floored it, dirt and gravel kicking out in his wake. The ride was a jouncing one, but that couldn’t be helped. Rune knew they were in a race—not only against time but also against those who were after them. His instincts were jangling, warning him to hurry. To get this done and get his witch out of Mexico as quickly as possible.
But that warning, he told himself a moment later, had come too late. He saw the first body lying in the street. Blood had seeped into the dirt around the dead man, telling Rune he had been killed at least a couple of hours earlier.
“What?” Teresa said on a horrified gasp. “What happened?” She whipped her gaze from side to side and saw, as Rune did, more bodies.
Outside stores, across open doorways, in the road itself. Survivors wandered the dusty street in a daze, looking around at the fallen, at the twists of smoke lifting from the still-burning homes. A woman wailed beside the body of a man and lifted her eyes to heaven as if asking why.
Rune’s instincts were screaming. Half the village was dead.
“Oh, my God,” Teresa whispered, dropping Serena’s journal into the duffel bag at her feet and zipping it closed. She turned horrified eyes on Rune. “My abuela. Rune—”
“Where does she live?” His voice was hard with banked rage as he threw the car into PARK and shut off the engine. The air was still, as if haunted by the violence staining the small village. Only the weeping of those left alive shattered an otherworldly silence. Even Chico was quiet, as if he sensed that something was wrong.
“She lives on the outskirts of town. An old cabin.”
Nodding, he said, “Get out of the car. We’ll flash there. Quieter and faster. No one here will pay any attention to us, magic or not. They’re too … destroyed.”
She grabbed the duffel, swung it over her shoulder and clung to Rune when he came to her side. “Hurry, Rune.”
The flames came, carried them away and deposited them just outside her grandmother’s home. It looked exactly as she remembered it. Neatly tended flower beds displayed a wild profusion of color. To the side of the house was an herb garden, and surrounding the old cabin were sheltering trees that offered shade from the tropical sun’s searing heat.
But the house, like the town, was too quiet.
Teresa broke away from him and headed for the front door at a dead run before he could stop her. Rune’s every sense screamed danger. “Teresa! Wait!”
He caught up to her just as the heavy wood door was yanked open. Inside the house, Teresa’s grandmother sat, tied to a chair, her wise brown eyes locked sadly on her granddaughter.
“Abuela?”
A man stepped from the shadows, put a gun to the old woman’s head and smiled. “Hello, Teresa. Long time, no see.”
“Miguel.”
Chapter 51
“You son of a bitch,”Teresa spat at her ex-boyfriend.
“You killed all those people?”
“I had help.” He looked to one side, never taking the barrel of the gun from the old woman’s temple, and nodded. Three more men stepped into view from the shadows. “We’re here for you, Teresa,” he said, shifting his gaze back to her. “And the one with you. I know what he is.”
She felt a deep chill as soon as she looked into Miguel’s eyes. He’d always been an abusive creep. But this was different. He’d moved up—or rather down—the food chain, going from simply dangerous to murderous. Teresa’s gaze met her grandmother’s and she was swamped by love and helpless agony.
Chico flew into the room in a brilliant display of color and made a diving swoop at one of the men. He swung his gun up in reaction, but the bird shrieked and flew back outside an instant later. The attacked man crossed himself hurriedly.
“For God’s sake,” Miguel muttered in disgust, “it’s just a damn bird.” Then he turned to Teresa. “Look, I’ll make this easy on you. You tell me where the fucking Artifact is and I let the old woman go.”
The Artifact?
Teresa felt Rune stiffen beside her. How did Miguel know about the Artifact?
Miguel smiled. “I know everything. I know that prick with you isn’t human. I know the Artifact is the stuff dreams are made of and I know that if I don’t deliver you to my superiors, I’m a dead man.”
“We can only hope,” Teresa told him, enjoying the flash of anger in his eyes.
“Don’t piss me off,” he warned. “I’ll kill this old witch. One bullet