Nemesis
No one tried to open the door during the night. Alexandra woke up a little after dawn, still tired, and thought about going back to sleep. She decided against it; the longer she stayed here, the greater the chance of getting caught.
After the past two days, she no longer took a bed and a clean bathroom for granted, so she availed herself of the latter and felt much better after a hot shower. It had been a long, grimy bus trip, and last night's altercation had left a couple of bruises. Being accosted by the man in the hat had taken on a slightly unreal aspect. She couldn't quite believe it had happened.
Before now, Alexandra would have denied that she was naïve or sheltered. Her stepfather was a cop, so she had heard plenty of horror stories. It wasn't as if she didn't know what sorts of things happened on the streets, even in Larkin Mills. Yet she was unsettled that a creepy Muggle had disturbed her more than a Dark Wizard could.
The feeling of being alone at the edge of civilization had derailed her single-minded determination with uncomfortable second thoughts. There was nothing Alexandra hated worse than being plagued by doubts and other untoward feelings, and she badly wanted to talk to someone familiar. She thought of calling Payton, and again avoided what she knew would be an awkward conversation. She couldn't begin to explain to him what she was doing out here. It would be easier to talk to Brian, but his mother wouldn't let her.
Claudia had left her three new messages, and Archie one. She deleted them.
She spent a little time casting Glamour Charms to look older again. It was a hasty job, and her reflection in the mirror revealed shadows under her eyes. She took out the Seven-League Boots and put them on, tucking their flared tops beneath the cuffs of her pants. Then she straightened up the room, trying to make it less obvious that someone had slept here, and walked out with her backpack, closing the door behind her as if she were just another guest.
It was cloudy and gray outside, but it didn't look like there had been any precipitation. The street was busy, but the motel parking lot was still mostly empty. Above the 'Vacancy' sign, the motel advertised a 'Free continental breakfast,' so Alexandra sauntered into the tiny ceramic-tiled front lobby. The 'breakfast' consisted of orange juice, cold cereal, coffee, and donuts. The only other guest in the lobby, a middle-aged man in a worn suit, was dribbling doughnut crumbs and coffee on the newspaper he was reading. Alexandra sat at another table and had a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice, and when no one was looking, sneaked a couple of donuts into her pack. The man behind the counter was a dark-skinned Indian whose gaze lingered on her for just a moment, but when she smiled at him and drank her orange juice like someone who belonged here, he nodded and his attention moved elsewhere. She walked out of the motel and down the street.
Farewell was waking up. There were small stores and restaurants that were mostly not open yet, but just down the road was a cluster of gas stations surrounding a large truck stop. Alexandra continued on and ascended the on-ramp to the two-lane state highway that led northwest, toward Four Corners and the town of Orange Rock. Walking along the shoulder, she stuck out her thumb.
A truck carrying bottled water pulled over after Alexandra had walked about a quarter of a mile. The driver was a long-haired Native American, youngish but wearing a conservative long-sleeve shirt beneath a brown vest. He gave her a bemused smile. –If you're trying to get to Albuquerque, you're going the wrong way,†he said, jerking his thumb behind them.
–I'm not,†Alexandra said. –I'm trying to get to Orange Rock.â€
The driver raised his eyebrows. –Why would you be going to Orange Rock?â€
–I have a friend there. I promised I'd visit him this winter. He didn't believe I'd come.â€
–So you're hitchhiking your way to a little town in the middle of the Navajo reservation? How old are you?â€
–Eighteen.â€
He laughed. –The hell you are.†After considering her a moment, he reached over and opened the door. –Get in.â€
She climbed in, making sure her body was blocking his view of her hand, which was in her pocket, holding her wand.
