Interlude #2: Echoes of a Successor

Welcome back dear reader! The wait for Faces of Malice must be excruciating, I know. I'm here to help! Here's the second in between Hecatomb of the Vampire and Faces of Malice. This one features the fiercest warrior woman we know, Rock! Enjoy...

“Veronica Raquel De Armas Cifra. Could ya step back through the metal detector please ma’am. I’ll hand ya your ID on the other side.” The security guard fiddled with something on the top of the magnetometer with a confused expression on his face. “It keeps ringin’ around your head but I can’t tell ya why.”

Rock flashed him a dazzling smile, “I think it’s my earrings, love. Should I take them off? I don’t want to get in any trouble.”

The guard was practically eating out of her hand. She visited often, so he didn’t bother calling for an escort; he even gave her some tickets to use at the cafeteria for free food. Poor thing, he fell for the earring trick, she thought as she ran her tongue along the flat side of the razor blade that was hidden in her cheek. Its cold surface calmed her nerves as she walked briskly down the quiet halls of St. James’ Longterm Care Center. She hated the place. The whole thing was a farce. The wallpaper bore tacky scenes of flowers and meadows and streams, all to simulate the feeling of being freed from the monotony of life sequestered. She sat on one of the benches and waited for Dr. Hume, who supervised her grandmother’s condition, peeling away at the same speck of sunflower she did every visit with a finely manicured nail. I have to start visiting more, they’re fixing the paper faster than I can rip. 

Dr. Hume cleared his throat loudly, prompting Rock to turn away from the wall, but the way she did it was so languid he had to wonder if she cared that she’d been caught. “It appears that we’ve caught The Mad Wallpaper Ripper.”

Rock rolled her eyes, “Good afternoon doctor.”

“Good afternoon Raquel, I hope you’re having a good day. And I hope that little habit is not a compulsion,” he added with a sly half smile. 

“If I acted on half of my compulsions I would be locked away in a place much worse than this Dr. Hume. I want to see my grandmother and check on her and then get out of here, like most of the inmates.”

“Raquel, you know they aren’t inmates. They’re just patients, they can leave whenever their family wants.”

“That makes me the jailor then, no?”

Dr. Hume scratched his salt and pepper beard nervously. “It isn’t healthy to think that way.”

“Right, and this place is all about getting healthy, we’re aware.” She folded her arms and crossed her legs, and her red leather pants squeaked quietly. “Let’s move on with the update so I can continue my visit.”

“Yes of course. We can walk and talk, the halls are deserted.” As they sauntered down the hallway, Dr Hume opened the folder he was carrying. “Oh yes, we have two concerns here, one I think you’re already aware of. Your grandmother has had a difficult time with the roommate situation here at St. James-”

“There’s no need to sugarcoat it, Dr. Hume,” Rock said with resignation.

“Your grandmother frightens every patient she rooms with. Agnes woke up to a splash of chicken blood on her face one night.”

“What’s the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution?” Rock cut in.

“Well listen-”

“I heard the facility ate well the day after.”

“It was delicious but she can’t be sacrificing animals in our home.”

“You said this place was supposed to be treated like it was her home. That’s what she would do at home.”

“She can’t do it here,” Dr. Hume said firmly.

Rock looked back at him with naked defiance. “What’s the other concern doctor?”

Dr. Hume swallowed nervously, “Well uh, you see she’s been saying how she should have died a warrior’s death rather than die a slow, rotting death in this place. Those are her exact words. None of us know what she means but the staff and I are afraid she is going to hurt herself.”

“She’s in enough pain as it is, she doesn’t need to hurt herself. Thank you for your concerns.” Rock entered the common room, a bright and open space. It was a long rectangle with three round tables set up with chairs around them. The opposite wall was all glass sliding doors, so that the sun came through strong enough to eliminate the need for artificial lighting in the daytime. Potted plants, mostly ferns and banana plants, lined that wall and the doors let you look directly into a garden rendered dormant by the chill of January. A lone recliner had been placed past the tables, close enough to the doors that the chill from outside penetrated the warm dry air of the facility. An old woman with a shock of silver hair sits back in the chair, with words whistling softly out from under her breath. 

