Fixation (9 page)

I gasped as I sunk into the water, fully submerged, the stagnant liquid reaching into my ears, nose, and mouth. It tasted of rot.

My feet touched the pool bed—which moved. I jerked my foot back and screamed involuntarily, putrid water drowning the cry before it could emerge. My mind recoiled, sanity barely holding on by the fingertips. I knew if whatever lurked on the bottom reached out and grabbed hold of my bare skin I’d go right over the edge.

I shoved off the squishy, undulating thing, hands clawing for the surface as my lungs strained for air.

I burst out of the water to grab a quick inhalation of much needed air as I paddled for the side. Feet scrabbling against the slippery rocks and cement of the submerged wall, I tried frantically to grip on the edge above to pull myself up and out.

Just as my fingers grazed the edge, skeletal hands clutched my ankles and jerked me back into the depths. I gave a wail of despair, choked off by foul water as my head was submerged again. My hands grasped at the air, scraped against the rocks—

--and hands,
warm
hands, seized my wrists and started pulling me out of the water back onto the walkway. The thing beneath the surface tried to reclaim me; I heard a voice barking out words I didn’t understand, but I could feel the power resonate through them. The hands clutching my ankles loosened their hold and I found myself lying on my stomach on the rough cement.

I retched, spilling brackish water out of my mouth, the taste so foul I doubted an entire bottle of Listerine could wipe it away. Strong hands supported me as I vomited. fingers gently stroking my forehead and massaging my neck while I finished ejecting the contents of my stomach. Balam’s familiar voice whispered soothing nothings in my ear, telling me I was safe. I so wanted to believe those words, but somehow doubted I would ever feel safe again.

I opened my eyes to see Balam’s face above me, his skin blanched shock-white. Fog still shrouded the surrounding area, but it was once again misty white.

“Is she okay?” An unfamiliar male voice spoke.

“We heard her scream and saw her fall into the water before we could help.” This was a woman speaking. “She must have slipped.”

I sat up very slowly, aided by Balam, and looked at the forty-something couple in front of me. Both wore Northern Exposure jackets, jeans, and identical concerned expressions under their carefully coiffed blond hair.

I coughed up more water, wiping my mouth on the back of one hand.

“Did you ... did you see anything else? Something in the water?”

The man shook his head immediately. “It looked like you tripped and fell,” he said.

The woman, however, looked troubled. “It was so foggy, I couldn’t really see. But it looked like something grabbed your ankle and tripped you.”

The man snorted. “That’s impossible, honey. Probably one too many mimosas for breakfast.”

She rolled her eyes. “I had two. You had four. You do the math.”

Her husband/boyfriend rolled his eyes.

“Thank you for your concern,” Balam said, helping me to my feet.

The woman looked at me with an apologetic smile. “You gonna be okay, hon?”

I nodded, even though I knew it was a lie. “Yes, thank you.”

She turned to leave, then stopped to pick up something from the pathway. She held up a little sandwich-sized square of a purse on a long shoulder strap. “Is this yours?”

“Oh. Oh, yes, thank you!” I was absurdly grateful to see that my purse, which held keys, ID, debit card, and keys, had escaped a watery doom.

She handed me my purse, smiling with the simple happiness of someone who has does someone else a genuinely good turn.

“I really did think I saw something in there. Probably just a trick of the fog, but—” She looked down into the stagnant water and shuddered. “I would have screamed too.”

* * * *

Balam and I followed the couple back up to the parking lot above the Baths. I didn’t want to stay at the fog-shrouded ruins another moment. Hell, I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to visit them again after what just happened.

I clung to Balam, one arm wrapped around his waist as he helped me stumble up the path on fear-weakened legs. I waited until the couple got into their car and drove away with a farewell wave, and then turned to Balam.

“What the fuck happened there?” I meant to ask the question calmly, rationally. But all the terror I’d felt came rushing back up like bile in my throat, making my tone much more accusatory than I meant it to be.

Balam shook his head, pale under his tan. “Something that shouldn’t be possible.”

“That’s what you said about her being able to invade my dreams.”

“She should not have been able to do that either, but it is not as extraordinary as imposing her own Dream Time on the real world a continent away.”

Slow rising fury bubbled under my skin, coursing through my veins like acid. I’d been betrayed by Balam’s lack of imagination.

I’d almost died because he underestimated her.

“So she’s more powerful than you expected, isn’t she?” I did my best to keep my voice level, but it definitely wobbled a bit.

“Much more.”

“So if you go back to confront her on her home turf, odds are really good she’ll kick your ass, right? ‘Cause, y’know, she pretty nearly fucking killed me back there. Not to mention scared the shit out of me.”

“What choice do I have?” he said, frustration clear in his voice.

“I don’t know,” I shot back, “but there has to be something besides you going home, handing the bitch a knife, and saying, ‘Here, slice my throat open!’”

