“This is none of your concern,” Espejo snapped.
“Yer peeling,” La Bruja remarked.
Startled, Espejo put a hand to his head. The skin on the left side of Oset’s face was beginning to sag, drawing the lip down into a snarl. He leaned over, clawing at his head, and the entire thing slid off in an awful slimy rush. I gurgled. Espejo straightened up, Oset’s face dangling in his hand like a soggy discarded rag. His own face—his true face—was covered with a slick red bloody film, like a newborn baby.
“That is a relief,” he said. “I do not know how the Flayed Priests stand it.”
La Bruja gasped and dropped to her knees, yanking me painfully down with her. “Yer pardon, Great Lord!” she cried. “I didn’t recognize yer before! I thought Captain Romney was plumb crazy! Fergive me!”
“You know me?” Espejo said in astonishment.
She had grabbed his slimy hand and was kissing it—yuck. She said as she slobbered, “Ayah, Your Grace. My ma, she was a Huitzil. I know I ain’t turned out like much, but she brought me up to honor the Smoked Mirror. Once, she took me to the Harvest festival in Anahuatl City, and I saw ya give a hundred men to the Lord of the Smoked Mirror. I could never forgit the Duque de Espejo y Ahumado. I am yer servant!”
“You witch!” I hissed.
I didn’t see the swing, only felt the sickening blow to the side of my head. I fell over in a heap, wheezing, and somewhere behind the tummy-turning pain was the thought that when I got my chance with La Bruja I wouldn’t be squeamish, not at all. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard her say eagerly “This girl ain’t got no respect fer you, yer grace. Let me kill her for yer.”
“Do not touch her!” Espejo said sharply.
“You kin bank on me!” La Bruja whined. I sat up dizzily, the world swooning about me. For a moment, there were two La Brujas groveling at two Espejos’s feet. The blurred figures resolved down to the proper number, which were still two too many. Espejo pulled away from La Bruja and leaned over me, saying, “Are you hurt?”
“Fike you!” I spat, tasting blood through the bright pain in my mouth. I had bitten my tongue. “Don’t touch me!”
“Don’t yer flap at His Grace like that,” La Bruja said sharply.
“Fike you, too!”
La Bruja made as though she was going to slap me again, and Espejo said swiftly, “This girl belongs to the Lord of the Smoked Mirror. If you truly honor him, you will obey me.”
“This girl?” La Bruja said scornfully, “Why does the Lord of the Smoked Mirror want this girl? She sure ain’t much. She’s just a dirty Blackcoat, a soldier dog. And not a very good one, neither. She ain’t hardly worthy of him.” “That is not for you to decide,” Espejo said. “This girl’s family belongs to the Lord of the Smoked Mirror. Until now, she and her mother have escaped his embrace. But I have found her now, and soon I shall find her mother. They will return to Ciudad Anahuatl to honor the Lord with their lives.”
“Let me help you!” La Bruja said eagerly “I kin find her mam—I’m a great tracker. An’ I know everyone in this country. Who is she? I’ll go out and get her, bring her to ya.”
“She is hiding from me. I do not know her name here.”
During this conversation, I had managed to leverage myself upright, despite the burning pain in my side. I noticed a little gleam in the darkness near the discarded blanket. I oh-so-slowly reached out and hooked the gleam in, pulled it toward me. It was an Army-issue fork: threepronged and plenty sharp. I slid it up my sleeve, and just in time, for Espejo was kneeling before me. Wait until themoment is hot before you strike, Nini Mo said. This was not a hot moment.
La Bruja turned on me. “Do you know where she is? Tell us or I’ll make you sad you kept yer trap shut!”
“I’m already sad you didn’t fall off your mule and break your neck,” I said. La Bruja raised her leg as though she was going to boot me, and I cringed in anticipation.
“Did I not tell you to leave her?” Espejo interjected, pushing La Bruja away. “I have other methods to know her mind. She can conceal nothing from me. If she knows where her mother is, I shall know, too.”
He bent over me again. In the murk, his eyes gleamed goldly, flat and reflective. “Where is she, muñeca ?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do not lie to me, por favor. You know that I can find out, whether you wish to tell me or not. I can take the information from you, but I allow you to give it to me. I am being kind. I know she came to see you. What did she tell you?”