Rock was glad the doctor had left, because what she was about to do would have been unexplainable. She laid down, touching her head to the floor with her arms at her sides. She was there, prostrate, for a moment before the old woman shuffled over in a hurry, picking her up. Rock felt the strength in her grandmother’s forearms, almost untouched by age or disease. The puzzled look on her mocha face however, spoke of confusion born of illness.

“You’re beautiful,” she breathed, her mouth nothing but a depression in her face, like the banks of dried up river. “You know the salute?”

“Bendiciòn,” Rock said with her head down. 

Her grandmother raised her right hand in blessing, but quickly shook her head as if trying to jumpstart her mind. “I’ve forgotten what to do, little one. Forgotten it all. Sometimes I get flashes here and there.”

Rock swallowed hard; seeing her like this made her want to tear something, someone, apart. But there was no vengeance to be had. The perpetrators were dead, and the Cifras lived on. Fate was cruel. Rock’s mind flirted with the blade in her cheek, an interaction she dismissed quickly, feeling ashamed of herself. “Don’t worry Yaya, I remember it all.”

Yaya’s eyes widened, “How did you know my nickname? My granddaughter calls me that! You should meet her, she’s very pretty. She’s a spicy one. I think she’s coming to visit me. They tell me she visits often.”

“I’m sure she does. I’m sure your granddaughter loves you more than anyone in this world. She wishes things could be different and that you didn’t have to stay here.” Rock dragged the words out of herself, holding back a tide of emotions with a dazzling smile. She gets worse with every visit. Where have you gone Yaya? You have to remember!

“Probably.” Her eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Do you remember your granddaughter’s name?”

Yaya snorted, “I don’t even remember my own name. It’s just Yaya. Her parents liked something with a V. They liked a lot of things.”

Rock’s phone buzzed in her pocket, and when she took it out “work” was flashing on the screen in big, green letters. She ignored the message just in time for her grandmother to continue speaking in her belabored, whispery voice, “But what is your name? Your abuela must be very proud of you, all dressed well, you look successful. That’s how a true lady behaves.”

Rock’s phone quaked in her hands again, but was it from the emotion or the text that read “urgent; answer the call?” “Thank you ma’am…” she paused, looking at Yaya’s expectant expression. “My name is Raquel.”

A streak of recognition passed over Yaya’s eyes once again, “My name Raquel. You reminded me.” She reached inside her blouse and pulled out an iron nail attached to a string and pressed it to her chapped lips. “Daughter of Lakange, war bride legionnaire-“

“Servant of Ogun,” Rock finished with gravity, kissing her own nailed necklace.

“Free me from this cursed life Sister, grant me the death I crave!” Rock felt the iron grip of her grandmother’s hands rake her legs as Yaya sprang from her chair and pleaded. 

“I’m not your sister Yaya, I could never be on the same level as you. Please get up.” The razor blade woke up again, eager to please. Rock ignored its thirst.

“But you can save me! You could do it so easily, right now, any bit of metal will do, I know of your powers! Our powers! I will fight back, the exchange will be honorable. Please, granddaughter, please?!” Yaya’s voice had risen past the crackly whisper it had been to the howling of a hurt wolf. 

The phone rang again. Rock turned her head away from her grandmother’s begging and extricated herself from the old woman’s grasp. “I won’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’m sorry Yaya,” she said leaving the room as the groveling grew in the wave of her absence. She spit out the blade and stared at it for a moment. It was nothing but a rectangle of dull metal. Then she called HQ back and barked, “I told you, I’m visiting my grandma! Why are you calling me? You’re wasting my visit time.”

“Sorry Raquel. I know it’s a bad time but you have to come to HQ right now, it’s super important.”

“Says who?”

“The director of BRAHMASTRA North America.”