The Chosen (10 page)

Clearly Diego and Remington had discussed a great deal while she’d just been hanging about waiting. The man had a submarine? Why? He lived in the damn Sonoran Desert.

“And you’re sure the submarine can take us to the location on the map?”

“Ain’t no way faster.” Diego leaned down and pointed to the map. The remnants of breakfast had been cleared away, and the folded paper spread out like a cloth that hung over the edges of the small table. Diego’s gnarled finger traced the coastline along Mexico until he hit a bay just above Guatemala. “It’s as close as you’ll get. You’ll need to walk in the rest of the way. And once you get to the Veracruz province, you’ll need this to decipher the rest of the map.” He scooted back on his chair and pulled a small steamer trunk from beneath his bed.

“That’s a bit large to pack on the back of a horse,” Remington said.

“Not the trunk, boy. What’s in it.” Diego hid his movements as he worked the lock on the front of the trunk, opened it, and pulled out a thick book bound in odd brown leather.

Remington seemed pragmatic, all except for the slight lift in his shoulders. “What is it?”

“A translation of the Mendoza Codex. The writings my Spanish ancestors put down about the Aztecs, the tribes they subjugated, and their lore. Them Indians know what’s down there, and they worked with the Spaniards to hide it. I tried my best with an interpreter to make a coded map that can guide you through to where the piece of the Book of Legend was hidden. You have that. But once you get inside the temple there’s two rivers and trials you’ll need to pass before you can get to the Aztec hell itself where the bone gods wait to strip the flesh off of you.”

“That sounds encouraging.”

Diego grumbled. “This ain’t just some hunt boy; this is the Aztec land of the dead. You ain’t meant to come out alive. So listen up. The River of Scorpions is a pit filled with the critters. Wide enough you can’t step across it and deep enough that if you step into it, you’ll drown in them.”

Remington swallowed hard. China made a note that Remington appeared not to be fond of scorpions. One never knew when information like that would give a girl an advantage.

He glanced up at Diego. “And the other river you’ve mentioned is more of the same?”

Diego looked grim and drank straight from the bottle. China watched his throat work as he stared at Remington with bleak eyes. “The next is called the River of Blood. It’s an acidic river that flows rust red from the heart of the caves and reeks of Darkin. It’ll strip the flesh right off your bones. We lost three men crossing that alone.”

China bet it was sulfuric acid. Underground caverns could be full of them. And these were just the river crossings? She couldn’t wait to hear what other fiendish Hunter traps and natural barriers they’d be up against.

“And the trials? Are they varied as well?”

Diego nodded and took another drink. “Each one represents a fear meant to challenge your brain as well as your mettle.”

Remington gritted his teeth and looked deep into the old man’s brown eyes. “If Elwin’s piece of the Book has been there that long, how do we even know it hasn’t moldered away?”

“We don’t. But you tell me how else the Chosen is supposed to put it back together and close the Gates of Nyx if we don’t get it out of there?”

Remington’s shoulders stiffened, and his face turned dour. “There is no other way except by reuniting the Book. Marley and I have researched Hunter lore a thousand times over looking for anything else that might work against Rathe.”

China shifted back into her human form, and every eye turned in her direction as she seemed to sprout out of thin air. Weapons were drawn. She straightened up from her crouch on the dirt floor. “There is nothing else.”

Diego’s face darkened with fury. His narrowed eyes flicked from China to Remington. “I can’t stop you from going on this death march, but are you sure it’s wise taking this Darkin?”

Remington stood. “Wise, no. Necessary, yes.”

China grumbled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence in my loyalty, Jackson.”

He gave her a half-tilted smile. “You’re welcome.”

“How large is your party?” the captain’s daughter asked.

Remington braced his feet wider apart, mimicking the military woman’s stance, putting them on equal terms. He did it so effortlessly, China had to appreciate it. Like her, he understood the importance of knowing the mind of both your ally and foe alike. “Just the two of us.”

The captain’s daughter nodded. “It’ll make it easier on the submarine if you are taking fewer people and supplies, but ultimately a harder journey.”

“Doesn’t look as if we have a choice, Miss Nation.”

“First Mate Nation, if you please. I’ve earned my rank.”

China respected the woman in a way she didn’t Miss Arliss. She liked how the captain’s daughter hadn’t even flinched at the mention of her being a Darkin. Perhaps like Remington, First Mate Nation understood that there were differences among Darkin just as there were among humans. Some were good, some were bad, and some just were.

“How long will it take to get to Caborca and the submarine?” China asked.

Monica’s shoulders straightened slightly. “At least a day and a half by horse to Caborca, another to the coast where my father has the submarine moored.”

China knew enough about Rathe to know that if he thought his greatest advantage would be at the new moon, he wouldn’t delay. By the time they reached the coast, they would have already used nearly one of their three precious weeks until the moon disappeared in the sky.

