The Devil's Standoff

chapter 7

You must have been quite a handful as a child,” Raúl commented on the ride out.

Hettie hid her frown beneath the wide brim of her borrowed straw hat. Abby sat ahead of her on Blackie’s saddle, even though she’d been offered a little gray burro for the expedition. Hettie didn’t like letting her sister ride unfamiliar animals, though. There was no telling what a mount’s temperament was like. “What makes you say that?”

“You have not stopped watching your surroundings since you arrived, so either you are curious or you are cautious. I imagine you must have spent a lot of time as a child exploring your world and testing your limits.”

“I just don’t want to be caught unawares,” she said, avoiding his intense gaze and the truth he might see in her eyes.

“There are few creatures out here who could hurt you while I am here.”

“And what about bandits? Or these army men you spoke of?”

“We would get away before they could bring us to harm.” He switched topics. “I’m sorry if you were met with some hostility this morning in the village,” he said. “The circumstances are unusual.”

“That’s a polite way of saying everyone’s afraid of us.”

“Please understand, we have not had visitors in many years—it’s too dangerous with the government and federales always hounding us. Our gates used to be open to anyone seeking asylum—my father never turned away a person in need. But then we had an incident about ten years ago—a spy nearly succeeded in sabotaging the barrier spell. For our safety, we closed the gates to all outsiders and put a hide spell to conceal our location to anyone who does not know what to look for.” He gazed at her. “Your arrival here is … remarkable. Historic, even.”

“Ain’t nothing remarkable about two girls looking for work.” There she went, being rude to her host again. She didn’t know why she was so hostile when she owed the man and his village for their well-being.

“You are very plainspoken.” Raúl smiled wryly. “Are all American girls so honest?”

She shrugged. “No sense in dancing around facts.”

Blackie gave an affirmative snort, and Raúl chuckled. “You are very much like Beatrice. Walker’s mother. Very outspoken. Very … Well, you will meet her soon enough. She and the others are due back from the city any day now.”

They rode at a brisk trot north-northwest for nearly an hour. Hettie hadn’t relished being back on horseback after only one night, but it was better than doing nothing in the village with everyone giving them the evil eye.

Eventually, they stopped by a dried-up stream bed. Raúl dismounted and unrolled a canvas mat checkered with little pockets, each containing a talisman. Hettie had never seen such a tidy system of organizing all those stones and feathers and bits of bric-a-brac sorcerers used for spell casting. Uncle pulled them out of his pockets willy-nilly.

Raúl handed a notebook and a charcoal pencil to Hettie. A running chart of numbers and symbols filled the pages. She could see the difference between Raúl’s penmanship and his assistant’s—Raúl’s strokes were sharp and lean, while Julia’s were rounded and generously curved. “Did you learn runework in school?” he asked.

“It wasn’t part of my lessons, but I know a few from what Pa used on the farm.”

Raúl nodded. “I will recite a set of numbers to you as I work. You will need to record them in this column. Later I will teach you to record the runes, but that will take more time than we have.”

“What are we doing exactly?” she asked as he sat cross-legged on the ground and began removing stones, bones, feathers, and sticks from the mat’s pockets.

“It is somewhat difficult to explain to someone who has not studied magic formally. Has anyone ever told you how magic works?”

“Not exactly. I’ve been told everyone has their own theory about the source of magic and how people access it. My pa said it was like the wind—kinda comes from nowhere but is everywhere.”

“That is not a bad analogy, but I would say it’s more like water. It is the traditionalist’s theory—that it is an all-encompassing, free-flowing energy force. I’ve been studying the flow of magic and trying to determine where it is going and why it is disappearing from the land. It’s a little like casting a handful of feathers into a stream to see where the currents take them.” He glanced at Abby, who stared north.

“The goats are restless,” she murmured.

Raúl’s brow wrinkled. “Is she all right?”

Hettie sighed and took her sister by the hand. “Lie down for a bit, Abby. Have a nap.”

