Tavi raised a hand as she passed. "Angie, are you—"
Angie brushed past the other woman, desperate to get outside, to breathe air that didn't reek of death.
That wasn’t the courtyard.
If anything, the courtyard was worse than the church. Corpses lay everywhere, and the air stank of blood, shit, and gun smoke. But farther away, the prisoners, freed now, surrounded the Seagraves, their faces wet with tears of gratitude as they thanked them profusely, each trying to touch a member of the werewolf family. Jay she could understand; he had the face of an angel. But an old woman even hugged Casey, wrapping her arms around the huge man, crying into his chest.
For his part, Casey looked dumbfounded, but he gently reached an arm around her, hugging her back, and Angie heard him say, "You're safe now, Grandmother. No one will hurt you. You can go home."
He was wasting his time, she knew. In this part of the world, even Ferals would speak Spanish, not English, not even the Spanglish of the Nortenos. Still, his tone was soothing.
That was when she felt tiny fingers tugging at her hip. She looked down to see a small child, a girl of no more than seven years old with dark-brown skin and filthy clothing, her hair bedraggled. She looked up at Angie with huge sad eyes, dry eyes, the eyes of a child so poorly treated she was no longer capable of crying. "Donde esta mi mama?" the child asked.
And then Angie began to cry for her, the tears washing away the blood on her soul. No matter what ugly acts she and the others had committed this night, they had also saved these people. That had to mean something.
Angie dropped onto a knee and hugged the girl, whispering into her hair. "I'm sorry. I don't know where your mother is." Then she repeated the words in Spanish.
The girl's mother wasn't with the other prisoners, which most likely meant she was dead, but Angie handed the child over to a middle-aged woman who said she knew her and would care for her. That was the best Angie could do.
Tec interrogated the prisoners, learning what he could from them. Angie had hunted Ferals for so many years that she was somehow surprised to realize they were just people, not cannibal monsters. Damn the dragons for doing this to us. They've turned us against one another.
Casey and Jay found food and water and told the prisoners they could take whatever they wanted, as well as the horses they didn't need. Rowan had already chosen twenty mounts, enough for everyone to ride with another animal to carry supplies and even a pair of spares.
The assault had been an unqualified success, the fighting over almost as soon as it had begun. The church had been stocked with more supplies than they could have hoped for: food, weapons, and equipment they'd need to move north. Rowan had even found a pair of M72 light anti-armor weapons—disposable one-shot rocket launchers. Wyn Renna had found the high-frequency radio sitting on an old wooden table in a back office of the church and was already speaking to someone in Coronado on the frequency her mother's people monitored. Tavi was inside, watching her, her face marked with distrust. Angie understood, even if Tavi didn’t. The Fey did what they felt they had to do to survive, and the hell with anybody else, especially humanity. Her own adopted mother, Char, had done almost the same thing, sending the nymph Astris to spy on Sanwa City.
Any misgivings Angie might have felt about shooting sleeping men vanished when she heard what the prisoners had to say to Tec. He had been right. The Tzitzime mage had already told the prisoners they were to be sacrificed for the glory of the Aztalan Empire, which really meant sacrificed for the blood magic of the Tzitzime cult and its dragon worshipers. When Tec had finished speaking to the prisoners, he urged them to flee. As they slipped away, Angie joined Tec, watching the little girl be led away by the hand. These people would have a hard time getting to safety, but they were alive and free. That was the best they could do.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He didn't answer at first. When he did, his voice was devoid of emotion. "For what?"
"For helping, for fighting. For saving those people."
"Have we saved them? They could easily be rounded up again. The Aztalans have gone to war. They're going to need a lot of sacrifices."
His voice was filled with pain. He was clearly still in turmoil over the death of his master. She reached her hand out to touch him but stopped herself. Instead, she changed the subject. "There was a vampire with them."
He turned to stare at her, his eyes narrow. "Really?"
"That's not the first time, either. A pair of vampire assassins tried to kill me in Canyon City, tried to kill Tavi and Presidente Carter as well. I asked Queen Elenaril, and she said some Fey serve the Tzitzime and Aztalan Empire."
