"I'm fine," he said, still holding her.
Her vision went dark, and the next thing she knew, she was lying on her back with Erin kneeling beside her, pressing a cloth against her head. She stared at Erin, not understanding what was happening. "Jay's got an arrow in his shoulder," she whispered as if it were a secret.
"He's fine," Erin said. "It went into the muscle."
Angie turned her head to see Jay nearby sitting against a tree trunk, using it to brace himself while Casey gripped his shoulders. Rowan knelt in front of him, both hands on the arrow shaft in Jay's shoulder. "You ready, soldier?" Rowan asked.
Jay nodded, and Rowan shoved. Jay screamed as the arrowhead came out the other side, painting Casey's face with blood.
Angie blacked out again.
When she came to again a few minutes later, Angie felt better. Erin handed her a canteen, and she drank deeply. Dozens of Feral corpses lay where they had fallen, the ground glistening with their blood. Her gaze fell upon a dead horse, its large dark eyes staring right at her. It wasn't Cobble, she saw with relief. Cobble and the other horses were nearby, stomping about near the stream in agitation, clearly unhappy. They know their friend is dead, she thought sadly. They want to leave. God help us! A Feral mage.
Casey stalked about, checking the corpses and helping himself to anything they had worth borrowing, which couldn't have been that much. The flies had found the blood and buzzed madly. Angie tenderly touched the side of her head, where she felt a bump swelling. She winced at the pain, but the bleeding had stopped.
"Small cut," Erin said. "Doesn't even need stitches, but let's try and keep it clean. There wasn't much in the saddlebags for first aid. The Nortenos don't have the same resources as we did in the Bunker."
Angie nodded, seeing Rowan wrapping a strap of cloth from Jay's shirt around Jay's shoulder, tying his arm to his chest. When Jay saw her looking his way, he smiled.
"How is—"
"He'll be fine," Erin said. "When the moon goes full, it won't matter anymore. You worry about you."
Angie just accepted that. She had already watched Erin heal her own burned-out eyes when she had transformed into a werewolf. Rowan finished his task and then rose and conferred with Casey. Casey said something, staring back the way they had come, and Rowan nodded grimly.
"How long have we been here?" Angie asked, getting to her feet. She was unsteady at first, but the dizziness passed. She picked up Nightfall, cleaning it on the grass before sheathing the weapon.
"Not long. Maybe fifteen minutes."
"We need to move," Angie said.
Erin nodded.
Rowan whistled softly, getting everyone's attention as he waved them over. When they were all there, including the ashen-faced Jay, blood seeping through the cloth wrapped tightly around his shoulder, Rowan addressed them. "We need to make some hard decisions, and we need to make them fast."
"How'd they get the drop on us?" Casey asked in bewilderment. "Ferals stink worse'n Jay after spaghetti night in the mess."
"Doesn't matter," Rowan said.
"It will if they ambush us again," Erin said.
"Magic ... I think," Angie said. "That one I fought was a mage."
They all stared at her in shock. "Well, fuck me twice on Sundays," Casey said softly. "The Ferals have mages?"
"Have some class," Jay snapped, his gaze darting to Angie.
"I don't know what happened," Angie said. "I don't understand any of this, but if the Tzitzime can cast blood spells, maybe the Ferals can do their own thing as well, maybe nature-magic or some such shit. Fuck me, I just don't know."
Casey snorted, his eyes flashing with amusement as Jay stared at his feet. "None of it matters anyhow. The Norties have made ground while we've been standing around with our thumbs up our asses. They'll be on us soon."
Rowan nodded, clearly having already come to that same conclusion. "And we're down a horse."
"I can run," Jay said.
"The fuck you will," Casey barked. "I'll run."
"No one's running," Rowan said.
"Brother," Casey said, hesitation in his voice, "no way a horse can carry two across this kind of country."
"We're not going cross country." Rowan turned and pointed across the stream. "The Japatul Valley Road, the one we saw from the ridgeline, is a kilometer that way. It runs to Highway 8, the Kumeyaay, maybe eight klicks. Erin and Angie can ride double. They're the lightest, and Angie's horse should manage well enough on good ground."