Abby sat on the warm sandstone. Raúl took his serape down off his horse and laid it out for her, and she promptly curled up on it.

“She sleeps quite a lot,” Raúl remarked. “Is she always so tired?”

“I suppose it’s just her growing-up phase. Ma said I slept a lot as a young ’un, too.” Hettie worried it could be something else, though. Abby might be using her powers inadvertently—there were all kinds of protection and misdirection spells she might have picked up from Uncle along their journey, and having seen her sister effortlessly mimic other sorcerers, Hettie thought it was possible she was casting those spells without realizing it. “I’m sorry. I know Walker said no one freeloads in your village, but Abby—”

“It’s all right. I recognize she is special. In time, she will find her place.”

Hettie bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t certain of that. On the ranch Abby had required constant attention when given a task. One time Ma had asked her to sweep the kitchen. She’d found Abby a few minutes later with the broom stuck in the stove, watching it catch fire.

“Ready to begin?” Raúl asked.

She nodded. Raúl picked up a handful of pebbles and scattered them across his mat, muttering a spell. Then he picked up a twig and stared at it intently. “North-northeast, twenty-two, ninety-four…”

For the next hour Hettie noted a long list of cardinal directions and two numbers, leaving the last column for the rune blank. With each reading Raúl picked up another talisman and cast another spell. Abby slept on.

After nearly an hour they moved to another location and repeated the process. When they settled into their new spot, Abby was more awake. She squatted nearby, staring at a mound of sand crawling with ants. As the sun rose higher they took to the shade and ate lunch.

“So how long have you been at this?” Hettie asked as Raúl studied her notations. It’d been a boring morning, but she couldn’t imagine how much longer it would’ve taken if he’d had to stop and make notes himself every few seconds.

“More than a year now. The eddies are very subtle and change almost daily. I need a lot of data to make any conclusions.”

“Have you been able to figure out what’s going on?”

“I have theories only. So far, all the measurements indicate that magic is flowing north toward the Wall.”

“Well, that’s not unusual, is it? I thought magic went where spells were cast, and the Wall’s basically one big spell.”

“It’s more complicated than that. The Wall was raised by magic, yes, and requires maintenance to keep it erect, but it should not be draining all the magic from the land.”

Hettie turned this over in her mind, struggling to follow. “So … magic is flowing out of the village, but that’s not normal?”

“The village lies in a deep well of magic. Mr. Bassett called it a node, which I suppose is also accurate—it is both a convergence of many streams as well as a reservoir where magic collects. Magic flows and pools and generally takes the path of least resistance, though we don’t know about all the factors that direct its flow. One thing is certain: magic should be gathering here, not flowing out. Water does not run uphill.” His brow wrinkled.

“We ran across a well like this in Wyoming,” she said. “It was a sacred site … and the scene of a massacre.”

Raúl nodded. “Many naturally occurring nodes and wells do not retain their magic forever. Often, they are corrupted or destroyed, usually by man.”

“Like the old abandoned Zoom tunnels. That’s why they don’t build railroad tracks through Zoom apertures, isn’t it?”

“Exactly. I’m sure you’ve heard the story of Sonora station.”

She knew it a little too well. The abandoned Sonora Zoom station in Arizona was where Zavi and the Crowe gang had kept Abby. Decades earlier the Zoom tunnel had collapsed after the army tried to build a rail line through the naturally occurring underground aperture. The incident had killed many people, and for a long time metal was banned from traveling through any Zoom tunnel. That ban had been eased more recently—a decision made by the Zoom Union and sanctioned by the Division of Sorcery to allow automobiles belonging to the wealthiest and most influential to pass through … for an exorbitant fee, of course.

She asked, “Are there Zoom tunnels here in Mexico?”

