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  ALSO BY LUZ GABÁS

  Palm Trees in the Snow

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2014 Luz Gabás

  Translation copyright © 2017 Noel Hughes

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Previously published as Regreso a tu piel by Planeta in Spain in 2014. Translated from Spanish by Noel Hughes. First published in English by AmazonCrossing in 2017.

  Published by AmazonCrossing, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and AmazonCrossing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781477823187

  ISBN-10: 1477823182

  Cover design by Shasti O’Leary Soudant

  To José Español Fauquié, with whom I have spent years sharing centuries. A breath. A brief moment in time.

  CONTENTS

  START READING

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  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR

  Once again.

  The water and the gusting wind furiously lash her body.

  Or is it mine?

  A woman runs. Her boots sink into the mud. She has long dark hair. Clumps stick to her face and shoulders.

  They weigh me down.

  She’s panting. In shock. Desperate.

  Now she clambers over a stone wall and jumps down onto a path, nearly tripping on the uneven pebbles.

  I can’t breathe …

  Thorny branches hit her face, rip her clothes, and prick her flesh, but she presses on. Red leaves from the trees rot on the ground. Suddenly, the path ends.

  She looks up and spots a narrow aqueduct over a gully.

  I know she knows―because she’s been here before, when she wanted to be alone—that the aqueduct carries water down the hills to the meadows.

  A brief moment of relief. She flings herself to the ground and begins to crawl, trying to straddle the narrow waterway. Her hands slip against the viscous dampness of centuries-old moss.

  It is soft and delicate, a little sticky.

  It feels unpleasant.

  Raindrops trickle down the orange rocks like tears, pausing for an instant before falling into the chasm and crashing on the rocks below.

  I see them fall, one and thousands at the same time—infinite, terrifying.

  Plink, plink, plink, plink …

  I am afraid. This noise frightens me. The position of the woman frightens me …

  Who are you?

  Watch out!

  She is sitting on the aqueduct now, her legs dangling over the void!

  She clings to the stone on either side of her thighs to prevent herself from being knocked over by the roaring wind. She looks down, and the vertigo seems to jolt something to the surface.

  Her chin drops to her chest and her body convulses in violent sobs.

  I feel a deep grief strangling me.

  What’s wrong with you?

  What’s wrong with me?

  It is that feeling again. It is as if … I don’t know.

  She just wants to disappear.

  The drops fall and fall.

  The drumbeat of hooves. A whinny. An enormous black animal gallops up and rears at the edge of the gully. A body falls and smashes against the rock.

  I think she recognizes the horse.

  The body under the bridge isn’t moving. It is facedown, very close to the water. The horse stamps nervously.

  You have to help! Get down from there!

  Somehow, as if by magic, she manages to climb down the sharp rocks. She leans over the body, pulls back the cape that’s fallen over his face, and rests a hand on each shoulder to turn the body around. His face is covered in blood.

  “You!” she exclaims, relieved.

  I think I’ve seen him before too. But where?

  Those eyes burning through me, whose are they?

  And here they come again, the shouts filled with hate and fear.

  And that monotonous voice repeating, over and over, the words I cannot understand.

  “Omnia … mecum …”

  1.

  2012

  “I’m here,” she heard someone saying softly. “It’s over.”

  Brianda slowly opened her eyes. It was over for now, but she knew the nightmares would return, as they had with increasing frequency over the past few months. What was happening to her? She blinked a couple of times in the light. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and her body was sticky with sweat.

  “Esteban.” Her voice was hoarse. She wanted to add something else but didn’t know what. No one could help her, not even him, because she didn’t know what was wrong.

  “Relax, darling.” Esteban waited until her eyes focused and she returned to the present. Then he sat up, leaned against the headboard, and pulled her into his chest. “Feeling better?”

  Brianda nodded, smiling slightly to appease Esteban, but she felt troubled. He was so patient with her, maybe too patient. In all this time, he hadn’t shown even the slightest reproach. She wondered if she would be so calm if things were the other way around, if Esteban woke her up at all hours in a state.

  She sat up. Her head hurt. Headaches were becoming a permanent fixture in her life.

  “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she whispered. She raised a hand to her aching throat.

  “It must be because of today’s meeting.” Esteban patted her hand. “In a couple of hours, it’ll be all over.” He looked at the alarm clock. It was seven. “I’d better get up. I have a busy day too.”

  As he walked toward the bathroom, Brianda snuggled back into the blankets. The Latin words still echoed in her head: Omnia … mecum … She closed her eyes and saw disconnected images and sensations: a woman, a horse, water, something sticky between her fingers. All the same as before. She knew dreams didn’t usually recur so often. Maybe her mind was warning her about something, but she couldn’t think of anything beyond her job, which was being affected by the lack of sleep. Everything else was fine.

