He shoves me and I stumble through a doorway, catching myself on the edge before I can fall over. I press myself up against the wall. The warriors sandals slap on the hard stone as they pass by.
At least one of them has stayed behind. I can hear him in the other room. He’s trying to move slowly but his sandals are scuffing the stone floor. I’m sure he can hear me just fine. Between the two of us I’m the only one breathing.
I don’t want to use the Browning. The noise will just bring everybody running. I don’t have the knife anymore, but now that I know I can at least inconvenience these guys for a little while I dig around in my messenger bag until I find my straight razor, unfolding it and holding the blade in a pinch grip. Useful things, straight razors. Good for getting a little blood for rituals. Even better for getting a lot of blood in a fight.
I take a deep breath, loud enough he has to be able to hear it, then hold it and duck down low, pivoting into the doorway. He’s taken the bait and his macuahuitl swings high above my head, leaving him wide open. I step forward, coming up and blocking his backswing. I run the razor through his throat. The wound’s largely bloodless, but it must hurt because he drops his weapon and grabs at his open throat.
I follow it up with a left hook that knocks him back a little, but he’s not going down. He rushes me, hitting me hard and knocking me to the floor. The wound in his throat is a deep gash that keeps tearing the more he moves his head. Pretty soon he’ll be able to pass a baseball through it. It isn’t slowing him down much.
Because why would it? The ones I took out on the roof I either put holes in their heads or crushed their skulls into oblivion. He’s already dead. The hell does he need a throat for?
I block his swing with my left arm and his hand cracks on the stone. It’s the swing you don’t see that always gets you. His left hook hits the flesh and bone part of my face and I go down.
He bends down to grab me for some more beating, the back of his throat visible through the gash in it. But I manage to grab hold of the discarded macuahuitl and swing it up. The blades bite into his neck, ripping through muscle and tendon, sticking on bone. I yank it down and the blades tear free, shredding their way through until his head is hanging on by scraps of flesh and stringy meat.
He looks at me, more annoyed than anything else, and falls motionless to the floor.
I’m wheezing from the fight and the slash on my arm is oozing blood out from under the duct tape. Mictlantecuhtli must have gotten them far enough away that I can’t hear the other warriors. He’ll be a good distraction. He knows this place.
And I’m not completely buying that those warriors wouldn’t listen to him if he turned around and told them to stop. Either I’ve got more confidence in his abilities than he does, or he’s lying to me. Guess which one my money’s on.
Okay, so he’s lying. The question is why? Something’s tugging at the back of my brain, trying to get out, but it’s not quite there. The memory from my conversation with Darius? Fuck, this is maddening. I know why he did it, but so far my tattoos have kept the piece of Mictlantecuhtli in my head from getting out.
I think. But how do I know for sure? He can see me where Santa Muerte can’t. There’s no way I can be certain that the piece of Mictlantecuhtli in my head isn’t talking to him.
I know I’m being played. I’ve known for a long time. I know they don’t just want me to kill the other. I just don’t know why or what the endgame is here. I’ve been so focused on just getting here and staying alive during the journey, I haven’t had a chance to give much thought to what I’m going to do now.
Sure, stab them. But I need to get close enough. I need to be fast enough. And let’s not forget, I kinda need the blade. All of which is pointing me in one direction. Up. So how do I get up there?
“I could tell you,” Alex says, appearing next to me. “It’s hidden. Secret passage.”
“Why the hell would it be a secret passage?”
“To keep the riff-raff out, of course. Only Mictlantecuhtli and Mictecacihuatl are allowed up there. Along with whoever they’re sacrificing. And I know where it is.”
“I’m sure you do. What’ll it cost me?”
“Tell me what Darius said.”
“You’ll know what Darius said as soon as I do. I can’t hide it from you.”
He glares at me. “It’s in there in that fucking melon of yours, and I want to see it.”
“I don’t know what he said. I don’t know how to break that lock he put on it. And, in case you haven’t been paying attention, it’s there specifically to keep you out.”
“Tell me and I’ll show you the secret passage. You’re running out of time.”
“Yeah, that means you’re running out of time, too. So how about you stop trying to screw me and just tell me where it is.”
“Show me,” he says. An edge of desperation is creeping into his voice.