For once he wasn’t furtive, studying his hands or the ground or the ceiling or his weapons. He gazed straight at her, black eyes reflecting the hanging light.
“I’ve never been in a battle before,” she said. “But neither has anyone else our age.”
“I haven’t, either. I mean, not armies fighting. But I have fought with people. It’s not like fighting animals. Not at all.” The rapid flow of words stopped abruptly, and he clenched his right fist; his left half-closed.
“You’ve killed people before.” Mia had meant to phrase it as a question, but once the words were out, she already knew the answer.
Ross nodded, neither pride nor regret in his level gaze. “I’d rather run. But sometimes you don’t have a choice. You do, though, don’t you? The sheriff didn’t order you to fight.”
“No. I asked her if I could come.”
“Can you fight?” He flushed again. “I’ve never seen you train. I know you fought the snakes, but that was with a flamethrower.”
“I take my turn at sentry duty and patrol, like everyone else,” she said, trying not to sound defensive. “I’m a good shot.”
“But can you fight?”
“You mean hand-to-hand? I’ve been trained, but I’ve never been great at it.” He didn’t need to know that she regularly lost to fourteen-year-olds. “But like I said, I’m a good shot, so that’s what I’ll be doing.”
Ross flicked a glance sideways, then back at her. “Look, Mia. It’s a mistake to think you’ll only shoot. You don’t know what you might have to do.”
Mia wished she’d trained harder, she wished that the work she had put in had gotten better results, and she wished Ross would stop looking at her as if he was certain she’d get herself killed. But she couldn’t change any of that now.
He nodded sharply, as if he’d come to an agreement with himself. “Okay. This is the most important thing I know about fighting. Don’t think too hard—actually, don’t think at all. Just let yourself react. Can you do that?”
She’d heard this before. Every time she’d lost a sparring match, it was because she’d stopped to consider her next move or her opponent’s next move, or because her attention had drifted. But she didn’t want Ross to be distracted by worrying about her.
“Absolutely.”
She suspected that he didn’t believe her. He ran his hand through his hair, clearing it from his face. “Do you own any weapons besides that crossbow and your flamethrower, or do you check them out?”
“I check them out.”
He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shook his head. “Where do you keep those explosives you’re always warning me about?”
“Oh, those aren’t ready, but I have something better.” She pulled out a box of bottles from under her worktable. “Help me fill these with oil. We’ll cork them with rags, so we can light and throw them.”
They quickly prepared the bottles and loaded them onto her cart. At the back wall, they found Sheriff Crow, the bounty hunter, and Mr. Riley with a group of sentries, all peering intently to the northwest.
Then the archers showed up. Normally so neat and organized, they arrived at a staggering run, armor hastily strapped over their party clothes. Meredith had a bloody bandage around her head, Paco limped, and Yuki was covered with dark gunk that Mia hoped was soot rather than dried blood. Trainer Crow came last, with a rat riding on each shoulder and another pair trotting at her heels.
Julio pushed past Mia. “Is Voske’s army out there? Do you see them?”
Mr. Riley shaded his eyes. “I spotted soldiers out there once the rain cleared. But we don’t know how many there are.”
“What’s he doing here?” Julio pointed at the bounty hunter.
“He’s with us,” replied Sheriff Crow.
“How did he get here?”
“My question exactly.” Everyone turned. Mr. Preston was at the base of the ladder, Jennie by his side. Though she knew Jennie couldn’t fight a whole army, Mia immediately felt safer.
“Evening, Tom,” the bounty hunter said. “A climber doesn’t have to worry about eater-roses on your walls anywhere but forty feet along the gates.”
Mia stared at him in alarm. “If he could sneak in, could the rest of the enemy do it too?”
Glancing at her, Mr. Preston said, “It’s much easier for one man—one very skilled man—to get over than for an entire team.” He eyed the bounty hunter with a mixture of annoyance and respect. “The Rangers just made a sweep, and no one else got in. What disturbs me most is the timing of this attack.”
Sheriff Crow waved a dismissive hand. “We can worry about that later. Mr. Riley spotted a flanking movement coming around the west side.”
