by Tish Thawer
After wintering in the shelter of the chalk-like rock monuments, the band of travelers returned to the Santa Fe trail in the spring of 1852. Through the remainder of that year, they made their way slowly toward Santa Fe. After passing through what had recently become the Republic of New Mexico from the Republic of Texas—now the state of Texas—the land grew in height with the presence of high steppe-like plains, and to the north, snow-capped mountains loomed with the threat of the coming winter. The farther they traveled, the more the land dipped and rose. Large monuments of rock grew out of the ground, with intense reds lightening to oranges and then to lighter tans as they reached the sky. They decided to remain there until the paths through the mountains would be less treacherous. The party grew restless, but ultimately found ways to keep busy and find work through the winter, saving up for the new supplies they would need in the coming months. Santa Fe had become a real trade route for furs especially, and they were definitely going to need those up in the mountains. Only time would tell if the pull toward whatever it was in those mountains they sought would grow strong again, or if Santa Fe was to be their new home. After much discussion, most still felt a restlessness in their spirits to continue toward the mountains, but for now they would remain.
Chapter 13
Early summer in the year 1853, Marie and others had been working for a local farmer, when one day, she heard Rachael run through the field, yelling her name. “Marie!”
Marie and Judson both dropped their tools and looked up to see what the urgency was.
“What is it?” Marie shouted and ran to her friend, concern all over her face.
“It’s time! The Luna Coven says it’s time to go!” She jumped up and down excitedly. It was the moment they had been waiting for—the signal it was time to head into the mountains.
“When do we leave? We have to finish our work here.” Judson spread his arm wide, indicating the jobs they had all taken on.
“End of this week. We have time to end our employment and obtain the supplies we need,” Rachael informed them.
“It’s time. We’re heading home,” Marie said with a large smile on her face, and Judson couldn’t help but lean over and kiss her.
The summer in Santa Fe had been lovely, with desert blooms, warm days, and cool nights. Marie would miss it, but she kept her eyes on the horizon as they drove the oxen and the wagons north with all their newly acquired supplies. The mountains were calling them home.
Alo had explained earlier how there were what he called “dead zones” in these valleys. When Marie didn’t fully understand, he went on to share how some of the local tribes had joined up with witches and put spells on some areas, as traps of a sort, to nullify the magic of those passing through. Witches wouldn’t be able to cast spells, and shifters wouldn’t be able to shift, but Marie wasn’t sure what would happen to her, since she didn’t have active magic. He explained it was to give the tribe whose territory it was the advantage and time to prepare. He reiterated how dangerous dead zones could be as they were getting close to an area where he thought one was.
An eerie feeling of foreboding settled in Marie’s stomach. Something wasn’t right, or perhaps it was just the way a “dead zone” felt. She couldn’t shake it, though.
“Judson, can you give the whistle signal for everyone to stop? I need to speak with each wagon before we go any farther.”
He nodded and gave the loud and shrill signal that hurt her ears every time. Marie jumped down from her wagon and ran to the lead wagon.
“What is it?” Anne-Marie asked from the front of her wagon.
“I’m not exactly sure, but something is wrong here. I needed to warn you to be prepared. I feel tingly all over, so I don’t know if it’s other hunters or just the dead zone, but we might need to be prepared. Have your weapons and spells ready as soon as we pass through the area.”
“All right, we’ll be ready. Inform the other wagons,” she directed, and Marie did so, grateful to be taken seriously.
Marie knew each wagon was equipped with rifles, swords, knives, bows and arrows, and an assortment of other weapons, many laced with magic, and many creations of Judson’s. Once she was satisfied all had been warned and would prepare, she climbed back in her wagon, and Judson gave the whistle again to indicate forward movement.
