Free Blood and Salt by Kim Liggett Page A

seemed healthy and happy. There were three distinct looks. Some had thick black hair and olive skin. Others were sturdily built megawatt blondes, and then there were redheads with spindly limbs and wide smiles.
    â€œAsh,” Rhys called out meekly. “If everything’s okay, I might just wait outside.” I peeked through the crowd of women to see my brother inching his way against the far wall, trying to make his escape. Beth caught his arm and swung him back into the thick of it.
    â€œLadies, this is Rhys Larkin and, yes, he’s unintended.”
    The room erupted into a fit of cackles and catcalls. The look of horror he shot my way as they pawed him was priceless.
    â€œMay I?” Lou asked as she held up a pitcher of water.
    Reluctantly, I tilted my head back and let her pour the water over my hair.
    â€œI remember when I prepared your mother for this very occasion seventeen years ago,” she said. “You look so much like her.”
    Just the mention of her brought up so many feelings—fear, hope, but above all, love. “When can I see her?” I asked, trying to bury my emotions, but the quiver in my voice betrayed me.
    â€œSoon.” Lou smiled, her eyes twinkling. “This must be overwhelming for you,” she said as she worked tea tree oil into my hair. “Especially since you’re a conduit.”
    I inhaled sharply. “What do you know about that?”
    â€œI can sense auras. I definitely feel another presence with you, but Spencer already told us what you are.”
    â€œWho’s Spencer?” I asked, sitting up straight, sloshing water over the side of the tub.
    â€œSpencer Mendoza. He’s the spiritual leader of the community—Katia’s eyes and ears.” Lou snapped her fingers, motioning to the water on the floor.
    Beth, who was talking to my brother, fetched a rag and maneuvered through the gathering.
    â€œSorry about that . . .” I winced, peering down at the puddle.
    â€œNo bother,” she said with a shrug as she mopped up the floor.
    Lou leaned forward and whispered, “They say being a conduit is a curse, but you control it very well.”
    Not well enough, I thought to myself. “My mother helped me.”
    â€œI can see that,” Beth chimed in with a reassuring smile.
    I ran my fingers over the last tattoo, wondering if it really was a curse. There was no pain when I touched it. I looked down to see that it had completely healed. And then I remembered my mother had pricked her finger with the bone needle when she was working on me. How she’d pressed her finger against my wound. As Katia’s vessel, maybe she was already immortal. Could she have healed me like Katia healed Alonso? She’d never been sick a day in her life, never been to the hospital, and she always looked so young.
    Maybe that’s the reason the protection marks weren’t working anymore. Maybe her blood healed me before it could take effect—maybe it messed everything up.
    As they scrubbed the grime of the outside world from my body, they told me stories about Katia. They spoke of her wisdom and kindness and the horrible injustice of Coronado killing Alonso and then forcing Katia to make him her immortal mate. But the biggest tragedy was when Coronado killed Katia’s seventeen-year-old daughter, Marie.
    â€œTo make matters worse,” Lou said as she leaned in close, “they say Marie was in love with Coronado. She was just a young woman, but first love is often the hardest. Can you imagine? Marie thought Coronado hung the moon, and then he killed her. Like his signet, a crow, wings outstretched, a star in one claw, a moon in the other, Coronado is a trickster. He’s capable of all kinds of treachery and black magic.”
    A shiver of recognition rushed through me when I remembered my mother’s studio filled with those black birds. Was Coronado looking for her?
    Lou placed her hand on my