“We can’t leave the mill unguarded,” Mr. Preston said immediately. “It’s too valuable.”
Because that’s where the escape tunnel comes out, Mia thought.
Julio smacked his fist into his palm and gave a laugh that reminded her of when he was their schoolhouse leader. He was the one who’d convinced the council to let thirteen-year-olds go on patrol. “Hey, Uncle, I’ve got an idea,” he said, his white teeth flashing. He sounded as happy as if the dance was still going on. “Give me the Rangers. We’ll go covert and take out Voske himself.”
Mr. Preston sighed. “And he would be where, Julio?”
“Do you know where Voske is?” Julio asked the bounty hunter.
The man spread his hands wide. “He could be anywhere. He likes to shift around for exactly this reason. Wherever he is, he’ll be surrounded by an elite team of bodyguards.”
Mr. Preston said, “Julio. You’re better off defending the mill. Jennie will pick up the rest of the Rangers.” He spoke directly to the bounty hunter. “My guess is that Voske will keep his ammunition directly behind his lines, ready for a fast move, rather than at a distance.”
“You would be right,” the man said.
Mr. Preston turned back to Julio. “This flank attack will probably hit the wall where the stream enters. Place your best bow teams to guard the mill, and circulate. Keep everyone on task. No enemy must get over the walls. I’m sending the Rangers on a mission. They’ll keep the ammunition guards busy, and Jennie’s team will blow up their ammo.”
Mr. Riley put his hand on Jennie’s shoulder, and she briefly leaned against him. Jennie was scared? Fear made Mia cold and hot at the same time. Nothing scared Jennie.
“Pick a team,” Mr. Preston said.
Jennie stepped away from her father. She was suddenly all business, but Mia wondered how much of that was real. “Yuki, do you mind if I take Brisa?”
Brisa bounced up and down, then uttered a soft “Ow.”
“Go ahead,” said Yuki. “But I’ll need a replacement. Mia, will you come with us? You’re a good shot.”
Mia swallowed, proud to be picked, but fear made her stomach clench. “Um, I need a crossbow.”
Sheriff Crow raised an eyebrow. “You have a crossbow.”
Mia hastily unstrapped it, too embarrassed to meet the sheriff’s eyes. “Someone stronger than me needs to use it. The recoil knocks me down.”
She shoved the six-arrow crossbow at Yuki, who took it and examined it curiously. “Thanks.” He strapped it across his back.
Mia tried not to look at Ross, but she felt him shifting from foot to foot beside her.
“And I want Ross,” said Jennie.
He put his right hand on his dagger. “All right. Mia, stick close to Yuki and Meredith, okay?”
Mia forgot her own fears and stared at him in dismay. The eastern perimeter ran right past that singing tree. If he got close, it might grab control of him again. “No!”
Everyone was staring at her. “Um, I need Ross with me”—thinking fast, she added—“to help with the explosives.” She pointed at the cart of bottles.
Jennie’s lips
parted, her expression puzzled.
“You and me against the world,” Mia said softly, then flushed with embarrassment. Couldn’t she think of anything better than that stupid motto they used when they were eight?
But Jennie turned a serious face to Mia, as if she’d said something very important. “Of course. If you need him, take him. Can I have some of your explosives? Then I won’t have to go back to the armory.”
“Take them all.” Mia avoided the perplexed looks everyone gave her. The memory of finding Ross at the base of that tree was too vivid. She said firmly, “I need Ross.”
“Hold it,” said Mr. Preston. “Mia, that’s not your decision to make. I’m not sure I want this boy on anyone’s team.”
“Voske wants to kill me,” Ross said. “I’d rather fight back than hide inside somewhere.”
Mr. Preston gave him an irritated look. “I don’t care what you want. You can’t fire a crossbow with one hand. I’m not sure what you can do with one hand, other than get in the way.”
To Mia’s surprise, Yuki spoke up. “Mr. Preston.” She had no idea how Yuki was doing it, but he seemed to tower over them all. “I want Ross on my team.” Still speaking in that commanding voice, he ordered, “Ross, show him what you can do with a knife.”