Beneath their feet the earth began to tremble. At first China thought it might be an earthquake, but the tremors were too even and regular, almost like gigantic footsteps. She knelt, pressing her fingertips to the compacted dirt. There was no roll and pitch to the earth, but she could feel a grinding sensation.

Screams and the whinny of frightened horses echoed outside. Her preternaturally sharp sense of smell picked out the dirty scent of machine oil and the greasy stench of coal smoke. And the sulfur of another Darkin. Rathe had sent more of his minions to stop or kill her and Remington.

One of Diego’s guards burst into the house. “
Pardon, senõr
, a large machine has entered the village.” An explosion outside shook the adobe house, sending down a shower of grit and dust on top of them. Everyone crouched low.

“What the blue blazes was that?” Remington growled.

China didn’t wait; she didn’t hesitate. She’d grabbed the codex while everyone was distracted and tucked it beneath her jacket, then turned and dashed for the door to look out. A giant scorpion created from metal, gears, and pulleys was ripping through the houses with a massive brass claw. It crushed the adobe walls as if they were sandcastles.

In a second Remington was by her side. “What is that?”

“It’s a message from Rathe. See that man atop the driving platform?”

Remy squinted. Between the bulbous glass eyes of the mechanical monster he could barely make out the driver in his red jacket and black broad-brimmed hat. “You know him?”

“That’s Dr. Adder Morpheus, a snakeoil peddler turned demon who works for Rathe.” The tone of disgust in her voice indicated they weren’t allies.

The metallic shell of the machine flashed in the sunlight as it drew closer, ripping a path of destruction through town in a beeline for Diego’s house. “What does he want?”

“I reckon he’s here to stop us, kill us, or both.”

There wasn’t time to think things through or create a plan. Remy swiveled back to Diego, First Mate Nation, and the other men under Diego’s command. “Get out now!”

Shutters flew open as men scattered out of the adobe house through the windows. First Mate Nation helped Diego to the doorway. It was clear to Remy the old hunter was in no condition to run. He hoisted him up over his shoulder and prepared to make a dash between the scorpion’s legs. A shadow fell across the doorway, and Remington looked up to see a big brass claw descending toward them.

There were two things of which Remington was absolutely sure in a blinding instant of clarity: one, bullets weren’t going to do a damn thing to stop this machine from crushing them, and two, he needed to act fast.

“Follow me!” He rushed forward. The bulk of Diego lay heavy on his shoulders and back, slowing him down. The two women ran beside him. With a low-pitched mechanical groan, the claw came down where they’d been standing only moments before. It smashed straight through the center of the tile roof, collapsing it inward with a crash. A cloud of dust and debris shot up into the air, blinding them for a moment and sending bricks and bits of shattered tile and stone shrapnel flying everywhere.

Remington squeezed his eyes shut and coughed, unable to shield his face from the cloud as he held on to Diego. “I hope everyone got out,” he muttered as he gasped.

Monica had tucked her chin, mouth, and nose down beneath the edge of her military jacket collar. She popped her head upward, leaving a pale line over the bridge of her nose where the dust coated the top half of her head. “They did. We were the last ones out.” She coughed against the dust still thick in the air.

Remington tried to twist around, searching the area. He caught a glimpse of China, clearly spitting mad. First things first. Find somewhere to stash Diego out of harm’s way. “Where’s a safe place we can put him?”

There was a pause. It stretched out too long to be good.

“I don’t think that’s going to be an issue.” Sadness laced Monica’s tone.

“What happened?” Remington leaned up close to the building, allowing Diego to slip slowly from his back. He propped the old man up against the wall. Bright red seeped from Diego’s temple, staining his face, and caking with the dust and dirt into a sluggish dark mat in his beard.

Monica put her fingers to his neck. “There’s no pulse. A chunk of brick must have hit him.”

“Damn. Where’s the codex?”

Monica nodded at the rubble. “Probably still in there.”

“Now how in the blue blazes are we going to unravel the rest of Diego’s map?”

The dust cloud was beginning to clear. Soon their cover would be gone. The machine was on the move. The ground shook beneath their feet. The clinking of metal against metal, the shoosh of pistons, and the clunk of gears as the machine repositioned itself grew closer and more ominous.

Remington glanced at China. It was a chance, a slim chance, but one he had to take. They couldn’t outrun the machine either on foot or by horseback. “Maybe if I can keep Morpheus busy telling me what he wants, you and First Mate Nation can escape, and we can all meet up in Caborca. He seems like the type that I could cajole into bragging about himself for ten to fifteen minutes, enough to give you a decent head start.”

China grimaced. “Stand there and talk him to death.
That’s
your plan?”

Remington glared at her. “You have a better one?”

The machine appeared out of the dust cloud, a metal menace, belching steam, claws snapping.

