“You could have just texted me,” he grumbled.
She sighed. “We’ve been over this. The prophecies say both of us, and I’m not going to lose you again.”
He knew all that, but he didn’t like her being in danger. He started the truck and drove through the ruined gates, then turned north.
Their plan hinged on Derorril’s greed and arrogance, both of which it had in spades, and the cooperation of the good people of Magic.
Idrián’s oldest and most fearsome ancestor, a dark-skinned Mexica demigod who wore nothing but patterns of ochre and red paint, materialized between him and Riya. Idrián didn’t understand the language he spoke, but one warrior always recognized another. He pointed east, counted out seven with his fingers, made a fist, then pointed east again, then made fists that appeared to leak blood. He vanished.
“I’m guessing either seven demons are already dead, or soon will be,” said Riya.
“Seventy. They eat anything—plants, animals, insects—and when they have enough, they reproduce. Thank the spirits this land isn’t a crowded city, but it’ll take years for the land to recover from the damage they’ve already done.” The earth was crying out in agony already, and it hurt down to the marrow in his bones.
He turned east. The road here was little more than a couple of ruts, so their ride became bumpier as he raced toward the raised outcropping of red rocks. The truck’s headlights cast strobing shadows on the dusty green sage bushes and a few roasted demon bodies as the truck climbed the hillock.
He stopped at the base of the smallest rock, grabbed his bag, and got out of the truck. Once Riya was safely out, he breathed on the side mirror to conceal the truck. He didn’t want demons trashing it.
“I know these rocks,” said Riya, looking around. “They’re in dreamwalk, where I first saw you fighting the fear-eater demon.” She tugged at his sleeve. “Come on, I’ll show you the way up.”
As he followed, he had time to marvel that she simply assumed he was capable of free-climbing rocks in the middle of a moonless night. Not even his grandfather had been able to see past his disabilities, and had waited until it was too late to teach Idrián about the wards and finding dreamwalk partners.
The rocks had deep roots into the earth—perfect for what they had in mind.
She got to the top of the highest rock before he did, since he’d insisted on staying behind her so he could use earth magic to catch her if need be.
“Uh, Idrián? I think we’re going to need a bigger gate.”
He crawled on his belly to look out.
A chaotic sea of hundreds of small round demons pressed at the bright wards, and spread out far beyond them. The land he could see was chewed bare of grasses and shrubs, with visible holes where the deepest roots had been dug up.
“We’ll make it work. Are you ready?”
She swallowed, then nodded. He murmured a spell, and a flare shot up into the air from the west that formed into a firework image of a detailed M1 Abrams tank in the night sky.
Riya laughed. “Show off.” She squeezed his shoulder, then stood up straight and tall. She wore a long, blue-gray duster that flapped in the wind.
“Yoo hoo, Derorril! Over here!” She waved her arms. A spell she’d readied made her voice echo far and wide. “Hell-o-o-o! Stupid demon who can’t hit the broadside of a barn!”
The sea of round demons parted as Emerson strode through it. The round demons had apparently learned not to get too close, for fear of becoming another fireball.
“Stupid humans,” snarled the demon, his voice magically enhanced to be heard. “I, Derorril, demand justice of the realms for the breaking of blood oaths. I will take the human known as Riya Sanobal in payment.”
Idrián keyed his cell phone. “Go one, go two, go three,” he said quietly.
Riya’s laugh rolled out. “You and what army, buddy? No oaths were given on either side. Onatecs lie just to get themselves up in the morning.”
Emerson stomped, and the earth vibrated like a drum. “I will show you what army, stupid human!” From behind his back, spectral demon wings emerged and lifted Emerson off the ground. Raising one fist upward, he called down lightning from the cloudless sky, then pointed his other arm and channeled the lightning onto the ward fence, resulting in a cascade of sparks. Demons surged away from the burning embers.
Idrián spoke quietly into his cell phone. “Go four, go five, go six.”
