She Returns From War (25 page)

Behind her, standing at the edge of the cliff, a shadow watched her ride into the gathering night.

SIXTEEN

The walls stood before her in the darkness, sudden and out of place in the desolation that surrounded them. They were not the castle walls she was accustomed to seeing, great grey barriers rising out of the green of the English countryside. These were smaller - no more than ten feet high in most places - and didn't look as though they had been built to keep armies out. The crumbling structure nearest her appeared to have once been a small house. Further down, a larger ruin stood against the stars, perhaps a temple or some sort of market.

Victoria wondered what sort of world this land had been, where ancient cities didn't build walls to keep invaders at bay. Guiding her mare up to the nearest ruin, she reached out and ran her hand along it. The stone was slightly warm to the touch. She thought it strange that the wall would retain its heat so many hours after the sundown, but the New Mexico sun had a lot of heat to give. Maybe it wasn't so unnatural after all.

Taking a deep breath, Victoria braced herself for another look into the spirit world. She had found her way to the ruin by stealing quick glimpses as she rode, feeling for all the world like a spiritual rodent poking its head out of some burrow. It was anybody's guess whether such a tactic had kept the skin-walker from noticing her as she approached. Whenever she slipped out for a look, she could sense the evil presence, but she didn't feel any indication of awareness on the other's part. She took that to be a good sign, but she knew her assumption was really nothing more than an educated guess.

Victoria closed her eyes once more and slipped out of her body. Her mare didn't seem to notice or care about the change; the animal simply lowered its head and began grazing on the long, dry grasses growing at the base of the wall. Victoria resisted the temptation to stare at her own form slumped in the saddle. She reached out with her awareness instead, searching for the dark presence. It was very close now, hiding somewhere in the ruins ahead.

Satisfied, Victoria ducked back into herself and sat up. Looking up and down the crumbling wall in front of her, she spied a shadow not too far away. Possibly an entrance. She gave her mare a single pat on the neck, then slipped out of the saddle as quietly as she could.

A faint chiming broke the stillness of the night.

Dropping into a crouch, she held her breath and waited for it to come again. After a few moments, she risked a look over her shoulder. Nothing. She took a tentative step, then nearly fell over from relief. The sound had been her own spurs jingling as she dismounted. Fighting an urge to burst out laughing, she bent over and pulled them free of her boot heels. Her horse regarded her with one large black eye as she tucked the spurs into a saddlebag.

"Stay here," she whispered.

The animal blinked in reply. Taking that for an affirmative, Victoria turned and cautiously approached the shadow in the stone wall. Her fingers itched to draw her revolver. She curled them into a fist instead. As much comfort as the weight of the gun in her hand would bring her, she didn't trust her own nerves. She might shoot at a bird, a rat, or even nothing at all, throwing out whatever small chance she had of catching her enemies off-guard. No, it was best to approach empty-handed until she had a clear shot.

The opening loomed ahead of her. Victoria crouched next to it and tried to calm her pounding heart. She'd lost count of how many times she'd thought herself mad for coming out here alone. Even now, in the shadow of that ancient wall, she had to fight to keep from climbing back onto her mare and galloping back to town. After all, Cora had insisted on doing that very thing, and the old hunter's sense had kept her alive for a long time.

The thought of Cora's dry voice and condescending glances hardened Victoria's resolve. She was out here to kill a skin-walker and a vampire, and she would do exactly that. If that old bat didn't want to help, she could drown herself with that horrid drink of hers. Victoria raised her blue eyes to the stars, nodded to herself, and turned toward the opening.

Red eyes gleamed at her.

Victoria screamed and jumped backward. Her boot caught on a rock, and her hands flew out to either side as she fought to keep her balance. In an instant, strong fingers wrapped around her wrists and yanked her arms around her back.

"You just don't learn, do you, darlin?" came a familiar, loathsome voice.

Victoria twisted against his grip, trying to free herself. He laughed in her ear and bent her arms until she cried out in pain. Straightening up as best she could, Victoria looked into the woman's face.

"You did not listen," the woman said, her tone almost remorseful.

Despite the pain, a gleam came into Victoria's eyes. "I do not need to run from you," she said. "I know who and what you are. You are a skin-walker, and your name is Anaba."

Victoria watched Anaba's face, waiting for the flash of realization and fear to flicker through those inhuman eyes. Once the witch woman's powers were gone, she would lose control over her pet vampire. Victoria couldn't know for sure what would happen when he broke free of the spell, but she didn't think it would bode well for the skin-walker.

Anaba nodded slowly. "You have spoken with my father."

"Yes," Victoria said, her confidence wavering. "He taught me much of your kind."

"He did not tell you enough."

Victoria swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"You have named me, but it is not enough. Not here. The spirits in this place are powerful, and they protect me from such trickery."

Victoria wilted a little in the man's cold grip. Her fingers were tingling. She tried to flex them as her mind raced. The skin-walker could not be weakened by the calling out of her name. Would the sacred ash also fail to stop her? The silver bullets might still kill the vampire, but what good would that be while the witch lived?

"I hope you were kind to my people," Anaba said.

"I tried to be," Victoria said. "They were very kind to me."

The skin-walker smiled. "They are a kind people. They did not deserve what your people did to them."

"My people?"

"Yes," Anaba said. Her brow drew downward. "They killed many, and made the rest of us walk many miles and sleep inside their strange walls. For no crime but that we live."

"Anaba," Victoria said, "my people did not harm you. I am not from America."

"You come from the east," Anaba said. "So did the men that took my family and made my mother walk until she died. The men who shot my husband laughed in your tongue. Your speech is their speech, your skin is their skin, and your eyes their eyes. It is enough."

"No." Fear burrowed deeper into Victoria's mind, robbing her of words. "No, it isn't."