“Hell yes. Let’s rip that sonofabitch apart! Here, hold this.” She pulled the codex from her jacket and handed it to him.

His eyes widened slightly. “You took it?”

“Thief, remember?”

In just a few seconds China had transformed into a rather large desert rat. With pale brownish-gray fur, her foot-long body and small oval ears blended in quickly with the desert colors of the adobe rubble and dirt. Only her darker brown tail could be seen as she skittered off directly toward the mechanical scorpion.

He shot up from his crouch. “Wait!” He didn’t know exactly what she planned to do, but Remington knew he had to give her time. He clasped his hands about his mouth and yelled up at the driver of the machine with all his might. “Dr. Morpheus!”

The scorpion stopped mid-motion, a hiss of steam escaping from the valves in clouds of white. It was easier to see the man now, up this close. His dark, elegantly waxed mustache curled at the ends and matched his precisely trimmed goatee. He touched the brim of his black plantation owner’s hat with a gray-gloved hand, nodding toward Remington in acknowledgment. “The very same. And you are?” His Southern drawl made the words sound so much more polite than negotiations with a demon bent on killing him, China, and the rest of the village.

“Just a traveler trying to find out why you are destroying this village,” Remington replied. There was no reason to reveal his true identity or give China away if he didn’t need to.

“Then, sir, I have no reason to speak to you. I’m here for Diego Mendoza.” Another hiss of steam was accompanied by the ratcheting sound of gears as the pulleys and metal components of the brass claw lifted it up into the air to strike a final blow to Diego’s home.

“Wait!”

Dr. Morpheus pulled on a lever, leaving the claw suspended over what was left of the crumbled walls. “You begin to irritate me, sir.”

“Mendoza is dead. You must have crushed him with the last blow.”

In the corner of his vision Remington watched as China scampered up the leg of the mechanical scorpion and vanished between chinks in the monster’s armored metal plating with a swish of her tail. Her flag of triumph, Remington thought, amused in spite of the situation.

“Where’s the body? Mendoza has something I want, and he’d never give it to anyone for safekeeping.”

“Are you certain?”

Faster than Remington could move, the huge brass claw swung down and pinned him against the building behind him. It knocked the air out of his lungs and pushed so hard on his ribs, he was certain a few of them cracked.

“Do not make the mistake of toying with me, son. I’ve made a living out of selling charades to folks, so I know how to spot one. Tell me where Mendoza’s codex translation is, and I’ll let you live.”

A sudden spurt of steam and the crunching grind of gears seizing up came from the scorpion’s claw as it went slack, slamming to the ground, inches from Remington’s boots. Free, he stepped clear.

From the metal deck between the scorpion’s eyes, Dr. Morpheus muttered a string of curses as he pulled levers and prodded buttons on his control panel.
Retchetchet. Crack! Scree!
Suddenly the articulated legs of the scorpion began to collapse down upon themselves, becoming shortened stubs. Remington didn’t need any encouragement to slip away as swiftly as possible.

He rounded the corner of the building and found Monica along with Diego’s body. She’d dragged him out of eyesight, away from Dr. Morpheus and his mechanical monster.

“We won’t have much time once China gets back.”

Monica nodded. “If we take the horses out through the arroyo, he won’t be able to see us. It’s deep enough to hide us.”

Remington frowned. Arroyos were dangerous and unpredictable places. Water could rush downstream from a monsoon storm miles and miles away in the mountains, washing down the gulley so fast that it swept away everything in its path. “What about the chance of a flash flood or an ambush?”

Monica peered up at the cloudless blue sky. “We only need it for cover long enough to reach the tip of the Sierra Madre mountains to the south.”

Remington considered the plan. It was as good as any, and a damn sight better than anything he had in mind. There was no telling how long it would take for Morpheus to get his machine working again. He peered at Diego. It wasn’t right to abandon a Hunter in this way, but the others would have to see to his funeral. They simply didn’t have time to wait. Monica whispered softly in Spanish to Diego, pressed a kiss to his forehead, swiped the back of her hand quickly against her eyes, then made eye contact with Remington.

From the look in her dark brown eyes he could tell she was hurting, but determined. “I’ll wait for China and bring her down to the arroyo with our horses. We’ll meet you there.”

She nodded. “I’ll be there as soon as I make sure Diego will be taken care of by the others in the village.” She stayed on alert and crouched low as she disappeared between the buildings.

Remington turned his attention back to Diego. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to see the Book of Legend for yourself, Diego, but your efforts won’t be in vain. I will find it. I will bring the piece back, and I will defeat Rathe with my brothers.”

“You know it ain’t doin’ him a bit of good to natter on like that.” China’s voice caused him to whip around.

