around to see a man in the crowd clutching his behind and howling in pain.
G.G. had barely taken that in when his attention was drawn to another man, this one dressed in a red cloak, shiny shirt, and broad trousers covered in tiny bells, ribbons, and what looked to be bits of broken mirror. This character was also wearing a horned mask with bulging eyes and large teeth that included fangs. The teeth were stained red as if with blood.
“That is Diablo Cojuelo,” Ildaria shouted into his ear to be heard over the merengue music a small band of costumed men were playing.
“A vampire?” G.G. turned to ask in a shout. Even in dreams he wouldn’t shout the word immortal out loud.
“No.” She laughed and explained in a yell, “This is Carnaval. He is the Limping Devil. He was banished to earth because of the childish pranks he pulled. But his leg was injured when he landed, so he limps. At least, that is the official story. My grandmother used to say that he really represented the Spanish who invaded the island and enslaved the native people.”
“What is that he’s carrying?” G.G. asked, eyeing the balloon-like thing the Limping Devil was carrying. It really did look like a pale sort of pinkish skin-colored balloon, but G.G. was pretty sure that was what the howling man had been hit with. A balloon wouldn’t make a man shriek in pain like that.
“His vejiga. A dried and inflated cow bladder, cured with ashes, lemon, and salt. It is very hard. Come, he is getting too close. If he hits you with his vejiga it hurts and you will be bruised for a week,” she warned, and began to pull him away.
G.G. nodded, but glanced back over his shoulder as she pulled him along and thought he caught a glimpse of a naked woman with long black hair, or maybe wearing a dress of long black hair. Only there was something wrong with her feet. Turning back to Ildaria, he yelled, “What—?”
“La Ciguapa. Like a succubus. She walks naked, her long hair her only cover. Her feet are backward to confuse anyone who follows her footprints. She comes out at night and enchants men,” Ildaria explained, as they made their way through the crowd.
“Is this where you grew up?” he asked, catching glimpses of other costumed figures. A man in a woman’s dress carrying a chicken, a woman shrieking hysterically, a large group dressed in attire that looked almost native American but with much more intricate and colorful beading than he’d ever seen.
“Si. It is my village during Carnaval,” she yelled, and then paused and took a quick look around. Seeming satisfied that they weren’t near the Limping Devil and his vejiga, she turned her attention to the street scene and smiled faintly. “This was how the Carnaval was when I was young. Now it is as commercialized as Christmas, with sponsors and concerts and . . .” She shrugged unhappily. “It is not the same anymore.”
“You sound like an old woman,” he teased lightly.
Ildaria turned to him with a crooked smile. “I am an old woman,” she pointed out, and then grinned at his stunned expression as he realized she was right.
She had said she was born in 1812. That meant she was over two hundred years old, older than any mortal alive. She should be a shriveled old prune. But the nanos kept her young and beautiful. G.G. knew about immortals, and intellectually he knew that most if not all of them that he met were older than him, but for some reason he didn’t think of them that way.
“Oh, G.G., you are dating an older woman,” Ildaria said suddenly, with wide eyes. “A cougar.”
G.G. snorted at the claim. “You’re no cougar.”
“Si. Lydia, my friend from university, said an older woman with a younger man is a cougar. I am a cougar,” she assured him. “And you are mi perrito.”
“What is that?” he asked suspiciously.
“My puppy.”
“My puppy?” he gasped with disbelief.
“Well, it’s better than my kitty. That just sounds wrong. I could call you Osito.”
“Which means?”
“Cuddly teddy bear.” When he scowled, she said, “Semental? It means stallion.”
“Yeah, well that’s not what it sounds like,” he said dryly.
“Or polla grande,” she offered, and then smiled wickedly and explained, “It means big cock.”
G.G. felt the grin spread over his face. Yeah, he was a guy. He liked that name.
Ildaria burst out laughing at his expression, sidled closer, and he felt her hand slide up