The Devil's Standoff

by V. S. McGrath

  Rosa whirled. “You will do no such thing. You are unclean.”

  Hettie balked. “You speak English.”

  Walker looked abashed as she snapped something out to him and whirled away again, waving her hands in a way that made it clear she was too busy to deal with them.

  “I don’t understand. What did she mean we were ‘unclean’?”

  “Rosa’s … particular about who handles the food.” The bounty hunter grimaced.

  “Well, if we’re so dirty, we could sweep and wash dishes and scrub floors.”

  “She means magically unclean. She’s afraid that your bond with Diablo or Abby’s untrained gift might taint the food. She charms everything to taste better, so anyone who works in her kitchen has to be mundane.” Walker shook his head. “Better to stay out of her way entirely. Don’t worry, there’s always work to be done around here.”

  They went to an open-air area where men and women sat at looms intent on their work, weaving the most incredible fabrics in bright colors and dazzling patterns. Abby tilted her head as a woman sent the shuttle in and out of the loom, the rhythmic snap-clack lulling her until Hettie had to give her a shake. The weavers barely looked up as Walker approached a wizened woman who was making a sash of some kind on a loom tied to her foot and stretched down the length of her leg. As he explained his needs, she slid a narrowed look at Hettie and Abby and pinched her thumb and pinkie finger together, drawing a sideways figure eight in the air to make the sign against evil before returning to her work.

  Walker stiffened and ushered them out. “Let’s go check on the horses,” he said tersely.

  “Let me guess … unclean?”

  “It’s not personal,” he said. “Every weaver there is gifted. They make special magicked fabrics to sell in the market. I guess they just don’t want any possible … magical interference.”

  Hettie huffed. Well, no sense staying where they weren’t wanted.

  Inquiries elsewhere around the village yielded no results. Even the wizened padre at the church made some excuse about being adequately staffed. So much for loving thy neighbor.

  They headed toward the western gate. The stables housed about fifty animals, with several more in corrals just beyond the wall. Blackie occupied a paddock on his own, lord of all he surveyed. Lilith and Jezebel happily chomped on hay in stalls away from the other animals. As Hettie went to rub Jezebel’s snout, a young boy sweeping the aisle froze.

  “Hello,” she greeted with a small smile. When he didn’t respond, she tried her limited Spanish. “Hola.”

  The boy dropped his broom and ran out.

  Walker came back from speaking with the stable master. “Seems like they’re—”

  “Plum out of work.” She hissed through her teeth and glared out toward the paddocks, where young men watched them with narrowed glances. “I’m starting to get the feeling this whole village is overstaffed.”

  Walker rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re not used to … outsiders.”

  “Outsiders, or just us?”

  “Frankly, it might be me. When I lived here…” The words came out hesitantly, and Walker wiped a hand over his mouth. “It took a long time for me and my mother to be accepted, even though Javier married her fairly soon after we arrived. But we were still gringos, strangers from north of the Wall.” His gaze grew distant as he seemed to relive the past in his mind. He shook his head.

  “I imagine the villagers never expected me to come home. That I brought you and Diablo … and Abby…” His gaze flicked to her sister, and she suddenly understood. The villagers had dismissed her as simple. Or perhaps they’d heard what she’d done when they approached the village gate. It wasn’t hard to understand why they’d be afraid or distrustful, but it still angered her when people judged Abby so readily.

  They toured the village in search of work, but no one was willing to take the gringas under their wing. Even the most menial tasks were not entrusted to them. Hettie couldn’t help but notice that Walker wasn’t exactly being welcomed with open arms either.

  “If my mother was here, she’d have welcomed your help,” he said bitterly after an exhaustive and fruitless walk around the village.

  “What does she do?”

  “She’s an herbalist and a healer. The non-magic kind. She’s in Chihuahua right now. Some of the villagers go into town every few months to sell goods and to purchase things we can’t make ourselves.” Hettie didn’t miss the use of the inclusive “we,” or the longing in his voice. The crinkle between his eyes told her he was worried for his mother’s safety, too.

