Immortal Page 3

  He seemed completely confident now, unlike his hesitance the previous day. It reinforced my impression that he was dealing with an alien culture. He seemed to be adapting well.

  I sat doodling again and watching him covertly, wishing we had talked more. Afterward, I promised myself. I would start a conversation, find out his last name at least. Maybe try again to ask him for coffee.

  He made another list of names. Shorter, this time. He got through the rest of the book with ten minutes to spare, then leaned back in his chair, frowning at his notes. I sneaked a peek and saw that one of the names was circled. It looked like “Madera,” and there was a note beside it that I couldn’t read.

  “Find what you need?” I whispered.

  “I hope so.”

  “If I can do anything to help …”

  I stopped when he looked at me. The intensity of his gaze made my stomach flip over. For a long moment I gazed back, then he whispered to me.

  “Does the library have information about local transportation?”

  “Uh—some. Student Union Building’s a better bet. Or the Internet.”

  He’d been on the bus, so he must have information for the city’s routes, or know where to find it. What more did he need to know?

  He made a note on his page and sat frowning at it. I watched him, holding still, almost holding my breath.

  He looked at me once more, the searching-your-soul look that had held me spellbound before. Worked again; I couldn’t move, not that I wanted to. It scared me a little, but I liked it.

  Finally he looked away. I sucked in a breath.

  “May I call you?” he said, and my heart lurched. “If I need more information?”

  “S-sure. I’ll give you my cell number.”

  He laid his list down on the table and I scrawled my name and number at the bottom of the page. I was really proud that my hand didn’t shake.

  “Thank you.”

  He folded the page and stood up. I shoved my doodles in my pocket and followed him to the lockers, bringing along the book, which he seemed to have forgotten. I handed it over to Barb, thanking her, then accepted my pack from Caeran.

  We got in the elevator. Panic time! I might not see him again.

  “Could I have your number too?”

  He blinked at me. “I don’t have a phone.”

  “Oh, OK. Well. Do you have time for coffee today?”

  He looked like he was about to say no, then changed his mind. “Perhaps. Could we find transportation information at the same time?”

  “Sure. SUB’s got an espresso stand.”

  I smiled and he smiled faintly back. My heart was trying to fly. I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to spoil my luck by saying the wrong thing. Caeran didn’t always react the way I’d expect.

  We left the library and I started toward the SUB. Caeran kept pace with me, his stride graceful and silent.

  “It is far?” he asked after a moment.

  “No, that’s it right ahead.”

  I led him inside the big building. As always, the place was bustling with students, chatting, surfing the Web, doing homework in the big dining rooms or at cafe tables in the halls.

  The information booth was close to the entrance we’d used, in a slightly less trafficked area. The espresso stand was farther in. I walked over to the racks of leaflets by the wall, hoping not to have to talk to the girl manning the info booth. It was early enough in the semester that she had a couple of people standing at her counter.

  I turned to Caeran. “What did you want to know?”

  He scanned the flyers, wearing his intent expression. “How to get to the north of the state.”

  “Well, there are maps here—“

  “Not directions. Method. Are there buses that go there?”

  “It depends where you’re trying to go.”

  He took his page of notes out of his pocket and unfolded it. “Guadalupita.”

  “I never heard of Guadalupita. Where is it?”

  For the first time that day, he looked hesitant. “North.”

  “We need the Internet.”

  I walked over to some empty chairs and pulled my netbook out of my pack. The SUB’s wireless was dog slow—too many users—but I was able to call up a map. Guadalupita was a tiny spot on a tiny road north of Mora, which itself was a far cry from downtown Albuquerque.

  “It’s in the middle of nowhere. There won’t be bus service. Closest you could get is probably Taos.”

  Caeran sat next to me and peered at the screen. “Perhaps I could walk from Taos.”

  “It’s over fifty miles! Through the mountains!”

  Caeran frowned slightly. “Then it might take too long.”

  “Look, the best way to get there is gonna be by car. A one-day rental wouldn’t cost too much. Most of the car places have Internet coupons—”

  “I don’t drive.”

  He said it very quietly, as if he didn’t want to be overheard. I glanced at a couple of guys walking past and lowered my voice.

  “Does anyone in your family drive?”

  He shook his head. I had trouble wrapping my brain around an entire family that didn’t drive, but then, if he was from Europe or someplace where they didn’t use cars so much …

  Caeran was still staring at the map. I got a crazy idea. I tried to fight it down, but I was too hooked on him and I wasn’t thinking rationally. It was a damn good thing he showed no signs of being a psychopath, though that might not have stopped me.

  “I have a car.”

  He looked up at me, his face suddenly lit with hope so intense it took my breath away. The next moment he shook his head.

  “I cannot impose on you.”

  “You could cover the gas. I wouldn’t mind driving.”

  He looked incredulous. “You would undertake to drive strangers that far?”

  “Well, it depends how many strangers. My Saturn holds four—five if you squish.”

  I wondered belatedly if his surly look-alike was going to be included. Not that I could back out now, or wanted to. My heart was pumping at the thought of spending several hours with Caeran, though the family chaperones would be a damper.

