‘Mezcal,’ she said, pointing to the glass in Sophia’s hand.
Something cracked nearby — a gunshot. Sophia dropped to one knee, reaching for the Glock under her jacket. Fireworks blossomed above, followed by more cracks and bursts. She relaxed and stood, conscious of nearby stares, including Aviary’s. Her glass of mezcal was now half-empty. A line of drummers passed by, banging faster. Sweat dripped from their skull-faces.
‘So tell me why we’re really here,’ Sophia said.
Aviary flashed a smile. ‘To laugh at death and show we’re not afraid.’
More fireworks exploded above. Sophia didn’t flinch this time. She lifted her glass with Aviary.
‘Salut,’ she said.
It burned her throat. Before she could recover, Aviary plucked the plastic shot glass from her fingers and tossed it into a nearby bin, then pulled her farther into the crowd. Everyone had started moving south along the eastern edge of Central Park. The path curved left and they walked between two giant walls of candles. Aviary told her, above the cacophony of drums, that the candles would guide the deceased loved ones.
The drums stopped and the candle flames quivered in the breeze. The pace of the procession slowed suddenly and Sophia felt uncertainty crawl inside. Everyone walked slowly now, in silence. Sophia suppressed the urge to check for her pistol again. She heard church bells ring in the distance. Incense smoke rippled through the air. Everyone around her seemed excited. She didn’t share the sensation.
‘What’s happening?’ she whispered into Aviary’s ear.
‘The dead are coming,’ her friend said. ‘And we’re waiting for them.’
Aviary took her by the arm and guided her between the walls of candles. The procession diverged from the park out onto Fifth Avenue, now shut off from traffic for the festival. Around them, people carried sugar skulls and candles; others grasped framed photos of loved ones. The flames of the candles encouraged them forward. Sophia remembered the photos in her wallet and her stomach tightened.
As an operative she had been trained not to think about death except from an operational standpoint. It was what happened when you died. If you did your job right and drew on your training then you stayed alive and it wouldn’t be an issue.
They reached the end of the procession, outside a museum. Altars glowed in the night, large and vast enough to receive the festival’s guests; together they approached one.
Aviary moved forward, tentatively, and placed a photo upon a bouquet of flowers. The photo was of a young man Sophia didn’t recognize.
‘My brother, Calvin,’ her friend said. Her eyes shimmered.
Across from them, Sophia could see the shapes of jaguar knights in their dresses. One of them was arched forward, trembling. Another’s hand rested across his back. They were crying.
‘I shouldn’t be here,’ Sophia said.
She broke away. But Aviary reached forward, her arm on Sophia’s. ‘You can be wherever you want,’ she said.
‘Can we go somewhere else?’ Sophia said.
‘How do you feel?’ Aviary said.
Sophia swallowed. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘A bit strange.’
Aviary’s green eyes glittered in the candlelight. ‘Your loved ones are here now, with us.’
Sophia pressed her jaws together, keeping her mouth firm. She tried to think of other things but the memories came flooding back. Dancing with Leon in Italy. Swimming in a river with Lucia and the rest of her team in Belize. Helping Owen Freeman with the Akhana. Drinking coffee in the Philippine mountains with Benito.
She felt it build inside. Her vision blurred and she knew she hadn’t stopped it in time because Aviary moved closer, steadying her.
She swallowed again. God, she was losing it. She didn’t want to do this. Not here. Her cheeks burned red. Tears spilled down. She couldn’t keep her mouth closed. She couldn’t stop it any longer. She broke down.
She sobbed violently before the flower-adorned altar. All she could see was a blur of candles. She held onto Aviary’s arm tightly. Aviary was there when she dropped to her knees.
For a moment there was clarity as she drew things together. She opened her mouth, her eyes, and took a deep breath. Blinking, she cleared her vision. She tasted salt across her lips. Her breathing slowed and the candles came into focus. She sniffed to clear her nose.
‘Would you like to put some photos on the altar?’ Aviary asked. Her voice was whisper soft. ‘The ones in your wallet?’
Sophia didn’t want to take them out of her wallet. But it was almost too difficult to explain why she couldn’t. Instead she found herself nodding in silence. Her hand closed over her wallet and she looked down, fingers moving under her false driver’s license. Tears dripped onto the leather. She wiped them away and found the photos. Three photos and the motel business card with her family’s names.
She stepped forward and rested on one knee, staring at the altar. Just the thought of finding a place for her photos was overwhelming. Aviary moved to help but she pushed herself forward. She didn’t want help. Leon sat on a bunch of orange marigolds, calmly watching over her. She reached for her next photo, Owen, and placed him beside Leon. They knew each other to some degree; Owen would have rescued Leon from the Fifth Column in the early days. So they should be together, she thought. On the other side of Owen she placed Benito. He would have known Owen, perhaps even met him at some point.
In her hands, the card with the names of her family. She cried on the card, ashamed she had no photos of them. The only reason she hadn’t taken a photo with her to Project GATE was because she hadn’t liked the ones they had and wanted to take a better one when she returned. Instead she’d killed them.
‘They’re your family?’ Aviary said, her hand closing over Sophia’s.
She felt the mezcal warming her. She nodded.
‘What are they like?’
Sophia shook her head. ‘They’re gone.’
‘No they’re not,’ Aviary said. ‘They’re with you now.’
‘How do I know?’ Sophia said.
‘Your heart will tell you.’
Sophia gripped the card tightly, then placed it above the photos, on a larger bouquet.
‘Now they’re here, what would you like to tell them?’ Aviary said.
She wished the questions would stop. She should never have taken the photos. She should never have kept them. This was awful. She thought about the question for a moment. What could she say? What did you say to the people you love once they were gone?
‘I’m sorry.’
‘They know,’ Aviary said. ‘They know already.’
Sophia sniffed. She felt dizzy, uncomfortable. Everything about this was uncomfortable.
‘I’m very thankful,’ Sophia said. ‘For their care.’
Aviary nodded. ‘They know that now.’
‘And … I guess—’ Sophia wiped her eyes ‘—I’m sorry,’ she said to Aviary. ‘I’m not used to doing this. I wish my family knew that I love them and I didn’t want … anything to happen to them.’
‘I understand,’ Aviary said from beside her. ‘I feel like that too.’
She could see tears brimming in Aviary’s eyes as she looked down at the photo of Calvin, Aviary’s brother. Sophia was reluctant to admit it, but she felt the missing were there with them, even if only for a moment.
Chapter 12
Damien led his client, Frederick Jensen, up the stairs to the elegant lobby of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel. Without looking, he knew Jay was behind Jensen. On top of the stairs, between two silver vases, security had installed a metal detector and a table for receiving firearms from attendees.