The driver was friendly enough. His name was Pete Chimburas. Although they were driving onto the Navajo reservation, Pete was a Ute, originally from Utah. He didn't say much more about that, but he was quite curious about her. She told him her name was Carol Green, and stuck to her story about being a university freshman, but mumbled evasive answers when he pressed her further. After a while, he stopped asking her questions and told her a little about the local area. When they arrived at Orange Rock, though, he said, –So, your boyfriend's an Indian?â€
–I didn't say he was my boyfriend.â€
–Right, your 'friend.'†He grinned. –Is he expecting you?â€
–No, it will definitely be a surprise.â€
–I'll bet. Well, he'll know you're here soon enough.â€
I hope not, she thought, but she thanked him for the ride as he pulled to a stop in front of a large, flat building that appeared to be a gas station, general store, and supermarket.
–Don't get caught hitchhiking on tribal lands,†he said. –Those Navajo cops can be real assholes.â€
–I'll remember that. Thanks.†She hopped to the ground.
Pete Chimburas drove his pallets of water bottles around to the back of the store, while Alexandra took a look around.
Orange Rock was much smaller than Farewell. Driving into town, they'd passed only a few stores, a school, and a Navajo Baptist Church. From the parking lot, Alexandra could see residences and a few taller structures that looked like government buildings scattered along the roads leading east and south, while to the north along the highway were some large empty lots with faded signs that said they were fairgrounds, and a lot of grazing land.
To the west was a natural landmark that was obviously how the town had gotten its name: a large orange mesolith blotting out its own little segment of the horizon, visible from miles away on an otherwise flat plain of scrub brush and dirt. It resembled the prow of an enormous, ancient ship, thrusting jaggedly up toward the cloudy sky.
It wasn't as cold as it had been back in Illinois, and there was no snow, but it was still close to freezing even with the sun up. Alexandra had some time to kill. She wasn't going to approach John Manuelito's hideout until sundown, when she thought he was more likely to be there, but she couldn't be seen coming for miles. The map Quimley had given her was a topographical survey map. With the help of her Lost Traveler's Compass, she could find her way unerringly to where she wanted to go, even if it was in the middle of the desert, but she would prefer to know more about the area. She straightened her jacket, shouldered her backpack, and walked into the store.
There was a man wearing a cowboy hat behind the counter, ringing up a couple of customers, and a woman putting out vegetables in the small produce section. The aisles were mostly stocked with canned and packaged food. There was a refrigerated case along the back wall with a dairy section, lots of beer and soda, and some frozen meals. The other walls were covered with leaflets and cards tacked to the wood paneling or pinned to bulletin boards: trucks and lumber for sale, babysitting services offered, a 'Sing' announced for February, and an Army recruiting poster. Alexandra found a few road maps by the cash register, but the area she was going to was just a big blank spot on all of them.
–Where you going to?†asked the man behind the counter. He was an Indian. Everyone in the store was an Indian.
–To the Four Corners monument,†Alexandra said, since the Four Corners monument was more or less in the right direction.
–How you getting there?†the man asked.
–Hiking.â€
–Hiking?†He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. –Little girl, that's thirty miles in a straight line, and nearly twice that on the highway.â€
–Do you have any hiking maps?â€
He shook his head. –That's not hiking territory. You and your folks want to go hiking, go to the Mesa Cliffs National Park.†He pointed at a spot on the map she was examining.
–Thanks,†she said, folding the map and putting it back in the rack.
–There's a visitor's rack at the library,†he added.
–Library? You've got a library here?â€
The man pointed down the road. –Little blue building between the Texaco and the Land Use Office, a block that-a-way.â€
–Thanks,†she said, more enthusiastically. –I'll tell my folks.â€
She bought two bottles of water, one of which she drank and the other she put in her pack, then walked out of the store and down the street. She found the small blue building - 'Farewell Metropolitan Library - Orange Rock Branch' - with two cars in the otherwise empty parking lot.
The interior was much smaller than the Larkin Mills Library. The entire building would have fit inside Charmbridge Academy's library. It consisted of little more than one large room and a couple of offices, and the 'Visitor's Section' the man at the store had told her about. She checked the old, dog-eared maps left there, but none showed the area she wanted in detail, so she went into the library proper.
