Highway to Hell by Rosemary Clement-Moore
She kept her eyes on her task. “Evil geniuses never apologize or explain.”
My lips pressed together to hold back a choice reply. Like how stupid that was. Relationships were all about offering, and accepting, explanations.
Ahead I could see a clean white glow that rivaled the storm-curtained sunset. Justin eased off the gas. “I don't know what that is, but they can probably see the lights from orbit.”
I leaned forward to check it out. Zeke might have been pissed, but he must have believed something I'd said, because the corral was spotlit like a diva at center stage.
The enclosure was essentially a board fence covered with a corrugated aluminum roof, which sagged between its posts. Inside the enormous covered pen, a dark red sea of cowhide moved under incandescent bulbs. Around it, banks of halogen work lamps created an island of artificial daylight in the gloom.
“Heat and light,” said Justin. “Bane of cockroaches and chupacabra demons.”
Henry shot him a wry sort of look. “You have way more of a sense of humor about this than I would have thought.”
Justin's eyes found mine in the rearview mirror, and he smiled slightly. “Maggie's bravado has rubbed off on me.”
He pulled the Jeep into a space between the trucks that ringed the corral. Around the perimeter, men on horseback stood guard like a posse around a wagon train. I couldn't decide which was the bigger anachronism—the outriders with their shotguns and walkie-talkies, or the huge generator chugging away next to the graying wood barn.
“There's Dave.” I unfastened my seat belt and climbed out, going over the side of the Jeep. My sneakers squished when I landed; the ground all around the corral was soft and … let's just say fragrant.
Dave stood on a tailgate, directing traffic. When he saw the Jeep, he climbed down and headed to meet me. “Hey, sharpshooter. I got the stuff you asked for. Best I could, anyway.”
“Thanks.” I looked him over critically; most of the cuts and bruises were hidden by his shirt. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit.” He grinned. “But if you think I'm going to let that razor-toothed son of a bitch have the last laugh, you've got another think coming.”
Thunder rumbled across the Gulf. I could still see the dark pink horizon, but the storm clouds were lowering, sandwiching us between earth and sky.
While I quickly introduced Justin and Henry, Lisa climbed, uninvited, into the bed of Dave's pickup. “Where did you get all these bags of rock salt?”
“Maggie said to bring all I could find. I raided the feed and tractor store and every barn on the way here.”
When I'd given Dave the instructions, I'd really had no idea how many cattle we would have to encircle. Now that I saw the corral—a quarter of a football field and full of cows—I was extremely relieved about the generators and the lights.
Henry pointed to the Velasquez brand on the arch connecting the gateposts. “Do all the corrals have that on them?”
“All the big ones where we've rounded up the cows. They belong to the ranch.”
“Dave.” I caught his attention, and lowered my voice. “We need to find Zeke.”
Dave called over his shoulder to one of the men watching the cattle. “Hey. Lupe. How long has Zeke been gone?”
The stable boss joined us, not looking at all surprised to see me or Lisa. “He went out after those calves that run off. Maybe an hour ago? He'll be back.”
Lisa jumped down from the truck. “He didn't go by himself, did he?”
Lupe gave her a don't-be-stupid look. “Mr. Zeke wouldn't run down a calf by himself at night, even if there wasn't no chupacabra out there.”
Justin got my attention, brushing my arm. “Henry and I will load a couple of bags of salt in the Jeep.”
I explained our plan to Dave—at least the go-out-and-rescue-Zeke part. He initially protested, but when he tried to get Zeke on the walkie-talkie with no success, he shut up and started offering me guns instead of arguments.
“At least take the shotgun,” he said, pressing it into my hands. “You know you can shoot that.”
“Dave, I don't need a gun.” I pushed it back to him. “I'll just shoot my foot off or something.”
“You can't go out there with nothing but rock salt,” he said. “What are you going to do? Season it to death?”
That was one way of looking at it. When I'd encountered the demon Azmael, even after it had become real and solid, like these monsters, the salt—unprocessed and as close to the pure mineral as possible—had worked against it, both as a barrier and as a weapon.
