Highway to Hell (13 page)

“Lisa! This is her.”

“Who?” She joined me at the bookshelf and I showed her the snapshot.

“The woman I saw in my dream! That's her exactly.”

A voice interrupted, both feminine and commanding. “You mean, ‘that is she.’ ”

Lisa and I turned. The woman in the entry stood straight as a queen, her presence somehow shrinking the room. Her face was lined with age and experience, but the architecture was unmistakable: it was the same face as in the photograph, and the same face from my dream.

Hadn't I said she'd be beautiful even in old age? Her thick hair was iron gray, pulled back in an elegant French twist. She could have been on the cover of a 1950s
Vogue
with her brown tweed pencil skirt and crisp white blouse.

Until she moved, I hadn't noticed her cane. While Lisa and I stared, she went to an armless chair and sat as if it were a throne. Her bright black gaze studied us, avidly curious and deeply suspicious.

“Now. Tell me. What is a pair of pretty young
brujas
like you doing in a place like this?”

L
isa and I exchanged glances in the “what the hell?” silence that followed the question. With a minuscule twitch of her head, as good as telepathy, Lisa deferred to me. I aimed for a nonchalant but polite tone as I addressed the waiting matriarch. “Isn't that an ironic question under the circumstances?”

“Is it?” She raised a perfectly arched black brow. “You are on my land, within my sphere of protection. I think it's a very good question.”

Lisa lifted her own brow, matching the older woman arch for arch. “It sounded rhetorical to me,
señora.
”

The lady narrowed her eyes, and the corners of her mouth tucked in. “There is a thin line between pert and rude,
niña.
You should err on the side of caution.”

I broke in quickly, because I was sure Lisa's reply wouldn't be cautious at all. She hadn't felt the power in the electric psychic fence, but I had. “You'll have to excuse us, Doña Isabel, but the last”—what was it?—
“bruja
that I met tried to kill me.”

Somehow she managed to look down her nose even while seated. “Since you survived, I suppose that speaks in your favor.”

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Doña Isabel continued as if nothing were odd in that. “You might as well sit down so we can have a civilized discussion.”

Warily, I perched on one end of a chaise with a heavy oak frame. Lisa stood stubbornly for a moment; then curiosity must have gotten the better of her and she sat as well. “Did you see Maggie in her dream, too?”

“I saw her in
my
dream.” She corrected Lisa as if she found her a bit dim. “In fact, I dreamed of
two
powerful young women. I assumed you were a threat, but I see now that you are largely … what do they say? Clueless.”

Since we were, I didn't take offense. I was too busy being awed and fascinated by this woman, and the way she controlled the conversation. “Clueless about what? Specifically, I mean.”

“Your nature.” She looked at us each in turn. “Your potential for harm.”

My stomach dropped. “What do you mean?”

Lisa spoke, with a challenge in her voice. “You mean
my
potential for harm.”

Doña Isabel met Lisa's eye, her gaze unyielding. “Yes. You have great intelligence and curiosity, and great power. That is a dangerous combination. But you are not as monstrous as you fear.”

Lisa blinked, the blood draining from her carefully expressionless face. “Not
as
monstrous?” I noticed she didn't deny the “as you fear” part. “Don't spare my feelings,
señora.
”

Doña Isabel waved a dismissive hand. “Please. I am an old woman. God showed me my gifts a very long time ago, and I haven't time or patience for your novice insecurities.”

I decided I'd better make some attempt to direct this interview, if I was going to learn anything about what was going on here, both in a situational and cosmic sense. Was she a witch—a
bruja?
Or just a Seer like me? Was she Good? Evil? Neutral?

“Doña Isabel,” I said. “I've sensed the protection around this area. It must be your doing—”

She cut me off with a stately shake of her head. “Not mine. I am only the instrument of God's will.”

“Of course.” Old-school, Zeke had said. He asked us not to upset his grandmother with superstitious stories, but that promise seemed moot, given his
abuela's
psychicness and all. The chupacabra was out of the bag. “But if you've Seen
us
, then maybe you've Seen the other thing, too? A strange creature that's been killing livestock?”

She rose to her feet. Her walking stick was elaborate, dark wood carved with dragonflies down its length. The design distracted me for a moment, and I thought about the weather vane. If dragonflies were good luck, it seemed an oddly superstitious thing for her to carry, unless she just thought the design was pretty.

Her straight, cool posture drew my gaze back to her. “There is nothing strange on the land. The coyotes are growing bold because of the drought, that is all.”

So Zeke hadn't been able to keep her completely in the dark. I wonder how he thought he could, even if he didn't know about her abilities.

I rose automatically, still full of questions. “But if you know about the cattle—”

“Enough.” She rapped her cane against the floor, an old-fashioned but impressive gesture. “This land is under my protection.” The statement was both a fact and a warning. “Nothing happens on this land without my knowledge. For one hundred and fifty years my family has been here, and I am tied to this place like a mother is tied to her child.”

She spoke softly in her richly textured voice, her accent a grace note. But her words reverberated like an oath, and I saw a flash in her black eyes.

You're wrong.
I pressed my lips together, swallowing the words. It wasn't good manners that held my tongue. It was the power of her belief and my complete lack of ammunition against her denial.
“El chupacabra”
isn't much of an argument against “God has shown me the way it is.”

“Now,” said Doña Isabel very pleasantly, “Ezekiel is waiting for you in the foyer. I hope you enjoy your afternoon.”

The dismissal was so complete, Lisa and I were outside in the hallway before I even realized I was moving. I caught sight of my face in an ornamental mirror, and my gobsmacked expression snapped me back to reality. “Wow. I feel like I've just left the principal's office.”

