Evidence of Violet end of chapter one...

THE SLEEPING PRINCESS

They made it up the dark and winding road that ran countless zig-zags up the western slopes of the Sierra Madre Oriental range, and arrived in La Coma in the state of Tamaulipas just before dawn. On up above the small town, the snow-capped peaks seemed outlined in the first red glow of the sun just coming up on the other side.
Josephina pointed up toward it.
"Look, Ricardo, she lies there blushing," she said. He followed her gaze up the mountainside. The profile of the mountain top was said to resemble that of a woman reclining. Locals called her La Mujer Dormida, the 'sleeping woman', or sometimes,'the sleeping princess'. In ancient Aztec lore the formation had been known as Iztaccihuati; named after a legendary Aztec princess. For many years mixed blood Mestizos of the region have carried the legend forward even to this day. Josephina told him some Aztec blood courses through her, making her a Mestizo. And she recounted to him the ancient tragic love story of the princess and her warrior lover, Popocatepeti, numerous times.
"Popocatepeti was one of her father's warriors," she said. "She was led to believe her lover had died in war and so she then died of grief, not knowing it was a lie. When Popocatepeti returned from war, he was stricken with grief. He buried his princess, and the gods covered her with a white blanket of snow." She pointed to a volcano just north of The Sleeping Princess. "And there Popocatetepi is today. And now and then his anguish and rage still spills forth as molten red tears of lava."

They spent what little was left of the night at El Mirador, a small inn whose rooms were above a cantina by the same name. Hours later, they awoke to see how the sun had risen and how its rays now radiated away from The Sleeping Princess with a light so blinding one could not stare at her for long.

THE AIR

The morning air in the cantina was a mouth-watering mix of chile peppers roasting, chorizo in the skillets, and the aromatic fragrance of goat's head soup simmering in a wine based broth. A handful of locals sat at a long wooden table engaged in animated noisy conversation as a dark and lovely young girl replenished their coffee cups. A young couple from the states sat at a table by the window, their backpacks leaned up against the wall nearby. Outsiders came through La Coma for off-the- beaten-path kinds of experiences. Trails leading up the mountainside toward The Sleeping Princess ridge were popular with rugged hikers. There were waterfalls and an icy mountain lake along the way. And from atop the ridge the view to the other side was panoramic as the mountains descended into foothills that tumbled on down eventually to the shores of the Gulf of Mexico not quite visible some 200 miles away in the distance. And if one was particularly lucky one might glimpse an increasingly rare Andean condor gracefully circling and gliding as it rode a rising column of thermal updraft.

Josephina chattered with the cook in her native tongue. It had something to do with the soup. Did they remove the brain and prepare it separately, or leave it cooking in the skull? The brain was her favorite part. Josephina told her that her daughter Violet likes to come up to these mountains sometimes.
"Violet?" the woman repeated, with a nod. "Si, Violet. Very pretty, no?"
"Si," Josephina smiled.
Over breakfast, Josephina told Riccardo that the cook remembered Violet passing through a few weeks ago.
"And was Balthazaar with her?" he asked.
"I was afraid to ask for fear she might think we were looking for them," Josephina replied.
"Most likely they would have still been together at this point," Riccardo speculated. "If they somehow got separated, I think it would have been more likely over along the coast. In Tampico, maybe. Or somewhere along the way from there to Veracruz."
"How far away is Tampico?" Josephina asked.
"It shouldn't be too bad a drive. We are maybe thirty minutes away from the pass up and over to the east side of the mountains. It's a long downhill from there all the way to the coast. Maybe six or seven hours."
"Shall we go then?" Josephina asked.
"In a little while. First lets go back to our room and rest a bit more."
"Rest, Ricardo?" she smiled slyly.
"Yes. A little nap," he said. She laughed.
"Ricardo. Do you think I don't know what it is you are wanting?" He laughed in response. She stood and reached out her hand. "Come my little boy. I will give you what you need."

CHAPTER TWO

THE WAY STONES FEEL

Violet crossed her legs and leaned back, watching the men on the boat moving about and eying her. She sipped her drink, pretending not to notice their constant glances. At her legs. At her breasts. Her hair, a shaggy sun-bleached unbrushed mop. Her skin the color of wet sand. Her lips, a parched and cracked reddish brown. She was skinny almost to an anorexic fault. She gazed out at the sea in a dreamy way, but all the while knowing they all wanted to fuck her. She was in the company of dangerous men. But she had a good grip on it. Men and their dicks are no match for her.

In her hand bag were the essentials. Lipstick, a couple of condoms, a passport, a chrome-plated revolver, and an envelope full of money. She was ready to pull any of these from her purse, whatever the situation required. Balthazaar had thought of everything. Still her pulse was rapid. The adrenaline of knowing this is the real deal.

He sat down next to her.
"A sweet air mixed with salt, eh?" he said, inhaling the sea air. Violet turned to look at his pretentious face.
"Do you have something for me, or not?" she said, in a seductive voice. He placed a hand lightly on her knee and began to slide it up under her dress. She brushed it aside. "I am talking about business here, not pleasure."
"You drive a hard bargain, Miss....?"
"Miss Nobody to you." she said boldly, her hand already dipping into her purse for better or worse.
"Yes, of course, I am a man of my word." he said, fumbling in his pocket. Violet's fingers curled around the gun in her purse as she watched him. He produced a small cloth bag and emptied it into his palm. "Is this what you are looking for, perhaps?" The snarl on his lips as he said it, made her want to kill him on the spot. Instead, she just nodded. She let go of the gun and fumbled for the envelope of cash He poured the stones into her slender hand. She closed her fingers around them. She handed him the envelope. Now, it was just a matter of getting home alive.

WHAT WENT DOWN IN TAMPICO? (to be continued...)