It took longer than Marie thought it would to travel through the dead zone. An eerie silence permeated the arid air, nobody spoke, and all that could be heard were the sounds of the wheels tumbling over rocks and the clopping of the oxen. Just as they felt the dead zone coming to an end with an almost audible buzzing, Cetan jumped out of the wagon. He ran ahead to breach the boundary, transformed into the hawk, and flew to the sky to serve as their overhead eyes. Only moments later did the hawk screech a warning. Everyone drew their weapons as they came out of a narrow, open-air tunnel made of large sand cliffs on either side. The path opened into a wide plains area, where a line of wagons attempted to block the path.
Marie gasped and scratched at her neck at the same time. “Dante.”
Her brother leaned casually against a wagon while those on either side of him had weapons drawn. Their faces were hard, and their stances ready to fight. They simply waited. She couldn’t help but be saddened at the sight of her two brothers, Dante and Isaiah, her sister LeAnna, and other family members, some not even hunters, ready to fight them. And for what?
“Marie!” Dante called out. “I’ve been waiting for you. But it seems you are not nearly as surprised to see us standing here. I must have taken your ability to adapt for granted. I won’t again. Father, Rodney, Michael, and Caroline, it’s so nice to see you again. I’m ready to take you home, where you belong. It’s time for you to end your foolishness now, Marie, and join me in the family . . . business, as it were.” He sneered, the only indication of the madness taking over him.
“I’ve made my choice, Dante. You need to leave and let us move on,” Marie returned.
“But your choice is wrong, dear sister, and I am here to right your wrong.”
Marie could feel the unease trickle through the wagon train. They had tried to spread themselves out as wide as they could so they had a better chance. Weapons were drawn on both sides. She feared it would not end well.
“Dante, what you’re doing is wrong. These people have done nothing to you. Let them pass unharmed.”
A spark flared in his eyes. She had called him “wrong.”
“Their existence is their sin, and they need to be punished for it. Don’t you understand this is our purpose? This is who we are meant to be—the Blackstone witch hunters! We are to hunt the witches!” He was yelling now, losing his grasp on the thin thread of his sanity he held onto.
Instead of battling him, she needed to find a way to get everyone past him. Or at the least, she needed to convince him to leave, but she could only think of one idea to do that.
“Young man, many of us are not witches, and by your reasoning, we are innocent. Let us go through unharmed, then you may take your turn with the witches,” Mihail Petran announced to the shock of many. True, he was a vampire, but perhaps this was his way of getting some of the wagons to the other side.
“Nice try.” Dante lifted a brow. “You travel with them, you die with them.”
He pulled out a blade from his hip holster, apparently a silent signal, as many of the others extended their weapons as well.
“Are we almost through here?” the elder Bishop droned as if the whole situation was a bore to him.
Marie’s mouth dropped, but the fire she saw in Dante’s eyes at being disrespected by a witch must have been what Rodavan was after, because Marie could see the slight lift of his lip—he was itching for a fight, apparently.
“We are done when you are all dead,” Dante countered, pointing his blade at Rodavan.
“No! Dante, this doesn’t have to be this way. Let them go,” Marie pleaded as she jumped down from the seat of her wagon.
“Marie, no!” Judson shouted, but didn�
��t grab her in time. He jumped down on the opposite side and ran over to her.
“Let them go, and I will go home with you,” Marie announced with a hitch in her voice.
“No,” she heard Judson and several others add in shocked whispers.
Others now joined them on what would seem to be the front line of their side, coming down from their seats and out from the backs of the wagons. Marie could still see Cetan circling above, and out of the corner of her eye, Alo and Ahote moving stealthily up to higher ground, blending in with the landscape. She hoped they had a plan.
Marie calmly took steps forward, one at a time. With one last look to Judson, she gave him a smile—one that encapsulated all the love she had for him, the promise of their future, and that she would be all right. “This is my choice. I will find my way to you in the end.”
Tears welled up in his eyes, but he knew it was her choice to save all of them. He would get her back one way or another, even if he had to run across the country. There was no home without Marie for him.