"Enough talk. You were given a chance, and you did not take it. Now-"

The skin-walker paused. Her eyes gleamed in the waning moonlight as she cocked her head to one side as if listening. Victoria wanted nothing more than to lunge at her, taking advantage of her sudden distraction, but the vampire still held her fast. Pulling against his grip would only hurt her wrists more, so she remained still and silent.

Anaba's gaze fixed on her again. "Your idea was clever."

"What idea?"

"To arrive ahead of the hunter," Anaba said. "To make me believe you came alone."

"Cora?" Victoria's look of confusion twisted into disdain. "Cora left me alone out here and went back to her absurd little pub."

"Your lie is wasted. I feel her approach on the wind."

A swell of hope surged in Victoria's stomach, but it quickly faded. Cora may have been planning to catch them off-guard, but it wouldn't do any good. Now that Victoria had gotten herself captured, Cora would face both the skin-walker and vampire alone.

The red eyes glanced at the creature behind her. "Demon, I will leave this one to you. Do with her as you see fit, but she must be dead when you are finished."

"Sure thing." Victoria didn't need to see the man's face to hear his leer. "I ain't got to play nice no more, do I?"

The skin-walker shook her head. Victoria felt as though she might vomit. Anguish twisted her insides as she berated herself for her own foolishness. Why had she ever thought she could overcome two powerful, supernatural creatures by herself? The sacred ash and silver bullets might as well have been back in England for all the good they had done her. Even with the holy weapons, she was still just a human, an ordinary girl playing at being something that she would never be.

And now she was going to die for it.

The vampire twisted her arms ruthlessly. Pain exploded through her body as she writhed against him, trying to ease the agony, but it only grew worse. He laughed at her efforts. "That's right, ain't it? Don't matter how uppity you women think you is. Sooner or later, you can't control yourselves no more, and you're plumb crawling all over me."

Victoria's stomach heaved at his words, but the pain in her arms left her without the breath for a retort. She had never in her life imagined that such agony could exist, and it was only a taste of what the man would surely do before the end. Tears burned in her eyes. The world faded away, leaving her alone with the pain and the monster.

"Be fast with her." Anaba's voice came from a great distance, echoing down a long, dark tunnel of despair. "I may need your help with the hunter."

"Ain't no fun if it's quick," the man said. The pain in Victoria's arms lessened, and she sagged against his grip. "You got to give me at least ten minutes or it just ain't worth it."

"No more," the skin-walker said. Before the vampire could respond, Anaba lowered herself into a crouch, her hands coming to rest on the desert floor. Victoria forgot the pain in her arms for a moment as she watched the witch's dark skin melt into a silvery grey. It was over in the space of a single breath, and the fox-that-was-not-afox stood before them. The creature looked at Victoria, intelligence burning in its black eyes, then loped off into the underbrush.

"There now," came the man's voice. "Nice and quiet for us to do our business."

He laughed and shoved her forward. Her arms, asleep from their imprisonment, could not break the fall in time. Pebbles bloodied her cheeks as she slammed into the ground face first. She gasped from the pain and inhaled a lungful of dirt. Her knees came up to her chest as violent coughs shook her frame.

Something hard and pointed drove into her back, sending her skidding across the ground. More shocks of pain ripped through her as she rolled over the rough terrain. Coming to rest on her stomach, she pushed herself up on her hands and knees. The coughing fit began to subside, and she raised her head. The man stood before her, fingers hooked through his belt loops and a smirk spread beneath his flashing blue eyes.

"Ain't never had me a British lady before."

Victoria's hand darted toward her belt. The smooth, firm grip of Cora's revolver filled her palm. She leaned backward and brought the weapon up in a single motion. The man's smirk vanished. Victoria allowed herself one of her own as she squeezed the trigger, eager for the thunderclap that would end this wretched creature's existence once and for all.

It didn't come.

The vampire's boot came up, knocking the Colt from Victoria's grip. She fell backward as a second kick swept toward her. It missed her nose by mere inches. Turning away from him, she pulled her feet under her and broke into a dead run. Her boots crashed through the scrub, raw terror giving them speed. She knew she could never hope to escape the monster, but her instincts had taken over. On she ran into the night, expecting to feel those cold, crushing fingers around her neck with every step.

Cora's mare plodded along, head bobbing up and down to the rhythm of her hooves. Around them, the desert slept beneath the waning moon. Cora could hear the echoes of its nightmares on the wind, given voice by the animals that lived and died beneath the stars. The old hunter had spent so many years riding on such nights that she scarcely heard their cries at all. She slouched in the saddle, hips swaying with the motion of the horse beneath her, lost in thoughts and memories of better days.

Her lips moved beneath the brim of her hat, cracked voice drifting into the darkness as she spoke to someone who wasn't there. Laughs would occasionally burst forth from her like quiet gunshots. A metal flask gleamed in one hand; the other held the reins in relaxed fingers. Moonlight winked on the tips of silver spurs.

Something small skittered across the ground under the mare's nose. The animal whinnied and reared, taking Cora by surprise. She kept her seat as the animal bucked beneath her. Curses joined the chorus of the night's voices as she fought with the reins. After a few moments, the mare calmed down. Cora leaned forward, speaking quiet words into the mare's twitching ears as she rubbed her neck. The animal snorted in reply.

Cora straightened up in the saddle. A long, low shadow spread out on the horizon in front of her. It rose in sharp angles and staggered arches, blotting out the starlight in rigid shapes. She'd heard of the ancient ruins in the desert, but she'd never had occasion to explore one in all her long years of hunting. Had she been a younger woman when she moved to Albuquerque, she might have ventured into one in search of excitement, her husband tagging along in the hope of discovering long-forgotten myths. The thought made her heart sink. She pushed it aside, her fingers toying with the lid of her flask.