Hettie turned on her heel and hurried away, but chanced one backward glance. Walker was still watching her, even as Julia looped her arm through his and dragged him away.
She sighed. Yes, Abby probably needed her. At least someone did.
It was well past midnight when the villagers retired. Abby was so tired she fell asleep without her usual blood feeding. It was just as well—Hettie barely had the strength to drag herself to bed.
The moment her head hit the pillow, it was like stepping through a curtain into another layer of life itself. She was barefoot in her nightgown, the ground soft and cool like the finest bedsheets.
“About time.” A gruff, familiar voice made her spin around. Thomas Stubbs, the Pinkerton agent who’d relentlessly pursued her and Diablo, stood before her, dressed in a clean, dark suit, smoking a cigar.
She had Diablo aimed at his head in a flash.
“Whoa there.” Stubbs held up his hands. “You don’t wanna do that. There’s a good chance you’re sleepwalking right now, and if you’ve pulled that thing out, you could accidentally shoot someone in real life. You don’t want to do that, do you?”
“Miss Hettie.” Ling appeared at his side. She backed away.
“What is this?” She looked between the two men, still waving the Devil’s Revolver in front of her. “What do you want? How are you here?”
“Dream interpolation. They used to send messages this way back in the day, you know.” Stubbs held up an amulet. “Found a few strands of your hair back at the army camp in Sonora. Figured they’d come in handy to track you down.”
Ling was grave as a tombstone. “Miss Hettie, you and Abby need to leave Villa del Punta as soon as you can. The Mexican army is planning to attack the village. They have a host of sorcerers, and they mean to destroy the barrier spell and take down the wall with a Mechanikal behemoth.”
Her veins filled with ice. This was no muzzy dream, and she wasn’t foolish enough to dismiss these figments entirely. “What are you talking about?”
“The garrison from Chihuahua is being led by General Cabello. They mean to take Villa del Punta and destroy everyone there.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because if you don’t leave, you and the brat will be slaughtered along with everyone else, and that’s not what we want.” Stubbs crossed his arms with a huff.
“Miss Hettie, I only want what’s best for you and Abby. Return with me, and the Division of Sorcery will let you stay with Abby as her guardian.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Hettie said. “You’re just trying to draw us out into the open.”
His lips pursed. “Be reasonable—”
“You think surrendering Abby to you is reasonable?” Her fury seemed to leak out of her into her surroundings, because the sky darkened and flickered with lightning.
A flurry of gray stars winked around them. Stubbs glanced at the amulet. “Whoops. That didn’t last as long as I’d—”
Hettie sat up in bed, heart pounding. She threw the covers off and raced barefoot through the house to Javier’s room.
Thankfully Luis was not at his post. She burst through the door. “Javier? I’m sorry to disturb you … Javier?”
There was no answer. The man lay in deathlike repose. For a heart-stopping second she thought he’d died … but then she saw the barest rise and fall of his chest.
“Javier.” She gave him a gentle shake, but he didn’t stir. A harder shake, and she called his name more loudly. Not even a pinch to his arm awakened him.
“What are you doing here?”
She spun. Raúl stood in the doorway, his face caught in deep shadows from the candle he held. “He’s not waking up,” she said fearfully. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I gave him a draught to help him sleep. He’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
She swallowed thickly. “Raúl, I got a message.” She closed her eyes. The dream conversation was already becoming hazy, and she struggled to remember the exact details. “The army is coming to attack the village and kill everyone!”
A crease appeared between his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. You had a nightmare. Too much wine, probably.”
“You don’t understand. It was Thomas Stubbs and Ling Tsang. They work for the Pinkerton Agency and the Division of Sorcery. They sent me the message in my sleep. They used dream interpolation.”
“The barrier spell stops all interpolation spells to protect us from outside influence.”
She set her teeth. “Obviously the spell isn’t as strong as you think it is. If a chupacabra got in—”
“Enough of this. Go to back to bed. You had a nightmare, and your paranoid fears serve nothing but own your self-delusions.” He spread his arms. “Villa del Punta is safe. You are safe. Your sister is safe. Why can’t you simply accept that instead of imagining enemies surrounding you?”
Arguing with Raúl wasn’t getting her anywhere. She hurried back to her room, threw on her clothes, and scrambled down the stairs and into the square.
A few revelers were still about, some of them sleeping off their drinks beneath the open sky, some of them listening to the guitar player crooning about lost loves. A lone pair leaned heavily against each other, swaying. Hettie dodged past them and headed for the Woodroffe home.
She turned the corner and jerked to a halt.
Walker stood on the veranda. Julia had her arms twined around his neck.
And they were kissing.
Her heart slugged hard twice before she could restart her momentum. She took a step forward, the gravel beneath her feet grinding loud enough for Walker to break away and look up.
“Hettie.” He frowned and took a step back from Julia. The young woman turned her face to the side, beaming despite the shadows that hid her deep blush.
Hettie fumbled for words, working around the lump in her throat and the hard knot in her chest. She’d sound ridiculous, rushing out here to tell him about a dream. “I … I got a message from Ling and Thomas Stubbs.”