  “Are there a lot of Americans on this side of the border?” She wondered how receptive the people would be to a white woman selling wares. Historically the Mexican government was not particularly friendly with its northern neighbors. Expanding U.S. rail and ranching interests, with wealthy Americans buying land rights, had thawed those relations, though. There were even rumors of building more cross-border rail lines.

  Walker shook his head. “A few, but not in great numbers. Maybe that’s changed since I’ve been away, but apart from the big cities, you won’t find many. The ones you might see are likely exiles. People who are … running away from something.”

  Like her and Abby. And maybe even Walker himself. “Is that why everyone’s so unfriendly?”

  Walker cast her a grim look. “Many of the villagers were born here. They’ve forgotten that their mothers and grandmothers were refugees to Villa del Punta once, too.” He nodded toward the western gate and the sentry towers on either side along the wall. “Thing about walls is that the people inside think they keep dangers out, when really all they do is narrow their field of view.”

  “There you are.” Raúl met them as they were crossing the main plaza in front of the great house. “Walker, the men are about to leave for patrol duty. You should join them.”

  The bounty hunter set his jaw. “I’d like to help the girls settle in first. I didn’t want to leave them to their own devices.”

  The sorcerer nodded slowly, then glanced about. “Where is Mr. Bassett?”

  “Sleeping. I couldn’t wake him. He’s drained from the journey.”

  Raúl said something in Spanish, and Walker’s face darkened. “He’s an old man, Raúl. It’s unlikely he’ll make trouble.”

  “Well, wake him up and take him with you on patrol. His powers are considerable. He may have some insight into el chupacabra. They were spotted along the northern ridge last night.”

  “We’ve heard mention of them,” Walker said, disconcerted. “So they’ve attacked the village?”

  “Come near, and killed a few stray animals, but luckily no people. Other villages have not been so lucky.” He searched the hills on the horizon as if he might spot them now. “The army has sent a few hunting parties out. They have tried to use these expeditions to track the beast as an excuse to enter the village, but we sent them on their way.” The twist in the corner of his mouth told Hettie it hadn’t been a polite dismissal.

  Walker frowned. “So the harassment hasn’t stopped.”

  Raúl nodded. “It has only gotten worse since you left. Our people are routinely arrested outside of these walls. And there are occasional raiding parties. We have held them off, but you know they will never leave us alone.” He folded his arms. “Perhaps they will listen to the report of your gun if they will not listen to my magic.”

  Walker’s face hardened, and Raúl gripped his shoulder. “Don’t be afraid, brother. Father and I have kept our people safe for years. As long as the barrier stands, Villa del Punta will endure.”

  Abby was staring at Raúl openly, chin tilted to one side as if contemplating him. “You two can work with me today,” he declared. “I am doing a magical survey west of here and could use an assistant, since my cousin Julia has gone to Chihuahua. You can read and write, I assume?”

  Het
tie replied, “I can. Abby…” She cleared her throat. She hadn’t been allowed to go to school—she was too disruptive. They’d tried to teach her at home, but she’d always been too easily distracted, her mind and gaze wandering or blanking entirely. The daily lessons had dwindled as her mother’s patience and fortitude waned. Hettie’s efforts were received just as poorly. She regretted admitting that failure now. “Well, I can’t leave her alone, so she’ll still have to come.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Walker said. “They shouldn’t leave the village. You said yourself that the chupacabra are out there.”

  “I don’t care to become a useless lump here,” Hettie interjected. “If I can be helpful to Raúl, then I will.” She also wanted to see more of their surroundings and get her bearings.

  “They’ll be with me the whole time. The chupacabra have never attacked anyone in the daylight.” When Walker’s expression didn’t ease, Raúl sighed. “If you insist on it, I will cast a protection spell.”

  “I’d rather you take a gun,” Walker said.

