“Do I want to know what’s in that?” he asked, pointing to the flask.
“It ain’t Texas bat shit,” she joked.
Jamming his hands into his jacket, he remained silent, his mind torn in a hundred different directions. Worry for Marcella seeped into his bones. Had Armando already gotten his hands on her? He’d choke the very demon out of him if he’d touched her.
Catalina gave him a sympathetic smile. “I promise I’m going to do everything in my power to help Carlos and Marcella. Though it would definitely help if I could see her. So you be on the lookout.”
But activity by the side of the apartment building had caught Kellen’s attention. “Who the hell is that? One of Solana’s cohorts?”
Catalina’s head whipped around.
They both tipped their heads at the sight of a slight, blond man, dressed in pink and white, rushing Solana while another portly, well-dressed gentleman swung a bat around like he was swatting at invisible flies.
“Amateurs,” Catalina muttered, cocking the barrel of her enormous gun.
Deciding Darwin, who hadn’t been spotted yet, was in a better position to nail Armando, Marcella made a snap decision.
Waving her hands to signal to Darwin to catch the bat, she hurled it at him, then mentally called Rick a girl for such a weak pass.
The bat clamored to the ground in a ruckus of metal and clanking, but Darwin scooped it up.
Marcella tripped just as she rushed Solana’s knees, hoping to knock her down while Darwin scooped up Carlos. Instead, she crashed into the side of the brick building, hearing Rick’s voice in her head remind her he was no athlete, sister. No one ever picked Rick Short to be on the dodgeball team, he declared. But he’d made a damned fine cheerleader, thank you very much.
She came to a clothes-ripping, tearing halt just as Darwin missed the back of Solana’s head. Solana’s body crumpled to the ground at an awkward angle and Armando’s body emerged from her lifeless shell. Strong, tall, dark, handsome, and sure. He took off, running, toward the park, Carlos’s short legs slapping over the edge of his brawny arm, his evil leaving a vaporous trail behind him.
Marcella willed Rick to get up off his bony ass, clawing the bricks to haul herself upward.
Darwin shot off into the dark after Armando, moving with agility she wouldn’t have thought Little Anthony possessed.
She squinted into the darkness, heading for the playground, but couldn’t see a bloody thing. Rick assured her that was because he’d left his glasses at home because, really, who wants to date a four-eyes?
With a full-bodied shake, Marcella fought to keep control of Rick’s body. She clenched her teeth. “Just give me a few more minutes and I swear, you can have your body and all its pink accessories back!”
Rick stilled again, allowing her the opportunity to assess the landscape of the park from behind the cover of the slide. Hunkering down, she peeked around the corner.
The cold metal of something unfamiliar touched the nape of her neck.
“Who the fuck are you?” someone growled, low, soft. Someone not so unfamiliar.
Shit, shit, shit. What was Big-Breasted Barbie doing here? Marcella fought a scream of frustrated worry by jamming one of Rick’s knuckles in her mouth. Catalina had to go. Marcella didn’t know her origins, or her skill level, but it’d never match that of Armando’s enraged fury.
And then, big hands were grabbing her by the back of her jacket, hauling her upward while Rick squealed his protest, so sharp, and so girlie, in her mind, it made her wince.
“Who the hell are you?”
Kellen, oh, thank God it was Kellen, she thought with a mixture of dread and relief. Marcella threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss smack-dab on his lips that not only surprised him, but left him sputtering. “Oh, God, Kellen. Thank God it’s you,” she cried against his neck while Rick purred appreciative thanks in her head.
Kellen pulled his head back while she clung to his neck, his face a mixture of shock and disgust. He ran the back of his hand over his lips.
“Who are you?”
he demanded.
Catalina held the gun directly at Marcella’s forehead, sniffing the air. “For sure, he’s not demon,” she said to Kellen, her eyes filled with suspicion.
Marcella shook her head, pushing the barrel of the gun away from her with impatience before looking up at Kellen. “Put that thing away! It’s me. Marcella! Look, long story and not a whole lot of time for deets. I possessed this man’s body. His name’s Rick. He says it’s a pleasure, by the way—especially pleasurable to meet the big guy here.” Her hand, with a will of its own, patted Kellen’s hard shoulder.
