Kayla watched the two leave, suddenly aware of the reek of blood and worse filling the room. She sat there for a moment, just breathing. She heard the sound of a car ignition outside, then the sound of the car pulling away, and realized how quiet it was, so quiet that the loudest sound was her own breathing. Slowly, unsteadily, she got to her feet, walking to the open front door.
Nothing in her life could've prepared her for what she saw. The driveway looked like it had been washed in blood. Elves in armor, T-Men, and Tyrone Street Boys, two uniformed LAPD officers, all lying too still, sprawled on the pavement or against the sides of cars. No one moved, and there was no sound. Except one, the faint voice of someone cursing in Spanish.
Kayla followed that sound. On the other side of a car, she saw Carlos, propped against the tire, his arms wrapped around his middle. He didn't see her at first, lost in his pain as the blood seeped around his fingers and soaked into his jacket. He looked up and saw her. "Bruja!" he whispered. "Bruja, you're here. You can heal me. Do it, do it quickly."
She could feel the magic in her responding to his words and his pain, and moved closer, her hands reaching out to him.
Carlos smiled, leaning back. "Always you do what I say, bruja."
She stopped in mid-step.
His eyes widened with pain and surprise, staring at her. "Why are you hesitating, girl? Heal me!" He coughed, blood spattering across his lips and chin. "Heal me, bruja!"
I can't let him die, I can't . . .
I can't let him own me.
If I heal him, I'll never be free. He'll always want me, he'll always be after me.
But I can't let him die . . .
I can't . . . I can't . . .
Carlos sighed and slumped back against the car. Kayla felt the life fleeing from him, fading away. There was still one last moment, she knew, when she could put her hands against him and hold that life in his body.
She didn't move.
The light left Carlos' body, leaving behind a dark, empty shape, faceless as Kayla's vision suddenly blurred with tears. She sobbed, hot tears running down her face.
Kayla leaned against the doorjamb, holding onto it for support. Everything was too bright and blurry around her, but one thing she saw instantly. Nataniel and Shari's bodies were gone, vanished, just like the other elven bodies had vanished during those long minutes when she'd knelt next to Carlos' body, crying too hard to see anything else. Only the stains of blood on the wall and the floor marked where Nataniel and Shari had been.
She walked unsteadily across the room, hearing the sound of wailing police sirens in the distance. She sat down next to Elizabet and took Elizabet's hand in hers, pressing it against her cheek. It's crazy the world's all pain and bullets and blood too much blood too much . . .
She couldn't stop the tears from falling and didn't want to. She could feel the tears washing away the blood from her face, and that was all right; soon she'd be clean again, no blood, no blood ever again. . . .
* * *
"Oh my God!"
Detective Cable's face was chalk-white. Walker had never seen her that shocked before, not even when they'd walked into that domestic multiple homicide scene. He'd never seen anything like this, either, not since the Nam.
Cable and the other officers were walking across the driveway, checking the bodies. They already knew that Quinn and Allen were dead, two good LAPD officers dead on the pavement near the gangbangers.
He and Houston walked quickly to the front door of the house. It was quiet inside, but he gestured for Houston to draw her piece and did the same himself. They moved into the house, scanning quickly for any armed opponents.
There was only one live person, and that was a girl sitting, rocking on the floor, blood and tears streaking her face. She stared up at him like a lost soul.
Walker was a father of two grown boys, and his instincts were good. He holstered his gun and knelt beside her, holding her close and letting her tears soak through his uniform, as the other officers walked quietly through the blood-stained room around them.
Epilogue
The sunlight was warm on Kayla's face, warm and very bright. She stood next to Elizabet on the sandy concrete of the Venice Beach walkway and looked out at the crowd of people walking along the beach, playing in the sand and swimming in the water. "Do you see him?" she asked Elizabet, who was also scanning the crowd.
"I don't know what he looks like," Elizabet said ruefully, "so I have no idea who he is."
Kayla saw him then, standing at the edge of the crowd, next to a couple of girls gawking at a weightlifter working out on the sands.
Ramon looks thinner, she thought, and a little pale. There were shadows under his eyes that hadn't been there before. He saw her and waved, walking toward them.
"You must be Elizabeth Winters," Ramon said, nodding to her.