Riya put her fists on her hips. “That’s it? Lightning?” She laughed mockingly. “What do you think powers the fence, stupid demon?”
Even from this distance, Idrián could hear the small demons repeating “stupid demon.”
Emerson landed hard on the ground. Derorril emerged from Emerson’s body and shook itself as it stood taller and spread its wings. “You will pay!” It gathered power by sucking the life forces of the nearest demons, then sent the power directly at the wards.
The fence flared brilliant blue, then began to go dark in spots. The whole section in front of Derorril failed. He pointed through the fence. “Soup’s on!”
A few round demons crossed without dying and immediate set about eating the first plants they came to. The rest of the demons saw it and surged forward. Miraculously, the human body that was Emerson wasn’t trampled as it crawled toward the fence. That’s all Idrián had time to see, because Riya had already materialized blocks and tackles and was rappelling down hers toward the natural half-circle of dirt below. He followed on his own without taking stops, using earth magic to cushion the landing. He turned to catch Riya on her last descent and carried her to the small flat rock on the edge.
“The symbols I gave you,” she said. “He’s coming fast.”
Idrián used earth magic to etch the symbols onto the standing red rocks around them. She morphed her duster into black leggings and a tight T-shirt that said “Just Visiting This Planet” and began dancing. The symbols barely glowed at first, then brightened as every part of her moved at astonishing speed. He was so taken with her performance that he almost forgot to do his part.
“Now, Idrián!”
He created the illusion of a vast herd of sheep, bleating in fear, all penned in by the rocks with no place to escape. Through the earth, he felt the small demons abandon the tough shrubs and head straight for the illusory sheep. Outside the wards, he felt the thunder of ghostly cavalry horse hooves hitting the turf, driving the demons before them into the gap in the fence. Wolves, coyotes, and other unnamable predators howled, causing more demons to run toward the fence with their brethren. From the southeast, a mighty vibration rumbled through the earth, tumbling the rest of the demons into the gap. When the last demon rolled through, the warded fence miraculously repaired itself, but none of the demons noticed.
Idrián fought the trembling ground to move as close to Riya as he dared, standing on the edge of the rock, then sank his hands into the vertical wall of rock and drew deep from the center of the earth. It was more power than he’d ever handled, and it made his joints ache. He gritted his teeth and sent the power into the rocks, where Riya’s symbols absorbed it. The red dirt in front of them sank and became red, silver-streaked walls. Winds rose, then reversed with a pressure change that popped his ears.
He sent more power to the symbols, and more power to the sheep illusion, offering the tantalizing smell of fresh, soft lambs to the ravening demon horde.
The first wave of small demons tumbled into the open gate. Riya danced, and he channeled more power to the symbols. The gateway widened to the edge of the rocks and outward, sucking in round demons like a vacuum cleaner. Idrián added a herd of fat cows to his illusion, and goats, too, pushing the illusory smell outward.
“Stop, stop, stop!”
Derorril had discovered the trap. It flew at the small demons, using sharp claws and its stinger tail to drive them back. Wherever the demon passed, the illusion broke, but Idrián sent more constructs in to cover the gaps. Inspired by how successful Rollie and Hanif had been in scar
ing the demons into the gap, Idrián created a pack of hyenas at the back of the demon horde and made them howl like they’d found a dying wildebeest.
The more Derorril shouted and hurt the demons, the more they tried to evade it by running into the gate. Enraged, Derorril flew straight at Idrián and Riya with bloody murder in its scream.
From under and behind the ring of red rocks rose the spirits of Idrián’s warrior ancestors, led by the Mexica demigod in full shift, with serpentine wings and huge eagle claws. Derorril tried to evade, but the demigod sank his claws into Derorril’s chest and flew him high into the night.
Idrián felt Riya faltering and spared some power to share with her over their connection, but he was running out of steam himself. The gate’s opening began to shrink.
The other warrior ancestors harried the rest of the demons into the gate, hunting down every last one of them and sending them over the edge.
