, slide down beneath the shadows lurking around her. But there was someone else lying on the floor next to her, a young man. She couldn't remember his name, but he'd been one of her guards at Roberta's apartment. He'd been shot in the shoulder and was moaning quietly with the pain.

She reached out to help him, and someone grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her away from him. Someone was arguing over her, loud voices in Spanish. She recognized the voices but couldn't remember who they were. She was so tired, so very tired. . . .

"Her hands are so cold. Sit up, querida, open your eyes." She recognized Ramon's voice, and the sensation of him being close to her, the warmth of his thoughts around her. She reached for him like a dying person for water, somehow drawing on his strength in her desperation. She could feel her own heartbeat steadying, growing stronger with every second, and the electric sensation of power moving through her, wiping the exhaustion and dizziness away. Then she felt Ramon's arms sliding away from her, followed by a loud thump a moment later, a sound like a body hitting the floor.

She lay there for a moment, still just a little dizzy, then her head cleared suddenly and she opened her eyes.

Ramon was sprawled on the floor next to her, unconscious. She held his hand and tried to figure out what had happened.

"What did you do to him?"

It was Carlos, glaring down at her. "Nothing," she said, glaring back at him. "I don't know what happened. He just passed out."

Carlos crouched down beside his brother, touching Ramon's forehead and calling to him in Spanish. "He isn't waking up," he said to Kayla, giving her another accusatory look.

"Look, I don't know why he passed out! But there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with him, he's just tired. I don't understand it, okay?" He passed out, and I feel fine—no, I feel better than fine. I feel like I'm not totally exhausted for the first time in days. . . .

"Carlos, la policía!" One of the other homeboys came running in through the warehouse door. "A patrol car just went by on Oxnard Street! I don't know if they're coming back here or not."

"Don't panic, Luis. Tell the others that we have to leave now." Carlos turned back to Kayla. "You'll heal Manuel as soon as we're out of here. Walk with me now to the car." He lifted Ramon gently in his arms and started for the doorway.



Carlos set Ramon down on the back seat. Ramon was a little pale, but otherwise looked to be fine. His heartbeat was strong; Carlos couldn't understand why he had fainted, but it probably had something to do with the bruja's magic. The bruja herself, sitting next to Ramon, really looked awful, her face completely bloodless and soaked in sweat, but he assumed that her own magic would take care of her, as it had before. If it didn't, that was unfortunate. None of them knew anything about sorceresses or magic, so she was on her own.