Angie glanced at Cobble, unsure if the animal could do that after the chase that they had led all day, but there wasn't much other choice. "I thought the road was too dangerous?"
Rowan sighed, glancing at the corpses. "Turns out the woods aren’t any safer."
"Norties are coming," Casey called out, his gaze darting behind them. "I can smell 'em."
"Let's get going," said Rowan. "We need to reach Highway 8 before dark."
Angie rose and mounted Cobble. Erin sat behind her, gripping her waist. Cobble, clearly fatigued, whinnied in protest but then began to follow Rowan. Jay came behind, with Casey in the rear. Angie's head darted about, searching the woods for more Ferals. The thought of magic-wielding savages twisted her stomach into knots. They had taken a hell of a chance trying to capture her alive. They couldn’t possibly have been that desperate for new women. Why?
Rowan led them through a kilometer of rough bush and then out onto the broken remains of the asphalt road. Once on the road, they broke into a fast canter.
This time, Angie heard the shouts in the woods behind them. The Nortenos had found the ambush site.
Chapter 22
It was just after ten thirty p.m. when Angie and the others reached the old eight-lane Kumeyaay Highway that ran west to east. Eighteen years of neglect had turned the once-major artery into a crumbling ruin with new-growth saplings pushing through the broken concrete. Much of the highway was blocked by the burned-out husks of vehicles, but it was still possible for those on foot or horseback to make their way, and it was far easier than pushing through the brush. And almost certainly more dangerous, Angie ruminated wearily.
Rowan stood up in his saddle, staring behind them. Once again, Casey had stayed back to watch their pursuers. Erin, her hands around Angie's waist, climbed down, and Angie joined her, giving the poor horse a break. Erin cupped her hands, and Angie poured water into them. Cobble drank greedily, splashing much of the water onto the ground. "Good girl," Erin whispered into the horse's ear.
Angie swayed in place from fatigue. "Long way to come after us."
"They do want us pretty bad. Not sure I get why."
A sudden pounding of hooves announced Casey's return. He brought his tired horse to a stop and dismounted. "How long?" Rowan asked.
"Less than twenty," Casey answered. "It helps when you have spare horses."
"No shit, Sherlock."
Angie was too exhausted to bother asking who Sherlock was.
Rowan and Jay walked their horses onto the highway, and Jay jumped in place in the soft earth. "Not too obvious, Jay," Rowan said softly, and the young man nodded, moving along.
Casey spat. "Don't sweat it, big brother. They figure they have us running scared. And their dogs are gone."
"Gone where?" Jay asked.
Casey shrugged.
"You're leaving a trail on purpose?" Angie asked.
"Just for a bit," Rowan said. "You'll understand."
Erin held Cobble's reins. "Why don't you ride alone? I'm not tired."
"Let's both walk her a bit," Angie said.
Erin stopped her, gripping her forearm tightly. "If I must, I'll tie you to the saddle. Ride."
"But you—"
"Trust me, I can run for hours."
Angie surrendered and climbed back into Cobble's saddle. This time, Rowan set an easy canter, allowing the horses to recover. Erin, just as she had claimed, trotted alongside the horses, and Angie didn't think she was even breathing heavily.
Less tha
n an hour later, Angie swayed in the saddle, often just catching herself before she fell. She guessed they had traveled at least ten kilometers with Erin loping alongside Cobble. It was dark now, and the highway came out onto the rolling hills of the Californian wildlands. The night sky was overcast with cloud cover, but when the clouds parted, Angie saw the ruins of a city before them—Alpine, if her memory served. Then the clouds drifted over the half-moon again, and all was blackness once more. Rowan halted, and the others came to a stop, watching him.
Casey looked at Rowan and lowered his voice. "Here?"
Rowan turned to look at Erin. The woman was finally breathing hard and resting her hand on Angie's leg. "What do you think?" Rowan asked her.
Erin pushed herself away from Angie and Cobble and moved to the far edge of the highway, next to the blackened husk of a bus. She slipped past the bus and knelt on the edge of the highway, running her fingers over the ground.
