I hadn’t been keeping track of Rainelle, and the last time I had seen her was hours ago. Concern nipped at my kundalini noir.
Jolie sensed it too because she got a serious look on her face, reached for her jacket, and slipped it on to prepare for action.
Coyote opened the kitchen door and hollered into the night, “Rainelle.”
No answer except for the bleating of goats. He called for Che. Nothing.
A hunch soured my belly, the acid burn telling me to expect bad news. I put on my jacket.
Something beeped. All three of us glanced at the psychotronic diviner on the coffee table.
The crystal emitted a warning glow.
Phaedra was calling.
***
Chapter Thirteen
Coyote snatched the psychotronic diviner from the table and dashed out the kitchen door. He leapt off the porch, ran the fifty meters to the edge of the mesa and stopped. Jolie and I sprinted after him.
He held the diviner in both hands like an offering. Its crystal glowed steady. Though it could be detecting any psychic energy burst, no need to fool ourselves about what the clues meant. Rainelle was missing. Phaedra had taken her as bait.
Stars crowded the black velvet sky. The moon hung low over the opposite horizon. Chaco Canyon, Fajada Butte, and the far mesas formed a patchwork of purple and dark gray. More than a mile before us, the dark jagged gash of Chaco Wash ran across the middle of the canyon floor.
Jolie asked, “Why didn’t the diviner go off when Phaedra took Rainelle?”
“Phaedra didn’t need psychic powers to kidnap her.” I answered with conviction even though I was only guessing. “Or she could’ve sent her human goons. Now that Phaedra has Rainelle, she’s letting her presence be known.” I looked over both shoulders and lowered my voice to an angry rasp. “And she took Rainelle right from under our noses. That bitch Phaedra could be anywhere.”
The crystal dimmed until its light went out. Coyote stashed the diviner in his jacket pocket and stared into the canyon below. “She’s there.”
“Why didn’t she zap us here?” Jolie asked. “If she had attacked just a few minutes ago, she would’ve caught us with our thumb up our ass.”
I recalled Phaedra’s debilitating mind blasts. As powerful as they were, they must have range limits. “Maybe she has to trap us.”
Jolie tapped the grip of one of her .45s. Her fangs glinted. “Bring it.”
Coyote stepped off the mesa and floated down the steep slope. Jolie and I levitated behind him and descended into the gloom, the three of us practically invisible to any human who might have been watching. But to another vampire, our auras glowed like hot irons.
After landing in the canyon basin, we hustled to the wash. The moon climbed high enough to shine like a dim searchlight across the empty landscape.
The psychotronic diviner beeped, and my nerves pulled tight. Coyote fished the diviner out of his pocket, and the light from its crystal cast his face in eerie shadows.
I yanked my magnum from its holster. Jolie had both .45s out and ready.
We kept walking until we reached a ravine branching from the wash. We halted where the bottom was just visible. A hundred meters from us, a human body lay on her back. A woman with her arms folded. Rainelle. A faint aural sheath surrounded her. At least she was alive, though unconscious, maybe comatose.
Coyote squinted, his brow tightening. But he didn’t move. None of us did. We knew. Rainelle was bait.
The diviner beeped again, loud.
Its crystal burned with magnesium flare intensity, then exploded like a big firecracker. We jumped back. The report echoed in the night and the blast dazzled my eyes. I blinked them back into focus.
Coyote dropped the diviner and rubbed his eyes. He opened them and grimaced.
A faint white light materialized on the other side of the wash, maybe three hundred meters away. The light glided toward us.
My kundalini noir buzzed in distress, and I whispered, “Phaedra. Get ready for anything.” I fought the urge to shoot. Jolie pointed her pistols but like me, held her fire. At this distance our bullets wouldn’t nail her spot on. As soon as Phaedra was within pistol range—fifty meters—then we’d drill her with a hail of silver bullets.
Coyote jumped into the ravine. I expected him to scoop Rainelle into his arms but he bounded past her. With every stride, an article of clothing sloughed from his frame. For an instant he was naked and in the next, he had morphed into a coyote. He sprang on all four legs over the ground, his orange aura shimmering with distress. He disappeared down the far end of the ravine to my right, away from danger.