“Fike you.” The bravado was ruined by the quaver in my voice. He could take the knowledge from me, and I could not stop him. I had tried to forget what had happened in Barbacoa, but I could not, and the memory made me weak with fear. Don’t be a hero, Nini Mo said. Everyone breaks eventually. Save yourself the pain and give in. I said, “She said she’s going to kill you. And I should sit tight and let her.”
“And then she left. Where did she go?”
“Across the Line. That’s all I know.”
“I followed that trail. It looped around and came back, and then disappeared. Tell me where she is!”
“I don’t know,” I said. “And that’s the truth. With the Broncos, I guess. You are welcome to find them. I’m sure they’d be happy to roast you like a pumpkin—”
La Bruja shut me up with a sharp kick to the ribs. I flopped over and lay there, clutching my side and trying to distract myself from the pain by focusing on what I would do to her. Through my gasping, I noticed something else: Oset’s gun belt. Espejo had tossed it aside, and now it lay ignored on the gravel.
Espejo had stood up threateningly when La Bruja kicked me, but before he could admonish her, she said quickly, “Across the Line? With the Broncos—listen—I’ve had some truck with them Broncos, camped with them from time to time, and I know their ways. There’s a woman rides with them. She pretends to be a Bronco, but she ain’t. She got red hair and I ain’t never seen a Bronco with red hair. I know where they camp. I can show you. I’ll wager you’ll find her there, or else they’ll know where she is.”
That snapperheaded bitch. A Gramatica Curse hovered on my lips but I bit it back—for now. You could bet that when I was done with her, La Bruja was going to wish she’d never been born.
Espejo said, “We will go as you say But we shall wait for nightfall.”
“I can go on my own, bring her back to ya, Your Grace, so as not to waste any time. Take the girl with me—”
“No. We will wait. She cannot escape me now. It is only a matter of time.”
“Well, then, let’s settle in. Ya look pale, Lord. Need a little pick-me-up? I’ll bet the girl tastes pretty sweet. I kin hold her for you, if you want.”
“Leave her alone,” Espejo said sharply, and La Bruja just laughed. She dug out a hip flask and offered it to Espejo, who shook his head with a grimace. I guess the Lord of the Smoked Mirror doesn’t go much for mescal. I also rejected La Bruja’s offer, but before Espejo could intercede, she forced the flask against my mouth. Despite my frantic head-shaking, a few foul drops got through my clenched lips and burned my mouth.
“Put the flask away!” Espejo said. “Show some restraint!”
La Bruja obeyed. I lay back in the dirt, my side throbbing, my jaw aching, thinking hateful, hateful thoughts about La Bruja, about Espejo—and waiting. The fork was tucked up in my sleeve. The Oatmeal Word lingered at the back of my palate. I was ready for the hot moment. I had to hit Espejo before nightfall, before he came into his full power. Espejo sat silent and still, his legs crossed, his hands folded on his knees, the painted golden eyes glittering. Next to him, La Bruja was crouched on her heels, braiding some strands of horsehair, humming tunelessly to herself. She was blocking my line of fire. I didn’t think I could say the Word twice, so I sure as fike did not want to waste it on her. But maybe I could draw Espejo over to me.
“Your Grace,” I said in a quavery voice. “Could I have some water—”
“We ain’t got
any water,” La Bruja said swiftly, before Espejo could answer. “Shut yer trap and keep it shut, or I’ll shut it fer yer.”
“Go down to the wash and get her some water,” Espejo ordered. Thank the Goddess! As soon as she was gone, I’d hit him hard, with all my might.
But instead of obeying, La Bruja stood up and said, “Here, I fergot I had a canteen. Drink.”
Fike. I took the canteen from her and drank. The water tasted like ashes. The throbbing in my side was receding, but it was being replaced by a great wave of tiredness. I yawned so widely, I thought my skull might split.
“Ye ever been to Matapatos, Yer Grace?” La Bruja asked.
“No,” Espejo answered.
“I was down there last year. There’s this dama there named Loosey Lucia; she run the best rat fights in all of Arivaipa. She got a champion ratter, Teacup is his name. Oh, when that terrier is on a roll, he can bite fifty rats in five minutes, no trouble ’tall. His bite’s sharper than an ungrateful child. Yer oughter go down there sometime. It’s something to see. I won seventy-five divas and aim to take in more still. I’m saving up fer a new ditto suit...” On and on and on La Bruja went, yammering about poker games, and long-dead horses, and the Broncos she’d killed, and the drunks she’d had, and the hunts she’d been on, and the shirts she’d worn, and the BBQshe’d eaten, and the men she’d loved. Several times Espejo bid her shut up but she didn’t remain silent long.
