“No, why?”
“Because even one witness fucks up his sick little fantasy world. He goes on and on and on about himself in the third person, and Santiago de la Rosa this, and Santiago de la Rosa that, and he’s afraid if two people hear it together they’ll realize how full of shit he is. He’s not an artist or a poet. He kills people for money. There’s nothing amazing about him. He’s just an asshole in a mask. A sadist. He’s not training you, Lily. He’s playing with you. You’re a toy, and when you don’t amuse him anymore, you’ll be dead.”
She glances at me. “What happened?”
“When it was time to end our apprenticeship we were each given a mission. Separate. Yet we were given the same target.”
“What?”
“Same target, different methods. It was a game to him, you see, and it was rigged. Only one of us could win. I don’t even remember why the guy had a price on his head, he was nobody, but I was standing over his corpse when Sam came in the room through another door amped up to kill this guy, and it was then I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“What he’d do to the loser. That was the purpose of that final test, to break the ‘winner’ completely. To make them like him. He didn’t care who it was. I told Sam to run. I begged and pleaded with her to flee, told her I’d cover for her, but she went back anyway. We went back together. Then do you know what happened?”
“No, what?”
“Santiago said to Samantha, ‘You were not ready. It was a mistake to send you alone.’ She actually looked relieved. She never saw it coming. He shot her in the back of the head and told me, ‘You killed her, Quentin, by besting her. I was only the instrument. This is a life where only the strong survive.’”
Lily swallows. I can see her throat bobbing.
“He didn’t send you to kill me, you dumb bitch. He sent for you to be killed. That would be his finest act, make me break my rule against killing women. When we get back where we’re going he’s going to kill you and tell me it’s my fault and that you were dead once you stepped into that bar to meet me, and whether it was by my hand or his, it’s my fault because I angered my employers and damaged the reputation of Santiago de la Rosa. Those’ll be his exact fucking words, Lily. I know how he thinks.”
“Be quiet,” she says, but her voice is shaky, panicky.
“I will. Gotta say one more thing. If you want to make it out of this alive, you can help me get my girls back. I am not Santiago. I won’t kill you after you’ve outlived your usefulness. Or you can hand me over to that creature and let him play some sick game with me before he kills us all. He won’t even save you for last.”
I sigh sadly. “This isn’t even about you. You’re set dressing. You’re a prop in someone else’s play, Lily. Is that what you want to be?”
20
Rose
“What?”
Santiago sighs. “It is not often I repeat myself. Which of your children do you love most?”
I swallow. “I…”
“Perhaps I ask because I intend to shoot one right now.”
He lifts the gun from his lap and aims it square at Karen’s chest. Karen whimpers and draws her legs up, as if she can hide. She presses against me and looks like she’s five years old again, trying to hide under my blanket from monsters. Kelly starts to cry.
“Yes, I think I might do that. Make you choose. I don’t think we need both.”
“No.”
“Choose!”
“No. Shoot me instead.”
“Mom!” Karen screams. “Don’t, pick me, pick me, don’t let him hurt Kelly—”
Santiago swings the barrel away from her and aims at Kelly. She just sits there, staring, like she doesn’t get all of this, like it isn’t real. Maybe she thinks she’s dreaming.
“I can see which one we all love most. Yet my friends downstairs would be angered if I damaged their goods.”
“Goods?” I say, my throat going dry.
“Yes. All three of you will be sold. You, Rose, I am afraid, are not of much value. Too old, too worn, too many children. You will be sent to entertain construction workers and other such lower strata of humanity. It will be unpleasant but will probably not last long. Since you are cheap chattel your new owners will not much care for you, and abuse or infection will be your end.”
He looks at Karen. “This one, though, will fetch a high price. She must be a virgin, I think. She has that look. They will check, of course, and it will be unpleasant. Then she will be auctioned off. The little one, well, my friends below have no scruples and the young ones fetch the highest prices of all, for demand is high and supply low. Basic economics. Do you have a boyfriend, Karen?”
“Don’t listen to him,” I tell her. I try to cover their ears, but I only have two hands.
“Answer me, pretty girl. They can still sell you if I shoot you in the kneecap.”