“Does that ever get on your nerves?” Jane asked Pilar in an acerbic tone. “That too-good-to-be-true shtick?”
Pilar smiled dreamily, watching Loup wrestle a stereo box out of the van. “No.”
“God, you really do have it bad!”
“Hmm?”
Jane shook her head. “Never mind. And, um… thanks.”
At four o’clock, they held the raffle. Father Ramon took the stage, waiting for the crowd to fall quiet. He beckoned for Loup and Pilar to join him. Once the crowd was still and listening, he spoke.
“Providence,” he said in his deep, resonant voice. “Grace. These are words I feared I might never speak in earnest in my lifetime. I speak them here today.” He gestured at the pile of prizes. “These gifts, these things, these material items… they are merely symbols. But what they symbolize is a gift of providence and grace.”
“He’s good,” Pilar whispered in Loup’s ear. “Ms. Coxcombe would approve.”
She nodded, shivering at her warm breath. “Yep.”
Father Ramon gave them a stern look. “The bearers of these gifts are, I grant, unlikely messengers. But they are messengers nonetheless, and the message they bear is one of hope.” He spread his arms, settling them on Loup and Pilar’s shoulders. “Let us rejoice that they are with us today! Let the raffle begin!”
Everyone cheered.
C.C. came onstage, holding up a fishbowl filled with ticket stubs. Loup grabbed an item at random. Pilar thrust her hand into the glass bowl and pulled out a stub.
“Three hundred ninety-two!” she called.
A young woman stumbled forward, waving her ticket, propelled by the people with her. “I think it’s me!”
Pilar checked her ticket. “Yep, sure enough.”
Loup handed her a portable stereo. “It might be a couple months before you’re able to get music for this, but trust me, it’s pretty cool.”
The raffle went on for almost an hour, the pile of prizes dwindling. People laughed and exclaimed in delight or envy, examining their prizes, making trades and generous promises to share. Under the influence of Father Ramon’s speech, the lucky winners were gracious and the unlucky folks who would go home empty-handed bore their loss good-naturedly.
The only thing close to a sour note came when Rosa Salamanca’s ticket was drawn. She stood glowering, torn between greed and disgust, while her grown sons pleaded with her to claim the prize. At last greed won out and she stalked across the square to present her ticket.
Pilar gave her one of her sweetest smiles. “Congratulations, Ms. Salamanca.”
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy this.” Loup handed her a video game player with a straight face. Rosa bit her tongue with a visible effort and contented herself with giving them both the evil eye before stalking back to her delighted sons.
And then the last prize was given. There was a disorganized, heartfelt cheer, followed by a lull as people began ferrying their bounty home.
“Now that was fun,” Pilar commented.
Loup smiled. “Yeah. Totally worth it.”
They merged back into the thinning crowd, mingling with the Santitos. Loup spied an opening at the torta vendor and went to buy a couple of sandwiches, having gotten hungry during the course of the raffle.
“My treat,” Mack said, intercepting her. “Pulled pork?”
“Yeah, but you don’t have to—”
He gave her a hard look. “Let a guy keep his dignity, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Mack.”
They found an opening on one of the low walls surrounding the square and sat eating pulled-pork tortas and drinking cold beer. Some yards away, Pilar was flirting with Joe the bartender, with whom she’d had a brief relationship and an amicable breakup. She glanced around in search of Loup, and spotting her, smiled and blew her a kiss. Loup smiled back at her and blew her a kiss in return.
“You and Pilar,” Mack mused. “Who ever thought that would last?”
“I did.”
“You’re happy.” It wasn’t a question.
Loup nodded.
“I’m glad.”
“I know,” she said softly. “You were the only one who didn’t laugh or make fun when we were first together.”
“Yeah.” Mack smiled wryly, rubbing the knee of his faded jeans. “I wish things had been different between us. I do. And I could have wrung her neck for breaking your heart. But the way she lights up whenever she looks at you…” He shook his head. “Like a little kid who’s just heard she can have cake and ice cream. You deserve it.”
Loup didn’t reply.
“And you…” He clinked his beer bottle against hers. “I didn’t realize I’d never seen you truly happy before you hooked up with Pilar. How can I not be happy for you?”
She clinked him back. “Thanks.”
“Yeah.” Mack regarded her. “You’re not staying, are you?”
