Bedlam Boyz(39)

Mama? This lady is Ramon's mother?

Ramon turned to Kayla. "I heard what you said, Kayla. Will you heal my brother Manuel? Please? For me?" His face was still very pale; the whiteness made the small scar stand out on his cheek even more, contrasting with his dark eyes.

She nodded. "Sure," she said.

Manuel took off his jacket and removed the wadded shirt from the wound. The wound wasn't bad, more bloody than anything else. The bullet had scraped through the upper muscle on his shoulder; Kayla didn't know the name of it, but she traced it with her magic beneath his skin, seeing how it connected to the other muscles . . . with a start, she pulled herself back to the matter at hand. This healing was easy, compared to what she had done before. Within half a minute it was done, Manuel gingerly touching the closed wound that had been open and bleeding a moment before.

"She obeys you, but not me," Carlos observed from the side. <T>

"Thank you, querida," Ramon said. Their mother was alternately staring at Kayla and Manuel's healed shoulder, then muttered something in Spanish and left the room.

"She says you must be the Devil's daughter," Carlos said with a laugh.

Kayla considered hitting Carlos, then decided it would be more trouble than it was worth. She walked past him to the bathroom that she could see down the hallway. In the bathroom, she scrubbed the blood from her hands and tried to wash the blood marks from her shirt, without much success. Everything she owned seemed to be bloodstained now, or would be soon, the way things were going.

"We'll stay here tonight," Carlos said to her, standing in the open bathroom doorway. "Mama has set up the spare bedroom for you. You'll find everything you need."

Kayla ignored him, concentrating on scrubbing her hands. There was blood under her fingernails which wouldn't come out. She reached for a washcloth to clean them.

Carlos moved closer to her; he caught her face in his hand and forced her to look at him. "What is wrong with you, bruja? First you threaten to shoot me, now you won't talk to me. You did well tonight. You should be proud of yourself. So why are you angry at me?"

Kayla pulled away from him. "Because you let that kid die, you bastard!"

"But he was one of the T-Men," Carlos said, as if that explained everything.

"He was a human being! He had a life, family and friends! I could've saved his life! He smiled at me before he died. . . ."

Carlos shook his head angrily. "He was one of those scum that are trying to kill us all! They started this, not us! And now Jose is dead because of them!"

"But you could stop it! It doesn't have to be this way. . . ."

"Is there any chance you two could stop arguing long enough for me to get some sleep, please?" Ramon asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

"We'll talk later," Carlos said, glancing at Kayla.

"No, I want to talk now!"

"Maybe we should, Carlos," Ramon said. "I think there is a lot that needs to be said between us." He walked unsteadily back to the couch and patted a place for Kayla next to him. Kayla sat down, watching Carlos warily. Manuel, sitting near the window, took one glance at the dark looks on everyone's faces and left the room quickly.

"She's angry at me because of the black boy who died," Carlos said without preamble.

"Do you think that's the only reason I'm angry at you? Just because you kidnaped me, keep me locked up inside all the time, don't let me call anyone or go anywhere, and force me to do magic, that doesn't count for anything? Not to mention the fact that you stabbed me in Elizabet's house . . . that isn't anything to get angry about, is it?"

"I can understand that you would be angry about my cutting you that night, even though you healed yourself," Carlos said slowly. "But the rest of this . . . we need you. Don't you understand that? Tonight you proved how much we need you, you and your magic. . . ."

Kayla pounded her fist against the couch. "God, I hate this! All of you treat me like a walking first aid kit instead of a human being! And the magic—I hate it, it makes me feel sick all the time. I hate it!"

"But you saved Fernando's life," Carlos protested. "And Luis, and Manny, and the others. Surely that's worth a little pain, isn't it?"

"Next time," Kayla said, glaring at Carlos, "try calling 911. 'Cause I'm never doing anything for you, ever again!" Carlos looked like he was about to say something foul, when Ramon interjected, "We owe her, brother. How many lives did she save tonight? We owe her for that."

Carlos nodded grudgingly. "So, what do you want?" he asked Kayla.

"I want to go home," she said. Home, back to Elizabet, please, that's all I want. . . .