  He was frowning again, staring into space. It gave me time to realize just how crazy I was acting. He and his family could be criminals. They could steal my car and desert me in nowhere’s-ass, New Mexico. Or worse.

  But not Caeran. I knew in my soul he wouldn’t hurt me.

  “You know nothing about me,” he said softly.

  “That’s true. You could tell me your last name.”

  He seemed to find that funny. “Woods.”

  Too ordinary a name for him. “OK, so now I know something about you.”

  He was still smiling, and frowning at the same time, shaking his head. “If you drove us to Guadalupita, you would learn more about us than you want to know.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  He looked at me, surprised.

  “I want to know everything about you.”

  His eyes went wide. I had the sudden sensation of falling into them, of being absorbed into his being. Then he looked away, leaving me with residual vertigo.

  “Len, I shouldn’t.”

  It was the first time he’d said my name. I wasn’t even sure until then that he remembered it. A tingle went through me.

  “Why not?”

  He surprised me by burying his face in his hands. The gesture, his posture, spoke of distress. I wanted to fold my arms around him. I clutched my netbook instead.

  “Look, it’s a long drive. We can talk on the way. I’d like to … I know it sounds like a cheesy line, but I really would like to get to know you.”

  He was still for a long moment, then suddenly sat up. “I need to make a phone call.”

  I offered him my cell. He looked at it, looked at me.

  “Want me to dial it? What’s the number?”

  “I don’t know yet. I need to look it up.”

  I brought up a search en
gine on my netbook. “Name?”

  He didn’t bother to look at his notes, but gazed at me, slightly worried. “De Madera.”

  “In Guadalupita?”

  “Yes.”

  I typed it in, not feeling hopeful. Tiny town like that, guy might not have a phone. And that was one of the names Caeran had pulled from that old book—who knew if the family was still there?

  The name came up, though. I punched the number into my cell phone and handed it to Caeran.

  He stood, pacing while the phone rang, then he stopped and said, “Señor de Madera?”

  The next moment he turned away, and I couldn’t understand the rest of what he said. It didn’t sound like Spanish, unless it was some ancient colonial Spanish or something. I should recognize that, though. New Mexico’s Spanish vernacular had a lot of colonial influence.

  The conversation was brief, but evidently satisfactory. Caeran returned, eyes blazing as he handed me back my phone.

  “You are sure you wish to do this? To help us in this way?” he said softly.

  “Yeah. I am.”

  “So be it. I will do all I can to repay you. When do we leave?”

  “Uh … well, it’ll take about four hours to drive, maybe more. If we left now—with the time to pick up your family—we probably wouldn’t get there until after ten.”

  Caeran shook his head. “That will not do. I must stop at the bar to ask directions, and it will be closed by then.”

  Guadalupita had a bar?

  “OK. I have a class in the morning, but it gets out at 11:30. We could leave then, be there around four or five.”

  “Very well. Should I meet you here?”

  “Would it be easier if I picked you up?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  He looked relieved, and I wondered again what the urgency was. Didn’t quite have the nerve to ask.

  “How many of you are there?” I asked instead.

  He rubbed his chin, frowning slightly. “It will be me and two of my cousins.”

  “OK.” I put away my netbook and took out my notes from the library. “What’s the address?”

  He looked at me. “You met one of my cousins last night.”

  So he had heard about that. “In the bosque, yeah.”

  “Come there.”

  “To the bosque?” I glanced around, making sure no one was listening, and lowered my voice anyway. “Caeran, are you living in the bosque?”

  A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “We are used to camping.”

  I began to wonder if I’d made a mistake. The more I learned about Caeran, the weirder the whole thing sounded.

  Maybe he was homeless after all. But he didn’t set off my creepazoid alarm the way most homeless guys did.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Caeran glanced toward a loud gaggle of kids coming down the hall. “Shall we walk?”

  “Sure, OK. Let’s get that coffee, if you’re still interested.”

  We hit the espresso stand—latté for me and hot tea for Caeran—and went outside. It was heading for six o’clock, and the sun was starting to set. Air was cooling down already. We strolled back past the library toward the pond, sipping our drinks, not talking until we stopped at a bench under some trees.

  Sparrows swarmed toward us, then hopped away into the bushes when they saw we didn’t have any food. We sat down and looked out at the pond, where the ducks were lazing around by the banks, stuffed full of bread crumbs and popcorn.

  “So … what’s the rush to get to Guadalupita? I bet you didn’t even know about the place until this afternoon.”

  I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t be annoyed by my nosiness. Though he didn’t answer right away, he showed no sign of anger.

  “One of my cousins is ill.” He glanced at me. “Not contagious, but we cannot take her to a hospital.”

  “Why not?”

  He was silent, frowning at the paper cup in his hands.

  “No ID?” I said softly. “The University hospital will admit her, even without it. They have a budget for charity cases—”

  “That is not the issue.” He turned the cup in his hands. “The … healer … in Guadalupita knows what to do for her.”

  “What, is he some kind of curandero? We have those here, too.”

  “Not just any healer will do. He has the skills to help her.”