His brow furrowed. “The protection barrier wouldn’t allow that.”
“That’s what Raúl said, but listen.” She told him about the talisman Stubbs had made of her hair, about everything Ling had told her, though it was even more difficult now to remember. The sense of urgency stayed with her, burning like a red-hot ember low in her gut, but the episode was fading so quickly that she began doubting everything she’d seen and heard.
What if it had been someone else who wanted her and Abby to leave the protection of Villa del Punta? Someone who had the power to disguise himself in dreams?
Someone like Zavi?
She steeled herself against her self-doubt. “I know it sounds crazy. I told Raúl, but he didn’t believe me.”
Walker rubbed his chin. “What does my father say?”
“That’s another thing. I couldn’t wake him up. Raúl gave him a sleeping draught.”
Julia listened with intense interest. “Sí, Raúl often gives him medicines to help him rest. Javier pushed his limits and has hurt himself in the past overexerting his powers.”
“Maybe … we should talk about this in the morning,” Walker said slowly.
Her throat constricted. “Did you hear anything I said? There’s an army coming. We need to prepare, to evacuate.”
“When did they say this army was coming?”
“They didn’t. That is … I don’t think they did.” She frowned, the details lost in the haze. Her cheeks burned. “I don’t remember.”
The bounty hunter swiped a hand over his mouth, the sound of his stubble loud in the awkward silence. “Well, the garrison where they held Julia and the others was only a temporary camp, and that wasn’t a full complement. It’s more likely that if they were going to attack, they’d amass more soldiers first.”
“But they’re still coming!”
“But not tonight,” he reasoned. “Not on Christmas. No one would launch an assault on Christmas.”
Hettie threw her hands in the air. “Of course they would! They plan on killing everyone! Do you think a holiday stops mass murder?”
“Hettie.” He pitched his voice low and flicked his hard gaze toward the house. “It’s late, and my mother is trying to sleep.”
She stared. Had he lost his mind? “Wake her up. Wake everyone up. At least your mother would listen to me.”
Walker gave her a pained, hard look. Over his shoulder he said, “Julia, go inside. I need to speak with Hettie alone.”
“Inside? Is she staying over?” Hettie’s voice pitched wildly, and her stupid, petty questions made her want to bite her tongue off. But she was raw, wounded that no one, not even Walker, believed her.
Julia looked between them uncertainly but then obediently hurried inside.
“What was that?” Hettie blurted, gesturing frantically. “Is she staying with you?”
His expression remained placid. “It’s not what you think.”
“No? So her locking lips with you—” She cut herself off ruthlessly. There wasn’t time for nonsense. “Walker, there’s an army coming. I’m certain of it.”
“I don’t know what you think you saw or were told, but I’m telling you, even if it’s happening, it’s not happening tonight. Even Cabello wouldn’t attack on Christmas.”
“How can you know that?”
“Because when Raúl’s mother was killed, he waited until after Christmas Day.” He wiped a hand down his face. “Even the most evil of men have a code.”
“It’ll eventually stop being Christmas!” Why was he being so thick? “You going to tell me it doesn’t count if they show up at dawn?”
He studied her. “Hettie, what’s this about? Why’re you so bent on there being danger around every corner?”
“This isn’t about me. If anything, I’d say you’re the one who’s gone all soft. Ever since we got here, you stopped being … you.”
He stiffened. “I’ve been more me than I’ve been in thirteen years. Getting that juice out of my system—”
“This ain’t about the juice, Walker. I’m telling you an army’s coming, and you’re acting like nothing can touch us here. The man I knew would’ve listened to me, not gotten all cozy playing house.”
His fists clenched. “You have no idea who I am or what I’ve been through. You were barely out of diapers when I was sent away from my home and family with no idea whether I would come back. I completed my mission. I’ve earned the right to be here, to be the person I’ve always wanted to be. I have a home and a family I have to protect now.”
“Then protect them! Wake them up!” A fist squeezed her hammering heart.
His brow lowered. “If Raúl says we’re safe, then we are.”
She stared, his cold certainty making her thoughts grind to a halt. “You don’t believe me.”
“I can’t undermine him.”
His words were like an iron spike through her core. Everything inside her congealed. “Can’t, or won’t?”
He huffed. “You don’t get it. I don’t have any authority here, especially now that I’ve returned my father’s magic. If I hadn’t left in the first place…” His jaw clenched, and he looked away. “It shouldn’t have been me. I took too long.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“It should’ve been Raúl. My father chose me over his own flesh and blood, even though Raúl was older and had magical training. If he’d picked Raúl, he wouldn’t have taken as long to find Diablo. You, Abby … this all may never have happened if it’d been Raúl in my place.”
Was that what this was about? Misplaced guilt? Hettie shook her head. “None of that is going to matter if we don’t do something to save the village right now.”
His distant gaze lifted to the horizon, though he couldn’t see it past the wall. “Villa del Punta has endured for nearly two centuries. Between Raúl and Javier, we’re safe.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Nothing lasts forever, Walker.”
His features tightened as if he were gearing up to have a go at her. Instead he said quietly, “Go back to bed.”
He turned and went into the house.