Ross immediately drew a knife, glanced up, and threw it. A stormchaser fell out of the sky, its carapace hitting the ground with a crack. Mia’s jaw dropped. Those huge flying beetles moved like lightning.
Mr. Preston didn’t show his surprise, but he nodded at Ross. “Go get your weapon back. You’re on Yuki’s team. Jennie, take off. We need Voske’s ammunition gone.”
40
Jennie
“DAD WOULD LET ME GO!” RICO’S VOICE WAS SHRILL. “I’m fifteen!”
Jennie didn’t care that he was small for his age, but not only did he look twelve, now he was acting it.
His mother, Ms. Salazar, obviously thought the same thing. “Rico, fifteen is too young.”
“Same age as Yolanda Riley, and she’s going! Just because I’m shorter—”
“Yolanda is very responsible—” Ms. Salazar began.
“I’m the only firestarter in town. They need me!”
His mother’s aura began to flash in an agitated pattern. Jennie suspected that they were both thinking the same thing: Rico would be essential if Brisa was taken out. If Brisa was killed.
“If you let me take Rico, I promise to personally protect him,” Jennie said.
“Mom . . .” Rico whined.
Jennie briefly closed her eyes. Collecting him along with Yolanda and José had seemed such an obvious idea, but he was reminding her of the kids who’d gone berserk on the snake patrol.
Ms. Salazar’s aura flared like a welding arc. “I hold you responsible, then, Jennifer Riley.” She began sorting weapons, her hands shaking, her profile grim.
“Yes!” Rico pumped his fist in the air.
Sera gave Jennie a sympathetic smile. “And that’s command in a nutshell.”
After all the trouble she’d gone to in order to get Rico, Jennie now wished she could change her mind. But that would cause an even bigger stir—and she was out of time. She tried to ignore the sick sense that she’d made a huge mistake.
All the Rangers were poised to go. The sight of them geared up eased her tension, as if she had been traveling alone and had finally come home to her family.
“Armor off,” ordered Sera. She turned to Brisa, José, Yolanda, and Rico. “We have extra gear in that trunk. Change fast, or you stay behind.”
The Rangers swiftly removed their weapons and helped one another out of their armor, leaving them in black night-training pants and shirts. They needed to be fast and silent.
There was a shared rhythm of movement, almost of breathing, habitual from years of drill. Jennie had found her own place in that pattern. She didn’t forget the danger of the mission, but there was comfort in the unity of purpose.
As Sera unstrapped her leg armor, she asked softly, “You see Paco? Or is he with Doc Lee?”
“Dr. Lee must have healed him. He’s out with Yuki’s team.”
Sera made a rueful face. Jennie knew she didn’t like Paco’s talking the doctor into shaving months off his life, but Sera silently straightened up and dusted down her black clothes.
“Ready,” everyone said. Rico hastily rolled up his pants; Brisa yanked out her ribbons and tossed them on top of her dancing clothes.
“Weapon up,” Sera said.
As the Rangers swiftly rearmed themselves, Jennie handed each of her charges a backpack loaded with Mia’s explosive bottles, carefully wrapped in cloth.
José pulled on his pack. “Now you’re one of the team,” he told Rico.
“Do I swear an oath now?” he asked hopefully.
“Ask again in three years, when you’ve finished Ranger training,” said Indra.
Jennie checked her weapons with damp hands. Her tension was mirrored in her companions’ faces—except for Rico, who grinned happily. He doesn’t really realize that this isn’t a drill, she thought, where people get up at the end, wash off the red dye, and go to Luc’s to cool down. This is the real thing.
“Let’s go,” Sera said.
They took off along the east wall. The sentries backed up against the shields to let them pass. Rico and Jennie fell in last.
Jennie put her hand on his shoulder. “Rico, this is not a game. One mistake, and Voske’s soldiers will kill you. They don’t care if you’re fifteen, or five. Get it?”
“I got it, I got it,” he said impatiently.