I tried to think of another plan, another way to get Espejo within my range, but my eyes were growing heavier and heavier and I could no longer hold my head up. My bones felt as though they were melting into jelly; my flesh was wooden, heavy I closed my eyes, La Bruja’s voice one long drone that carried me away to darkness.
I woke to a boot heel in the ribs. I sat up, groggily, head swimming, and said, “You drugged me.”
“Naw,” La Bruja said. “Ya just didn’t like my stories. Come on.” She yanked me to my feet and I stood shakily My head felt as though it were full of wet sand. Outside, the bright glare was beginning to fade. Oh, pigface, fike. I had slept my advantage away It was now or never.
Espejo was already standing. He said to me, “Can you walk?”
I started to say, Fike you, and bit the words back. “I think La Bruja broke one of my ribs,” I said, twisting my voice into a whine. “It hurts to breathe.”
He leaned over me. “Why did you not say so earlier?”
“Aw, she’s malingering,” La Bruja said. Espejo pushed her away.
I felt his ice-cold hands fumble at my side. I almost puked at the smell of him, so noxiously close. I mewed and whined, and eventually he hoisted me to my feet, an arm around my shoulder. I didn’t have to pretend very hard to be wobbly.
“Let’s leave her here,” La Bruja said. “She’ll only slow us down. I’ll tie her tightly and we can come back later.”
“No,” Espejo said. He hoisted me up and half carried, half dragged me out of the cave. La Bruja was right behind us.
Outside, the sky was purple and yellow, dusk but not yet full dark. We skittered down the incline, rocks rolling under our feet. Below us, the wash was still flooded with rushing water, brown and foamy, seeded with broken tree limbs and drowned tumbleweeds. The steep grade was treacherous with uprooted plants, slick with mud. About a quarter of the way down, I went limp. Espejo sagged under my sudden weight, gripping hard as he tried to hold on to me. I flung my arms around his neck, almost choking from his foul breath on my face. I let my heels slide, felt his footing start to falter.
He grunted, fingers digging in, and said, “I won’t let you fall.”
The moment couldn’t have been hotter if the air had been on fire.
I spat. The Oatmeal Word seared my throat, scorched my lips. Glowing like molten glass, it hit Espejo square on the nose. He let out a gurgled yelp and dropped me. I hit the mud and skidded several painful feet before catching my boot heels and coming to a stop. Rolling over, I saw that Espejo had collapsed and was wiggling on the ground like piece of bacon in a frying pan. A blackish pink glow suffused his skin.
“Fike!” La Bruja shouted. I turned my head and saw her skidding down the incline toward me. Scrambling to my feet, I lunged at her, stumbling, and felt the fork sink in—I wasn’t sure what part of her I’d hit, but her yelp sounded glorious. I got one good twist in before she shoved me away. Below, Espejo was still quivering, his back arching almost into a bow, his arms and legs stiffening like boards.
I skidded in the mud and clambered as fast as I could back toward the cave and Oset’s gun. I tripped and a rock hammered a bright pain into my knee. I scrambled back to my feet. A horrible howl filled the air, reverberating off the canyon walls, curling up my spine.
I looked over my shoulder and saw La Bruja braced on the incline, a thin black rope looping lazily above her head. The horsehair she’d been braiding in the cave was now a lariat. Below her, a black jaguar crouched in the dust, tail whipping back and forth, puking up a roiling mess of blackish pink coldfire. The cat coughed and hacked, shaking its head, as the loop of La Bruja’s rope whipped faster until it was a whistling blur. The jaguar looked up and sprang. The loop was moving so quickly I couldn’t see if it caught the cat, but when La Bruja jerked the rope tight, the jaguar fell out of its leap into a tangled sprawl.
I didn’t waste any more time; I scrambled the last few feet to the cave’s mouth. Inside the cave, it was pitchblack. I fumbled through the darkness to where I remembered seeing Oset’s gun belt. I almost screamed in relief when my groping hand felt leather. Oh, happy gun!