Marcella stopped, shaking her head again. “Sorry. It’s hard to keep Rick quiet. This is what happened. Armando has Carlos. He has to be stopped. I needed a physical body to do that. So Darwin showed me how to possess a body. Unfortunately, while I hedged on who to possess, he shoved me into Rick’s. But it’s me, I swear it.”
Both Catalina and Kellen shared a glance that screamed disbelief. “Who’s Darwin? Delaney’s dog?” Kellen asked.
She bit her lip. “Another long story. Just trust me, he’s a good guy.” Her worried glance went to the pitch-black portion of the playground. “Look, we can’t stand around. Armando has Carlos!”
“Answer me one question,” Kellen demanded, holding up a hand to Catalina. “Where’s Marcella’s favorite place to shop?”
Rocking back on her heels, she smiled, cocky and confident. “Pottery Barn.” Marcella gasped in outrage. “It is not, Rick. It’s Pier 1. Shut up or I swear to God, I’m going to ram one of your damned bowling shoes right up your ass!”
Kellen scooped her up and swung her around so swiftly, it jarred the breath right out of her. “Oh, this is definitely my Marcella,” he confirmed with a soft whoop then dropped her back on the ground as hastily as he’d gathered her up, looking around to see if anyone had caught his overly exuberant hug. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s just like I told you, blonds aren’t my thing.”
Catalina eyed her while she circled the area, clearly still wary. “You do know you can harm the host’s body, don’t you?”
“Yes! So tell this madwoman to give it back to me! I want to go home!” Rick yelped.
That was it. Marcella had had enough. She didn’t need a host to hunt Armando.
Just a soul.
Fighting the confines of Rick’s body, she shimmied out of it, leaving him in a crumpled heap on the ground. “Put him somewhere safe, would you, please?” she asked Kellen. “I don’t want him hurt because of me.”
Catalina took the lead, dragging Rick’s unconscious form to safety under the shelter of the sliding board, then said, “I’m going in. Remember what I told you, Kell,” she warned.
Marcella turned to Kellen with eyes that were pleading as she tried to pull away. “He has Carlos.”
Kellen pulled her to him, hard, running his hands through her hair, his eyes drinking in her face. “I know, honey. I know everything. I know about Carlos and that David is Juan. Are you okay?”
Her gut clenched, her eyes misting at his concern. “I’m fine. Forget me. I need to help Carlos. So please, I’m begging you—go back to the store and wait for him, because if you were hurt . . . I’ll make sure he gets back to you and Mrs. Ramirez.” Somehow.
His grip grew tighter, his eyes piercing. “Ah, no. I know you, Miss Sacrificial Lamb. Do you have any idea what that nut wants to do with you?”
Does he have any idea what I want to do with him
? Kellen’s words gave her pause, but then she shook it off. It didn’t matter what Armando planned to do. He’d never be able to keep her from doing what she was going to do because he didn’t know how. Anxiety gripped her. She had to get the hell gone. “I have to go, Kellen.
Please
.”
“No way am I letting you out of my sight. I know what you
think
you’re going to do, and it just ain’t gonna happen.”
Lifting her head, she memorized his face, the sharp lines, the dimple on either side of his mouth. “You can’t help. He’d kill you. I couldn’t live with that. Enough damage has been done because of what I did. I have to go, Kellen. I
have
to. But I need you to know this. If I could have had things any other way, if there were a way for me to stay here, I’d do it in a second. I’d take mortality and you any day of the week. Now let me go.
Please
.”
“No, woman! Listen to me. I will not allow you to do what you plan—”
He stopped in midsentence when she tickled him at his weakest spot, catching him off guard. Freeing herself, she floated out of his grasp and up toward the top of the tree. Her heart thrashed against her ribs when she looked down on him. “Tell D I love her, and all those stupid refugee dogs, but don’t waste any more foolish time looking for a solution for me.” She paused, fighting back more ridiculous tears. “And I love you, too, Kellen,” she sobbed, hoarse and raw with pain. “I never thought I’d say that to another man again, but
I love you
.” I love you. I love you. I love you.
“Damn it, Marcella, Get down here now!” he bellowed, the sharp planes of his face strained, his body rigid with anger.
“I love you!” she whispered into the wind before she took off deeper into the playground without looking back. Her heart would break if she looked back.
Instead, Marcella focused her eyes forward—where she’d find Armando, and together, they’d spend their eternity.