“No.” Loup shook her head. “I’m not sure where we’ll go. Things might be a little crazy for a while. There’s the band, and this movie deal thing. But, um, we talked about buying a place in Huatulco, where my cousins live. You could come. There are jobs. Construction?”
“Nah.” Mack surveyed the crowd. “I belong here. Thanks, though.”
“Sure.”
“Kind of wild.” Loup smiled. “Rambunctious, you know? Isn’t that what Sister Martha called C.C. when he got out of control?”
“Uh-huh.”
“But in a good way,” she added. “They like to have fun, like to make the tourists point and stare. They’re the only ones of us to grow up free, truly free. And my aunts, they’re all so sweet and nice. Tía Marcela, especially. You’d like them.”
Mack slung an arm over her shoulders and gave her a hug. “I’m sure I would.”
“Come visit?”
“Someday, maybe.”
Day turned to dusk over Outpost; Santa Olivia, Santa Olvidada, forgotten and remembered. Blue dusk settled. People came back to the square, prizes stowed, the youngest babies bedded for the night. The generators hummed and the colored lights came to life. A new band took to the stage. Dusk gave way to velvety darkness.
Loup found Pilar.
“Hey, baby!” Pilar fished in her purse and pulled out a slim case. “Give me your necklace.”
She touched it. “Why?”
“Because I had a replacement made while you were in jail.” Pilar unfastened it deftly and settled a new gold chain around Loup’s throat. “I know, I know. That one was special. But this one is, too. And this time, the diamonds are real. Happy birthday, okay?”
Her throat tightened. “Pilar—”
“Oh, hush.” Pilar kissed her.
Fireworks went off.
The army had a team of demolitions experts supervising the process. There was a whoomph of sound, and then a bone-rattling boom. A chrysanthemum of sparkling golden fire blossomed in the sky above them.
“Whoa!” Loup whispered, awed.
“Yeah, whoa.” Pilar hugged her, gazing at the night sky. “It’s beautiful. Like you.”
“Like you.”
There was more, so much more. Silvery rocket trails that whistled and fizzled into nothingness, starbursts of emerald green and startling violet, glittering periwinkle anemones that turned to pale stardust, graceful cascades of golden sparkles. The smell of cordite hung in the air, a reminder of long-ago childhood festivals for those old enough to remember. On and on, the fireworks burst and crackled and sparkled above the town. All of waking Santa Olivia stood beneath the desert sky and marveled at the sight, silent with wonder. The dead would always be mourned, the long injustice a source of sorrow and regret. But the day had been a day of providence and grace, and the night was filled with magic.
Loup held Pilar’s hand, stealing glances at her rapt face.
When you were full of too much happiness for one heart to contain, fireworks were a very good thing.
Other Books by Jacqueline Carey
Naamah’s Blessing*
Naamah’s Curse*
Naamah’s Kiss*
Santa Olivia*
Kushiel’s Legacy
Kushiel’s Mercy*
Kushiel’s Justice*
Kushiel’s Scion*
Kushiel’s Avatar
Kushiel’s Chosen
Kushiel’s Dart
The Sundering
Godslayer
Banewreaker
* Available from Grand Central Publishing
PRAISE FOR SANTA OLIVIA
“By turns gut-wrenching and exhilarating… An intimate story of love, friendship, hope, and acceptance in a disenfranchised and forgotten world… For anyone who likes a well-told story driven by intensely realistic characters.”
—Miami Herald
“Another strong, fearless heroine with special powers… New readers will appreciate the tight focus that intensifies the depth of character and emotion.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A postmodern fable of enormous scope and force… and a love song to the beauty and power of being different. At the novel’s heart is the kind of grace Carey is known for: an illumination of the strength that lies hidden inside all of us.”
—Eric Van Lustbader, New York Times bestselling author, on Santa Olivia
“A paranormal coming-of-age story… Loup [and] the secondary characters are equally well drawn.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Carey’s signature eroticism and action drive this futuristic fable and keep the pages turning.”
—Curve
Contents
Front Cover Image
Welcome
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Forty-Six
Forty-Seven
Forty-Eight
Forty-Nine
Fifty
Fifty-One
Fifty-Two
Fifty-Three
Fifty-Four
Other Books by Jacqueline Carey
Praise for Santa Olivia
Copyright
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Jacqueline Carey
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Grand Central Publishing
Hachette Book Group
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First e-book edition: November 2011
Grand Central Publishing is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
The Grand Central Publishing name and logo is a trademark of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
ISBN 978-1-4555-0468-8