He exhaled, which sounded more like a growl. "I've heard rumors of a renegade clan of vampires. They call themselves the Night Kin."
"Why would Fey serve the Tzitzime?"
"Same reason people do: power."
For the first time in days, he was coming out of his shell. She wanted to ask him questions, so many questions, about Quetzalcoatl, the Tzitzime, the black dragon Itzpapalotl, and his bunker beneath Mount Laguna filled with weapons and supplies. But more than anything else, she wanted to know about the Awakening and if he had known it was coming, because it sure looked as though he had. And it looked as though the United States government had also known about it.
"Listen," she said, trying to find the best way to broach the topic. "I'd like to—"
"We're moving out!" Casey yelled as he stepped out of the church, holding a belt-fed heavy machine gun over each shoulder by the barrels. "Rowan wants to be on the move before sunrise."
Tec turned from Angie. "Where?"
"Ask Rowan." Casey began to strap the weapons to one of the spare horses, as well as boxes of linked ammunition.
"You really think you're gonna need all that?" Angie asked Casey.
"Of course," he answered, giving her a look as if she were crazy. Then he turned away and went back inside the church for more weapons.
Rowan came out next, followed by Wyn Renna, who wore the Tzitzime mage’s hexed saber on her hip. "What's up?" Angie asked Rowan. "Where are we going?"
Rowan ran his thumb and forefinger over the ends of his mustache and cocked his head at Wyn Renna. "East. Our elven friend says her mother is going to meet us to the east, at an old airfield along the coast, maybe a half day's ride."
Wyn Renna nodded. "Forty kilometers to the northeast, there's an old runway at a promontory that juts out into the Gulf of California called Cueva de Leon."
"The Lion's Cave, I know it," Tec said. "There was a large pre-Awakening town nearby called San Juan de Los Planes, but it’s been abandoned. I don't know if that airstrip is serviceable, but I very much doubt it."
Angie cocked her head. "I thought you said your mother doesn't have any planes."
"She doesn't," Wyn Renna said. "But that's where she told us to wait for her. If she says she'll be there, she'll be there."
Erin stepped out of the church, a large rolled-up map under her arm. "Hey, Rowan. You need to see this."
Rowan joined Erin as she knelt and unrolled the map. Casey held a lit lantern over their heads, and Angie recognized the southern California coastline centered upon the ruins of San Diego and Coronado Island. Tactical markings covered the map, showing routes of advance for military units. It didn't take an intelligence officer to see what this was: the Aztalan military plans to attack the Coronado Island Fey Enclave. "They're going to attack the elves."
Wyn Renna swore, trailing her fingers over the markings. "I have to get back on the radio and tell my mother."
"No time for that," Rowan said. "Besides, from everything I've seen of elves, she already knows."
Wyn Renna glared, her lips a tight gash, but nodded. "We bring the map with us."
Rowan faced the others, raising his voice. "We're not staying another minute, people. I figure the Aztalans don't know what we've done here yet, but they will soon enough, and then they're gonna come looking for us."
"So how we playing this?" Casey asked.
Rowan turned to Erin, who still knelt next to the map. "What do you think?"
"Me?" Erin stared at him.
"You heard me. What should we do now?"
Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded. "This far in the rear, the Aztalan military will assume radio problems. God only knows radios are difficult enough at the best of times. They'll keep calling until they realize something's wrong. I don't know how close the next outpost is, but within a day, no later, they'll send a patrol on horseback to find out why these guys aren't answering their radio. Once they see what we’ve done, it'll probably take a few more hours to mobilize a search. They'll assume we're heading home, going north."
Rowan nodded. "And?"
"And we cut a trail north, not too obvious, just enough to show them they were right. Later, we cut back and head east for the coast. It'll take us longer but will be safer."
Rowan smiled, holding his hand out to Erin, who took it and rose. "So, let's head north, people. We've got trail to cut."
Minutes later, they rode away on their new horses, leading the spares that carried their new equipment.