  My turn to frown. I watched him, trying to figure it all out. A money issue? Religion? Too many weirdnesses, too many possibilities. I was trying too hard to guess, and when it came right down to it, this was none of my business.

  “OK. So, I pick you up at the bosque. But I can’t drive my car in there.”

  “There is a place—a turning of the street—”

  “By the entrance to the Nature Center? That’ll work. If I don’t see you I’ll park at the Center.”

  “We will be there.”

  “It’ll probably be close to noon by the time I get down there.”

  Caeran nodded. “We will be waiting.”

  “OK.”

  I stared at him, not wanting to leave. He was looking at the pond, but after a minute he turned to me with a smile that melted my heart.

  “I am grateful for your help, Len.”

  “Sure. Glad to. I, uh—I’m sorry your cousin is ill.”

  He just smiled. I could have gazed at that forever. His face, so beautifully sculpted—not soft, but just right in all its angles. No heaviness, only classical perfection.

  I think, in that moment, I would have done absolutely anything he asked.

  Fortunately for me, he was apparently a gentleman. He stood up and shouldered his pack. Hiding my disappointment, I did likewise.

  “So, see you tomorrow.” I stuck out my hand.

  He took it and raised it to his lips. The brush of that soft warmth on the back of my hand sent a rush straight down to my toes.

  “Tomorrow.” Still smiling, he turned and walked away.

  I watched him skirt the pond, heading for University and the bus stop, no doubt. With a small groan I sat down again.

  I could have offered him a ride. Why did I always think of these things when it was too late?

  My fingers touched the back of my hand where he’d kissed me. Still tingled.

  I sat there a long while, sipping my tepid latté, thinking back over everything that had happened that afternoon. The healer in Guadalupita was just plain bizarre. How had Caeran been so sure he would find someone there, based on the mention in that book? After probably two hundred years, to find someone with the same name, who was also a curandero … it seemed so weird.

  I could rationalize it, sort of. That kind of tradition was often passed down in a family, and small towns in New Mexico didn’t change much through the years.

  But man. Caeran had been really lucky to find the guy he wanted, just like that.

  Of course, it might not have been as easy as it looked. He’d had that whole list from the day before. Maybe he’d found a phone book, or gone to the public library or something, and gone through that list without finding anything. Maybe.

  Guessing too hard again.

  I got up and walked to my dorm. Spent the night picking away at my homework, with absolutely no enthusiasm. Went to bed and couldn’t sleep. I lay there thinking about Caeran until exhaustion finally took me out.

  = 3 =

  I was late to my physics class. My least favorite course; the professor was awful. He mumbled and meandered in his lectures, and responded to questions with unconcealed impatience. Consequently, I wasn’t doing great in the class. I almost decided to ditch, except that that would leave me killing time until I went to meet Caeran.

  I had my netbook open, ostensibly taking notes, but I soon drifted to looking over the map I had downloaded and saved the night before. There were two possible routes to Guadalupita, one through Santa Fe and winding through the mountains on state highways, the other on I-25, branching off toward Mora at Las Vegas. I decided to take I-2
5, though the other way was probably a prettier drive. Better to get Caeran’s sick cousin to her curandero as fast as possible.

  I was out of my seat the minute class let out. Hustled back to my dorm, grabbed a sweater in case it was cold up north, and jumped in the car. Bought gas, granola bars and a six-pack of bottled water, then indulged in a junk burger and fries on my way down to the Nature Center. Nerves.

  Caeran was there, leaning against the fence by the entrance to the bike path, reading a book. I didn’t see anyone else. I pulled the car around and stopped by the curb.

  He looked up, then turned toward the bike path and called something I couldn’t make out. Another guy came out of the path, carrying a girl wrapped in a dusty-green cloak. It took me a second to realize he was Caeran’s look-alike, the one I’d met before. Not so surly today; he glanced at me, looking kind of anxious. I went around and opened the door to the Saturn’s back seat, then watched him tenderly place the girl in the car. He turned to me.

  “Thank you.”

  Caeran joined us. “Len, this is Nathrin, and that is our cousin, Mirali.”

  Weird names. I’d have to ask what language they were from. Scandinavian, maybe?

  I nodded to Nathrin. “We’ve met, I think.”

  “Yes. Forgive my unfriendliness, then. It was my duty to guard our camp.”

  I waved a hand in dismissal, then glanced at Mirali. Nathrin had lain her along the back seat. She looked a lot like him and Caeran—the family resemblance was obvious. Same hair, same beautiful features, though her face was a little softer and her chin more pointed. Her eyes were closed; she didn’t look obviously sick, but she didn’t look happy either.

  “She’ll have to sit up and fasten her seat belt, I’m afraid. It’s the law. I’ve got a blanket she could use for a pillow.”

  Nathrin got Mirali settled while I dug the blanket out of my junk-filled trunk. Good thing they hadn’t brought any luggage. The guys each had a pack, that was it. I put my own pack in the trunk and shoved my wallet in the pocket of my jeans. Tucked the blanket behind Mirali’s head and buckled her in, then got in the driver’s seat. Nathrin sat in the back with her, and Caeran took shotgun.