Henry was throwing bags of the stuff behind the rear seats of the Wrangler. The branding irons from the museum clattered against the frame as the twenty-pound bags tested the newly repaired suspension.
“We'll be fine, Dave.” There was a flashbulb pop of lightning to the east, and a rattle of thunder a few seconds later. “But we've got to go.”
He unhooked his radio and handed it to me. “Keep me posted.” Then to Justin he said, “Go slow over the terrain. It's not as flat as it looks. The pasture is dry as tinder, and the heat from the car exhaust can be enough to spark a fire, so avoid long grass if you can.”
“Thanks.” Justin helped me clamber into the back, where I dropped down beside Lisa. She was busy digging something out of her pocket, but I couldn't see what.
Dave stepped back, shaking his head. “Don't know how in hell you're going to find him.”
“You and me both,” said Justin as he got behind the wheel. Henry was already in the passenger seat.
“I'm on it,” said Lisa. “Let's go already.”
Lupe had pointed the direction of Zeke's departure. Of course Zeke Velasquez wouldn't ask anyone else to ride out in his stead. I didn't know if the big daddy chupy—the demon hive mind—was smart enough to lure him off on purpose. But it couldn't have planned things any better.
Justin turned the ignition and pulled out, leaving behind the anxious lowing of the cattle and the island of light around the corral. “What's your plan?” I asked Lisa.
She was busy threading a key onto a piece of thick black string. “I need something sticky. You got anything in your bag of tricks, Mags?”
“You're the witch,” I said, already reaching for my backpack.
“You're the one lugging a suitcase everywhere we go.” She eyed the stick of Trident I offered and made a better-than-nothing face. “Give it a chew, will you?”
As I did, she plucked a long chestnut hair from her braid and started winding it around the key. “What are you doing?”
“I'm making a cowboy detector out of something personal of Zeke's and something personal of mine.” She held out the wrapped key. “Gum me.”
I took the wad out of my mouth and stuck it where she pointed. “You have Zeke's key? Just how friendly are you?”
“It's to his house in town. He gave it to me if we wanted to watch his satellite TV while he was working. That was before all Hell broke loose and started eating people.”
Justin watched in the rearview mirror and Henry had turned around in his seat. “What's that supposed to do?”
“Sorcery is symbolic, remember? This represents me and Zeke, and the nature of the charm is to try and bring us together in actuality.” She pushed her thumbprint into the gum, holding her hair in place, and leaned over the console to hang the string on the rearview mirror. “As this is,” she said, “so should we be.”
The words were simple—no Latin, no poetry. It was still a brass key with a nasty wad of chewing gum and hair on it, but to my other Sight—the weird one—the parts seemed to knit together to form something more than their sum.
“That's really going to work?” asked Henry.
“Shut up and watch.”
The key swayed with the motion of the Jeep for a moment, but then a pattern emerged—a distinctly diagonal swing.
“He went thataway,” said Lisa, pointing to the northwest.
Justin eyed the landscape. There was no si
I held on to the seat and glanced at Lisa. “I get the components. But what fuels the spell?”
She gave me a humorless smile. “Desperation.”
Or our needing to find Zeke and his being in trouble, if you believe in help in times of peril. Which I do. I mean, leaving aside all that valley-of-the-shadow-of-death stuff, we were dealing with a demon manifesting as a pack of freaking chupacabras. The balance was tipped so far toward Team Evil, I figured some help from the bullpen would only even things out.
A quick course correction jostled me out of my thoughts. “Everyone keep your eyes peeled,” Justin said as the key started swinging in confused circles. “He might be close.”
I stood up in the back, grabbing on to the roll bar for balance. The wind whipped through my hair, and the lightning ripped through the clouds, the thunder not far behind.
Not just thunder. Hoofbeats. I braced myself only an instant before a huge, dark beast came tearing across our path.
29
Justin slammed on the brakes and I fell forward across the roll bar. Only Lisa's quick grab at my legs kept me from somersaulting over.