Idrián looked skyward, trying to see what became of Derorril. They couldn’t leave a soul-eater demon in the real world to wreak more havoc. Riya’s movements dragged. He pulled his hands from out of the rock just in time to catch her.
“Dance with me,” she whispered. “We have to dance.”
He didn’t know any dances. The gate continued to close. Desperately, he dragged up a dim memory from his childhood.
He touched his right hand to his chest, then stuck it out to the side, then touched his chest again. She matched him, just as she’d done in dreamwalk. He made a jazz hand and waved it, then took hers in his and gently turned her around in a circle clockwise.
He did the same movements with his left arm and turned her gently counter-clockwise.
Just as he touched his right foot next to his left, he heard a high-pitched whistling sound, the kind made by an incoming missile. It triggered the hypervigilance he knew all too well, and he fought to hang on to the here and now, to block out the sensations that swamped his rational thought. And just as quickly, his thoughts smoothed out, and he felt warm and safe. He looked down at the feather-haired woman in his arms. “How did you know to take me to dreamwalk?”
“It seemed the right...”
He slammed back into his body with a jolt. Riya shuddered in his arms. She winced as the whistling sound resolved into screaming coming from straight above them. “Dance with me, Riya!” He hugged her tighter with his right arm and took a step to the side with his right foot. She did the same. He put his left foot next to his right, then put his hand on her thigh to urge her to do the same.
The hole was small, maybe the size of a wishing well, when Derorril’s bleeding, ectoplasmic body slammed through the gate and vanished.
Riya sagged, and Idrián dropped to his knees to keep her from falling. The gate closed with a ground-shaking shudder.
The Mexica warrior landed on the sand, looking extremely satisfied. He nodded once to Idrián, then flew east toward the ward fence, where the other ancestor warriors were already headed.
Dawn was breaking to the east, and the whole world was quiet and peaceful. He was filthy, and every muscle in his body ached, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d found his dreamwalk partner, and they’d survived two prophecies.
He gently settled Riya into his lap.
She started shaking, and it took him a moment to realize it was with laughter.
He smiled, not knowing why. “What?”
She looked up at him with tired but bright eyes. “Your dance. We got rid of a killer demon from hell with the Hokey Pokey?”
He shrugged. “It’s the only dance I know.”
“It’s perfect.” Her smile was a balm on his battered soul.
Epilogue
Riya sat at the tiny café table in her dining room and sipped her favorite morning drink, a concoction of coffee, espresso powder, dark chocolate, and cayenne pepper she called “Wake the Dead.”
Sunlight from the warehouse skylight warmed her, but not as much as the handsome, half-naked, dark-haired man standing in her kitchen, talking to his cousin on the phone.
“…told you, by the time we got Spencer Emerson into the ambulance, people from Magic were offering to fix the mobile home and the fence, and I wasn’t going to turn them down.”
The day they’d routed the demons, she and Idrián were up thirty-six hours by the time they stumbled into his bed. They hadn’t awakened for another ten hours, and hadn’t gotten farther than a sleepy kiss when the ghost of Juana Morales dragged a protesting elder ancestor spirit out of the bedroom.
Idrián decided then and there that he was driving Riya back up to Denver, loaded her in the truck, and took off.
“I’m being selfish,” he’d told her. “I want to spend time with you without company or an audience.”
She’d put her cards on the table and told him straight up that she wanted to live with him on the land that he loved, if he’d have her. She loved his ranch, the desert, his friends, and most of all, him. He’d demonstrated his enthusiasm for the idea by pulling into a rest stop, using magic to conceal the truck, then showing her how creative he could be with his hands, mouth, and body in tight spaces. She, in turn, showed him how flexible a dancer could be.