Dante watched carefully, waiting for her to spring an attack on him, but she didn’t. Standing only feet in front of Dante, Marie stopped. “Do we have a deal?”
“Oh, Marie, we have no intention of making a deal,” Dante said snidely. He grabbed her and spun her around to face the rest of them. He held her tightly against his chest with his knife at her neck.
A clap echoed around them.
“Dante, no,” Marie struggled to say, a single tear falling from her eye.
“Shh, sister, you will be set right soon enough,” he crooned madly. To those on his side, he said, “Do it.”
Everyone simultaneously advanced, weapons ready to take out the witches. Except when they moved forward, they were blocked by an invisible barrier.
“You see, we are not naive and will not let you simply slaughter us. Be warned that we will fight back, and we will not have mercy,” Anne-Marie declared, standing regal and powerful with her hands outstretched, ready to use whatever magic was necessary to defend herself and her people.
Everyone standing with her joined her at the line. Vampires held weapons, and shifters shifted. Even Lawrence Mills had transformed into a mighty creature—a sight never before seen in the desert.
He grew to about fifty feet tall and twice as wide, Marie gauged, eyeing the tip of his enormous tail. She had only heard of dragons in stories she was told as a child. But he was unlike anything she’d imagined. The top of his head was circled with a crown of thorns, and his already pale green eyes shone with a vivid brilliance. His skin had become grayish-white scales covering him head to tail. From his back extended a large expanse of wings. Lawrence was quite the contrast to the tans, reds, and oranges of the desert. Instead of smoke and fire emitting from his mouth, mist and frost spewed forth in a great demonstration.
Eyes from everyone on the opposite side widened in surprise and a little fear—apparently it was a sight they had not yet seen either. Several faltered in their stances.
“What madness is this?” Dante said with slight alarm. He took several steps back, pulling Marie with him toward what appeared to be a getaway wagon.
“They have the upper hand, Dante. Leave while you can,” Marie pushed. “Your people . . . our family could be hurt.”
Dante growled, obviously frustrated they had foiled his plans. “No, you will still come with me.”
“Ready, witches?” Anne-Marie shouted.
“Let us be done with this already,” another one of the Bishops—Dragan—interjected, his voice impassive and bored, but the light in his eyes the opposite, as they gleamed with a spark of dark desire and an intensity in focus.
Marie groaned in pain as her eyes found Dragan’s. Why was his magic different? Could he be infusing it with dark magic? But just then, Dante grunted also and poked the skin at her neck, causing her to jerk back.
“Looks like one of your witches you associate with might have some secrets of his own. Naughty, naughty,” he taunted.
“Shields down!” Raffaele Augustine yelled in a deep baritone.
Another clap echoed through the mountains, and Dante’s people moved forward as if their suspension had lifted. The witches began firing off spells, and those with rifles kept them trained, ready to defend, but only if Dante’s rogues broke through their lines. Ahote and Alo made high-pitched sounds as they came jumping down from their places on the hillside and began fighting with knives. Metal upon metal clanked. Spells were uttered into the wind.
Dante pulled Marie with him quickly to the wagon and pushed her around to the front. “Time to go, sister.”
“I don’t think so.” Rachael’s voice came from the side of the wagon. Somehow she had slipped through the lines of fighting and awaited them there.
“And you are going to stop me, witch?” Dante laughed in her face. She flinched but straightened her shoulders.
“Yes, I am.”
“Get in, Marie. We’re leaving.” Dante ignored Rachael and pushed Marie up into the seat. She struggled to make it tough on him.
“You would just leave your people to fight and most likely die while you escape? You are a coward, Dante.” Marie couldn’t believe it took her so long to see his true fear.
Rachael began uttering words Marie could barely hear until they grew louder in cadence and the strength in her voice sounded confident, then she spoke them loud and proud. Her intent and her words carried strongly with power.