“Armando Villanueva! Olly, olly, oxen free!” Marcella roared.
seventeen
Marcella scanned the length of the playground with anxious eyes, searching for signs of Carlos.
And that’s when she heard Darwin howl, “You filthy animal!”
Her eyes went directly to her right, where Armando stood, leaning cockily against an abandoned ice cream truck. A large clown head sat on top of it, leering an ugly, toothy grin, making her shiver. The wild swoops of his red hair, poking out from beneath his pointy hat dotted with multicolored circles, sent irrational fear shooting along her spine. Fighting to ignore her ridiculous fear of anything remotely Barnum and Bailey, Marcella swallowed hard.
Armando’s thick, raven black hair was pulled tightly into a ponytail, making his cheekbones, always lean and rugged, stand out in the harsh glare of the moon. Crossing his legs at the ankles, he pointed upward. “Friend of yours?”
Her pulse screamed to a halt. Darwin, or the body he inhabited, floated high above Armando’s head. Sweat glistened on his wrinkled forehead, his fists clutched tightly to his chest. “Marcella, run!” he warned, his breathing shallow and uneven.
Oh, no. There’d be no more running. There’d only be her and the man she planned to see gone from this plane forever. Instantly, she was beside Darwin, running a soothing hand over his forehead. “Let him go, Armando. He has nothing to do with this.”
“
Mi amor
,” he cackled, holding out his hand to her. “Forget him. If that’s who you’ve employed to aid you in besting me, I wish you luck. Now, come, give us a kiss, no? It’s been so long since I tasted those luscious lips.” He smacked his own with a perverted slurp. “You’re just as beautiful as the last day I saw you so long ago. You remember the day, don’t you,
wife
? The day you murdered me in cold blood and stole my son from me?”
She put a finger to her lips in mock thought, giving him a sly smile. “Do you mean the one where I cracked you over the head, ended your miserable existence, burned your pathetic body until there was nothing left but ashes, then summoned your black soul and locked you in a box? Is that the day you mean,
husband
?” she taunted.
His smile was glacial, his raven eyebrow cocked. “Yeahhh,” he said on a sigh. “I think that’s the one. Oh, the heartbreak to be betrayed by your own wife. Imagine my pain. ‘Inconsolable’ isn’t a word I’d use lightly.”
Marcella let a catty smile spread across her lips. “Then, yeah. I remember it. In fact, it keeps me all warm and cozy on cold nights just like this one. I cover up with the memory while I toast the end to your vile existence with warm milk and freshly baked cookies.”
Bada-bing, bada-boom. Take. That.
“How do you think your lover would feel if the same were to happen to him?”
Kellen.
Her stomach dove to her toes. He knew about Kellen. Christ.
“Or what about his sister, Delaney? How do you think her Clyde would feel if she were locked in a box—
forever
?”
Her temper. Wasn’t everyone always harshin’ on her about her temper?
Could be that’s because it gets the better of you, Marcella,
was what she thought just before she lost it. “I’ll kill you, you pig! You leave them alone!”
The hard mask of his face changed just a hint, revealing what she was sure was just the tip of his anger. “You murdered me, Marcella. You murdered me and stole my son from me! You took from me and now I’ll take from you!”
Marcella yawned, bored. “You murdered me,” she mocked in his accent, rolling her head on her neck. “Yadda, yadda, yadda. Sooo dramatic. Whiner.”
He cackled again, soft and low. “I don’t think I’ll be the one whining.”
“Where’s Carlos?” she demanded, her eyes flitting from side to side.
“Our great-grandson? He’s fine. Just fine. I’m so proud of him it hurts. He looks just like me. You were the perfect vessel, Marcella, truly a brilliant move on my part, marrying you. I might have had to put up with a lot of your hot air, but it was worth it in the end. You bore me a beautiful child. Now come, we’ll talk over old times.” He waved a hand at the space by his feet as though he were impatient to get on with things. “You’re so far away up there, and we’ve been far away from each other for too long, don’t you think?”
“Show—me—Carlos!” she spat out, lifting her chin to scan their surroundings.
With the click of his foot, he popped open the rusty door on the ice cream truck and smiled. Carlos lay on the floor in his pajamas and, from where she floated, she could see his chest rise and fall with slow, easy breaths. Relief washed over her. “What have you done to him?”