Hettie watched the sky from her bedroom window, spinning Diablo’s wheel nervously, every nerve taut. Abby snored lightly—seeing her so at peace, Hettie couldn’t bring herself to wake her, to scare her into thinking the little life they’d carved out here was at risk. Of course it always had been, always would be. But Abby didn’t need to know that—it was Hettie’s job to worry for her.
She scanned the bloodred band limning the horizon, heart jumping at every imagined flutter of movement. This must have been how Pa had felt, knowing one day his past with the Crowe gang and the Devil’s Revolver would catch up to him. The band of color in the sky expanded slowly, like a stripe of fire glowing orange, yellow, blue.
She spotted Raúl on his morning errand to unlock the gate. It took him longer than usual to undo the lock spell. He seemed sluggish this morning—not surprising considering how much everyone had eaten and drunk the night before. The army would be smart to attack today—the village was still recovering. But when the sun blazed high in the blue sky and no attack came, Hettie had to concede that maybe she’d been wrong.
“Did you have a bad dream?” Abby asked, startling Hettie.
She tucked Diablo away, feeling strangely foolish. “Something like that.”
Her sister rubbed her eyes. “I have those, too, sometimes. But they’re just dreams.” She got up and dressed without another word, then went downstairs on her own.
Hettie didn’t want to face Raúl or Walker that morning, but she needed to find someone who would listen. When she was certain Walker or Julia weren’t there, she knocked on the door to the Woodroffe home. Beatrice answered. She blinked and put on what Hettie thought was a tight smile. “Good morning, Hettie. How are you?”
“Beatrice, I need to talk to you—”
Walker’s mother held up a hand and ushered her into the house. “Walker told me about last night. He said you’d had a nightmare. That you were upset.”
“It wasn’t a nightmare. I know it wasn’t.” She pinched the headache forming between her eyes. “I tried to talk to Javier about it, but Raúl gave him something and he wouldn’t wake up.”
“Raúl’s doing what he thinks is best for his father.”
Hettie stared. “You weren’t all right with him using a sleep spell on him.”
“That was for a prolonged coma. Long-term magic use can have all kinds of side effects. He’s using one of my potions. It’s perfectly safe, I promise.” She peered at Hettie. “Are you ill?”
She was sure she was going to be. “It was real. I know it was. Ling and Stubbs told me an army is headed for Villa del Punta with a … a…” What was that word they’d used? It was all too fuzzy in her brain. She plowed on. “The people here listen to you—don’t deny it, I know they’d probably follow you sooner than Raúl.”
“Raúl’s a good man and a great sorcerer. He’s the right person to lead the village.”
“According to who?” But Hettie knew she was getting off track. “What matters right now is that we’re all in danger. If you don’t believe me … If I’m not right, then what will you lose in at least preparing people for the worst? Everyone here is already ready to fight and defend the village.”
“Young lady, I realize you’re upset. But I’m not going to be the one to throw everyone in the village into a panic just because you had a dream.” Beatrice’s tone was cool and unwavering, with a spine of steel that matched her son’s. “What you don’t get is that we’ve always been in danger. By the simple act of living here, we are at risk. That’s the price we pay for our independence—for the bounty and freedom
we enjoy here. Others will always want what we have, and hate us for it. But we can’t jump at every little sneeze, every ill omen. If we did, you and Abby would never have been allowed to stay.”
Hettie couldn’t argue with that, she supposed. Beatrice folded her hands. “You’re right about one thing: we do know how to defend our village. We know what’s at stake every time we spot a rider on the horizon, because we never know what form the dangers come in. We’ve fought and suffered and lost a great deal, but we’ve endured, and we’ve grown and we’ve built on our legacy.” She slanted Hettie a look that would’ve cut down a tree. “You’re asking us to abandon all of that. To give up hope. What makes you think this attack will be any different from all the other attacks on the village?”
Hettie pursed her lips. “Ling said they have sorcerers. And…” What was that other thing they mentioned?
Mrs. Woodroffe eyed her. “Do you trust the words of these two men more than the walls around the village?”
Hettie didn’t respond.
Beatrice gentled her tone. “I don’t blame you for being afraid. You want to run. You want to protect your sister, but you don’t want to do it alone. And you’re afraid of asking for help because you think it’ll make you look weak.” She held up a hand to stymie Hettie’s protest. “I’m not saying you are. Only that you’re doing what comes naturally.”
Hettie made one last-ditch effort to convince Beatrice. “What would Javier say?”
Beatrice shook her head. “My husband is wise and powerful and the most loving man I know. He would say you’re free to do as you please as long as you do not bring harm to others. He’s seen a lot in his lifetime, and he understands a great deal about the world … but he does not always make good decisions or know what is best.”
For some reason hearing Beatrice say this about her husband shocked Hettie. Her own parents had gotten into disputes, even had raging arguments that ended with slammed doors. But she’d never heard her mother, Grace, say a word against John Alabama. He’d had plenty of faults, but they were always kept private. Maybe that was why she’d been stunned to learn about his outlaw past. Pa had always been a larger-than-life figure in her mind, the backbone to her clan. She thought of Javier as the spine of the village. Was she wrong about him?
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