“You’re back!” He stepped close and lightly brushed the smear of dark grease away from her cheek. Her skin was silken to the touch. Truly China was more than she appeared, no matter what shape she took. Her mouth opened slightly at his touch, making Remington remember what kissing China was actually like. Her eyes grew round, and the gray color turned a dreamy, misty slate blue. But he had no business kissing her. Not now. Not ever again.

“How’d you disable it?”

She blinked and snapped her mouth shut, clacking her teeth, then cleared her throat. Her skin turned slightly pink. “Oh, you know how it can be when rats get chewing on wiring. It can cause all manner of things to short-circuit.” If he hadn’t been watching her eyes, if he hadn’t observed her pupils dilating with the same desire he felt himself, he would’ve been fooled that she didn’t reciprocate his feelings.

With a start Remington realized she was just as affected by him as he was by her. The connection between them was more than just both of them knowing Colt. There was a chemistry that percolated and bubbled just beneath the surface that neither of them had acknowledged. And never would if Remington had anything to do with it. His life was complicated enough without getting sweet on a Darkin who was anything but. He needed China, but that didn’t mean he trusted her farther than he could spit.

Remington cleared his throat and dropped his hand, realizing he’d been stroking her cheek long after the grease had disappeared. “The first mate is waiting for us down in the arroyo behind town. We need to find our horses. I’m sure Dr. Morpheus’s machine scared them off their hitching post. It would be best if we separate to find our mounts and meet there. There will be less chance of being noticed that way.”

China nodded and headed off in the direction Monica had gone. Remington stared down at Diego one more time. He could hear the hissing, spitting sounds of the boilers in the mechanical scorpion and the gritty grind of the gears. Dr. Morpheus wasn’t getting his contraption going anytime soon without a good mechanic. He tucked the codex into his pack and hauled ass toward the arroyo.

The arroyo cut like a jagged, deep scar through the desert. He scrambled down the steep incline, his fingers digging, when he could, into the loose earth and rock that lined the edges. The slick bottoms of his boots gave him little purchase as he half slid, half trotted down toward the horses.

Monica was already mounted, as was China. “Everyone okay?”

Both China and Monica nodded.

He took the reins in hand and swung up into the saddle. “Where’d you find them?”

“It wasn’t hard; they were drinking out of the fountain,” China answered, her tone a bit smug. “You didn’t think Hunters were the only ones with tracking skills, did you?”

Remington wheeled his horse around so it was facing south. “How long do you think it’ll take him to fix that machine?”

“Depends if there are other Hunters in town beside Diego who realize Dr. Morpheus is a demon.”

“Diego was the only one,” Monica interrupted.

The rapid report of gunfire from the direction of town was their cue to exit. They kicked the horses into a steady gallop, weaving as the path of the arroyo twisted and turned down the length of the valley. Remington knew there was only so far they could push the horses as the sun and heat grew more intense, trapped by the narrow, airless ravine. The deep sides of the arroyo provided a slight bit of shade from the rim until the sun reached its zenith.

They came to a rest at the base of the mountains where the arroyo spread into a wider plane. His horse was shaking, its sides bellowing in and out.

“We’ve got to be careful not to push them too hard, or there’s no way we’ll make it to Caborca,” Monica said with a matter-of-fact tone, leaning down to run her hand over the horse’s neck as she slowed her mount’s pace to a steady walk.

Remington followed suit, and China came trotting up to his other side before she slowed too. “How did you know Diego? You seemed more tore up about his death than a normal henchman would have,” Remington asked as casually as he could manage.

Monica kept facing straight ahead, her back military straight. “He was my uncle.”

Now that Remington looked at her, he could see the slight family resemblance around the eyes. The first mate’s dark eyes were just as intense and piercing as Diego’s. Which made him wonder something else.

“Were you raised a Hunter?”

If it was possible, her ramrod straight spine stiffened even further. It was a wonder it didn’t snap in two. The corners of her mouth turned downward. “Women are not allowed to be formally trained as Hunters in this part of the world.”

Remington snorted. “Don’t take it personally. They aren’t anywhere.”

“Why is that?” China cut in.

Remington twisted around to face his Darkin. “It’s too hard a life.”

China snorted, then leaned forward to make eye contact with Monica. “Do you think what you’ve endured is any different than the experiences of the men in your family?” she asked.

Monica gave a heavy sigh and shook her head. “Absolutely not. No offense, Miss McGee, but in the heat of battle most Darkin care not if their victims are male or female, young or old. Child, old man, woman, it’s all the same to them if we are after something they want.”

China nodded and leaned back in her saddle. “Can’t fault you for speaking the truth.”

Remington had the uncomfortable sensation of being caught between the frying pan and the fire. They traveled on through the desert, often single file through the most treacherous parts of the mountain passes. The more he stewed on how the women had talked, the more he realized how little he knew about China—where she’d come from, her upbringing, how she’d come to despise Rathe enough to fight against her own kind.