There was a woman operating an old computer behind the desk, and a bunch of teenagers sitting around a long table. It didn't look as if any of them were reading; the librarian's lips were pursed disapprovingly, but she did not disturb the socializing teens other than to give them a warning scowl now and then when their voices became too loud.
All of them were Indians. Alexandra hadn't seen another white person since entering Orange Rock. All their eyes were on her as she walked over to the librarian and asked if they had any local area maps with detailed terrain features and old trails.
The librarian was obviously as surprised as the teenagers to see a white girl in her library, but she took Alexandra to a small shelf of books that included histories and photographs of the area. There was an old book with a faded red cover that the librarian said showed some of the historical grazing areas, sheep trails, and borders that shifted every time the government changed reservation boundaries. –Probably the most detailed maps you'll get,†the woman said, –but once you leave the highways, you can't really find your way around unless you know the area. You're not from around here, are you?â€
It could not have been more obvious that Alexandra wasn't from around here, so she said, –I'm visiting a friend, but he's... taking care of his sheep.†She'd read that Navajo were big sheep-herders. –So I thought I'd kill some time at the library.â€
The librarian made a –hmm†sound, and went back to her desk. Alexandra was surprised but relieved when the woman didn't press further. The teenagers were still staring at her and whispering.
She sat down and studied the big map that unfolded from the folio-sized book, comparing it with the map Quimley had given her. It looked like the place where John Manuelito had built his house was not even in sheep-grazing territory, nor was it within the boundaries of any of the oil and natural gas fields that dotted the region. It was almost a hundred square miles of uninhabited desolation.
Two of the teenage boys turned their chairs around to face Alexandra from across her table. With casual arrogance, they looked over her and the map she was studying. Alexandra guessed that they were sixteen or seventeen. One of them had a handsome face and short hair, unlike his friend, whose face was pock-marked with acne and whose hair hung in a long, black fringe around his head. They were both wearing heavy flannel jackets. The long-haired boy had a wool cap covering the top of his head despite the fact that they were indoors.
She eyed the two of them, saying nothing but wishing she knew a convenient spell to banish teenage boys.
–What are you doing here?†the handsome boy asked in a low voice. There was nothing hostile in his tone, but it was clear that he wasn't just asking what she was doing in the library.
–Visiting a friend,†Alexandra said.
–What's your friend's name? Maybe we know him.â€
–Yeah. We Indians all know each other.†The long-haired boy nodded sagely.
Alexandra glanced at the other table, where the other teens were now doing a very bad job of pretending to study the books in front of them. There were two more slightly younger boys and three girls. All of them were older than Alexandra, though a couple of them perhaps only by a year or two.
–I doubt it,†she said. –He's not really local.â€
–You mean he's not Diné?†the short-haired boy asked, with the same air of concerned interest.
Alexandra knew better than to make a scene in a library, so she kept her voice low. –No offense, but I don't know you and you don't know me, so...â€
–That's true. That's why we noticed you right away.†The boy pointed at his cheek and at her, as if to emphasize his keen perception. –Strangers on the Rez are kind of suspicious.â€
–You never know who might be a witch,†the other boy said.
Alexandra sat up straight. –A witch?â€
–You've heard about witches, right?†The first boy lowered his voice, glancing in the librarian's direction. –We call them skinwalkers.â€
Alexandra felt a chill. –But... wait, I'm not - I mean, you don't really believe in witches, do you?â€
The librarian looked up, and the boy frantically waved his hands indicating Alexandra should be quieter.
–You never know,†the long-haired boy said.
His friend nodded. –Strange things happen at night out in the desert.â€
–Like what?†Alexandra asked.
