by M. D. Massey
“What’s it like, living in America?” Fabiana asked. Apparently, her defeat at Crowley’s hands hadn’t injured her pride at all. To my cousin, it merely meant he was good breeding material. “Are all Americans as fat and stupid as they say?”
Crowley’s head swiveled as he scanned the surrounding pine and eucalyptus trees. “Not all of them, no.”
The wizard’s answers had been curt and polite, but not encouraging of their interest in him. How curious. Crowley had once considered himself to be quite the ladies’ man. Either he had changed, or he had other interests.
Julieta snickered. “I read that two-thirds of Americans are overweight. That must make them easy prey for the fae and other supernatural predators. Not like us, eh, Fabiana?” She did a sort of one-handed cartwheel into an au batido, a banana kick from capoeira. Showing off for Crowley, little cousin?
Fabiana glanced over her shoulder at me. “The fatness appears to be catching. Our prima looks to have gotten fatter during her stay in America.”
Bitch! My cousins were all tall and willowy, while I was built more like a gymnast—short, with powerful hips and thighs. Colin certainly hadn’t complained about my Shakira booty, but during my childhood I’d been teased by my cousins for being short and “fat.”
I kept my voice calm and steady as I replied. “I’ve put on some muscle since you last saw me, Fabiana. And I can still kick your ass.”
Fabiana snorted. “Not without the magia de serpientropía. I too have become stronger in your absence, cousin.”
“But not smarter, apparently. Need I remind you that I deal with ’thropes all the time in my work? Believe me, I don’t need magic to deal with the likes of you.”
Fabiana gave me a dirty look. Julieta waited until she wasn’t looking, then smirked at me and rolled her eyes at Fabiana’s back. The kid was alright. Fabiana chose to remain silent for the remainder of the hike to the Anjana’s glade. I chatted amiably with Julieta until we arrived at the entrance, then the pair left us and took up posts to await our return. No one entered the Anjana’s presence unless summoned.
I led Crowley farther up the path to our private meeting with the ancient fae witch, and we soon entered the small clearing that surrounded the Anjana’s serene, spring-fed pond. The sorceress herself sat on a boulder along the shore, leaning over the water and gazing into its depths. I motioned for Crowley to remain silent, then waited patiently for her to recognize our presence.
The Anjana was as she’d always been, for as long as I’d known her. Full-figured and voluptuous in a manner that was long out of vogue, she could have been a twin to Botticelli’s Venus. Hell, for all I knew, she was Botticelli’s Venus. Her long red hair fell in wavy cascades down her shoulders and back, starkly contrasting her creamy, pale skin and setting off her rosy cheeks and full, cherry-stained lips.
Her bright, almost luminescent blue eyes regarded us as she waved me over.
“Belladonna, my stray lamb. I understand the duende caused you some trouble at the airport. I hope you and your companion escaped unharmed?”
I gave just the slightest nod. Composure and careful speech were the rule of the day around the Anjana. Despite how anjanas were portrayed in the folk tales of our country, our Anjana was far from benevolent. She was known to be cruel and vindictive, taking vengeance for even the smallest slight months or even years after events had occurred, when the person who raised her ire had long forgotten the incident.
“We did, Doña Anjana. They were of no consequence.”
A coy smile played at the corner of her sensuous mouth. “I see that time has not diminished your confidence, princesa. Nor your brutal efficiency.”
I inclined my head slightly. “You trained me well, Doña Anjana.”
“As was my right. And yet, look how you’ve repaid my matronage. You lied to your mother—to us all, really—and rent your gifts and talents to those bumbling American late-comers. Is this fair, my lovely? Is it just?”
“With respect, Doña Anjana, I never chose this life.”
The Anjana turned her attention back to the waters, trailing her hand along the surface and watching the droplets return to their source. “None choose their own fate, princesa. Neither the high-born nor low-born, neither queens nor peasants. Humans only think they chart their own course, but in truth they are tossed to and fro by circumstances they cannot foresee or control.
