Free Our Lady of the Ice by Cassandra Rose Clarke Page B

down at the Loro, sharking the pool tables while he waited for Garcia to show up with Batista Almeida’s money. The bartender had the radio on, tuned to a news station; the newsman was going on about the electrical troubles that had been plaguing the city the last few days. That was the phrase they used—“electrical troubles.” Everybody Diego knew was calling it what it was: blackout. The lights had been growing dimmer and dimmer, and flickering sometimes. You’d hear the hum of a heater, and then, for two or three seconds, you wouldn’t.
    The news was blaming it all on the AFF , of course. Probably got their information from the city. The city was always blaming the AFF or the robots for their own damn problems.
    Diego was in the middle of a thirty-dollar hustle when one of Mr. Cabrera’s robots showed up, sliding in through the maintenance hatch next to the jukebox. The guy Diego was scamming, some poor lost soul from Madrid, saw it first, jerking his head up and then missing his shot by a mile.
    “The hell?” he asked.
    Diego looked over his shoulder and scowled when he saw the robot. One of the newer ones, egg-shaped and covered in linesof lights. Its shell had been carved up with that flower from the Florencia’s sign. Mr. Cabrera left his calling card on anything he could.
    The lights glowed green. It had a message.
    “What the fuck is that doing in here?” the Spanish man asked.
    “They come in sometimes.” Diego leaned his pool cue against the table. “Excuse me.”
    He walked away. The robot whirred behind him. Diego could feel the Spanish man watching after them both, but Diego knew better than to finish up the game if Mr. Cabrera was waiting.
    “Hey!” the Spanish man yelled as Diego pulled open the door leading outside. “Where are you going?”
    Diego ignored him. He went out onto the street, the robot tagging along like a puppy. This part of town, the streets stayed empty, even during the day.
    “I’m waiting for Garcia,” Diego said.
    The lights on the robot’s back flickered.
    Diego sighed, rolled his eyes. “Come on.” He led the robot down the street a couple of blocks until he found an alley where no one would bother them.
    “All right, you little asshole,” he said. “Show me what you’ve got.”
    The lights flickered again. The damn thing wanted authentication. Jesus. This wasn’t going to be anything Diego wanted to hear.
    He pressed his palm against the robot’s sensor. A pause, then the lights went blue, and the robot spoke in Mr. Cabrera’s voice.
    “Are you alone?”
    “Yeah, man, I’m alone.”
    The robot stalled out, lights flickering again. It didn’t like his answer.
    “Yes,” Diego said, all proper like he was talking to Mr. Cabrera himself.
    The lights went still. “I need you to come to the Florencia as soon as you get this. Not as soon as you’re able. Do you understand?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good. Confirm you got the message.”
    Diego kicked at the gravel in the alley. Garcia was going to befucking pissed, showing up at the Loro without a contact. No way to say that to the robot, though. It only understood two things: “Yes” and everything else, which pretty much amounted to “no.”
    “Yes,” Diego said.
    The robot didn’t move, and for a minute Diego thought he might have answered wrong. But then with a click and a whir it shot straight up in the air and disappeared into the dome lights. Dim, of course, dimmer than they ought to be.
    As soon as you get this.
    The Florencia wasn’t far from here, maybe twenty minutes on the train. He left the alley, heading for the closest station. It never occurred to him not to.
    Mr. Cabrera asked him to show up, he showed up. The man had seen something in him when he was a little kid—a hardness, he’d told Diego once, a strength that the other kids lacked. And so Mr. Cabrera had dragged him out of the streets. He’d saved Diego’s life. Coming when he was called was the least Diego could