He didn’t say anything, but made his feelings clear by stomping ahead of me by several paces. Amazing that someone as sexy and adult as Balam could still be reduced to a twenty-year reduction in maturity by sulking. I followed him silently up the hill on Point Lobos Avenue for several blocks.

He must have realized how dorky he was being (even though I doubt he had the word “dork” in his vocabulary) because he suddenly stopped and turned back towards me, apology written all over his face.

I thought for a minute of ignoring him and carrying out my own sulk a little longer, but I didn’t have the heart. I sped up my pace and let him enfold me in his arms, laying my head against his chest and feeling his heartbeat, strong and steady.

Maybe he couldn’t keep me safe from Anani, but that didn’t mean he was weak. Or wasn’t doing his best.

“I am so sorry, Maya,” he whispered. “My own arrogance stopped me from recognizing just how powerful Anani has become. And it nearly cost you your life. I will not underestimate her again.”

I put a hand on his chest and looked up into his eyes.

“I trust you, Balam.” I stroked his cheek with my other hand. “And I want you to trust me. If she’s coming after me during waking hours ... doesn’t that mean she’s afraid of me? That she knows I might be able to help you stop her?”

He shook his head, automatically dismissing my words. “No, she—” Then he stopped mid-shake, and looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. “You might be correct.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then paused as I realized he’d agreed with me.

Well, hush my mouth.

“Where is that?” Balam pointed upwards. I followed his finger and saw a banner, advertising the latest exhibit at the deYoung Museum strung between two streetlights. San Francisco’s museums are big on advertising their exhibits via multiple banners strung across the busier streets and main drags of the cities. This particular one advertised the Mesoamerica: Ancient Gods exhibit, the words flanked by a photo of an anthropomorphic jaguar statue.

“That’s at the DeYoung, a museum in Golden Gate Park,” I said. “Why?”

“That statue.” Barely suppressed excitement surged through Balam’s voice. “It is identical to one in Evaki’s temple in Belize. If it is there ... maybe there are others. And if there are enough—“ He looked at me, eyes glowing. “I can use them. Can we go there now?”

I took a look at my wrist before realizing I wasn’t wearing a watch. Even if I’d been wearing one, it would have been toast from my dip in Anani’s version of Sutro Baths from Hell.

“I’m not sure what time the museum closes,” I said. “We can check online or just drive over there.”

“We’ll take my car.”

It took us ten minutes to walk home and another fifteen to drive down Fulton and take the 8th Avenue entrance into Golden Gate Park. It took us to John F. Kennedy Drive, right next to the Music Concourse, the Academy of Sciences, the Japanese Tea Garden, and the de Young Museum.

We pulled up into a space on JFK Drive at four forty-five and were at the doors of the museum at four fifty. The museum closed at five fifteen Tuesday through Sunday. It was closed Mondays.

Balam slammed his fist against the wall of the ticket office, garnering a few wary looks from passers-by.

“We can come back tomorrow,” I said. “We’ll get up first thing and get here when it opens.”

“Yes. First thing.” Impatience and frustration radiated from him as he paced back and forth like a caged feline. This also drew the attention of several passers-by, all female, who looked at Balam the way those contestants on
Survivor
looked at a rewards dinner of steak and chocolate cake. My eyes narrowed and a low, rumbling growl escaped my throat before I realized what I was doing.

Balam noticed and grinned, the tension in his body relaxing.

“You do not need to be jealous, Maya.” He grinned at me as the women walked past, practically craning their necks to keep their eyes on him.

“I’m not jealous.” Yeah, I sounded grouchy. “But it would be nice if people kept their tongues in their mouth instead of drooling like a Tex Avery cartoon.”

“I like that you’re jealous.” Balam pulled me over to him, ignoring what I admit was a very token attempt to pull away.

“Get over yourself,” I growled, even as he lowered his mouth to mine for a very satisfactory kiss.

Does it make me a bad person to admit I watched his admirers out of the corner of my eye to make sure they saw us kiss? Okay, maybe I was taking this whole mate thing more seriously than I’d thought.

We stopped at the Whole Foods in the Haight for supplies. Balam picked everything out, insisting he would cook, so I contented myself with wandering along beside him and enjoying the unique sensation of not worrying about what everything cost. I love Whole Foods, but its nickname isn’t Whole Paycheck for nothing.

“Do you want to invite your landlord for dinner?”

I looked up from perusing the seafood selection. “Seriously?”

Balam nodded. “It is obvious he cares about you as one would a little sister. I like him.”

I snorted. “In other words, he isn’t competition, so your testosterone levels can be semi-normal when he’s in the same room.”

He growled in reply, which meant I’d hit the nail on the head. Satisfied, I stood on tiptoe to plant a swift kiss on his mouth. “That’s really sweet of you. I’ll give him a call.”