The two boys leaned forward. The teens at the next table were leaning closer too, no longer even pretending that they weren't listening in. –They say witches can transform into animals, and fly. But you don't want to be caught by one. They do terrible things.â€
–It gives us nightmares, just thinking about the last bodies they found.â€
–Bodies?†Alexandra swallowed. –People have been killed?â€
–Strangers, usually.â€
–Especially belagana.â€
–What do the police say?†Alexandra asked.
The first boy snorted. –Come on. Cops are never going to admit someone was killed by a witch, not even Navajo cops.â€
–Not even when they're found with the soles of their feet cut off and their internal organs stolen,†the second boy said gravely.
Alexandra was paler than usual, remembering Quimley's tale of finding skins and entrails in John Manuelito's house. –Quimley does not think they were all from animals.â€
–Hey, don't worry, if you stay around here, you'll be safe,†the first boy said.
–Just don't get caught alone out there at night when the moon comes up,†said the second boy.
–I'm not going to be out anywhere at night,†Alexandra said, knowing she intended just that.
–That's good. You know, you could hang out with us. Until your friend shows up, I mean.â€
Alexandra frowned. –Thanks for the invitation, but...â€
–It would be for your own protection,†the boy persisted. –We could keep an eye on you. Make sure you're not a witch, and we could also protect you against witches and -†he lowered his voice still further –- vampires.â€
–Vampires?†Alexandra exclaimed, and ducked her head when the librarian glared at her again. At the next table over, the other teens' eyes were wide. One of the girls had put a hand to her mouth.
–Ssh!†one of the other girls said.
–Maybe we shouldn't tell her,†the long-haired boy said.
Alexandra looked between them. –Tell me what?â€
–It's an ancient tribal secret,†the short-haired boy said. He looked over his shoulder at his friends, as if to get their confirmation. No one said anything, so he turned back to her. –We don't usually tell outsiders. You see... we're a very special band of Indians.â€
–Very ancient and mystical,†his friend said.
–Since before the white man came, it's been our sacred duty to protect other humans from witches and vampires. That's why we have the magical ability... to turn into wolves.â€
Alexandra stared at him. He stared earnestly back at her.
–Wait a minute...†she said.
–Vampires suck,†said the other boy.
The girl whose hand was over her mouth doubled over, gasping and sputtering. There was an explosion of laughter from the other teenagers. The two boys' mouths twitched, and the handsome one's face split into a grin that he could no longer hold back, while the homelier boy leaned forward, bending his head over the table and slapping it with the palm of his hand.
–This is a library, not your homeroom class or the Burger Barn,†the librarian said, while Alexandra turned redder and redder.
–Sorry, Mrs. Begay,†one of the girls said.
Alexandra stood up, put the book of maps back onto the shelf hard enough to provoke another stormy look from the librarian, and slung her backpack over her shoulder.
–Aw, come on, don't leave,†said the laughing storyteller.
–Screw you,†she hissed.
–White girl likes you,†said his friend.
Amidst more laughter from the teens, Alexandra walked past the wrathful librarian and out the door, her face burning.
She paused when she passed the two cars in the parking lot. One was old and dusty, but with a clean interior and a couple of colorful woven scarves neatly folded in the passenger seat, along with cassette tapes of drum and New Age music. The other car, she knew immediately, belonged to one of the teenagers: it was messy, with the back seat and floors covered with school papers, Burger Barn wrappers, a skateboard, and motorcycling magazines.
She looked over her shoulder, then up and down the street, before taking out her wand. She tapped it against the hood and muttered a curse. There was a gratifying crack from within, and the smell of ozone. With a smirk, she pocketed her wand and walked away.
Alexandra walked down the street and then along the shoulder of the northbound highway. It was an empty, barren landscape. She wasn't planning to hitchhike, but almost everyone who drove by stopped and asked her if she was lost and needed a ride. There was one white family, obviously tourists, and a Hispanic man driving a flatbed loaded with metal pipes, but everyone else who drove past was Indian. She politely declined each offer, and cars became rarer as the sun climbed into the sky. She checked her Lost Traveler's Compass until it pointed away from the highway, and then she began to walk into the desert.