Indra fell back, looming deliberately over Rico. “Forget Voske’s soldiers. If you make one sound, or one move that wasn’t ordered, I will kill you.” His hand dropped casually to the machete hanging from his belt.
Rico’s eyes rounded.
Indra’s voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “Understand?”
Rico nodded, clearly too intimidated to speak.
As Rico hurried to catch up with José, Indra fell in step beside Jennie. It was good to feel the heat of his body so close beside her. Nasreen must have felt that same heat at the dance. Jennie pushed aside a flash of jealousy. She had made her choice, and she wanted Indra to be happy.
His braid swung over his shoulder as he grinned. “Having fun?”
“Absolutely.”
“I see you staged an invasion just to escape the schoolhouse and go out with us.”
“And it worked!”
Indra laughed. Jennie joined in, enjoying the excitement and satisfaction of doing an important job with a companion she could trust. Their feelings might not be completely resolved, but right now it was unimportant. They were living in the moment, running side by side.
At the easternmost point of the wall, the Rangers stopped. One dropped down a rope ladder.
Sera beckoned to them all. “We’ll go covert as soon as we’re down. Jennie’s team, that means no talking. If you hear our signals, obey them, but don’t try to do them yourself. Listen up:
“Tom and I invented these for the Rangers. This is ‘I’m here, where are you?’” She whistled the call of a nightjar. “This is ‘Get ready.’” She put her fingers in her mouth and made the rasp of a cicada. “This is ‘Retreat.’” She hooted like an owl. “And this is ‘Execute mission.’” She yodeled like a coyote on the run. “Hit the ground,” she said. And then, quietly, “Let’s move.”
Rico had to show off by leaping from halfway down the ladder, but when everyone ignored him, he quietly fell in behind José. Sera brought up the rear.
Tom, Jennie thought as the team ran in twos through the rows of corn, heads low. She had never understood the bond between domineering Tom Preston and deadpan Sera Diaz and the jolly man everyone had called Uncle Omar. Jennie remembered how Mr. Preston and Sera had looked at each other at the news of O
mar’s death in a bandit ambush.
Now Sera was leading a team against Voske, the man they had all once worked for. She and Preston never talked about those days, at least not to anyone born in Las Anclas—but she wondered what they said in private.
The smell of the air changed; they’d reached the soy fields. She’d been running on instinct, relying on the Rangers’ lead, but now she began listening. The team barely made a rustle as they ran low.
When they passed the bridge southwest of the singing tree, Sera pointed three fingers toward the gullies. Three Rangers peeled off to catch the tarantulas they meant to use as a distraction, using baskets and dead chickens as bait. The rest shifted toward the road; they were entering the area of maximum danger, for they had to be directly east of the attackers.
A thrashing of bushes spiked Jennie’s nerves. Her hand closed on her knife. Rico faltered, looking around.
There was a crunch, followed by a soft thud. Whatever had attacked the Ranger pair in front was no longer a threat. Jennie flipped her thumb up. Rico shakily returned it.
They ran on. Twigs rattled again. This time she saw the threat, a charging javelina, moonlight glinting on its tusks and bared teeth.
Indra was nearest. He whipped out his machete, sidestepped, and brought the steel down on the back of the javelina’s neck.
The line skirted the fallen beast and ran on. Soon afterward Sera halted them, indicated Jennie, and pointed toward the enemy: time to scout.
Jennie ran on, placing her feet carefully. She could hear voices. The danger was no longer from animals; it was from the humans themselves.
Twinkling lights—partly shaded lanterns—were visible a hundred feet ahead. She dropped and crawled over the crops that Voske’s soldiers had trampled, her hands and knees sinking and sliding on pulped squash. About fifty feet away, she belly-crawled. Slimy pumpkin bits worked their way into her clothes and slid unpleasantly across her skin.
Glints and shadows resolved into a line of posted guards behind close-packed barrels and boxes: ammunition.
She fixed the scene in her mind, then began to inch backward. A roving guard, swinging lantern in hand, skirted a barrel less than twenty feet away. Jennie froze, not even breathing, as the footsteps crunched steadily by.
Stranger Page 32