Outside, the dusk had darkened to night. The coldfire the jaguar had sicked up had spread to an uprooted bush, which now burned with an eerie blackish-pink light. The jaguar was still struggling at the end of La Bruja’s rope, and she was having a hard time holding it. Her heels were dug in, but she was sliding.
“Come on, you snapperhead, come on!” she shouted. The jaguar writhed and sprang into the air, yanking the lariat out of her grip. La Bruja fell back and sat down hard in the mud. The jaguar surged up the hill toward her like a streak of black lightning, the lariat whipping behind it. La Bruja’s moccasins weren’t getting a grip in the mud. She fumbled at her waist, but I fired first.
In the dark, the moving cat was a hard target, and my shot went wide, exploding a harmless cactus. La Bruja was yelling something, but the gunshot had deafened me. I fired again, and the hammer snapped on an empty chamber. Fike.
The jaguar was barely a foot away from her when, with an echoing bray, Evil Murdoch exploded out of nowhere. Murdoch caught the cat by surprise, grabbing it by the neck and lifting it off the ground, tossing it like a toy. The jaguar twisted, paws lashing, and with a bray of pain, Murdoch let go. The jaguar was rolling when Murdoch lashed out with a hoof, caught the cat in its side. It flew through the air and landed in a cactus, shrieking.
During all this, La Bruja clambered to her feet and ran up the hill toward me, a very large unsheathed knife in her hand. I still couldn’t hear her over the ringing in my ears. But I would be fiked if I stood there like a snapperhead and let her gut me.
I screamed. The Word tore what was left of my voice from me. Lucky for Tharyn he hadn’t swallowed that Word at the ZuZu’s ball. It ignited when it hit La Bruja, and she exploded into a ball of coldfire, lost her footing, and tumbled backward. The jaguar had torn himself loose from the cactus, but now La Bruja and the coldfire rolled into him, and he was enveloped by the blaze as well. The ringing in my ears was overlaid with a dull roar. A flash flood was filling the wash. I watched as the burning maelstrom bounced down the hillside. Then a wall of water burst through and washed La Bruja and the jaguar away.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Return. In Command. A Reunion.
MY KNEES WOULDN'T HOLD ME anymore, so I sat down on a rock by the mouth of the cave. I wished I had my canteen. My mouth tasted of oily blood, and my throat felt as though it had been cut to ribbands. It was too dark now to see the wash below, but I could hear the roar o
f the water. Plenty of water, but none to drink. Evil Murdoch ruffled my hair with his furry lip. There were some scratches and blood on his neck, but he otherwise seemed all right.
And then I thought I saw a dim pink spark in his eyes. “Pig?” My voice sounded like a dying accordion. Where had he come from? I hadn’t summoned him. And yet he had still come. Tears pricked at my eyes. I scratched his nose in thanks. He hee-hawed, yellow teeth gleaming in the darkness, and then bounded away to nibble on an uprooted mesquite bush.
Until the water in the wash went down, I was stuck. One of the privates had left his blouse lying in the back of the cave. I put it on and found a small bottle in the right pocket and, in the left, a tintype of a man holding a lacy baby in one arm and a bull terrier in the other. The bottle contained apple jack; it burned as it went down, but it also soothed the soreness. He had a hankie, too, relatively clean, which I used to wipe the mud off my face. I ejected the faulty round from Oset’s revolver and reloaded, then sat back down on my rock and waited for the water to recede.
Somehow I fell asleep and when I awoke, stiff and tired, it was daylight again. Evil Murdoch was standing a few yards away, head drooping sleepily. When I sat up, he let out a bray that even I understood: Let’s get the fike out of here. We made our way down to the edge of the wash. The water had gone down to a trickle. Evil Murdoch allowed me to clamber up on his spiny back, and then he picked his way slowly through the debris.
We rode through the bright morning, as new-scrubbed and blue as the first day of the world, and, about a quarter of mile or so down the track, came across the patrol’s camp. The mules brayed out a welcome to Evil Murdoch and he hee-hawed back, scattering the soldiers from their makeshift beds.
Sergeant Tzinga rushed toward me, asking anxiously “Are you all right, Captain? Where’s Captain Oset and La Bruja?”
“The jaguar attacked us,” I said. “It went for La Bruja, and when Captain Oset tried to help her, they were all swept away in the wash.”
Flora's Fury: How a Girl of Spirit and a Red Dog Confound Their Friends, Astound Their Enemies, and Learn the Impo Page 31