“You had the good fortune to be born into power and wealth, yet you would forsake it all. And for what? A boy? This does not become one of your lineage, Belladonna.”
“I love him, Doña Anjana.”
She hissed softly and her eyes flashed with anger. “‘Love is a serious mental illness.’ Do you know who said that? Plato.”
“‘Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.’”
Her demeanor changed in an instant as she laughed, her voice a bubbling brook that echoed across the glade. “I forget what it is to be young and foolish. You have always been full of surprises, princesa.”
She turned her eyes back to me. Rather than lowering my own as I should have, I chose to meet her gaze.
“I know what you wish for, Belladonna. You want to be free from the pact your ancestors made with me. You want to pursue love. But I have seen your future, and that of the druid. It is not meant to be. This path will only bring you sorrow.”
“With respect, Doña Anjana, it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
She nodded once. “I cannot release you, but I am willing to give you time to see the error of your ways. Take the wizard to the Terreno de los Mouros, and return with the Piscina de Cristal. Do this for me, and I will grant you ten years to do as you will, to experience the pain love always brings.
“But listen, princesa, and listen well. At the end of those ten years, your life and service will be mine, to do with as I see fit. And if you refuse me then, I will turn you to stone and you will serve me forever by decorating my glade.”
It wasn’t what I’d hoped for, but it was something. The reprieve would give me time to figure out a way to escape the Anjana’s clutches for good.
“I will do this thing for you, Doña Anjana. I swear it.”
She waved me away with a slow sweep of her hand and resumed gazing at the clear, still waters. “Be gone, then, and do not return until you have the Piscina.”
19
Rather than returning the way we’d come, Crowley and I headed out the other side of the Anjana’s glade. Mother had assured me that the Anjana’s magic would see us quickly to our destination, although the entrance to the Ojáncanu’s cavern was miles away from the witch’s demesne. We’d only walked a few hundred yards before the dense forests of the foothills thinned out, giving way to the rocky crags and peaks of the mountains above.
“Did you get what you wanted from her?” the wizard asked.
“In a manner of speaking, yes. She agreed to give me ten years to do as I please before she sends my family after me. That is, so long as we return with the Piscina.”
“Speaking of which, I take it this thing is portable?”
I paused as I scanned our surroundings for familiar landmarks. From the time we were little, the women in my clan were brought up here on scouting and surveillance missions, to ensure that the mouros were not roaming above ground. Occasionally, those expeditions turned violent, when we’d run into duende or other creatures. Sometimes, girls didn’t make it back.
“Yes. From what I understand, it’s something like a bird bath—like a piece of decorative statuary.”
“And how did you plan to carry this thing out after we find it?”
I cracked my neck and massaged the muscles at the base of my skull. All this tension was giving me a headache and putting me off my game. “Well, I thought that you could carry it—or, rather, one of your shadow golems.”
“If so, that means you’ll need to do most of the fighting,” he said. “While my magic is… self-sustaining, I have a limited pool from which to draw. If
I split off part of my power to create a golem, my abilities will be diminished.”
I pulled back my jacket to reveal an Uzi submachine pistol on a shoulder sling, my Desert Eagles, and a tactical belt loaded with several spare magazines. “I expected as much. But after we sneak in and find it, we’ll likely be running and gunning on the way out. If we’re flanked, you’ll need to drop the thing and engage the enemy. As good as I am, I can’t effectively fight in two directions at once.”
“Don’t worry, I have your back.” He approached me and spun his finger in circles. “Turn around.”
I arched an eyebrow and did as he asked. Crowley began to use those long, slender fingers to knead the knots out of my neck and shoulders. At first, I wasn’t at all comfortable with the physical contact—but it felt so good I relented momentarily. I’d forgotten just how pleasing Crowley’s hands could be.
Moments later, guilt took over and I stepped away, rolling my shoulders and neck out. I turned to the wizard with a half-hearted frown.
“Does Colin know you’re trying to steal me back?”
