by Holley Trent
Wide-eyed, Sophie laid a hand over her heart.
Grunting, Lola stepped into the pantry in search of tealeaves. “Where is the rest of your baggage? Were those two bags all you brought?”
“I left most of my things at a secured warehouse back in Baltimore at the port. Having no one to assist me, I wanted to travel as light as I could. Why?”
“Your jewelry? Your valuables?”
Sophie’s brows snapped together. “Why?”
“I have no desire for your baubles. My concern is for the size of the target you have painted on yourself. Word will get around quickly that you are here, and the curious will come and see for themselves. If your intention is to stay here for any length of time, I suggest you find some attire more suitable for the location and lie about why you’re here. If they think you have money—”
“They’ll cheat me?”
“Or worse.” Lola handed her the leaves after sniffing them. They seemed fresh enough, but she knew very little about what the English called tea. She didn’t even know who’d purchased the tin in the pantry. “What is your plan, Lady Sophie? Will you be returning to Baltimore and moving on to Bermuda with haste now that you know there’s nothing here for you?”
At the mention of her title, Sophie’s spine went rod straight and lips jutted out in a pretty little pout. She measured tea into the chipped porcelain pot and drowned it with boiling water. When she spoke again, her voice was low and tinged with barely suppressed irritation. “I am well past thirty years old with no family, no maid, little income, and with no ambition besides not being so sad all the time. I refuse to sit in some perfectly appointed house equipped with all the required social fineries only to watch the balances of my accounts dwindle with each passing day. I’d rather…do something.” She looked to Lola with grief and worry in her eyes. “Anything but sit and wait for someone to do something with me.” Quietly, she added, “You’re the only people I know in this place.”
Lola knew there’d be no discouraging her. She could respect that steeliness. Sophie was going to make her own way—have the sort of unscheduled, unpolished, unpolite life she needed.
“I will find you a dress,” Lola said contemplatively. “Perhaps you can fit one of Elizabeth’s as she is quite thin. Rachel may have spare boots you can wear. If you are going to hover near here, you need to play the part. We are not gentlewomen here. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
Sophie’s nod was slow in coming, but certain. “While I’m pouring the tea, tell me where everyone is. You’re lending me their things, but exactly where are Rachel and Elizabeth?”
“They will be here momentarily. We find ourselves needing to leave here. We must plan how.”
“I see. And Tarik? I hate to think he did all that coordinating work for me for naught. I hope he’ll accept my apology.”
Bile tracked up Lola’s tight throat once again. She forced it down on a burning swallow and parted her shawl. She put her hands on her hips and as Sophie ogled her midsection, she commented, “We have no more milk, but if you would like sugar in your tea, there is some in the green canister.”
“Heavens,” Sophie murmured.
“He has been there.” Lola used her back teeth to rip off a chunk of bread and started for the door. “Now he can go to hell.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Three Months Later
“It’s not worth it,” Rachel said, leaning on the handle of her hoe and pinning Sophie in her stare.
Sophie swatted her unbound hair out of her face and yanked the tool from Rachel. “And why not? Things have been calm. Elizabeth said so.”
“Elizabeth got that information thirdhand from her nephew who got it from Oscar. Never trust a Werewolf’s ability to gauge what’s safe. They’re happier with risk than we are.”
“But we really need soap,” Sophie whimpered. Another swipe across her face did little to get the clinging hair off her cheeks, but she did manage to transfer a bit more dirt to her cheeks.
Fortunately, there was still some water left in the barrel. They’d have to be conservative, but they could make it last until there was rain again.
Lola inched to the edge of the trunk she’d rested on and, opening her legs wide, leaned her forearms onto her knees. The baby was heavy, and Lola wasn’t carrying him or her as easily as she had Yaotl. Some nights, she lay on the hard bench outside the one-room house staring at the stars and wondering at her body. She’d convinced herself that the aches and twinges were good things and an experience she should be grateful to have so she could better relate to the women she was meant to serve. She just didn’t like that she didn’t understand everything. And she didn’t feel the child’s magic like she had with Yaotl. She was frightened that she would have yet another child she couldn’t make sense of.
“We will use what we have,” Lola said. Gratefully, she accepted the bowl of stew Elizabeth carried outside. The weather was too hot for it, but the stew kept well on the stove all day and it was filling.
She’d never been so hungry before.
“And when we run out of that,” she said with the spoon poised in front of her lips, “we will pretend we don’t know the difference.”
“Used to doin’ that.” Rachel shrugged and hauled up the spade she’d dropped earlier. Her hands were thoroughly blistered, as were Sophie’s, but the work had to be done. Lola was bounding up all of her magic and burying it in those troughs. “Warding,” witches might have called it. In truth, it was hiding. Obscuring.
Most of the Cougars in Maria had moved onto the Double B in recent weeks having been unable to guard their homes from the sheriff’s men. They were simply outnumbered. Stunningly outnumbered. Back in Mexico, hundreds of years ago, Lola might have walked in the midst of them and showed them what she was and scared them into submission, but she couldn’t do that anymore. People were too cynical. Too hostile. They didn’t simply capitulate. They lashed out and tried to destroy what they didn’t understand.