Leaving Balam to his shopping, I headed towards the front entrance so I wouldn’t block the crowded aisles while talking. I fumbled in my purse while I walked, once again thankful my purse hadn’t ended up in the water. That would have meant one dead cell phone.

I shuddered at that last thought, thinking just how close I’d come to being one dead Maya in the stagnant water at Sutro Baths.

Between the visceral memory and digging in my purse for my phone, I walked straight into someone turning into the aisle I was exiting, knocking their shopping basket out of their hands and onto the ground.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized, face red with embarrassment as I knelt and grabbed a loaf of organic whole grain bread off the floor where it had fallen.

“Maya?”

The familiar voice made me snap my head up quickly enough to hurt my neck.

Out of all the Whole Foods in the Bay Area, he had to walk into this one.

“Hi, Jesse.”

Yup, there stood Jesse in all of his studied five o’clock shadowed, lean and hungry, designer jeans-clad glory, a studied hurty feeling look on his face. I didn’t bother to try to read him; I needn’t need to be a psychic to sense the big selfish nothingness at his core.

“Hey, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you, babe. What gives with the no communication here?”

I didn’t reply, focusing instead on replacing each spilled item back in the shopping basket. Gourmet cheese, pate, expensive truffles from the dessert counter—looked like someone had a hot date tonight.

Gathering up a stray bundle of asparagus, I stood up and unceremoniously handed him the basket, barely resisting the temptation to shove it into his midsection.

“Here.” I started to brush past him towards the entrance, but Jesse grabbed one of my arms.

“Babe, what’s up with you?” He looked down at me with his patented sincere expression. How could I not have seen how practiced it was?

“Jesse, I saw you at the Cliff House the morning after you were supposed to be on a business trip.” He looked blank so I continued. “Remember? You canceled our date because of a sudden business trip and supposedly called me that night from Dallas?”

Comprehension dawned and I could see him struggling for a plausible explanation. I held up one hand before he could speak, not bothering to hide my contempt.

“Please don’t insult me by telling me you caught a red-eye, okay? You were
so
obviously on a morning-after date.”

“Aw, Maya, don’t be like that. I really can explain.”

He reached out to hug me and I jerked my arm free, taking a countering step backwards, right into a display of gluten-free crackers. Several boxes fell to the floor. Heaving a sigh of irritation, I bent to pick them, only to feel Jesse’s hand caressing my butt in an overly familiar way.

“Maya?”

Balam appeared at the front of the aisle just in time to see Jesse’s hand on my ass.

Uh oh.

I felt Balam’s growl rather than heard it; it rumbled up from deep inside him. Jesse, of course, didn’t notice a thing.

I straightened and stepped away as quickly as possible, but it was too late.

“Maya, who is this?” Balam’s voice was a deceptive purr.

“Um... this is Jesse, a—” I paused, trying to come up with the right word while avoiding the obvious ones like “cheating bastard” or “asshole.”

“Maya, babe, don’t be shy.” Jesse turned to Balam with a cocky grin on his face, totally oblivious to the tension in the air. “Maya and I have a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Sure. You know, we go out.”

“We
did
go out,” I corrected him. “Until you lied to me about being out of town and took some bimbo to breakfast a few blocks from my house.”

“That girl? She’s just the daughter of one of our LPs. She was visiting and I was asked to show her a good time.”

“And I’m sure you did,” I said tightly. “The least you could have done was go someplace that wasn’t in my neighborhood.”

“Aw, babe...” Jesse actually had the audacity—and stupidity—to try to hug me again, but before he could actually get his arms around me, Balam stepped between us and glared down at Jesse.

“Do not touch her.” His words were a guttural growl, liquid rage deep in his throat.

“Whoa, man, back off!” Jesse bristled with anger.

“Maya,” said Balam without taking his eyes off of Jesse, “do you want this man to touch you?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Been there, done that. Got the ‘Hey, I’m cheating on you’ T-shirt.”

Jesse stared at me with a really unbecoming pout, something that may have worked when he was a toddler.

“Jeez, Maya, when did you turn into such a bitch?”

“What did you call her?” Balam didn’t move, but his entire body seemed to expand somehow, his entire posture radiating alpha male intimidation. It was enough to make Jesse backpedal into the aisle and me smile inwardly with glee.

“Sorry,” he muttered, clutching the shopping basket to his chest.

“Maya, do you accept his apology?”

I shrugged. “Sure, why not? Have a nice life, Jesse. And maybe be a little more careful when you’re cheating on someone. Or better yet, try not cheating at all.”

“Yeah, whatever.” With that distinctly high school blow-off, Jesse practically scurried towards the checkout line without a backwards glance.

I shook my head. “I can’t believe I ever dated that jerk.”

I felt the tension in Balam’s body dissipate, his aura returning to normal size. “We all have made mistakes in our love life.”

I snorted inelegantly. “That’s for sure. And at least mine never tried to kill me.”