"What are we doing?" Angie asked in a breathless whisper.
"Ground is bedrock, nice and hard," Casey answered.
Too hard for tracks, Angie understood. We're leaving the highway.
Erin returned. "Bedrock and shrub for at least a kilometer, then we can be in the woods again."
Rowan, running his fingers over his mustache, was silent for a few moments, but then he nodded and dismounted. "Lead the horses," he whispered. "No more talking from here on. Time to be sneaky, sneaky ninja werewolves." He glanced at Casey. "You know what to do?"
Casey’s eyes flashed in the darkness. "It'll be fun." With that, he rode on down the highway, heading for Alpine at a fast trot, his horse's hooves thudding loudly.
Rowan and Jay dismounted, as did Angie. Erin led them all past the wrecked bus and off the highway to the north. Casey's leaving a false trail, Angie realized. The ground she walked on was rock hard, but she knew they'd still leave a trail, especially if the Nortenos had a skilled tracker. But in the dark, they'd blunder right past. Once they realized they had been tricked, they'd have to search the highway, and they'd need daylight. And in the meantime, she mused, Casey is going to lead them on a merry chase.
Erin led them northeast into the woods. At one point, Erin halted, and they all dropped down onto a knee, holding their horses still. Erin, Rowan, and Jay stared south, in the direction of the highway. Angie saw nothing, but a moment later, she heard the whinny of horses and the echoing clop of hooves, a lot of hooves, upon the asphalt. Within minutes, the sound receded. They remained motionless for another ten minutes, and then Erin rose and led them farther on into the woods. To Angie's eyes, they moved in near-complete darkness, and all too often she stumbled and would have fallen had she not been walking with Cobble's reins in one hand and the other holding on to her saddle for balance.
Then she heard a soft gurgling noise—another stream. Even in the dark, Erin had found another stream. Traveling with werewolves was a surreal experience. They halted the animals, letting them drink their fill and eat the last of the grain that had been in the patrol bags. From here on, they'd have to find a settlement and barter for more or forage in the wild.
Angie forced herself to drink but just couldn't manage the energy to try to chew one of the oat bars. She plopped her butt onto a moss-covered boulder along the stream and removed her boots and socks before cooling her sore feet in the water. Judging by the hot spots on her soles, she'd have blisters by morning. We need more than horse feed, she mused. We're not going to get far without supplies. She gingerly touched her scalp, letting her fingers trail over the dried blood matted in her hair. Fresh pain lanced through her skull.
Erin joined her. "Lie down," she whispered. "Close your eyes. I'll wake you when we need to move."
She was going to argue, but Erin pushed her onto the ground and then threw Angie's borrowed Brujas cape over her chest. Moments later, she was out.
She didn't know how long she slept, but when she heard voices in soft conversation, she rolled over and pushed herself up onto her arms. In the dimness, she could just make out the shape of three people softly talking. One of them was much larger than the others—Casey.
"Well?" she heard Rowan ask.
"Nortie clowns took the bait. We're good until sunrise and probably a few more hours yet."
Silver eyes flashed in the dark, and she realized one of them was watching her. "Go back to sleep, Angie," Rowan whispered. "We're all going to get some rest now."
"’Kay," she mumbled and then fell fast asleep once more.
Chapter 23
Shane sat on the burned hood of an old Mustang and watched the torches of his men as they searched the ruins of old Alpine. Just past midnight, the trail had gone cold at the edge of the abandoned town, and his troops had been sweeping the ruins for almost two hours now without success. The longer it took, the more his anger built, and now he was ready to kill someone.
Anyone.
In Ximac, the capital of the Aztalan Empire, he could easily have taken out his frustration on just about anyone—a prisoner, a servant, hell, the first person who walked in front of him. But not here, not among the enemy. The precious Nortenos valued their people, even the worthless ones like these soldiers. He had spent the last fifteen years of his life as a spy and wanted nothing more than to be back among his brothers and sisters in the Tzitzime. Despite what Tavi and others believed, Shane was not a young man anymore. In fact, he was almost fifty-five years old. Blood magic and ritual sacrifice had preserved the appearance of youth, but he was tired of living among these savages. He ground his teeth, anxious to take out his anger on the fugitives. How hard is it to find five people on four horses? Idiots.
