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Curse?
My blood runs cold at this.
“Who will?”
“Don’t make me say it.” She drops to her knees in front of me and clasps her hands together. “Please, God, please, please, I’m begging you.”
Leaning forward, I press the muzzle of my Glock to her forehead just in case she didn’t get the memo the first time around.
“El Alquimista.” Her eyes dart to the door in terror as she stutters his name. “In English it means—”
“The Alchemist,” I interrupt grimly, watching her flinch a mile high, as though I just chanted ‘Voldemort’ at a fucking Harry Potter convention.“Yes, I might have heard of him.”
Blackmagic is the number one religion for our enemies in South America, andEl Alquimistais their self-appointed dark god. For those craving absolution for their sins, he sells them a lie and a couple of dead rooster feet to make them sleep easier at night.
What they fear the most, they follow blindly.
We ignored him until he started perpetuating his own bullshit. His legend grew, and now he’s a problem. For the last couple of years, he’s been preaching wealth, sex, and forgiveness to anyone willing to help bring down the Santiago Cartel…
The number one Colombian cartel.
The organization the man who adopted me has dedicated his life to.
The organization I’ve pledged my own allegiance to, albeit for less altruistic reasons.
In short,El Alquimistagot greedy, and now he wants a piece of our power.
I glance at the girl again. She’s one of his disciples. I’ve been tracking her for months, and I’ve known about her plan for weeks. There are cameras in every corner of this room, and twelve of my bestsicariosare right outside the door, but none of them are as lethal as me.
All I need is El Alquimista’s true identity from you, sweetheart, and then I can end him for good.
“They say he sent one of hisbrujato curse you when you were a boy,” she blurts out suddenly. “They say she damned you to walk alone. To bring pain and misery to anyone who dares to love you.”
The walls spin.
Long-suppressed emotions start slashing at my insides like razor-wire: Guilt. Anger.Failure.
I’m back in Colombia again, aged seventeen, stuck in a memory, with my arms wrapped around sunshine.
Twelve hours later, my arms will be full of her screams.
“I suggest you shut your goddamn mouth if you plan on getting out of here alive.”
The girl’s eyes fill with tears.“It is too late for me, but there’s still time to set her free. If not,El Alquimistawill do terrible things to her.”
He already has.
Jesus.Fuck.
“Tell me whoheis!” I roar, as my past and present collide for the second time in my life.
“He is the fear,” she mutters, leaning into the muzzle of my gun, a dangerous calm settling over her face. “He is the destruction of all of us.”
She moves so fast I don’t feel her finger pressing down on mine until my bullet is exiting her skull. Reeling backward in my chair, I hear her final words as clear as day as the metallic stench of loss and emptiness fills the hotel suite:
“He knows what you promised, Edier Grayson, and he’s coming to collect.”
PARTI
