Page 31 of Echoes of War

“I’m fine, just closer to St. Cloud than I’d prefer.” It was a half-truth, but I didn’t want to scare her. “Finley knows about this place, so we need to be in and out.”

“St. Cloud is out the way; she has no reason to think we’d come here. We’re fine.”

I loved that for her, that she didn’t know the real danger we were putting ourselves in by coming here. Finley was one concern, yes, but one of many.

“You don’t have the slightest clue what she’s capable of. Who she has around.”

That caught her attention. She grabbed my arm, forcing me to halt. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Stay on high alert, I have friends in the area.”

“Youhave friends?” she teased, trying to lighten my mood, though the question was genuine.

“Let’s hope they still are, or she already knows we’re here.”

We approached the only fortified part of St. Paul, Como Park & Conservatory. Ironically, most of thebrujashere had received earth magic, creating an elegant barrier. Intertwined branches, and thick brush lined the outer portions, creating what appeared to be a natural wall, but there were other protocols in place. Protocols you couldn’t detect even when you’d become privy to their location. Probably another type of magic the rest of the world had yet to discover. Not dark magic, but what ran through someone’sveins. A gift of nuclear warfare. Monterey weren’t the only people to keep certain gifts under wrap.

“It’s beautiful.” Amaia said breathlessly. Her eyes widened, mesmerized as she reached to touch it before I could stop her.

I knew what was coming next. “Just you wait.”

The crisp clicks of several gun chambers being locked filled the surrounding air, and we suddenly found ourselves surrounded. Several people emerged from the wall, a few from holes in the ground I’d been none the wiser to, others appeared from thin air. My hands flew out to push Amaia behind me, but our fingers clasped as she reached out to do the same. Magic flowed through our veins, ready to protect each other.

A middle-aged woman with deep, bronze colored skin and straight black hair emerged through the hidden door tucked in between the corner of the barrier. She approached, her stride confident, and I took in the lines of wisdom that populated along her eyes and forehead. She was beautiful, yet weathered in a way that only came from the stress this way of living offered.

Amaia whispered low enough that only I could hear, “She is exactly what I’d expect a witch to look like.”

The woman was covered head to toe in thick, loose layers of black. Her camo poncho was thrown over her shoulder like she’d whipped it off the moment she saw me. “Sabueso?”

I really wish everyone would stop calling me that.

“Sí, Lola,” I replied, unsure what mood I’d be faced with, especially with a guest in tow who was clearly not in distress. “Soy yo. Este es mi amigo, venimos en paz.”

I saw Amaia side-eye me in my peripheral. I’d forgotten she was only aware of a couple of the four languages my father had forced down my throat at an early age. There was still one she had no knowledge of if Moe hadn’t mentioned my translation out on the road. I was pretty confident she had no idea; at least, she’d never brought it up. One thing Moe did was respect everyone’s privacy within reason. And there was no reason for her to tell Amaia because as far as she was concerned, I had never posed a true threat. I’d learned to value that part of our friendship.

It wasn’t that I wanted to keep secrets. There were just some things about me that came with questions. Not every question in life needed an answer.

“Armas abajo. Alexiares es un amigo,” Lola ordered, the others surrounding us disarmed. One by one they melted back into their hidden locations and Lola guided us back through the hidden door.

If Amaia was impressed by the outside of this place, the inside would make her jaw drop. Lola and her group had built an elaborate array of tree houses spanning the entirety of the park. They were connected by wooden carved bridges leading to the conservatory and zoo they now cared for. The place was beautiful for sure. First impressions could be deceiving though, especially when it came to thebrujas. Civilized actions and thoughtful design had not been kept in mind in its establishment.

I found myself dog-piled by children rushing to greet me in appreciation. A thank you for what I had done for them. For sparing their lives.

They scattered at the snap of Lola’s fingers with the exception of an older boy. He had to be about eighteen now. Green, catlike eyes stared back at me. We stood there for a moment, saying nothing before he offered a tense nod, tapped my shoulder and walked off. There were no words he could say that would amount to what I had lost because of him; he was just thankful to still be here.

“What the hell was that about?” Amaia asked impatiently, clearly fed up by all the confusion she’d experienced over the last fifteen minutes.

“Lola and the otherbrujasdon’t sell people, Amaia,” I offered, trying to decide what was and was not okay to share. Lola offered no help, so I continued, “They help them. This is a haven for those who escapedviolence or were hunted, then they are trained. When Lola gives the go ahead, they’re made into weapons of their own. To protect themselves, and then others. That’s why they think it’s the black market; they extend their services for a … fee.”

Lola glared at Amaia for the negative implication in her question. “¿Vender personas? Eso es lo que ella pensaba. ¿Quién es esta mujer?”

“A friend,” Amaia snapped, not appreciating neither Lola’s tone nor her insinuation, “like he said.”

I whipped in her direction, an even mix of shock at her understanding and pleading with her to refrain from instigating a fight we stood no chance of winning. Fear of a motorcycle on an open road, check. Fear of a witch with unknown powers, not on her radar.

“You speak Spanish?” Lola asked her directly, sounding slightly impressed. She glanced over at me for confirmation.

I shrugged, not having an answer to give her. “First I’ve heard of it.”

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