When they got into Denver, Riya’s first call was to Whitney to find out how much creative fibbing she’d have to do to explain why she hadn’t been at the theater when the firefighters had responded to the alarm and discovered the rest of the dancers. She was delighted to learn that the necromancer sleep spell had caused all the “gas leak” victims to forget the preceding three hours. All Riya had to do was say she’d become violently ill before rehearsal started and had spent the next two days fighting whatever had attacked her. Whitney’s bigger news was that she, Mack, Kenji, and two others dancers were leaving to form their own new company. St. Peters and Denise’s treatment of Riya had been the last straw.
“He did? Did he say where he’s been?” Idrián’s astonishment was written on his face.
Her phone played The Firebird ringtone, and she answered. “Hi, mum.”
“Hello, dear. Your father wants to know what time lunch is. He wants to visit the Butterfly Pavilion.”
“We’ll meet you in the hotel lobby at eleven thirty. Tell him no going misty and throwing off their humidifiers.”
“I already told him. We’ll see you in a few hours.”
Riya’s parents had arrived in Denver several days ago and demanded the full story from both her and Idrián. She’d already advised him to skim over the dangerous parts, or be willing to fend off pressing offers of unwanted security systems, guardian stone lions, and castle walls with moats full of deadly undines.
Idrián ended his call and brought his cup of plain, boring coffee to the table and sat. “Roman says Black Fox showed up this morning in the living room of his new condo. He said he searched the galaxy and found the perfect woman for him.” He shook his head in consternation, but she knew he’d been worried about his beloved, if exasperating, grandfather. She had, too.
Riya laughed. “Well, you said he liked doing the unexpected.”
“Roman says it’s my fault for making Black Fox think that he’s now a matchmaker. And he’s still irritated because I didn’t read his email with the translation and gate-reversal spell until after the excitement.” He ate the last bite of his croissant, which she’d bought yesterday when picking up her final paycheck from the coffee house. She’d made up for leaving them on such short notice by recommending one of her dancer friends who needed the work.
“It’s a good spell. Unless he’s the type to hold grudges, he’ll get over it.” She slipped her hand into his on the table and sent a pulse of her happiness through their bond. He smiled and caressed her fingers with his.
She took a deep breath. “Speaking of Black Fox, I’ve been thinking about a way to find dreamwalk warriors like he wants you to. It involves your ranch, but I don’t want you to think I’m anything like that scorpion of an ex-girlfriend of yours.”
He smiled. “Impossible. Tell
me.”
“I love helping veterans figure out how to move again after they’ve been injured. Opening doors and teaching them how to dance again. The land and your animals needed you on the ranch, and that motivated you to get stronger and find ways around your limitations. What if we could offer a program to selected veterans to help them do those things? Maybe we could get the witches in Magic who designed that invitation spell to craft a very focused one for us, calling to people with dreamwalk potential who need what we can offer.”
“I’d have to talk it over with the ancestors, but I’m intrigued.” A troubled look crossed his face. “What about your dance career? You’re really good. You should have more than jackalopes for an audience.”
“Thank you. I’ll always be a dancer. I don’t need a stage to do it.” She smiled and squeezed his fingers. “Besides, our kids will need a home base, and I love the desert.” She’d assured him last night that she’d wanted kids long before his ancestors started dropping heavy hints about new moons, planting seeds, and springtime births. He’d make a wonderful father, and their children would never be lonely with his ancestors around. And if her idea about a rehab center panned out, they’d have dreamwalk warriors to look out for them, too.
He stood and pulled her up into his arms for an embrace. “How about we get married today?”
Riya’s heart filled to overflowing as she laughed and kissed him. “Why not? My parents and your family just happen to be in town, and it’d be a shame to waste a perfectly good marriage license.”
“Not to mention making your grandmother look bad for predicting the wrong date for our wedding.” He tenderly brushed hair away from her face.
She caressed the scarred side of his face with the drooping eye and deformed ear, and saw the precious man she loved with all of her heart.
“And if we’re very, very lucky, that’s the last prophecy about either of us for a very long time.”
In Graves Below Page 15