  She heard the water in the shower and voices on the radio. It wasn’t long before Esteban appeared with his brown hair tousled and beads of water on his naked body. He opened the closet and chose a pair of gray trousers and a white shirt. Brianda watched as he got dressed.

  “How about this jacket?”

  Esteban put it on and posed.

  “P
erfect for a forty-year-old lawyer,” she said.

  “Hey! I’m not forty yet!” he said, feigning offense. “Anyway, you’re only a few years behind me.” He sat at the foot of the bed to put on his shoes. “All ready for your big day?”

  Brianda nodded without much enthusiasm. After weeks of hard work, she would be presenting a new project to the hospital’s management committee. There was a lot of money at stake. If she succeeded, her company would earn a juicy contract, and she might get a promotion. However, despite her experience, she was horribly nervous. She hadn’t told Esteban about last week’s slip up—she’d been afraid to—but another mistake like that and her reputation in the company would be ruined.

  Esteban gazed at her for a moment, and, in his eyes, Brianda saw what he had told her so many times—that he loved her morning fog. It was easy for him to jump out of bed, but for her, each morning was a battle against sleep. Her heavy eyelids, her rosy cheeks, and her messy dark hair gave her an air of charming untidiness. She wondered if he could see the veil of worry over her dark eyes.

  “I’m sure everything will go great.” Esteban leaned down to kiss her. He then stroked her cheek and got up. “Call me when you finish, please.”

  “I will.”

  “And don’t fall back asleep!” he said teasingly before he left.

  Brianda lay in bed for a couple more minutes until she saw dawn breaking. Then she got up and went to the window. Bit by bit, the bustle of daytime Madrid was gaining ground on the night: delivery vans, a young woman hurriedly pushing a bleary-eyed child in a stroller, a man with a newspaper under his arm stopping for a coffee, some foreign women entering the apartment buildings where they worked as housekeepers, the first car horns from impatient drivers. No different from any other autumn day on the street where she and Esteban had bought and renovated their old apartment. Brianda knew how much she had to be grateful for: a stable partner, a managerial job, a beautiful home.

  I shouldn’t get so stressed about it, she thought. She was good at public speaking: dealing with smart alecks in tense meetings, keeping an audience’s attention despite dry topics, meeting her goals. There was no reason today should be any different. What happened last week wouldn’t happen again; besides, Tatiana had saved the situation.

  Ugh, Tatiana. She was an efficient, intelligent, charming woman who Brianda couldn’t stand. She didn’t trust her new colleague’s extreme friendliness. Had the nightmares begun when Tatiana arrived? Did they have anything to do with the young assistant gaining ground on Brianda, the veteran? The bridge, the running, the water … Maybe it all represented her fear of losing control.

  Brianda shook her head. She needed a shower. She turned up the radio and let news of the troubled world distract her while warm water fell over her body like a balm. After getting dressed, she made some hot tea with honey to soothe her throat and took some ibuprofen for her head. A steaming mug in one hand and a laptop in the other, she crossed the bright, spacious living room. She settled into a cushy armchair beside the large window to the terrace, admonishing herself to relax and enjoy the expansive view of the skyline. But after just a few sips of her drink, she couldn’t wait any longer. She switched on the laptop.

  She knew she should rehearse the presentation, but she couldn’t get the dream out of her head. What did it all mean? A man with an unknown face, a horse, and then there were those Latin words. An online dictionary of dream symbols left her unsatisfied. A horse meant a happy and prosperous future life, or a love affair if it was being ridden. But she wasn’t riding in the dream. Also, if the animal was dark, it could mean misfortune. A foreign language meant a subconscious message trying to be heard. And, finally, the heavy rain forecasted a stormy period.

  She turned off the device and drained the last drop of tea. She heard her phone chime: a cheerful text from Tatiana about being nervous. So fake, Brianda thought. She left her mug in the sink, gathered up her work folders, put on a raincoat, grabbed her bag, and headed out.

  Not until the elevator doors closed did she realize her hands were cold and damp as moss.

  “You look great!” Tatiana exclaimed. “Trying to impress the committee?”

  “You’re not looking so bad yourself,” Brianda replied.

  Both women wore suits, but Tatiana had on a pair of very high heels and her long brown hair hung loose. Brianda, always one for comfort, had chosen a pair of flats and pulled her hair back in a bun.