His hood bobbed up and down. “He said he expected it. He didn’t seem to be worried about the competition. I think he takes you for granted, Belladonna.”
No, that just means he trusts me. A smile played across my lips. Damn it, but I missed that stubborn, awkward man-boy. “C’mon, let’s go. I think I know where we’re at. The cavern entrance isn’t far.”
Crowley’s body language told me we weren’t finished with that conversation. He squared his shoulders and walked stiffly as he followed me up rocky switchback trails that were better suited to goats than humans. We rounded a large boulder and I pointed up to a shadowed cleft in the side of the mountain.
“There. That’s where we’re headed.”
“It looks unguarded.”
I chuckled. “I can assure you, it’s not. There’s a cuegle that lives just inside the mouth of the cavern. The Ojáncanu lets him live there in exchange for guarding the entrance to his demesne.”
“A cuegle?”
I chewed my lip and pulled out a small spotting scope, using it to scan the entrance to the cave. “It’s a sort of troll. Three arms, three eyes, ugly and strong as hell. Hard to hurt, harder to kill, and honey badger vicious. They eat humans, by the way.”
“And just how do you propose we get past this creature?”
I put the spotting scope back in my jacket. The cuegle was definitely up there, because every once in a while he’d pop his head up to search the area for trespassers. He hadn’t seen us yet, but there was no way to avoid being spotted as we approached the only entrance to the underground home of the mouros. I cursed myself for failing to bring a sniper rifle along.
“My plan was to take the direct route.” I drew one of my pistols and checked to make sure I had a round in the chamber.
Crowley placed a hand on my arm. “Hang on a minute. Isn’t the idea to sneak into this cave? If you go in guns blazing, it’ll certainly alert them to our presence.”
I shrugged. “We fight our way in, and fight our way back out again. I know it lacks elegance, but it’s as good a plan as any.”
The wizard rubbed his chin. “But, perhaps, not necessary. You say this creature is extremely aggressive?” I nodded. “We might use that to our advantage. Give me a few moments to come up with an alternative solution.”
He sat cross-legged on a small boulder nearby, out of sight of the cuegle, and closed his eyes. As his breathing slowed he began working shadow magic in his hands, almost like he was pulling taffy. The magic stretched and grew the more he worked with it, and he shaped it into a roughly humanoid thing that was more or less the size of a small child. The surface of the golem glistened wetly, like used engine oil or hot tar, and its eyeless head swiveled left and right as it tested its limbs.
Crowley opened his eyes and examined his work. “It’s the best I could do on short notice, but it should suffice.”
“What is it?” I asked, with equal amounts of wonder and repulsion in my voice.
“Are you familiar with the tales of Anansi the Spider?” he asked.
20
The creepy shadow golem waddled its way up the trail toward the cavern entrance, like a precocious toddler testing the boundaries of its environment. I noted that, as it walked, its feet collected small pebbles and bits of dirt that adhered to its surface. Within seconds, the rocks were absorbed into the golem, increasing its mass slightly as it progressed.
“It’s a tar doll,” I stated, amused. “Think it’ll work?”
“I assure you, once the cuegle attacks the doll, it will be stuck fast. At some point, the golem will dissipate and my magic will return—so it would behoove us to be near the cavern’s entrance when the creature is immobilized. Hopefully, it will be so preoccupied with freeing itself we’ll be able to sneak right past.”
Thankfully, the sun was still on the other side of the mountains, leaving plenty of shade in which to hide. The wizard cloaked us in shadow, and we darted from boulder to boulder until we reached a concealment point a few yards from the cavern opening.
I peeked around the edge of the rock; the cuegle had its back turned to us. Opposite our position, the tar doll awkwardly leveraged itself up and over the ledge—in full view of the creature.
The cuegle was just as ugly as I remembered. I’d seen him, once, when I was just a child. We’d come up here on a scouting expedition, and the creature had ambushed the group I’d been accompanying. I’d watched as he’d torn one of my cousins in two.