When she was out of sight of the highway, she began to run.
Desert rocks and scrub brushes flew past beneath her. With her Seven-League Boots, Alexandra leaped over gulches and dry washes with a single step. The air roared past, cold enough to numb her face. Though the sun was high overhead, the desert was cold in January, but she didn't care because the exercise warmed her. There was nothing but flat land between her and the distant mountains in all directions, with the exception of the massive Orange Rock receding behind her. She was like a low-flying bird shooting across the landscape. She'd never really been able to burst into a sprint with these boots before, and when she did, the ground became a blur. She was moving as fast as she did on her broom.
Brown shapes ahead of her suddenly leaped and scattered and then converged into a rolling wave of motion in her path. She saw antlers bouncing up and down over the desert, and at first she thought they were antelopes. Disturbed by the approaching runner, they had burst into flight and were running ahead of her, but she was closing on them quickly. As she came nearer, she gasped in surprise and delight. They were not antelopes, but large, antlered jackrabbits.
–Jackalopes,†she breathed. She'd read about the supposedly mythical creatures before she'd ever come to Charmbridge Academy.
The jackalopes fled before her, and she continued to gain ground on them. When they turned to the east, she followed for a while. She was among them now, and some veered off in other directions while others kept trying to outrun her, and she laughed and kept up. They turned north, and she continued pacing them, ignoring the needle of the Lost Traveler's Compass for the moment. She was outrunning jackalopes! She was a witch wearing Seven-League Boots, and nothing on earth could outrun her. No matter what else happened, nothing could take magic away from her.
The poor creatures continued trying to escape their impossibly fast two-legged pursuer. Their eyes showed white all around, and their sides were heaving. They were running out of breath faster than she was, beginning to slow down. Alexandra reached out to touch the back of one of the beasts, and it jumped sideways in a frightened movement and almost lost its sure footing, before hopping madly away from her, separating itself from the pack.
Abruptly, the jackalopes whirled as one, kicking dirt and stones everywhere as their large rabbit feet stomped the ground to halt their flight. Alexandra suddenly faced a picket of sharp antler horns. The jackalopes, unable to outrun her, turned on her.
–Oh, crap,†she said. She couldn't halt as quickly as the jackalopes had, and she was hurtling directly at their raised antlers. She took a deep breath, and with a gulp, leaped high into the air.
The Seven-League Boots turned her leap into the stuff of legends. She flew through the air, sailing high above the jackalopes and landing well beyond their reach, as easily as putting one foot in front of the other. Her precarious situation forgotten in a moment, she laughed in delight and kept running. She left the jackalopes far behind and continued on, once more following the needle of the Lost Traveler's Compass.
The boots allowed her to run with little effort, but it was still effort, and eventually she tired. She stopped and sat down on a large rock, surrounded by desert. She drank some water and ate the last of the food in her pack, which by now was stale and barely edible. Checking her map and her compass, she saw that she was less than three miles from where Quimley had found John Manuelito's lair. The sun was still well above the horizon, and in the open desert, she could see a long way.
She wanted to catch John Manuelito in the early evening. Not after dark, when the Dark Convention might be gathering at his place. She didn't think she could take on a whole coven of warlocks.
Near the rock where she sat was one of the arroyos that criss-crossed the landscape. She made her way to a bare, flat spot in the shade at the bottom of the wash and sat down, after taking out her cloak and wrapping it around herself. Her head tilted forward and she fell asleep.
When she woke up, she cursed. It was almost sundown, later than she'd intended. When she made her way out of the crevasse and looked across the desert, it was already too dark to see more than shadows on the horizon. But she could see no light, no sign of a fire.