  “I’m not the sharpshooter you are.” Raúl’s tone was more critical than ribbing.

  “Then I should go with you. Their safety is my responsibility.”

  “Don’t you trust me to protect them?”

  When Walker didn’t respond, Raúl gave a bitter laugh. “You have been away from the village for too long, Walker. The moment you brought these girls into Villa del Punta, they became all of our responsibility.”

  They had a funny way of showing it, considering the morning’s rejections, Hettie thought. The sorcerer squeezed the bounty hunter’s shoulder. “I will protect them with my life.”

  “We’ll be fine, Walker,” Hettie said. Though irritated that the men were excluding her from the conversation, she didn’t want to be the source of contention between the brothers.

  “You see? The señorita trusts me. I look forward to getting to know our guests better.” He inclined his chin. “You should reacquaint yourself with the others on patrol. Wake the old man and take him with you. The fresh air and exercise will reinvigorate him.”

  Walker finally relented with a huff. “If anything happens, you come straight back here,” he said to her. “You won’t find much else in the way of shelter or towns for miles.”

  “Nothing will happen to them as long as I am with them, brother.” Raúl smiled broadly.

  You must have been quite a handful as a child,” Raúl commented on the ride out.

  Hettie hid her frown beneath the wide brim of her borrowed straw hat. Abby sat ahead of her on Blackie’s saddle, even though she’d been offered a little gray burro for the expedition. Hettie didn’t like letting her sister ride unfamiliar animals, though. There was no telling what a mount’s temperament was like. “What makes you say that?”

  “You have not stopped watching your surroundings since you arrived, so either you are curious or you are cautious. I imagine you must have spent a lot of time as a child exploring your world and testing your limits.”

  “I just don’t want to be caught unawares,” she said, avoiding his intense gaze and the truth he might see in her eyes.

  “There are few creatures out here who could hurt you while I am here.”

  “And what about bandits? Or these army men you spoke of?”

  “We would get away before they could bring us to harm.” He switched topics. “I’m sorry if you were met with some hostility this morning in the village,” he said. “The circumstances are unusual.”

  “That’s a polite way of saying everyone’s afraid of us.”

  “Please understand, we have not had visitors in many years—it’s too dangerous with the government and federales always hounding us. Our gates used to be open to anyone seeking asylum—my father never turned away a person in need. But then we had an incident about ten years ago—a spy nearly succeeded in sabotaging the barrier spell. For our safety, we closed the gates to all outsiders and put a hide spell to conceal our location to anyone who does not know what to look for.” He gazed at her. “Your arrival here is … remarkable. Historic, even.”

  “Ain’t nothing remarkable about two girls looking for work.” There she went, being rude to her host again. She didn’t know why she was so hostile when she owed the man and his village for their well-being.

  “You are very plainspoken.” Raúl smiled wryly. “Are all American girls so honest?”

  She shrugged. “No sense in dancing around facts.”

  Blackie gave an affirmative snort, and Raúl chuckled. “You are very much like Beatrice. Walker’s mother. Very outspoken. Very … Well, you will meet her soon enough. She and the others are due back from the city any day now.”

  They rode at a brisk trot north-northwest for nearly an hour. Hettie hadn’t relished being back on horseback after only one night, but it was better than doing nothing in the village with everyone giving them the evil eye.

  Eventually, they stopped by a dried-up stream bed. Raúl dismounted and unrolled a canvas mat checkered with little pockets, each containing a talisman. Hettie had never seen such a tidy system of organizing all those stones and feathers and bits of bric-a-brac sorcerers used for spell casting. Uncle pulled them out of his pockets willy-nilly.

  Raúl handed a notebook and a charcoal pencil to Hettie. A running chart of numbers and symbols filled the pages. She could see the difference between Raúl’s penmanship and his assistant’s—Raúl’s strokes were sharp and lean, while Julia’s were rounded and generously curved. “Did you learn runework in school?” he asked.