The cuegle was roughly five-and-a-half feet tall—more or less my height, but with a much stockier build. He had charcoal-colored skin, three eyes and three arms, a single horn in his forehead above his third eye, and a mouthful of sharp, crooked teeth. There were bones strewn around the cave mouth—some human, some animal—and the stench of rotten flesh lingered in the thin mountain air.
As the golem levered itself over the cliff edge and stood, the cuegle’s head swiveled toward it with a growl. The tar doll simply stood there, glistening and wobbling slightly—just the way a small human child might. Apparently, the cuegle found that movement irresistible, because he ran at the golem and pounced on it, pinning it to the ground with two of his three arms.
The result was instantaneous and hilarious. As the cuegle made contact with the doll, the golem sort of squished as it enveloped the creature’s club-like hands. He tried to pull one hand away, but it was stuck fast. He yanked with the other arm, only succeeding in stretching the golem slightly before getting that limb stuck too.
Confused by these events, the cuegle roared and struck the golem’s head with his third arm. That hand sunk straight into the tar golem’s face. Now, all three of the creature’s upper limbs were glued to the doll. The mountain troll screamed in rage, yanking his arms this way and that, pulling the doll to and fro as he struggled. But the more he did, the more he seemed to be trapped.
The cuegle roared and sunk his teeth into the tar golem’s neck, ravaging it. Or, at least, that was his apparent intention—but not the end result. The creature’s roars became muffled shouts, then mewling cries as he realized his mouth was stuck.
I had to stifle a chuckle at the sight of it all.
The confused look in the cuegle’s eyes spoke first of frustration, then desperation. Then realization dawned there, and he raised one leg in the air in order to place a foot firmly on the golem’s belly. No surprise, that foot became stuck as well.
Then the cuegle teetered, lost his footing, and tumbled over the ledge. I got a momentary case of the giggles, which took me a minute to get under control. Once I’d wiped the tears from my eyes and composed myself, I turned to face the dark wizard.
“I hate to say this, Crowley, but I’ve missed working with you.”
“The feeling is mutual, Belladonna.” He turned toward the cleft above. “Come, the way is clear.”
We crept cautiously to the entrance, unsure of whether there were other guardians
present. Fortunately, there were none, and we slipped inside the cave unnoticed. The interior was lit with torches, and we followed what appeared to be the main cavern without seeing or hearing another being.
“How long until that cuegle gets free?” I asked.
“Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. We’ll need to deal with it again, on the way out.”
I frowned. “Should have put a bullet in its head and burned it. Too late now.” I paused and listened, focusing on the caves ahead. “Shit, someone’s coming. Hide us!”
Crowley looked around. “It’s too open here, and there’s too much light. We’ll stand out like a sore thumb.” He pointed at a small side tunnel, high up the wall. I assumed it was a ventilation shaft. “There—I’ll boost you up.”
I shook my head. “No need.”
I ran at the wall, wall-walking halfway up until I was high enough to grab the ledge. The footsteps were getting closer, and I heard voices as well. I pulled myself up, and Crowley used his shadow limbs as he followed close behind.
We hid in Crowley’s shadow camouflage up in our high perch, and observed the scene below. It wasn’t just a small party coming our way, but a seemingly endless procession of creatures. Short, squat duende came first, in crude leather armor and carrying weapons of roughly-wrought iron and bronze. Then followed other creatures: spiders the size of German shepherds; fish-men with bulging eyes, frog mouths, and gills on their necks; guajonas in dark cloaks, blood-sucking witches with vulture’s legs and feet and taloned hands; tiny trasgu carrying wooden pikes tipped with long spear points made of flint; and finally, the mouros.
The mouros were the lords of this underground territory, anyone could see that. They were glorious, in a way, and reminiscent of the fae back in the States. Tall, beautiful, and almost effeminate in their features and mannerisms—yet they moved with a predatory grace. They wore burnished bronze armor and crested helms, and each carried a long bronze sword at their hip.