Her legs were surprisingly sore. She ignored the ache in her thighs and calves and set off across the desert, keeping a cautious eye on the terrain ahead while she held her wand ready to blast anything that moved. She felt a thrill not unlike what she felt just before a duel with someone who could beat her, like Larry Albo. She considered casting a Silencing Charm on herself; it would prevent her from being heard, but it also meant she wouldn't be able to cast any spells herself until she negated it. The split second it would take to do that could be fatal. So she just trotted along at the speed of a cantering horse.
She only realized she was coming upon what she was looking for when she noticed a few low stars on the horizon disappear, and slowed to a stop. Even at her relaxed pace, two more steps in her Seven-League Boots would have carried her right into the side of the log house. It was a dark bump casting a long shadow across the desert.
Alexandra watched John Manuelito's house from several yards away, scanned the skies, and fought her frustration.
It hadn't occurred to her that after all this traveling to confront her nemesis, he might not be at home.
He could be anywhere. He could be at some other Dark Convention gathering anywhere in the Indian Territories. Or - a far worse thought - he could be back in Larkin Mills even now, looking for her. And if he didn't find her home, what would he do in his frustration?
Alexandra bit her lip. Claudia and Archie were the last people in the world she wanted to see right now, but if something happened to them because of her...
Would you be able to prevent it if you were home? If he finds you before you find him, he's going to have the advantage.
She walked in a slow circle around the dwelling, keeping her distance and always watching the sky, wishing Charlie were here.
She saw a darker shadow along the darkest portion of the perimeter, on the side facing away from the moon. That was the door, or doorway, she supposed.
John could be sleeping. Maybe he slept during the day and came out to do his evil at night. Which meant she should have attacked him while the sun was up.
She walked to a point where she was facing the doorway at a perpendicular angle, unlikely to be seen by anyone emerging unless he happened to turn his head exactly in her direction as he came out. Then she crouched, and waited.
Alexandra could be patient when she had to be. But after crouching motionless for over an hour, she had to rise and stretch and walk around a little. By now, she was sure that John Manuelito was not inside, which meant she had two options: wait for him to return, which might not even be this night, or leave.
Leave and do what?
She eyed the dark doorway as she turned a third option over in her mind. Was it risky? Probably. Quimley had gotten in and out without difficulty, but Quimley was an elf. He might not have mentioned having to cross magical wards or bypass traps.
She approached the dwelling. When she got to the doorway, she found there was no door at all, just a dark hole.
She closed her eyes and tried to use her witch-senses. She didn't feel anything. Did that mean there was no Dark magic here, or only that she wasn't very good at feeling it yet?
She cast a spell to reveal wards and alarms, and a green line appeared all around the doorway. She almost laughed. It was high school magic: a spell they learned at Charmbridge.
–Some Dark Wizard you are, John.†She broke the ward with a wave of her wand. She almost went in immediately, but she cast a second spell, and this time found a ward that didn't glow and whose nature she didn't immediately recognize.
–Okay,†she muttered, –so you're a little bit clever.†She began undoing it. She'd learned much more than Mr. Newton had taught, but her practice in bypassing wards and alarms had been theoretical until now. When she no longer felt the cobweb touch of something suspended in the air before her, she thought she had dissolved the magic, but she could not be certain. Several more attempts to detect Dark Magic and wards brought nothing to light.
With a final look over her shoulder and up at the sky, she stepped inside. When nothing happened, she cast a Light Spell to illuminate the interior.
The log house had a packed dirt floor. It was cold and drafty. The gaps between the logs had not been filled with mud or covered with much of anything. One wall was bare except for a pallet with rolled up blankets. Next to the pallet was a large plastic ice chest. There was also a camping table, a large, flat, pedestal-shaped rock that served as a second table and had obviously been brought here from elsewhere, some lanterns, and several wooden shelves with an assortment of knives, silverware, bowls, plates, and bottles. Against the opposite wall stood a rickety old bookcase holding books and jars. In the center of the floor was a black fire pit, cold and full of ashes, with a cauldron suspended over it from a metal tripod. Alexandra pointed her lit wand into the cauldron, but it was dry and empty. One of the bottles on the shelves was labeled Firewhiskey; the rest were smaller and contained spices, hot sauce, and cooking oil. Some of the books on the bookcase were magical volumes. Alexandra recognized a green cover as an advanced Transfiguration textbook. Others were Muggle books: there was one about geology, another one about Southwestern geography, and a couple of detective novels. The jars next to the books were unlabeled and she couldn't make out their contents without opening them.