Why did Coyote abandon us? He was no coward. Jolie and I could transmutate into wolves, but the change would take at least a minute. By then, Phaedra would be on top of us.
The light continued to approach, becoming a blur of white and green illumination, coming close enough that I could recognize a human form within the glow. Jolie and I stepped from each other to make two targets instead of just one, and we glanced about in case the light was simply a distraction.
At one hundred meters, the light was a fan of white and green rays. Coming closer, it was clear the form inside the light was definitely female. A bit shorter than Jolie, with a mane of twisting black hair that cascaded past her shoulders, curling around a young woman’s face you’d call delicate and girlish if not for the expression of pure hate.
Confirmation: Phaedra.
Her lacy black dress was gathered with a belt from which hung dead crows. Black jewelry clung to her arms like the remnants of chains. Sparks sizzled around her head like she was about to explode. She was an astounding sight, so fantastic and terrifying that Jolie and I stared in disbelief when we should’ve opened fire.
Phaedra halted at the edge of the ravine on the other side of Rainelle. So far she had not used any of her tricks to probe our minds, confound us with hallucinations, or slam us with blasts of psychic energy.
Felix. Jolie. The ingénue’s voice slid into my brain. Out the corner of my eye I saw Jolie flinch. She was hearing Phaedra as well.
Before we get started, let me offer you this chance. Join me. Serve me. Live.
Jolie answered for the two of us. “Fuck you.”
I raised my revolver to draw a bead on Phaedra’s pretty face.
The ground trembled. To my right, dirt geysered upward. An orange aura shot from the spot. A vampire in a black duster appeared facing me, snarling, talons and fangs extended to combat length.
How was this possible? Had he been planted in the ground, or did Phaedra shoot him from someplace like a dirt torpedo?
More earth spouted upwards. Another vampire. Then another gout of earth. And another. Another. Jolie and I were surrounded by vampires. Eight of them. All in long dark coats like they were dressed for a Goth concert.
Pistols raised, Jolie spread her arms. She alternated firing to the left and right. Her bullets knocked the vampires down like they were bowling pins.
The vampires facing me attacked as one. I aimed the revolver and delivered two quick shots with the speed of a scorpion’s tail. Two vampire heads exploded like cantaloupes.
A vampire grasped my right shoulder from behind and aimed his fangs for my neck, an amateurish move against an undead enforcer like myself. I grasped his hair with my left hand and pitched forward. He rolled off my shoulder, and I whipped him flat against the ground. I drove the butt of the Colt Magnum against his forehead and cracked his skull like an egg. Brains and gore spurted out. His aura sparked with pain and began to ebb.
The last vampire, a female, lunged at me. I darted out of her way and sliced her throat with my talons. Her head separated from her shoulders and spun backwards, her aura blinked off, and the blood gushing from both ends of her severed neck turned to flakes.
Score so far … Phaedra: zero. Jolie and me: eight. The undead bodies lay strewn around us, their auras flickering weakly or already dark. I had four bullets left in my pistol, all for Phaedra.
The ground trembled once more and a fresh volley of vampires sprang from the earth. Another suicide squad. I crouched and got ready to fight them off.
Phaedra had glided closer, maybe thirty meters away. Her aura gathered into a glowing knot in front of her forehead. The knot grew into a plume that extended from her head like a flamethrower. The plume arced over the ravine and swallowed Jolie’s aura. My friend froze, her arms dropped to the side, and she levitated.
The sight both stupefied and dismayed me. Phaedra had learned how to focus her mojo into a physical attack.
The plume crackled like fire. Jolie began to tremble.
Rage compressed within me, then exploded. I shot a pair of vampires that advanced between Phaedra and me. The remaining vampires held back, not as fanatical or as stupid as I thought.
The aural plume let go of Jolie and she crumpled to the ground. The plume retracted halfway to Phaedra. She turned her head toward me and aimed the plume like it was a cannon.