“I curse you, Dante Blackstone. Marie will disappear to you. You will lose connection with her and be unable to find her for all the days of your life. Your hunter will be hidden from you, and you will regain your humanity. I curse you, Dante Blackstone. Hear me, goddesses of sky, earth, water, and fire. Hear my cry and bid my words flight.”
Rachael took out a ritualistic athame she kept under her cloak and sliced the blade across her palm, drawing her own blood, then flung the dagger end over end until it landed in Dante’s stomach. It wasn’t a fatal wound, but it would definitely slow him down.
Dante pulled the dagger out and flung it away from him. Doubling over, he fell to his knees as he tried to staunch the bleeding.
Marie took advantage of the distraction and jumped down from his wagon. She ran over to Rachael, grabbing her arm and running back toward their wagons. Several people Marie didn’t know from Dante’s side lay on the ground, hurt, bleeding, or worse. A few wounds could be seen on the witches’ side, but overall, they were in total control and had the upper hand, especially when the dragon kept freezing those who came too close to the wagons and the young ones hidden within them.
Marie’s other brother Isaiah saw her fleeing and was about to give chase, but noticed Dante on the ground and rushed to his aid.
“Retreat!” Isaiah shouted, and he loaded Dante into the back of the wagon just before he jumped in the driver’s seat and took off. The other wagons in their group followed, leaving a trail of dust in their wake.
Marie ran to Judson and threw herself into his arms, where he caught her and spun her around just like he used to before they left Virginia. He held her so tightly, she couldn’t breathe. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
“You could never lose me. You are my home, and I would always come back to you,” Marie whispered into his ear, before he took her mouth and kissed her with a fierce desperation.
“Is anyone hurt?” Marie shouted, once she could breathe again.
Cetan and Ahote approached. In Cetan’s arms lay a limp Alo. Marie rushed to him.
“Hurry! Can anyone help him?” she pleaded with the witches, but no one moved.
Ahote placed his hand upon her arm. “He would not want that. He is at peace. We will let him go.”
Though his words were strong and brave, his eyes held immense sadness. Tears streamed down Marie’s face for their loss.
“May we take a moment to bury him in the hills he loved so much?” Cetan asked quietly.
Marie glanced at Anne-Marie, who gave her a slight nod.
“Of course you can. Take your time. And we are so sorry.”
“It was his choice to come and his choice to fight. He died protecting something he believed in,” Ahote added. The two brothers took their fallen up the side of the nearest hill, where the sun would set upon him, and buried Alo. Once they were finished, the others joined them at their sides and took a moment of silence in respect, then headed back to the wagons.
“Load up!” Butch shouted, getting everyone back on track. They had miles to make up for today yet. Judson refused to let Marie go as he tugged her toward their wagon, Rachael following behind them. Marie reached back for her hand and brought her close. She could feel Rachael shaking.
“What you did back there . . .” Marie started.
“It needed to be done. For the first time, my magic worked just as I intended it to. I could feel it well up from deep within. He should leave you alone now.” Rachael smiled, but it was weak and uncertain.
“I believe your magic is strong enough to do just that . . . but, Rach, by cursing him, you tied the curse to you. So you’re never allowed to die, or the curse will be broken and he’ll come for us again.”
“I know.” Rachael gulped, the residue from her spell still lingering on her. She was spent and looked like she was about to faint when Ahote came up behind her and caught her just before she fell. Without words, he scooped her up and carried her to the wagon, where Marie knew he would care for her friend. Ahote caught Marie’s eyes. She nodded her thanks.
“Marie,” Anne-Marie called out. “What you did was foolish and reckless, but you put your life on the line for all of ours. You have our trust, and we welcome you and yours to stay with us.”
She angled her head slightly, giving Marie a show of respect. When Marie looked up, she noticed all those with Anne-Marie standing with her, even the Bishops, who were skeptics from the beginning, each nodding their agreement—some more enthusiastically than others. She hoped one day to get to know them all more, but now they had a trail to blaze.