Chapter 5
Her eyes closed in memories of the past, the black dragon was thinking of her sire when Tlaco knelt before her. She wasn’t sleeping—Itzpapalotl would never sleep so exposed—so she knew the woman was there the moment she stepped foot upon the stones of the underground temple's summit. Itzpapalotl opened an eye and glared at her new Mother Smoke Heart. Despite the breathtaking honor the black dragon had bestowed upon this stupid woman, she had repeatedly failed to recapture the Haanal X’ib, underscoring her uselessness. When the woman saw the dragon's eye on her, her fear scent became intoxicating. For the span of several heartbeats, the dragon considered an early meal but finally decided against it. Eating one's servant was wasteful. Besides, she'd need to find a new Mother Smoke Heart, and the replacement would almost certainly be even more useless than this one.
That's how it was with dumb animals.
"What?" she asked, moving one of her massive forelegs so that the scales scraped over the summit's stones, causing the woman to flinch.
Tlaco dropped to her knees before Itzpapalotl. "Beautiful Mistress, there has been an incident. One of our outposts has been attacked. We fear—"
"Good. Good. Where is the female changeling, then? Why is she not presented to me for ritual slaughter?"
"I ..." The fat woman hesitated, her mouth opening and closing, too frightened to form words. "We ... we do not know if it was those we hunt. We think it might have been Ferals, because they freed Feral women and children. But fear not. Even though they slipped away, we follow. We ... we will have them. I swear. The fault lies with the fool mage in command of the outpost."
The dragon sighed with frustration. As much as her predecessor had failed her, at least Rayan Zar Davi had owned her failures and demonstrated courage. This one was a coward, and her fear scent was becoming harder to resist. Despite her earlier misgivings about eating one's servants, she tensed, preparing to make an exception.
But then Aernyx stepped out of the shadows, once more pretending to be a pale young man with sorrowful eyes. "Beautiful Mistress, there is more."
Itzpapalotl paused, her gaze narrowing on him. She hadn't known he was there. Interesting—but also dangerous. He was a sneak. She didn’t like sneaks. His days were numbered.
"Well, lord of the night, skulker in the shadows? Speak."
"It was indeed the fugitives and the female changeling." He paused, a half smile on his lips as he glanced at Tlaco. "It was not Ferals. One of my children was at the fort. I saw them through his eyes, a dream vision. I saw the Haanal X’ib, but more importantly, I saw two other female mages. One of them was … interesting."
"Explain."
"I saw her through dream eyes, Beautiful Mistress, where I hunt. Some Fey have auras in the dream vision. The most powerful Fey grandmaster mages, such as Elenaril Cloudborn, wear powerful auras that speak of destiny. But rarely have I ever seen a human with even a hint of an aura. One of the two mages who walks with the Haanal X’ib, a young woman with long dark hair, was wreathed in fire. A more powerful aura I have never seen. She walks with power, ancient power."
The dragon watched Aernyx, her thoughts flying on wings. A powerful aura of fire? The helicopter didn't burn. My brother breathed dragon fire on it, and it didn't burn. There is a mystery here, and mysteries can bring doom.
"It is time," the dragon said. "Bring me Rayan Zar Davi."
It was late afternoon by the time Angie and the others rode their horses out of the forested foothills that led to the east coast of the peninsula and their goal, the Cueva de Leon. To the north and south, rugged hills rose, boxing in the terrain around them. To the east lay more than a kilometer of open ground, a long, low plain that extended toward the high ridge of coastal headland that overlooked the glittering Gulf of California. The old airfield, their meeting point with Queen Elenaril, was built atop the headland.
Erin led the party, just as she had all day, with Rowan deferring to her. Angie glanced at Rowan now, who watched Erin. He's testing her, she thought, or training her. She couldn't decide which.
As they had planned back at the Aztalan church, Erin had left a false trail north before turning and cutting back along a mountain stream that led east. They had followed the stream for several kilometers before Erin took the party southeast toward the coast. Angie was no tracker, but with luck, she figured any pursuers would keep going north until they realized that they had been tricked. By then, it might take a day or more to find their trail again, if they ever did.