“What the hell was that?” Henry yelped.
The empty saddle registered first. Long legs, waving tail, three-beat gait. I recognized the mare, even in the eerie gray-green twilight. “It's Sassy,” I wheezed.
“Again? Has she got it in for you?”
The wind carried a whistle; the mare bucked and checked her stride. She circled around as if pulled by an invisible lead rope, compelled by training or herd instinct, or a connection to her rider.
“Follow that horse,” I said. The tires spun on the sand, then we shot forward. I slammed down into my seat, adding to the bruises on my butt.
Nothing like field-testing the suspension right out of the gate. Justin struggled to keep the horse's flicking tail in sight as she wove around cactus clumps and mesquite thickets. I looked over my shoulder to the west, where dark fingers of cloud closed like a fist over the setting sun, leaving the desert in shadow.
Lisa's grip on the seat tightened. “Is this as dark as it was when the swarm came out?”
“Darker.” The world had turned into a black-and-white movie.
“Over there.” Henry pointed to Sassy, who was lengthening her lead on us. “She's headed around that copse of trees.”
Justin's jaw set in concentration. “Gotcha.”
Sassy rounded a patch of mesquite. The moment she was out of the Jeep's headlights, something leapt from the thicket and dragged her down. The horse screamed in terror as the thing on her neck flashed silver-white teeth and glowing red eyes.
“Hang on.” Justin cut the wheel and shot the headlights onto the fallen horse, illuminating the horror that crouched over her, its leathery skin like night given substance. It hissed and flinched from the light. There was a shot, and the monster exploded into a cloud of gooey black droplets.
Zeke limped into the spill of the Jeep's headlights, a pistol aimed at the ground to his side. Sassy got her legs under her, whinnying in pain and fear, a trio of gouges in her shoulder. The cowboy caught her reins and shielded his eyes with his hand.
It was very Wild Wild West meets The Thing. Especially as, just out of the high beams, the monster that Zeke had shot was reassembling itself. A black, oily cloud struggled against the wind, coiled around hot coals for eyes, and spun out into limbs and talons. It was working fast, probably fueled by the power boost from the blood that dripped down Sassy's neck.
“Jeez,” said Henry. “Every time I think I've seen it all …”
“Drive right for it.” I knelt backward on the seat, leaning over into the cargo compartment. With my Swiss Army knife, I punctured the bag of rock salt and filled my palms.
“You ready?” Justin asked, putting the car in gear.
“Go!” He slammed on the gas. Lisa grabbed the back of my jeans to keep me from flying out of the Jeep as it bucked over the dunes.
The nightmare-shaped mist blew out of the path of the headlights, then rode the backdraft straight at me, the claws already solid and gleaming in the soot-dark cloud. I flung my handfuls of salt onto it and heard a satisfying sizzle as the half-formed creature evaporated.
Justin pulled to a stop with Zeke and the horse in the safety of the headlights, and set the brake. Lisa scrambled out over the side of the Jeep.
Zeke's eyes were glazed, his voice numb with shock. “Why won't these things die?”
“Duh,” said Lisa, when she'd reached him. “Magic.”
He blinked. A whole grab bag of expressions flitted across his face—surprise, relief, chagrin. But rather than express any of these aloud, he wrapped his free arm around her, pulling her into a fierce, tight embrace. After a moment, she reciprocated.
Aw.
“What do you know.” Justin watched, both hands still gripping the steering wheel. “Human after all.”
“That's sweet.” Henry's tone didn't match his words. “Except if we get eaten while they're making out.”
The wind blew against my cheek with a wet splat. I thought it was a drop of rain, but when I touched the spot, my fingers came away smeared gooey black. “We've got to go.”
Justin honked the horn and shouted over the windshield. “Get in the car, guys.”
Zeke dropped his arm from Lisa's shoulders and holstered his pistol on Sassy's saddle. The mare's head was down and her hooves planted, her ears twitching on the alert.
