Remembrance (The Mediator #7)

But it was too late.

He was on Paul in three strides. The sound of bone thudding against bone was sickening, almost the same sound the rifle butt had made as it connected with Delgado’s skull.

It’s odd what your consciousness focuses on in moments like that. Mine was seized by the cigar as it went flying from Paul’s mouth into the night air—sending a shower of red sparks after it—only to land on the concrete at my high-heeled feet, followed, a few seconds later, by Paul’s face, in a shower of equally red blood droplets.

“I warned you,” Jesse said to Paul, breathing heavily as he stepped over his inert body to take me by the arm and steer me away from the carnage. “But you wouldn’t listen.”

Paul’s only response was a groan as he struggled to sit up.

“Jesse.” I was completely shocked by the violence of what I’d just witnessed, and I’d witnessed quite a lot of violence that evening. It wasn’t hard for me to believe, in that moment, that Jesse did have a demon within him. He’d just unleashed it on the person he hated most, instead of those he loved. “You didn’t have to—”

“Yes,” he said in a voice that chilled me with its iciness. “I did.”

Then he pressed something into my hand. When I looked down to see what it was, I was surprised, in some dim part of my brain, to see the keys to the BMW.

“Go home.” Jesse was holding on to my shoulders and giving me careful verbal instructions. “Your home. Hurry. It will be better if you leave now.”

“Why?” I asked stupidly. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right. I’ll call you when I can.”

“Call me? I don’t understand. Where are you going?”

But then I saw the valets come bursting out from the lobby, speaking rapidly and excitedly to Jesse in Spanish, and I heard the siren in the distance, and I saw the slow, evil smile on Paul’s face through all the blood as he sat up.

Suddenly I understood exactly why Jesse had given me his keys, and knew precisely where he was going.

All I could do was get into his car and drive home.





treinta y uno


David wouldn’t stop apologizing. He sounded like he was crying, practically, over the phone.

And I was making things worse by saying all the wrong things.

“Well, it’s true Jesse probably never would have gotten arrested for assaulting Paul Slater if it weren’t for you spilling the beans about the curse to him,” I said. “Which just goes to show some things really are better kept secret.”

“I’m so sorry, Suze! I was just really worried. When you didn’t return any of my messages—”

“Oh, my God, David, I was kidding.” I hadn’t been kidding, actually, but after the day I’d had, I was too tired to think before I spoke.

I grabbed a beer and a carrot from the fridge, dropped the carrot into Romeo’s cage, then went to sit by Gina on my futon couch. I’d found her watching television when I got home, though she’d muted the show, deciding my phone calls were more interesting than her recorded episodes of The Bachelor.

“He’s only going to have to spend one night in jail,” I assured David. There, that sounded better. “At least according to his lawyer.”

This failed to reassure David, however.

Jake had already contacted one of his high-powered attorneys (when you’re in a business like my oldest stepbrother’s, you keep legal counsel on retainer. I tried not to feel nervous that Jake called his “DUI Guy”) and sent him down to the jail to ensure that Dr. Hector de Silva received the finest possible treatment until his arraignment (which wasn’t scheduled until early tomorrow morning).

The Monterey County Jail was actually supposed to be one of the better correctional facilities in the state—not that any of them were that great—so Jesse had lucked out in that regard. Like so many buildings in Northern California, it was on the National Registry of Historic Places. Cesar Chavez had been imprisoned there during the Salinas Valley lettuce boycott. Both Brad and Jake had spent time in what some referred to as “The Bay Area’s Most Affordable B and B” for various small scuffles and infractions.

“Jake says the food leaves something to be desired,” I told David over the phone. “But you get to meet a lot of interesting people.”

“This isn’t making me feel better, Suze,” David said. “What about Jesse’s job? Is he going to lose it?”

I tried not to allow the unease I felt about this show in my voice. “I’m sure he’ll be able to keep his job. Everyone at the hospital loves Jesse. And this whole thing was just a misunderstanding that happened while Jesse was off-duty. The charges against him are being dropped.” I swigged from my beer. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”

“How did you accomplish that?”

“Let’s just say Paul was more than happy to cooperate.”

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