Highway to Hell (33 page)

Teresa gave me a pitying look. “You are slower than I thought, city girl. I thought you knew that.”

I'd suspected it, but I just didn't know how closely he was woven with Doña Isabel and the ranch.

The door opened, banging in the wind, and I turned at the ominous sound. Hector came in, wearing a rain slicker. Under one arm he carried a cardboard box, and he had a shopping bag in the other hand. He scanned the bar purposefully, and when he found me, indicated with a jerk of his head that I should follow him to the table that Lisa and the guys had staked out.

I met him there, not angry, exactly, but frustrated. “You could have just told me you were the
brujo.
”

Surprise registered through his distraction. “I thought you knew.” He set down the box, and nodded to Justin and Henry, who'd stood up, either out of respect or wariness.

“You knew about all this,” I accused him indignantly.

“About the past appearance and the shrine and the spell—and you didn't say anything?”

“I promised Doña Isabel that I wouldn't. I was bound by my word to her, but I did try to help you.” His expression was guarded. “After we worked on the shrine, our agreement was that I would maintain the protections on the town, and she would watch over the ranch. I don't know why her protections are failing now.”

“Doña Isabel is sick.” Anxiety made me abrupt. “She's being treated for cancer.”

Hector's stricken face made me wish I'd delivered the news a little better. But he collected himself and gestured to the paper that Lisa was holding. “Is that your shopping list?”

She quickly processed the fact that he knew what we were up to. After a lock-jawed moment, she handed over the page. “It's the part I've worked out.”

Giving it a cursory scan, Hector returned it along with the handled shopping bag. “Most of the items are in there. What isn't, you won't need.” He picked up the box. “Let's go. We don't have a lot of time.”

“Hang on,” said Justin, before Hector could turn away. I was very aware of all eyes, and ears, on us. The bar was pretty full, mostly with women, and even a couple of kids. Justin must have picked up on the significance before I did. “If you're responsible for protecting the town, can you leave?”

He nodded. “Everyone here will be fine. Come outside with me and I'll tell you the rest.”

The four of us trailed him out of the bar and over to his pickup truck, where he stowed the box on the seat. “Things aren't good at the ranch. Isabel just called and said Zeke has gone missing.”

“Missing?” I glanced at Lisa, whose face went quickly impassive. “Are they sure?”

“I haven't set foot on the main ranch in forty years. She wouldn't call me if the situation wasn't serious.” Hector climbed behind the wheel, his expression grave. “Meet us at Lady Acre after you've found Zeke.”

“Me?” I put out a hand to stop him from closing the pickup door. “Hector, I don't even know where to start.”

Soberly, he met my eye. “Start with the main corral. He left from there to run down some stray calves.”

“Then how does Doña Isabel know he's in trouble?”

“Do I really need to explain that to
you?”
He started up the truck. “You will know what to do, Maggie. Just find him and meet Doña Isabel and me at Lady Acre.” Looking past me to Lisa, he nodded. “Then we'll put our heads together and do what needs to be done.”

My fingers still grasped the door. “You think she'll come?”

“She'll come because of Zeke.” The creases by his mouth were etched deeply. “He's the only thing she loves more than this land.”

He put the truck in gear, and I had to relinquish the door and step back as he drove off. The others waited by the Wrangler, Justin grimly worried, Henry with a knot of confusion between his brows, as if he was still struggling to keep up. Only Lisa was busy; she'd put the shopping bag on the hood of the Jeep and was sorting through what Hector had given her.

“It's all here,” she said, sounding more numb than surprised. “I can work with this stuff.”

“Lisa.” I waited for her to look at me, but she didn't. “Are you all right?”

“I don't think any of us is going to be all right if we don't get going.”

Justin and I exchanged a worried look. Henry didn't miss it, as he glanced between us. “I know I'm clueless, but if the family is special, like if the Velasquez bloodline really is what keeps this thing at bay, then what will happen if the demon manages to spill Zeke's blood?”

“It won't be good,” said Lisa, climbing into the backseat. “Let's go get our stuff.”

We'd left our backpacks and duffels at the library. I drove the Jeep over and parked on the side street; Justin and Henry had simply jogged across the square, and got there before us. Besides reclaiming our gear and quickly locking up after ourselves, there were a couple other things I needed to do before we hit the road. First, I called my buddy Dave with a request. He was home from the hospital, and eager to help out against Ol' Chupy.

I also appropriated the branding irons from the museum. They clattered loudly when I threw them into the open trunk compartment of the Jeep, drawing Henry's frown of disapproval. “You know that's stealing, right?”

True, and I felt kind of bad, mostly because it was a library. “If I survive the night, I'll return them.”

He shook his head. “You say that very lightly for someone who stopped breathing once already today.”

“Battlefield humor.”

Justin set my backpack in the rear floorboard, and eyed the branding irons. “What are those for?”

“I'm not sure yet. I'm still tweaking my strategy.”

I handed him the keys and got into the backseat beside a grim and silent Lisa. Henry swung into the shotgun seat.

“There's a strategy?” he asked. “We're not just winging this?” “There's always a plan.” Justin climbed in and started the engine. “It gives us a place to start before everything goes to hell.”

T
he Jeep hit a bump in the gravel road and I grabbed the front seats to keep from going airborne. I'd been leaning between them to give Justin directions to the main corral, which we'd passed on our way to the stables the other day.

“This road goes right by the corral. You can't miss it.” I sat back and looked at Lisa, whose head was bent over the bagged herbs and potions she was sorting through on her lap. “Hey,” I said, lowering my voice so the guys wouldn't hear. “I'm sure Zeke knows you weren't really a decoy. He was just mad.”

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.