He blew out a breath. “No active ones I know of. There is some evidence that the people who once lived on this land did know of them. Some of the ancient Aztec and Mayan cities and temples may even have been constructed around these apertures once, but that may have ended up destabilizing them. It is more likely, however, that they were destroyed by the invading Spanish.” His gaze grew hard and distant. “Villa del Punta is the only place I know of where magic has been preserved. That seems to be changing, though. If I can come up with at least a theory as to why magic is disappearing, perhaps I might send my findings to the American Division of Sorcery and they can do something about it.”

“Doesn’t Mexico have its own Division?”

He grimaced. “Not an organized one, no. The gifted have always been trained privately, sometimes within families, sometimes within villages and towns. All the gifted in the village learned from my father and me. You see, sorcery is seen as too heretical, and is treated by some as devilry. The government under Presidente Diaz has been quite pro-mundane. There was some talk of registering all gifted as they do in America … but that only pushes the gifted farther underground here. Another reason we keep to ourselves in the village.”

Hettie nodded along. Raúl clearly liked the sound of his own voice, but she was also gathering useful information that Uncle had been too impatient to impart. “So where does magic come from?”

“No one really knows what the source of magic is. Many think it comes from the core of the earth, but others theorize that it comes from the heavens—that it falls from the sky and scatters all over the world. Some traditions believe it is God-given, though which God is something people have fought about since the beginning of time. Others believe it comes from within. One thing we do know is that all magic can be redirected and blocked by metal.”

Not all magic, Hettie thought, remembering how Diablo had melted through manacles and blasted its way out of solid iron boxes. She didn’t correct Raúl, though.

Raúl glanced over at Abby, who was poking at the anthill. “She should not do that.”

“Abby.” Hettie drew her sister away. The ants had swarmed together, surging into a large pile as if they’d attack their foe as one. “Don’t touch the wildlife. Remember the snakes?”

“They couldn’t help it. They’re born that way.”

“Maybe so, but you don’t need to aggravate them.” She handed her a blank sheet of paper and a piece of charcoal. “Here. Draw me something.”

Abby laid the sheet on the ground and applied herself fervently. Her eyes went blank, which Hettie did not like, but at least she would be occupied for a while.

She looked up to find Raúl watching them. “She hasn’t been trained at all?”

“No.” Not that she was about to get into Abby’s time with Zavi. Who knew what horrific Kukulos blood spells she’d learned from him?

“That can be dangerous, you know. Without training, unchecked power can wreak havoc.”

Hettie knew that all too well, but didn’t respond. “How much longer are we going to stay out here?”

“I want to go to one more location before we head back.”

They traveled to a spot near a river bordered by hearty scrub and tough grass that grew in thick clumps all around them. The horses drank deeply, and Raúl filled their canteens. Hettie kept one eye on Abby, afraid she’d wander off and dunk herself into the water, but she was engrossed by the paper and charcoal, filling up every corner of the sheet on both sides with scrawls and scribbles while she hummed to herself.

The shadows of the hills lengthened as the hour grew late. Hettie began to worry. They were a good two-hour ride from the village, and she didn’t want to be stuck out here overnight.

Finally Raúl finished. Hettie handed him the notebook and stretched, her neck popping. The work wasn’t exactly enthralling, and she didn’t look forward to doing this again.

As they were packing up, Raúl paused, staring into the distance. “Wait.”

“What…?”

“Quiet.” He held out a hand. The horses shook their manes and danced restlessly. Abby suddenly looked up and whimpered.

Hettie’s skin buzzed. Something wasn’t right—her hands grew slick with sweat as a low rumbling noise like the thunder of hooves shook the air.

“Mount up. Mount up!” Raúl urged them into Blackie’s saddle. The stallion took off the moment Hettie grabbed his reins. He dodged left and right, weaving through the vegetation to clearer, more even ground. She could hear Raúl right behind them.

And then came the roar.

It was like nothing Hettie had ever heard—an inhuman squeal, like a pig being devoured by a mountain lion. Abby cowered, bending lower on the saddle.