My reflexes kicked into supernatural speed, and I cut to the left. But Phaedra was quicker. The plume smacked me hard, like a kick to my solar plexus. Orange light flooded my vision and swirled inside my head. An electric shock slammed down my spine. Spasming in pain, I floated upward.
The orange light dimmed. Through the agony, Phaedra’s voice echoed in my skull, a tone both flirtatious and taunting. It’s been awhile, my love. I appreciate that you’ve grown stronger and more ruthless. But not ruthless enough.
I wouldn’t reply. My mind wrestled to escape the grip of pain.
I could feel her smile turn cruel. My neck began to twist. I resisted but the force contorting my neck wrenched harder.
I was hoping to see you die in a more honorable way. Instead I’ll kill you as if you were a chicken for Sunday dinner. So disappointing.
I clenched my teeth and fought against the pain and the grinding of my vertebrae.
Phaedra screamed. The plume and my pain and paralysis vanished. I fell to the ground.
She screamed again. Coyote had clamped his muzzle onto one of her ankles, snarling, jerking his furry head side-to-side, his aura blazing red, orange, and yellow.
I watched, dizzy, my limbs plastic, my kundalini noir limp and weak.
Phaedra turned her head and blasted him with an aural plume. He was thrown back. She stoked the plume until it merged with his aura and glowed with incandescent brilliance. Phaedra lifted him until he was level with her eyes, then slammed him to the ground.
I tried to rise but my legs refused to work. I fought to raise the pistol to shoot but my arm felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
Phaedra shrieked with anger. The plume retracted into her head. She clenched her right hand and her aura crackled with lightning bolts of pain.
Jolie had staggered to her feet and waved the .45s, firing wildly.
Phaedra faced Jolie, shooting the aural plume, knocking Jolie flat with a punishing blow.
My arm felt mine again and I aimed for a shot.
Two vampires tackled me, and I was smothered under a storm of fangs and talons. I smacked at arms and faces with the butt of the magnum. Claws tightened around my neck. I jerked my pistol arm free and shoved the gun against a torso. Fired once. Felt the body go limp. Grabbed a face with my left hand. Raked my talons through flesh and bone and pushed the screaming, wounded vampire away.
A loud demonic howling echoed across the canyon. Now what?
Out the corner of my eye, I spotted a bluish-white light bounding toward us. The light outlined a large gorilla-lizard shape. El Cucuy.
Phaedra retracted her aural plume from Jolie and watched him approach, her aura sizzling in confusion and apprehension.
He raced across the night desert in great leaps, the surface of his metallic segmented body articulating like a mosaic of pewter tile.
I shot one of the vampires in the back. His comrades spun about and sprang at me. The fight disintegrated into a wild brawl, vampires seizing my arms, quick shots at targets of opportunity, and a confusion of fangs, talons, and fists.
I tore free long enough to see El Cucuy get within fifty feet of Phaedra and leap at her. But she was ready and hit him with the aural blast.
He exploded into thousands of shimmering fragments. The fragments bounced across the dirt, but didn’t stop. Instead they moved like tiny Cucuys. They leapt at each other, clumping, these clumps sticking to others, all the while the mass approached Phaedra as it reformed the full El Cucuy.
Phaedra hit him with another blast. Again he exploded into pieces. And again, these pieces clumped together and remade El Cucuy.
She gave him another blast, but the plume was weaker. El Cucuy was slammed back, parts of him separating. They jumped back into him, and once whole, he pounced at her.
Another mind blast. This time El Cucuy was knocked to his knees with his head blown off. It tumbled to the ground, grew legs from the stump and jumped back onto his shoulders.
Phaedra retreated from him. Her aura radiated a weak orange light. It pulsed once as if giving a signal. The remaining vampires hopped up and disappeared into the holes they had sprung from.
A fresh aural plume twisted from Phaedra. She raked it across the bodies of her fallen minions. Their corpses burst into flame, flaring like dry tumbleweeds. I covered my face to shield my eyes. The bodies blazed for a moment, crackled, faded to embers, and then to smoke and twists of ash. Phaedra shrank into the distance and faded to nothingness.
