Spring Bride

“Taxi,” she called, lifting her hand—the hand that so invitingly dangled the strap of her pocketbook. ”Hola! Taxi!”

Later, she would remember seeing it happen in a terrible kind of slow motion. The approaching motorbike, the grubby hand reaching out, the fingers closing tightly around the strap…

But at that moment, all Kyra knew was that a motorbike came whizzing past, something tugged sharply at her hand, and before she had time to react, it was all over.

The thief, the motorbike and her pocketbook were gone.

For a second, she couldn’t believe it. She stood staring after the bike while the sounds of the street faded; all she could hear was the thump of her own heart, and then she felt her knees turn liquid.

How could such a thing have happened? This was the middle of the day, the sidewalks were jammed with people…people intent on their own business, as they’d have been in any city back home.

Big city, Caracas. Got to keep your wits about you…

Kyra spun toward a woman coming out of the souvenir shop.

”Señonta,” she said in an unsteady voice, ”por favor…”

The woman smiled helplessly. “Sorry,” she said without breaking stride, “I don’t speak Spanish.”

Kyra stared after her. Well, neither do I, she thought wildly.

Calm down, she told herself, just calm down. You do speak Spanish. You can find a taxi, ask the driver to take you to the nearest police station, and report this.

Or was it best to head for the ship? It would be sailing soon; would anyone realize she wasn’t on board? And even if they did, would they hold up all the Empress’s other passengers just for her?

Of course they would, Kyra told herself, but the sinking feeling in her stomach said otherwise.

“Oh God,” she whispered, and she flew back into the shop where she’d bought the shirts and the straw bag. It took time to convince the clerk that she absolutely had to take all those things back, precious time Kyra didn’t have to waste, but finally she was out on the street again. She hailed a passing taxi and crossed her fingers.

She had just enough money to get to the docks. All she could hope now was that she’d also have just enough time to get to the Empress before the ship departed.

But she didn’t. The dock where the Empress had been moored was empty. All that remained of her was a windtossed brochure bearing the ship’s logo and the words, See Exciting Caracas blazoned across it in shrieking crimson.

Kyra stood in the deserted street, staring out over the oily water, telling herself there was no reason to panic.

Why should she panic? she thought, swallowing a hysterical laugh. Just because she had no money, no passport, no credit cards? Because she hadn’t the foggiest notion where to find a police station or the American Embassy? Because, now that the Empress was gone, she could see just how deserted these grimy streets really were?

”Buenos días, señorita.”

Kyra spun around. A man was grinning at her, his two gold-capped front teeth flashing in the late-afternoon sun.

“You are ’merican, si?”

His gold teeth were impressive, but so were his tattoos. A snake sporting huge fangs writhed on one arm; a pierced heart dripped crimson blood down the other.

Kyra cleared her throat. “I—I…”

I, what? Why was she stammering? So he had gold teeth. So he had tattoos. So what? She was on her own now; she wasn’t in a place where she’d be rubbing shoulders with men in tuxedos. Gold teeth and tattoos, she thought firmly, did not mean he was a bad person!

And so she smiled politely. “Yes,” she said, “I am. Could you tell me where I can find the American Embassy?”

“Ah, but the embassy is closed at this hour, señorita.” Gold Teeth frowned. “Is there some difficulty?”

Kyra nodded. “I’ve been robbed.”

Gold Teeth gasped. “Robbed? By one of my countrymen?” He clucked in sympathy. “That is most unfortunate. You must report this to the policía at once.”

Kyra managed a slight smile. “I would, if I knew where to find the nearest station. I don’t suppose you’d know…”

He turned and pointed toward a dark alley. “Of course. It is right through there.”

Kyra peered over his shoulder. The alley wasn’t just dark, it was almost black She couldn’t see more than a couple of feet into it.

“Where?” she said. “I don’t see…”

“Ah, you must go to the end, señorita. And then there is a right turn, and a left, and another left…” Gold Teeth looked at her. “Come, señorita. I will take you there myself.”

Kyra looked at the alley, then at her would-be rescuer. Suddenly, old Mr. Schiller’s voice rang in her ears.

Got to keep your wits about you…it said.

She took a step back. “No,” she said politely, “thank you very much for offering, but—”

”Señorita.” Gold Teeth smiled slyly, shuffled closer, and breathed cheap whiskey into her face. “You have no money, yes? An’ no man to help you.”

“I’ll be fine, señor. I am grateful, but—”

His hand shot out and clamped around her wrist.

“Be nice,” he said, “an’ I be nice, too. Otherwise—”

“Let me go,” Kyra demanded, twisting furiously against him.

Gold Teeth laughed as if she’d made a wonderful joke. “Sure. I let you go. But first—”

“I would suggest you take the lady’s advice, compadre.”

The voice came from behind her. It was male, deeply pitched, and though it was almost lazy in tone, there was no mistaking the authority in it.

Gold Teeth almost snarled with annoyance.

“This is not your business, man.”

“I have made it my business. Let go of the woman and I will permit you to leave here in peace.”

Gold Teeth threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, I am shaking with fear.”

The stranger’s voice hardened. “For the last time, let her go.”