  “It wasn’t part of my lessons, but I know a few from what Pa used on the farm.”

  Raúl nodded. “I will recite a set of numbers to you as I work. You will need to record them in this column. Later I will teach you to record the runes, but that will take more time than we have.”

  “What are we doing exactly?” she asked as he sat cross-legged on the ground and began removing stones, bones, feathers, and sticks from the mat’s pockets.

  “It is somewhat difficult to explain to someone who has not studied magic formally. Has anyone ever told you how magic works?”

  “Not exactly. I’ve been told everyone has their own theory about the source of magic and how people access it. My pa said it was like the wind—kinda comes from nowhere but is everywhere.”

  “That is not a bad analogy, but I would say it’s more like water. It is the traditionalist’s theory—that it is an all-encompassing, free-flowing energy force. I’ve been studying the flow of magic and trying to determine where it is going and why it is disappearing from the land. It’s a little like casting a handful of feathers into a stream to see where the currents take them.” He glanced at Abby, who stared north.

  “The goats are restless,” she murmured.

  Raúl’s brow wrinkled. “Is she all right?”

  Hettie sighed and took her sister by the hand. “Lie down for a bit, Abby. Have a nap.”

  Abby sat on the warm sandstone. Raúl took his serape down off his horse and laid it out for her, and she promptly curled up on it.

  “She sleeps quite a lot,” Raúl remarked. “Is she always so tired?”

  “I suppose it’s just her growing-up phase. Ma said I slept a lot as a young ’un, too.” Hettie worried it could be something else, though. Abby might be using her powers inadvertently—there were all kinds of protection and misdirection spells she might have picked up from Uncle along their journey, and having seen her sister effortlessly mimic other sorcerers, Hettie thought it was possible she was casting those spells without realizing it. “I’m sorry. I know Walker said no one freeloads in your village, but Abby—”

  “It’s all right. I recognize she is special. In time, she will find her place.”

  Hettie bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t certain of that. On the ranch Abby had required constant attention when gi
ven a task. One time Ma had asked her to sweep the kitchen. She’d found Abby a few minutes later with the broom stuck in the stove, watching it catch fire.

  “Ready to begin?” Raúl asked.

  She nodded. Raúl picked up a handful of pebbles and scattered them across his mat, muttering a spell. Then he picked up a twig and stared at it intently. “North-northeast, twenty-two, ninety-four…”

  For the next hour Hettie noted a long list of cardinal directions and two numbers, leaving the last column for the rune blank. With each reading Raúl picked up another talisman and cast another spell. Abby slept on.

  After nearly an hour they moved to another location and repeated the process. When they settled into their new spot, Abby was more awake. She squatted nearby, staring at a mound of sand crawling with ants. As the sun rose higher they took to the shade and ate lunch.

  “So how long have you been at this?” Hettie asked as Raúl studied her notations. It’d been a boring morning, but she couldn’t imagine how much longer it would’ve taken if he’d had to stop and make notes himself every few seconds.

  “More than a year now. The eddies are very subtle and change almost daily. I need a lot of data to make any conclusions.”

  “Have you been able to figure out what’s going on?”

  “I have theories only. So far, all the measurements indicate that magic is flowing north toward the Wall.”

  “Well, that’s not unusual, is it? I thought magic went where spells were cast, and the Wall’s basically one big spell.”

  “It’s more complicated than that. The Wall was raised by magic, yes, and requires maintenance to keep it erect, but it should not be draining all the magic from the land.”

  Hettie turned this over in her mind, struggling to follow. “So … magic is flowing out of the village, but that’s not normal?”

  “The village lies in a deep well of magic. Mr. Bassett called it a node, which I suppose is also accurate—it is both a convergence of many streams as well as a reservoir where magic collects. Magic flows and pools and generally takes the path of least resistance, though we don’t know about all the factors that direct its flow. One thing is certain: magic should be gathering here, not flowing out. Water does not run uphill.” His brow wrinkled.