I stood and scanned the twilight for hard-edged shadows or the gleam of red eyes. “Where are the others?” I asked Zeke. “Lupe said you rode out with two guys.”
“I sent them back to the corral, and led the … things off this way.”
“We've got to get to the grotto.” Justin put the car in gear but kept the clutch down and the brake set as Lisa climbed in. “Is it far from here?”
“Far enough,” said Zeke, “with those monsters out there. You can follow me.” He swung into the saddle with a wince. If the mare had spooked and thrown him, he had to be hurting, but he gave a wan smile. “Try to keep up.”
He rode ahead of the Jeep, careful to keep Sassy in the beam of the headlights. Full dark had fallen around us. The hair on the back of my neck lifted with the intangible static charge of otherworldly forces nearby.
Lightning flashed overhead, and the shriek of more than one chupacabra reached my ears before the thunderclap. Did that mean the monsters were closer than the storm? I couldn't remember the formula for calculating the distance of a sound. One one thousand, two one thousand. How few thousands meant we were screwed?
I could feel the grotto before it came into sight, like a psychic lighthouse in the storm. The lights of Hector's truck were a beacon against the night and all the forces of darkness. It was like coming home and finding your parents had left milk and cookies for you, times a thousand.
Zeke galloped in ahead of us like the Pony Express. Justin pulled up to the edge of the hollow, stopping so that the headlights shone between the trees that edged the space, illuminating Mary in her hillside niche. Hector stood beside the big shade tree, gesturing to us urgently. “Come on. You'll be safe in here.”
I grabbed my backpack, Lisa snatched up her duffel. Justin got the branding irons, and Henry threw a twenty-pound bag of rock salt over his shoulder with little visible effort. As always, I felt a demarcation as I stepped into the sunken clearing, but even more so with a campfire burning brightly, waiting for us.
Doña Isabel knelt by the icon, the beads of her rosary moving through her fingers as her lips moved silently in prayer. Zeke wrapped Sassy's reins around a low tree branch and hurried to his grandmother's side. “What are you doing here, Abuelita? You should be in bed.”
“Don't interrupt her,” Hector said. He handed a box of matches to Lisa and me both. “Maggie, you light the candles I've placed along the easter
We dumped our stuff and did as he said. The grotto was ringed by a hundred or more white candles—short and fat, spaced about a foot apart. We'd walked through them from the Jeep. On my hands and knees, I went to work lighting them, using one match until it singed my fingers, then striking another.
Outside the circle I could sense a building presence, watching and waiting. Beyond the truck lights and the camp-fire, a pair of red eyes stared into our haven, the rest of the demon lost in the shadows. A flash of lightning made it scream, and the sound echoed from the other side of the grotto.
“Keep going.” Justin had come up behind me. He grasped one of the branding irons like a club. “I'll watch out for them.”
My shaking hands could barely hold the flame to the candle long enough for the wick to catch. Lisa had completed her half of the circle, and Hector stopped her before she could continue into mine. Maybe we each had an assigned task. Was that how it was with Hector and the town, and Doña Isabel and the ranch? If each hadn't carried out their separate duties all this time, would the spell have collapsed?
More than one person had said that Doña Isabel never left the ranch. I had taken that to mean “as good as never,” but was it possible she could literally never set foot off the property?
Finally, I had only four candles left. I extended the match to make it three when I heard an unearthly sound, a scraping of claws down Lucifer's blackboard. The corner of my eye glimpsed movement, shadow on shadow, and Justin yelled, “Duck!”
I flattened myself on the ground. The chupacabra leapt at me, bringing a foul smell, like new asphalt. There was a whoosh and then a thud of metal hitting meat. Justin had swung his iron weapon over my head and knocked the creature back.
The monster was the size of a German shepherd, its hide like wet ink, its teeth translucent, luminous in the dark. Gathering itself, it lunged at Justin. He parried its stiletto claws, then thrust his weapon at its heart. The double-armed cross at the tip of the branding iron didn't stop, but tore into the creature's thick black hide, running through it like a sword.