She wouldn’t let that happen to the Cougars or any of the other non-humans who made Maria their home. Besides, the women wouldn’t let her do much more than eat, sip water, and piss, anyway. They were afraid that if she used her magic in any major way, she’d harm the baby.
Norman settled onto the ground near Lola’s feet with his own bowl of stew. Lola rustled his hair and smiled. He looked so much like Elizabeth and had so many of her quirks. She marveled at the fact he hadn’t known his aunt for very long and yet he was so much like her. “So, you’re gonna walk around the whole ranch with your magic?” he asked. “That’ll keep folks out?”
“Not the whole ranch. I don’t have that much energy to spare. Just planting some magic at each encampment and some by the road. It will make it appear to outsiders that there is no one there.”
“What if they try to walk through us?”
“If I do it well enough, they will feel discouraged from walking closer.”
“They really want this ranch,” Rachel said. “Rumor still going ’round that there’s gold on it.”
Norman’s eyes went huge and round.
“There isn’t any,” she said with a laugh. “We sure looked. No gold. No silver. Just cows and a whole lot of dirt.”
“Aw.” He pouted and, with a shrug, turned his focus back to food. He really was an easygoing child.
Lola snorted at the very idea that any child of hers would be so acquiescing, especially not given who the sire was.
Sophie grabbed the spoon from Lola’s hand and bent it back into its proper configuration before returning the utensil. “There you go, dear. Just stop thinking about him and all will be well.”
“I cannot help but to think about him.” She aimed for a bit of beef off the bottom of the bowl and sawed it in half with the edge of her spoon. “Every time the baby stretches and my tailbone aches, I think of him.”
“That’ll stop after the baby is born.” Sophie looked to Rachel. “Won’t it?”
“Of course it
will.” Rachel slung the shovel over her shoulder and headed to the cart she’d attached to the horses. She dropped the shovel into it and waved Sophie on with the hoe. “Come on. Let’s see if we can get a few more done before we fight over what soap’s left.”
“Are you quite certain your mother doesn’t have any?”
“She said she was gonna make some, but that takes time.”
“And no one has time,” Elizabeth called out.
“I’ve got time!” Norman exclaimed.
Rachel laughed. “Run on over and tell her that, then. She’ll put you to work.”
He stood in a hurry.
“Finish your stew first,” Lola chided, “or else you will wonder why you are hungry in an hour.”
He sucked it down and took off like a bolt across the desert toward the Foye house.
Lola and Elizabeth stood and watched from the door until Mrs. Foye waved her white apron as a sign he’d arrived.
“I’m going to town,” Elizabeth said as Lola settled back onto her trunk.
“No.”
“I have to. Somebody needs to go see what’s happening, and plus, don’t you want to know if there’s mail?”
Of course Lola wanted to know. The last letter she’d received from Yaotl had been mailed just after Tarik had disappeared. Perhaps sending him one more letter would make a difference.
She thought better of it. There was too much risk for her girls, and Yaotl could take care of himself.
“The ride is too long, and they patrol near those wards. Stay here where the Cougars can see you. I will plant my magic soon.” Lola held up her spoon. “The moment I finish.”
“You’re warding this place against more than just those bandits, aren’t you? Does it work on angels, too?”
Lola ferreted another little sliver of beef out of the bowl. “I must stay here until Yaotl returns,” she said noncommittally. “I cannot leave Maria.”
Elizabeth gave her a searching look but fortunately kept her mouth shut.
When Lola had finished her lunch, she carried her bowl into the tiny house, washed it out in the basin, and rejoined Elizabeth outside.
For long minutes, they stared at the mountain range in the distance. If she were willing, she could tiptoe into the Cougar’s mind and glean what kind of heavy thoughts had her gaze looking so despondent.
Elizabeth’s thoughts could remain her own for the time being. Lola would not invade unless she invited her to.
“I may as well get started.” Lola hitched her dress up so the hem wouldn’t drag against the brush and dirt. Slowly, she picked her way into the desert, looking back occasionally to reckon distance.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d warded a place in such a way. She hadn’t even used her magic for such aggressive protective measures when Yaotl’s old village had been threatened.
He’d be angry with her when he found out she’d be so selective in her interference. Perhaps he’d understand one day that this was personal for her. Yes, she’d gotten involved more deeply than she should have. She’d forged relationships with creatures she was supposed to keep at arm’s length, but what had been her choice? To leave? To keep walking aimlessly until someone designed a plan for her?
That didn’t sound much like living to her. That sounded like…waiting.
Why wait? Live now.
She turned. She could barely make out the shape of the house’s door, so she’d gone a good distance. Her vein of magic would easily run between her standing place and the house. The entire area would be obscured from hostile intent until she pulled her magic back.
She folded her knees slowly and settled onto her shins.
“Behind me. Not in front of me,” she called silently to Elizabeth. “I don’t want you harmed.”