Diablo appeared in Hettie’s grip as she glanced over her shoulder. She wished she hadn’t.

Less than a hundred yards and gaining behind Raúl was a creature the size of a buffalo, loping on long, muscular limbs. Its claws raked the earth, leaving a chewed-up trail and scattering a plume of dust behind it. Its gray-brown fur was long and shaggy, draping from a long neck that ended on a sloped head bristling with short, sharp teeth. The furled horns on its crown were like a bighorn’s but ended with points in the front dangling just below its ears. It reminded her of the old wood block prints of the devil she’d seen in some more gruesomely illustrated Bibles, only this creature was bounding across the desert on all fours.

Raúl rode hard, fumbling for something in his saddlebag. “Keep going!” he shouted, brandishing a short, fat baton. He wheeled his horse around, and it shied and panicked at the sight of the beast barreling toward them.

Hettie knew she should do as he said. Abby was with her, and she couldn’t let any harm come to her sister. But considering the monster’s speed, she knew they’d never outrun it. She couldn’t put Abby at risk, and she couldn’t leave Walker’s brother to face the monster alone.

There was only one way to ensure Abby could get away. Hettie slowed the stallion. “Abby, stay on Blackie and ride back to the village as fast as possible.” She slid off. Blackie was fast, but he’d be faster without her weight. “Go, Blackie, go!”

The stallion bolted, and Abby clung to the saddle, wailing. Hettie ignored the pang inside her as she faced the creature. Blackie was smart. He would take care of Abby.

She crouched low, the Devil’s Revolver at the ready as Raúl steadied his horse. The monster had pulled up short, surprised at his prey’s boldness. The sorcerer waved the baton in front of him like the wands the sorcerers from the days of kings and knights once used, speaking an incantation, his voice sonorous and lulling. Beneath him, the horse thrashed, its eyes huge.

She was so enthralled by the sight, she barely noticed the rattler curled up not three feet away. It gave a shake of its tail, alerting Hettie only a second before it struck.

Time was instantly suspended in syrup, and Hettie watched in morbid fascination as the snake uncoiled into one long rope of muscle, its jaws unhinged, its fangs dripping venom. With a fluid motion, she sidestepped the lunging snake, raised her sidearm, and fired. A burst of green fire reduced the snake to a stain on the ground.

Her time bubble popped, and the monster turned and looked at her.

Its black regard was hungry and angry all at once, and it prickled all over her body as if a dark flame had brushed against her skin. The creature snuffled and gave a low, throaty growl. Raúl frantically waved the wand, but it did no good. The monster stalked toward Hettie.

“Hettie!” Raúl wheeled his horse and chased after the beast as it burst into motion. Its long, powerful strides ate up the ground, the hard-packed earth crunching audibly as its claws churned it up.

Hettie stood frozen, trapped in the creature’s demonic glare. She whipped Diablo up, but her hand trembled. With effort, she squeezed the trigger.

The green blast of energy plowed into the monster’s face. It howled as its neck snapped back, clawing at its eyes. But that was it.

Hettie had seen the Devil’s Revolver blow a hole clean through a man and take off his horse’s head with one shot. It’d killed three men, melted rock, wiped countless lives off the face of the earth. But all it had done to the monster was annoy it.

“Hettie, shut your eyes!” Raúl began an incantation. The sound of his voice reverberated through her bones, and the air trembled. She fired at the monster again, but it did no good.

“Shut your eyes! Shut them now!” The desperation in Raúl’s plea made Hettie close her eyes. If this was the end, maybe it was best she not see it coming.

A bright, hot flash scorched her face. The monster screamed, its fetid breath brushing Hettie’s cheeks. She cowered back but didn’t dare open her eyes. The light was unbearable, searing through her eyelids and burning her skin. She collapsed onto the ground and covered her head, trying to escape the worst of the burning.

She smelled sulfur, and then it was over.