More and more, he concluded they weren't going to find them in the ruins. They're playing us, he thought bitterly. Just for a moment, he considered using the Bracer of Matriarch Hel-Ka. The pack was close now, just to the east. It would only take them an hour to run here. Then they'd find those damned Coasties. I don't care how tough those werewolf assholes think they are, there's no way they can take on an entire pack of barbed ones. But as much fun as that would be, he knew he couldn't do it. The pack had a more important task: find Tavi. Whatever she was doing, it was clearly of vital importance to the Nortenos. No, he'd have to kill the fugitives the old-fashioned way: hunt them down and shoot them full of holes.
Sergeant Garcia approached, clearly hesitant. Two scouts stood behind him, staring at the ground. "What is it, Sergeant?"
"Mago Adepto, the fugitives ... we think they left the highway some time back."
Shane sighed, running his fingers over his short beard. He needed a trim and a long, hot bath. He wasn't going to get either anytime soon. "I don't suppose there's any chance the Ferals got them."
"Unlikely, sir. We think one of them led us here while the others moved cross-country."
Shane jumped off the hood of the Mustang. "We're not going to find their trail again tonight, are we, Sergeant?"
"No, sir."
Shane nodded, crossing his hands behind his back as he strolled away. "Have someone set up my tent. And bring me something hot to eat," he added in a matter-of-fact tone. "We'll move on again at first light." As he walked, Shane couldn't help but fantasize about the people he'd line up under the sacrificial knife. There'd be a mountain of Norteno hearts cut out before his anger was sated.
That thought pleased him.
Angie awoke from a dreamless sleep to find herself in the dark with someone shaking her shoulder. "Wha…" she mumbled, unable to concentrate. What she wanted was another twelve hours of sleep.
"Shh," Erin whispered, still kneeling over her. "Something's wrong."
Above, stars shone down from a cloudless sky. As Erin's words penetrated her awareness, fear twisted her stomach. They've caught us! She bolted upright, her mouth dry, and looked about wildly.
Erin squeezed her shoulder. "We're okay. Calm down."
A layer of sweat coated Angie's face, and her heart throbbed like a drum, but she forced herself to breathe. A glance at her watch s
howed her it was just after four a.m. She had been sleeping for at least six hours. Nearby, a figure stood in the darkness, and judging by its height, she guessed it was Rowan. The others were up as well. She saw Casey's large shape near the horses, strapping on saddles. Jay, with only one good arm, held the horses steady for Casey.
"What's wrong?" she asked Erin in a soft tone. Then Angie heard gunshots, a series of cracks echoing from far away, several kilometers at least. "The Nortenos?"
"Wrong direction. The shooting is from the east—in the direction we're headed—Pine Valley and the northern pass through the Laguna Mountains. The Norties are behind us to the west. No way they could have gotten around us."
"Large-caliber rifle shots," said Rowan without turning to face them. "Hunting rifles, I think." Then the intensity of the shooting spiked, and they heard a long burst of automatic fire, much louder than the others. "Shit," swore Rowan. "That was a light machine gun. Someone's fighting a battle."
The night's chill caused Angie to rub her arms and shiver. She picked up the Brujas cape and wrapped it around her shoulders, finally appreciating it.
"I smell smoke," said Erin.
Angie didn't, but she didn't doubt Erin's senses. Smoke meant fire, which was bad news for small farming communities.
Just then, a bright red flare lit up the eastern sky. "Shit," whispered Rowan.
"Ferals?" Erin asked.
"Could be." Rowan turned to face them as Jay and Casey led the saddled horses over. "The shooting is coming from Pine Valley, a Norteno farming community. The pass we need is at the northern end of that valley. To get to the pass, we need to skirt the settlement, but something's going on. If it’s a Feral attack, then the settlement will be on alert, and I don't much like our chances of getting past with the horses. On foot is possible."
The Awakened World Boxed Set Page 45