In contrast, Lisa's expression was grim. “I don't know what that does to your chupacabra theory, Mags. Even the witch of Velasquez County doesn't think there's anything going on.”

“Well, she's wrong.” I glanced toward the door we'd just exited, then lowered my voice. “Do you think Zeke knows?”

“About her denial?” Lisa folded her arms. “Or that his grandmother is a witch?”

“I'm not sure she's a witch.” There was a parti
cular feel
to magic like Lisa did, and even to the charms we'd found in our room. But the vibe that I got from Doña Isabel was different. “I think she's like me. A Seer.” One who didn't seem to be Seeing the whole picture. Granted, that was how
I
operated most of the time, but at least I was
looking
for the missing pieces.

Zeke waited in the foyer, where Doña Isabel had said he'd be. He looked a little anxious, but smoothed his features as we appeared. “Ready to go?”

Who was he worried about—her or us? “Your grandmother is very interesting, Zeke.”

His brow knotted warily. “How so?”

I chose my words carefully, to judge his reaction. “She's very protective.”

He let his guard down, smiling sheepishly. “Well, I'm the only grandson still around.”

Lisa slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, hips cocked to the side. It was a deceptively casual posture. “I'll warn you, we probably didn't pass inspection.”

He grinned. “If you hadn't, I'd already be hearing about
it.” Holding open the front door, he gestured to the bright afternoon. “Let's go saddle up.”

“Yee-haw,” Lisa said, and led the way out and to the truck.

I brought up the rear, resisting the urge to glance over my shoulder one more time.

H
orses are nothing like in the movies.

Maybe it's the way they focus the camera, or maybe because when I watched
Hidalgo
, I was really paying a lot more attention to Viggo Mortensen. But once you're standing next to one, you can't help but realize, horses are freaking
huge.

“Go ahead and pet her, miss.” The stable boss—Zeke had called him Lupe—tied the lead rope for a dark brown mare around the top rail of the barn's fence. Already saddled, she shifted placidly from hoof to hoof, clomping in the sawdust.

Tentatively, I ran my hand down her neck to her shoulder,
a wall of muscle under warm skin and sleek coat. My hand came away dusty, with sweat-damp hairs clinging to my palm.

Horse sweat smelled better than I would have thought, blending with other smells of the stable yard—leather and oats, hay and manure. It wasn't exactly perfume, but it wasn't that bad, either.

“Here.” Lupe handed me half an apple. The mare's head followed the fruit, nostrils widening in interest. “Hold it like this.” He showed me his open palm, held very flat.

“O-kay.” I did as he said. The horse stretched out her lips to investigate the offering, then deigned to accept it, leaving my palm coated with green-flecked saliva.

Lovely.

The mare watched me with an indifferent eye while she chewed her treat. “Does she have a name?” I asked.

“Sassy.” Lupe patted her affectionately on the rear end.

“I'm not sure I'm up to a Sassy. I think I'd be much happier on a Gluefoot.”

The cowboy grinned, his face a map of sun-weathered years. “Short for Sarsaparilla, miss.”

Because she was the color of root beer. Duh. I touched the white mark on her hip—the double-armed cross of the Velasquez ranch—and her skin twitched like she was shooing a fly.

Zeke had brought out his horse—a pinto with artistic splotches of reddish brown on his white coat—and a long-legged black mare that Lisa was brushing as they chatted. She and Zeke, not the horse. Though between the charms in my room, the chupacabra, and meeting Doña Isabel in my dreams, not much else would surprise me today.

I'd never gone through a horse-mad phase as a girl. Any terminology I knew came from reading about Nancy Drew and
The Secret of Shadow Ranch.
I eyed the stirrup, which was about at the level of my shoulder. The saddle was
way
above that.

“How am I supposed to get up there?”

“Get your foot in and jump up,” said Lisa. She checked the length of the stirrups by measuring the leather against her arm, then tucked her foot into place, and with an effortless hop, swung her long leg over the horse's back.

“You're just showing off.”

Lupe moved to hold the mare's bridle as Zeke came over to help me. “I'll give you a leg up.”

That sounded slightly indecent, but I went along with it, putting my foot in his knit hands. “Now, grab the front of the saddle for balance. When I say three, jump with your standing leg, and I'll toss you up.”

“Wait, toss? What?”

“One, two, three.”

I landed on my stomach across the horse's back. Zeke somehow got my foot in the left stirrup, and I used it for leverage while I wrestled my right leg over. Finally, I was upright in the saddle. As long as I didn't look down, I'd be fine.

Zeke handed me the reins, positioning them between my thumb and palm. “All you have to do is hold them in one hand and move them the way you want to go. Right, left, stop.”

I copied his movements timidly. Rather than obey, the mare bent her neck to cast me a disdainful eye.

Zeke's grin flashed white against his tan skin. “Don't
worry. All you really have to do is follow me, and she'll do that automatically.”

“If you say so.” He returned to his own horse and I tried to find a more comfortable position in the saddle, which was difficult with the torque on my knees and the pressure on my hip bones. Not to mention the really long way down.

Lupe corrected my grip on the reins. “Not so tight, miss. You'll communicate better with her if you're not sitting like a poker. Relax. Not that much,” he added, when I slumped in the saddle.

“Sorry.”

“This is Doña Isabel's horse.” He stroked her neck, and the mare regarded him much more kindly than she did me. If she was the grande dame's mount, that explained the disdain.

“Ready?” called Zeke. Lisa gave her mare a nudge with her heels and brought her alongside his horse, and they both looked at me expectantly.

I sighed, feeling even more out of place. “Ready as I'll ever be.”