  A hospital receptionist had escorted her to the meeting room, where Tatiana had already laid out presentation folders in front of each chair at the large mahogany table. The first slide of their presentation glowed on the screen. Brianda took her place and suggested they do a quick run-through. This presentation was extremely important. The country was in crisis, the markets had hit rock bottom, and jobs were hanging by a thread, so every contract signed was cause for relief and celebration. Besides, she was grateful to have an exciting job that she loved—a job she hoped to keep for a long time to come. She absentmindedly tapped her pen against the folder.

  “Are you all right?” Tatiana asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Brianda snapped, blushing. “Why do you ask?”

  “You seem different. You’re fiddling with your pen.” She paused for a moment and then shot her arrow: “Are you nervous? Don’t worry. If what happened the other day happens again, I’ll give you a hand.”

  “The other day I had a fever,” Brianda said. It was a lie, but she had to say something. “I’m perfectly fine now, thank you very much.”

  Just then, the door opened, and the committee entered. They chatted among themselves as they sat down. Brianda used the moment to take a deep breath. She put on a smile, straightened her back, crossed her hands on the table, and tried to feign interest in Tatiana’s introduction. She had five minutes before it was her turn to speak.

  Suddenly, Brianda was overcome by a strange feeling of unreality. She heard Tatiana’s voice but could not make out her words. The room faded, and her heart began to race. She shifted in her chair and slid her right hand as casually as she could to the back of her neck, which felt hard as a rock.

  “Now I’d like to introduce my colleague Brianda,” said Tatiana, tapping the key that brought up a slide with the word “Cogeneration” on it.

  Brianda didn’t move.

  Tatiana came over to her, smiling anxiously, and put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Brianda.”

  Brianda struggled to her feet. Her head was spinning. She’d never fainted before but imagined it would feel something like this. She looked at the screen, and a torrent of words filled her mind. She had to get ahold of herself. Once she began to speak, the words surely would flow by themselves.

  “Cogeneration is the joint production of usable electricity and thermal energy,” she began, “by the users themselves—” She coughed and raised a hand to her throat. She couldn’t even hear herself. She tried to raise her voice. “This simultaneous generation of heat—”

  She coughed again and met Tatiana’s eyes.

  Brianda had no explanation for the anguish that flooded her body. A rational voice in her head pointed out that, if she were ill, she couldn’t be in a better place, surrounded by doctors and nurses. The fog eased for a moment, and she could see that the only way out was to ask Tatiana for help.

  “My sincerest apologies,” she whispered, “but I’ve been hoarse for a few days, and I’m afraid I’m not fully recovered.” She fixed her gaze on an elderly man and smiled apologetically. “I’m sure Tatiana will be kind enough to …”

  She leaned a trembling hand on the table and with immense relief accepted the refuge of the leather chair. Tatiana didn’t waste a second in taking over. Brianda only partially understood what her colleague was saying.

  “The big advantage is its greater energy efficiency … its use in hospitals for heating, refrigeration, and preparation of hot water …”

  Why was she still so warm? she wondered.
>
  “By avoiding transportation and tension changes that represent a significant loss in energy …”

  A loss in energy. If Brianda had been run over by a truck she wouldn’t have felt this flattened.

  “The surplus energy can be sold to the electric grid …”

  Being surrounded by all these people only made the feelings more terrifying. Please, let it be over soon, she thought. Let them not ask questions.

  “Could you tell us, Tatiana … to what point could political policy affect …”

  Brianda had really screwed up. If they somehow got the contract, Tatiana would obviously take all the credit. After Brianda’s years of experience, her engineering degree and specialization in environmental management, her parents’ pride, her salary …

  She had to get some air. She stumbled out of the conference room and looked for a bathroom where she could hide. There, she took off her jacket, undid the top buttons of her blouse, turned on the tap, and splashed water on her face and neck. The mirror reflected a pale, puffy-eyed stranger.

  Her phone rang and, pulling it from her bag, she saw that it was the office. She didn’t answer. Seconds later, a text message came in: How did it go?

  And then a message from Esteban: Any news?

  Why were they asking already? She looked at her watch and her heart skipped a beat. More than a half hour had gone by without her noticing.

  She closed her eyes and focused on her breath.

  She needed more help than a dream dictionary could provide.

  “And when I got back to the office, the manager said I should use my vacation time and take a couple weeks to rest.” A knot in Brianda’s stomach prevented her from eating dinner. “He didn’t even look me in the eyes, the asshole. I almost told him to take his rest and shove it.”

  “It’s probably not a bad idea to take a little time,” Esteban said.

  Brianda looked up in surprise. Esteban had listened without asking any questions, and she’d been so grateful for his silent support, the way he’d held her hand while she tearfully let it all out.