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the point where she could hear it over the other conversation in the room. The two of them were walking
toward her. Kayla looked around quickly for a place to hide.
 Just let her stay here a few days, and I promise I'll do anything you want, buy you some new clothes,
jewelry, whatever. They stopped in front of Kayla, who felt all the eyes in the room moving to her.
Roberta gave Kayla a long, hate-filled look, then suddenly smiled. Kayla decided instantly that she didn't
like that smile at all.
 I want her earrings, Roberta said.
Kayla stared at her in shock. She had to be kidding the earrings were hers, Elizabet had bought them
for her just a few hours ago. It wasn't like they were expensive, or even unusual. And they were hers.
 'Berta, you have lots of jewelry; I buy you more all the time. . . . Carlos said.
 I want her earrings, Carlos, the woman -insisted.
Carlos glanced at Kayla.  Take off your earrings, girl, he said.
Anger overrode the terror that had haunted her since these people had forced their way into Elizabet's
house, stabbed her, and then carried her off like a piece of meat.  Like hell, you bastard!
The man's hand clamped down painfully on her arm.  Take off the earrings. Now.
Kayla started to protest and then saw the look in his eyes. It reminded her of the look he'd had at
Elizabet's house, the same tiny smile that had been on his face . . . just before he tried to kill her. It was a
smile that said that he was -enjoying this, and whatever was going to happen next.
Her hands shaking, Kayla removed the silver earrings. She held them in her hand for a -moment, then
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tossed them onto the floor. They rattled on the worn linoleum.  Here, take 'em, they're yours, she said
tightly.
Carlos' eyes narrowed even more dangerously.  Pick them up and give them to Roberta.
 The little bitch can pick them up herself 
 Pick them up and give them to Roberta, he said in a voice like ice.
Kayla knelt and picked up the silver loops, handing them to Roberta. With all the dignity she could
muster, she walked down the hall to the bedroom.
She sprawled facedown on the bed, trying not to cry. She couldn't stop the first few tears and angrily
wiped them away. I don't know what's going on here, I don't know what they're going to do with
me, but I'll be damned before I let them see me cry!
 Kayla?
She rolled over to see Ramon at the doorway.  What do you want? I don't have any more jewelry to
give away, sorry . . . how 'bout my sneakers? They're new too, Elizabet just bought them for me. . . .
She saw that he was holding the plate that she'd left on the living room table.  Go away, I'm not hungry.
He sat down at the end of the bed, setting the plate down next to her; Kayla edged back, closer to the
wall.  I know it's difficult for you, he said awkwardly.  I know you don't want to be here. But you'll see,
it'll get better. You'll be happy here, one of the homegirls. You have to understand, it's hard for Carlos
and the rest of us, too. We're not used to anything like this, bringing someone like you here to our barrio
. . . .
 You mean, you don't go around kidnaping people all the time?
He smiled.  No, not usually. Though there is a great family tradition of kidnaping our brides . . . of
course Carlos is so handsome, he'd never have to do that. The women just fall at his feet, all the time.
He looked down at his hands, clenched in his lap, then back up at her with those dark eyes.  We need
you, querida. We need you to help us with your magic. Carlos should have told you why we need you,
then you'd understand. It's a matter of life and death for us: if we lose, they'll kill us all. That's why we
brought you here.
 Carlos should have told me this, instead of trying to kill me! He stabbed me, remember? I could've
died! Kayla's gut twisted, remembering. It still ached where the knife wound had been, a dull
counterpoint to the exhaustion and secret terrors.
She saw the troubled look in his eyes before he hid it behind a smile.  But you healed yourself, didn't
you? Carlos just wanted to prove that you could do it. You're fine now, it didn't do any real harm to you
. . .
 What if he'd been wrong? What if he'd picked the wrong house, stabbed the wrong kid?
 But that didn't happen. Ramon shook his head.  It all worked out fine.
 Listen, please, I just want to go home, all I want to do is go home . . . can't you let me go? She felt the
tears threatening again, and bit her lip to hold them back. I just want to be gone, be out of here, go
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back to Elizabet's. . . .
 What, you don't want to be here with all of these handsome homeboys? Like me, Ramon, the
handsomest of them all? He brushed back his hair with one hand, giving her his most -appealing look. In
spite of herself, Kayla smiled.
 It'll be all right, querida,  Ramon said reassuringly.  You'll see, everything will be all right. He picked
up the plate of food and held it out to her. Reluctantly, she took it from him.  Eat some dinner, you'll feel
better, he said.  Maybe tomorrow Carlos will let me take you out into mi barrio , show you our home.
And I'll explain why we need you here.
He left the room, and Kayla lay staring at the ceiling for a long time. Her thoughts were moving too fast,
racing through her mind, all the words blurring together.
They were going to keep her here, maybe forever. That thought hurt more than everything else. They'd
keep her a prisoner here for the rest of her life, if they thought they could get away with it.
She crossed to the door and listened. It was -silent in the hallway beyond. Maybe everyone had left the
apartment, and she could just sneak out, get to a telephone and call Elizabet. . . .
Quietly, she opened the door. A man she didn't recognize was seated on a folding chair by the bedroom
door. He watched her silently as she walked to the bathroom. Inside, she checked the window. It was [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]