***
Chapter Fourteen
I paused to survey the aftermath. Smoke from Phaedra’s incinerated vampires fouled the night air. Dinner-plate-sized divots marked where her undead goons had come out of the ground, the holes now plugged with fresh dirt.
Phaedra was gone but her presence and the mayhem lingered like an echo.
Jolie staggered and sank to her knees. In a weary motion, she shoved both .45s into their shoulder holsters and waved that she was okay.
I turned my attention to Coyote. He remained in the dirt where Phaedra had thrown him. His aura trembled, flickering weakly between yellow, orange, and red. With every shift of color, his body morphed from coyote to human. His bones twisted, his fur dissolved into his skin, and his muzzle shrank against his face until he lay in his previous vampire form, naked.
Rainelle lay in the ravine, still unconscious, and by reading her aura, I could tell she was otherwise unhurt.
El Cucuy threw his shoulders back, his segmented body shimmering in the light of the moon. “It’s best that we go.”
I saw no reason to stick around. I rose to my feet and trotted into the ravine. Jolie stood and followed me. She scooped Rainelle in her arms while I gathered the clothes Coyote had discarded during his transmutation, including his purloined gold Rolex. His belongings in hand, I continued up the other side of the ravine where I crouched beside him.
Bruises marred the dark skin of his torso and arms. I slipped my hands beneath his shoulders and the back of his thighs. He weighed maybe a hundred pounds. His kundalini noir stirred faintly within him, and I knew he was in bad shape.
Jolie tossed Rainelle onto one shoulder and scurried up the side of the ravine. I hustled behind her with Coyote’s bony frame cradled to my chest. He bounced limply in my arms, making me regret not taking the time to stop and tug his pants on so his junk wouldn’t be flopping so close to my face.
El Cucuy jogged beside us as we ran to the mesa. I thanked him for his assist.
“Why did you help?” Jolie asked.
“You’re my friends, no? Friends help friends, no?”
“Now you’re Phaedra’s enemy.”
“No matter. She wasn’t my friend.”
“Where’s Marina? Aren’t you two … ahem …?” Jolie cleared her throat.
“She’s up north,” El Cucuy replied. “Doing her scary magic along Rio Chama.” He didn’t answer if he and Coyote’s mother were friends with benefits. I couldn’t imagine getting “friendly” with him—all those metal bits sl
iding into tight, moist places—and I didn’t want a demo.
“I can tell you,” he explained, “that she won’t be happy about what happened to Coyote. He is her lone surviving child.”
“Who’s going to tell her?” I asked.
“She probably already knows.”
“How?”
El Cucuy’s head blew apart. The pieces traveled maybe five feet, held steady in the air for an instant, then smashed back together to reform his head. “Can you explain that?”
“Uh … no.”
“Then don’t ask me to explain how Marina knows.”
We picked up our pace and hurdled the clumps of prickly pear in our way.
Jolie shifted Rainelle from her shoulder to her arms. “What are you, exactly?”
“I am El Cucuy, the boogieman.”
“But what kind of creature are you?”
His arms elongated until they stretched longer than his legs. Then he paddled his arms beneath him and bounded over the ground in kangaroo-like leaps. “Rey de los espantos.”
Jolie asked, “Shape-shifter?”
“No,” I corrected, “King of the supernatural spooks.”
“Shhh,” El Cucuy whispered, “Don’t say shape-shifter.” His arms shrank to their previous “normal” length and he resumed running on his hind lizard legs. “They might hear you.”
“They who?”
He pointed to the mesa, now a couple of hundred meters away. Jolie and I slowed to a trot. Bizarre ghostly shapes crawled along the face of the slope. Rectangular shapes that looked like hides stretched over stilts. Skin-walkers?
“Out here, those are shape-shifters. They’re very protective of the title. Apparently you have to go to school and learn all kinds of black-magic mumbo-jumbo ceremonies to call yourself a shift-shifter.”
Jolie asked, “Who are they?”
“Navajo.”
The skin-walkers wandered about the rocky slopes like emaciated horses looking to graze.
“Why do they look so weird?” Jolie persisted. “I thought shape-shifters would turn into animals. Fox. Wolf. Deer.”
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