Without Light or Guide Read Free

Moloch’s effigy. Diago’s heart bumped up a notch.
    â€œIt never goes away does it?” said a voice right by his ear.
    â€œWhat?” He turned his head so fast, he almost lost his hat.
    Garcia had eased up beside him. He lit a cigarette, cupping his hand around flame. “The fear.” He allowed the match to fall to the stairs below.
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    â€œUh-­huh.” He lowered his voice until he was barely audible beneath the busy sounds of the city. “You forget. I’ve spent time down there, drowning in the dark. I know how the nightmares eat your sleep. No matter how many times it happens, going back never gets easier. Not even for you.” Garcia took a long drag on his cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke into Diago’s face. “And you’re one of them.”
    â€œI am angel, too.” How easily they all forgot his dual nature. “And now I’m Los Nefilim. Just like you. I’m willing to forget the past if you are.”
    â€œIs that an olive branch?”
    â€œTake it or burn it.”
    Garcia turned his head and spat.
    Then fire it is. Diago’s cheeks warmed with his fury. What the hell made me think I could work with Garcia? He went downstairs to purchase his ticket, aware that the inspector followed. They made no further attempts at conversation as they waited on the platform, and that was all right with Diago.
    They weren’t there long before the sound of an oncoming train flowed into the tunnel. Diago’s heart accelerated. He wasn’t ready for the sudden anxiety that peaked in his chest and descended into his thighs. For one horrible moment, he thought his knees would give way. He stiffened his back, hating Garcia for being right, because the fear never truly went away.
    It’s just a train. Just a normal everyday train.
    He glanced upward to avoid the gloom on the tracks. The overhead lights rained crystal notes over the waiting passengers, falling like silvery snow into their hair and onto their shoulders. The sparkling sounds were the first indication of another spasm of chromesthesia. Diago clamped his eyes shut and found no safety behind the darkness of his lids. He envisioned Miquel dragging Rafael onto a different train. Both of them were spattered with Diago’s blood. Rafael had twisted in Miquel’s grip, the child’s eyes widening when Diago stumbled.
    He’d thought I wasn’t going to make it. At the time, Diago had wondered himself. He remembered lurching across the platform, determined to reach the train before—­
    Garcia bumped his shoulder. “The doors are going to shut.”
    Diago opened his eyes. A vortex of sound waves rushed around him. Nauseated by the sight, he forced himself through the brilliant colors of the mortals’ chatter. He spotted an empty seat by a window and fell into it.
    Nearby, a mother rocked her child and hummed a lullaby.
    The tune was identical to the one Rafael sang to Diago while he recovered from the ‘aulaqs’ attack. Sleep, child, sleep / Mamá has gone away / she sets the stars alight all through the night / and watches while you sleep. The memory of his son’s boyish soprano relaxed him.
    Garcia jostled him as he took the seat next to Diago, shattering the pleasant recollection. “You okay?”
    Diago opened his eyes. The violent colors and sound waves receded. His vision returned to normal. The episode passed, along with his fear. Excellent. No need to mention the chromesthesia. I moved through it. That small victory heartened him. “I’m fine.”
    â€œGood,” he said, although Diago sensed he really didn’t care one way or another. Garcia reached into his coat and removed a small novel.
    All around them, the mortals settled into their places as the car started to roll. The train picked up speed and passed into the tunnel.
    Electric lights were spaced at regular