The Cougar nodded and arced around a saguaro to take her position at Lola’s heels. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No.” Lola shoved her hands deep into the disturbed soil Rachel and Sophie had loosened and closed her fists around the sandy dirt. She closed her eyes, too, and tuned out all the noises around. The dry rustling of foliage. Distant bird chirps. The plaintive croaks of insects seeking their mates. She tuned everything out except the low buzz that was the voice of desert itself. Some may have thought the arid lands were a dying place, but they lived in their own way. Different, not worse than the expanses that were lush and green and damp. The desert had once been moist and verdant, too. Now it was simply something else.
Putting her hands into the ground, she understood the place and it understood her. They had both once been something else but were eroded over time. They’d changed with the climate. They’d adapted.
She’d always adapt.
“Lola?” Elizabeth’s hand was on the back on Lola’s neck.
Lola had put her forehead to ground in her effort to get closer to the Earth—so that what she poured into it did not spill.
“Shhh. Let me work,” she told Elizabeth.
She was wondering who had watched over the place—who’d roamed it the way she had in her domain in Mexico.
The answering call was quiet but assessing. Finally, it spoke, “I have gone. Stay, if you’d like.”
“I will.” Her Yaotl was near. Or, nearer than she’d thought, anyhow. A hundred miles. The old steward of the place showed her—taught her how to bend her magic in the place. He taught her how she could always find her son as long as his feet were on the ground.
And then he went back to sleep, happily so. Perhaps one day, he’d decide he had rested enough and step out into the realm of man once more. Perhaps he would decide there was more work to do on the playground called Earth.
Lola opened her palms and her mouth and let magic flow out of her into the ground. A trickle at first. She had to be careful not to expend it all at one. There were other holes to visit. Other clusters of Cougars to protect.
The energy was hot and fast as it flew arrow-straight toward the lodging and she felt herself growing lighter. Less leaden.
Briefly, she wondered if that was what if felt like to be human—would she be so light if all the primordial energy were gone?
Maybe she could be happy if she were. Maybe she’d know less. Maybe she could be more self-centered.
Another shove of magic. With her eyes closed, she could almost mistake it for water. It was wet and harder to push away, but it had taken the shape necessary to penetrate the terrain. The magic adapted, just like Lola.
She couldn’t be stagnant. She could be steady without being a statue. She’d always hated statues. That was why there were so few of her.
“Lola!” Elizabeth’s hands clutched her shoulders, pulling Lola back as she slid farther down into the hole.
Lola let her. She was done, anyway.
A bit winded, Lola crawled carefully away from the hole, ready to start backfilling it. With her hands poised and ready to scoop up soil, she opened her eyes.
Elizabeth was so far away. Fifteen meters or more. She’d walked around to the other side of a pond that hadn’t been there before. There wasn’t water in it, but effervescent, glimmering magic that Lola had poured into the ground too quickly. It seeped slowly into the earth, leaving behind a silver-white tinge. It looked like ash after a fire. A touch revealed the delicate residue felt like the charred remains of a blaze, too.
“Looks like lightning struck,” Elizabeth called over. “How are we going to fill that in?”
Lola sat back on her heels and assessed her work. “We will not,” she decided.
She clapped her hands clean on her skirt and stood. Her back ached. If nothing else, the babe was going to teach her the hard lesson of how much pain a woman’s body was created to endure. A lesson she’d needed, perhaps.
“We will leave it be and call it added insurance,” Lola said. “If the ranch looks as though lightning often makes a landing here, perhaps outsiders will be even more unwilling to cross it.”
And maybe angels, too.
CH
APTER TWENTY-FOUR
Tarik landed softly behind the saloon and shook out his wings. His heart was hammering against his ribs with disconcerting urgency and his gut felt turned sideways.
There was always a bit of confusion upon landing when he used more energy than he should have to transport himself across realms, but his anxiety added to the mix and turned it into a nauseating brew.
He needed to see Lola. He’d been aching to see her for countless hours. He hadn’t meant to be away for so long, but when he traveled between places, he lost track of time.
It’d been months. While hunting in between realms, he’d been distracted and fueled by bloodlust. His thoughts had been preoccupied with sanitizing earth of the fallen ones who’d broken one of their most sacred rules. Adults were fair game, but the children were no one’s pawns.
He gripped the handle of the saloon’s back door and gave it a tug. It was not only locked but barred. Shielding his eyes at the sides from the glare of the sun, he peered into the window. The kitchen was empty and dark. The equipment inside the room was unfamiliar. New stove. New table.
Lola wouldn’t have spent money on such things unless the others had been destroyed.
Did something happen?
Pulling the shield of glamour over his wings, he adjusted the angle of his sword against his spine and moved around the corner of the building. Someone had started painting the gray, weathered siding slats a cheery pink that was ignorantly out of place in a Wild West town like Maria.
Lola wouldn’t do that.
Discretion was her mode. Not even the boldest of goddesses would paint a saloon and whorehouse pink.
He hung back in the shadows long enough to scan the street ahead. Ten o’clock. Always quiet then. Too late for breakfast, too early for lunch, and people had work to do.