Steampunk Banditos: Sex Slaves of Shark Island (Felix Gomez Detective-Vampire) (Volume 7) by Mario Acevedo

Author:Mario Acevedo [Acevedo, Mario]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Adventure SciFi Bundle
ISBN: 9781614756606
Amazon: 1614756600
Publisher: WordFire Press
Published: 2018-08-07T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Cascabel dismissed us and returned to his tent. His orderly led Malachi and me to the palisade and showed us where to put our blankets. After retrieving our war bags, bedrolls, and saddles, we tossed our gear on the designated spot. Malachi kept his clothes on and lay on his blanket. Hat over his face, he rested his head against his saddle. I was spreading my blanket on the ground when the orderly returned.

“Señor Gomez,” he said, “Doña Luz wants to see you.”

Since the only woman I had seen at the camp was the telepath, I assumed “Doña Luz” was her. I rose to my feet, mindful that despite the colonel’s show of hospitality, the rurales might be separating Malachi and me for a double cross. A glance at my friend confirmed that he was thinking the same thing as I caught him sliding an unholstered Schofield under his saddle.

Two soldiers tending the coffee pot watched me as I followed the orderly to the other side of the camp. The campfire had died down, and the glow from the coals in the pit dappled their faces with orange light. Rurales snored, burrito-wrapped in blankets along the periphery of the cul-de-sac, their naked feet pointed toward the campfire. Horses nickered softly in the remuda. Above on the canyon walls, sentries stood silhouetted against the Milky Way.

The orderly halted at a semi-circle of small rocks arranged around a canvas lean-to pinned to the rock wall. The rocks must’ve marked a perimeter he wasn’t allowed to cross. I smelled a faint trace of burning sage, tobacco, and hashish.

“Siga,” the orderly whispered, pointing at the lean-to.

“What does la doña want?”

“She’ll tell you.” He turned back toward the campfire.

This late at night, I hoped the reason for my visit was a booty call. The telepath wasn’t my type, but if getting between her big legs helped keep the peace between Malachi and me and the rurales, then I’d do my duty.

Just in case I tripped some kind of trap by crossing over the rocks, I primed my gun hand and my talons. Stepping to the nearest end of the lean-to, I crouched and whispered, “Doña Luz?”

“Oh Felix,” she answered, “since when are you so formal? Get your ass in here.”

Crap, yet someone else in this crazy place and time who’s got me confused with the other Felix. Goddamn him, wherever he was.

I lifted the lean-to’s flap and fragrant smoke rolled around me. Though plenty dark inside, I saw Doña Luz sitting cross-legged on a buffalo robe. Her telepath’s crown glinted in the meager light. Her braids were undone and her hair fell loose over her shoulders. She had stripped out of her uniform and her large breasts sagged against the white tunic draping her torso. Gear and weapons lay piled around her. Scooting close I smelled fresh human blood. She clamped one hand over her other wrist, which was bound in a cloth bandage.

“I thought you might be hungry.” A native accent added a musical cadence to her Spanish.

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