Angie rode an undernourished and poorly groomed piebald mare. Despite the Aztalans’ neglect of the animal, the mare responded well to a light touch and gentle word. Angie had no idea what her previous name had been or if she even had one but had decided to name her Patches in honor of her brown-and-white coloring. Patches seemed happy enough to be free of the church and carried Angie with an easy gait. It was nice to finally get off her feet. Taking the outpost had been the right decision after all. Horses, food, weapons, and other supplies made a huge difference, and arranging a pickup with Queen Elenaril had been a welcome surprise—if the elven queen could pull it off. But even if there was no plane, they were still immeasurably better off with horses and supplies.
She sighed, shifting in her seat to ease the soreness from an entire day in the saddle. Still better than walking.
As they crossed the plain, they saw the ruins of an old coastal town to their north, now long abandoned, the buildings falling apart. Erin found an old dirt road that led up the headland, and as they crested its summit, they saw the old airfield's single runway extending away toward the bay—a runway now gutted with fissures several feet wide.
No aircraft was ever going to land on this strip again.
"Well, shit," said Casey, and then he leaned over the side of his horse and spat. He glared at Wyn Renna. "Don't suppose your mom has a helicopter?"
Up here, the wind blew strong, carrying with it the tang of the sea. Angie climbed from her saddle, stretching and groaning, lifting her arms over her head as she turned in place. The view of the sea, at least, was spectacular. The plain behind them was devoid of anything larger than a bush. "Well, no one's gonna catch us by surprise."
Wyn Renna, still sitting on her own horse, looked down her nose at Casey and sniffed. "My mother will come for us."
"Not on that runway," Tavi said. "Does she have a seaplane?"
Wyn Renna dismounted, her hand trailing over her gray stallion's flank, and shook her head. "She's never cared for human technology and machines. But I've been away from home for a long time. Much could have changed."
"You mean spying on my people," Tavi said to the woman's back.
Wyn Renna didn't answer.
Jay, as always near Tavi, edged his stallion closer and gave the young Norteno mage one of his best smiles. "Hey, maybe we should let it go, Tavi. Done
is done." It was a great smile, Angie thought, but Tavi turned her angry brown eyes on him, and Jay looked out over the bay. The sun sparkled on the green-blue waters as the white-tipped waves cascaded against the cliffs of the headland. "Hell of a view."
Tavi grunted but then admitted, "It is pretty."
Casey squinted at Rowan. "What do you think, big brother?"
"I think," Rowan said slowly, choosing his words, "that we need to make a decision. This airfield is a bust, even if the queen comes."
"She will come," Wyn Renna insisted.
Casey rolled his eyes.
Angie glanced at Tec, still sitting atop his mustard stallion, his face expressionless. The wind whipped his long, dark hair about. He turned and met her eye, as if he had known she was watching him. She imagined him naked, lying atop her, with her legs wrapped about his lean torso as he thrust at her and... She shivered with unwanted desire and gave her head a shake. Stop it, you skank. She grew angry with herself and with him. "Well," she demanded, "what do you think?"
"Does it matter what I think?"
"Of course it matters," Rowan said sharply. The normally stoic warrior was clearly running out of patience with Tec's moodiness.
A tightness flickered in Tec's eyes but was gone a moment later. "You can't stay here longer than a single night. That false trail was capably set, but there's just no way to hide the tracks of so many horses. The Aztalan scouts will find the trail once more. You're running out of time. If Elenaril isn't here by sunrise tomorrow morning, she's not coming."
"She'll come," insisted Wyn Renna.
"If she's not here by morning, you're going to need to ride north," said Tec.
Rowan smoothed the ends of his mustache and nodded.
"We will need to ride north," Angie corrected him, watching his face carefully.
"We ride north," Tec said.
"One night," Erin said.
Jay nodded, as did Casey.
"My people need me," Tavi said, the anguish clear in her voice. "If she can't come for us here, then I say we ride on right now."
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