It all looked quite mundane, as if John simply slept and ate here.
There was a map and a piece of parchment lying on the stone pedestal. Alexandra knelt to examine them. She almost laughed when she saw that the map was the same USGS Topographical map as her own, showing the Four Corners region.
On the parchment was also a map, but it was hand-drawn. Alexandra saw immediately that the crudely-sketched mountains, creeks, and landmarks on the latter were approximations of the terrain features on the USGS map. John had apparently been creating his own map, working from a Muggle one, but why?
There were symbols and writing on the parchment. Alexandra moved her wand closer, and saw that there was one spot in particular circled and marked with an astrological symbol. She recognized it from all of Forbearance and Sonja's charting of her horoscope: it represented the full moon. Directly beneath it was a reddish blotch in an empty space between two landmarks she couldn't make out. One appeared to be a tower of some sort, and the other a ridge or a valley. The writing was in Latin letters, but it was not English.
Alexandra picked the parchment up.
It didn't feel like parchment; it felt like skin. Perhaps vellum. But no sooner had she picked it up than it burst into green flames, singeing her fingers. She cursed and dropped it, right on the paper map. She snatched at them both, but all she did was knock the vellum to the floor while grabbing the other map. She tried without success to stamp out the flames. An Extinguishing Spell snuffed them, but all that was left was a scrap of the material. When she retrieved it, only the moon and the blotch and the tower remained, surrounded by curled, blackened edges.
Something scuttled against the wall where the pallet lay.
Alexandra held her wand up, causing shadows to move along the inside of the circular chamber, but nothing else moved. She stepped toward the pallet and rolled bedding, while tucking the map and vellum scrap into her coat pocket.
There was a scraping sound on wood, to her right. She jerked back in the direction of the wooden bookcase. A solid shape darkened the shadows beneath it, and she stepped sideways to shine her light under and on the other side of it. She couldn't quite see the floor and the corner behind it, so she began crouching slowly, listening for the slightest sound.
The wind blew across the desert outside. Distantly, an owl hooted.
That skittering noise again. Something dashed from beneath the lowest shelf and launched itself at her.
Alexandra slashed the air with her wand and spoke an incantation, and a pink burst of light washed against a grotesque dwarfish figure for an instant before it tumbled to the ground three feet away. It bounced, bumped against the wall, and came running right back at her. It had stick limbs and a shrunken bony torso wrapped in something - rags? bandages? - but perched on its shoulders, instead of a head...
It was literally climbing up her body even as she stumbled and fell away from it, and it kept coming, tiny child-like hands with fingers like dried twigs that tore at her clothes and ripped her skin, and a horrible gaping beak - it had a skull like some sort of bird or dinosaur and Alexandra couldn't quite tell if there were eyes inside those dark sockets, but it was looking at her and when she grabbed it with one hand and tried to pull it off her, it was too strong. Its hands wrapped around her wrist and she tried to fling it away, but it clung to her and that long beak-like protuberance gaped open like giant bony shears, about to snap shut on her arm. Alexandra thrust her wand directly into an eye socket and cast a Bursting Curse. The bubble of light and whoosh of air made it let go, but it didn't burst. Before Alexandra could even get to her feet, it was grabbing her knees. She kicked it away. Its hands snatched at her boot and dead bony fingers scraped against her toe as it went flying. It hit a shelf, spilling bottles and silverware to the ground, and in an instant came leaping at her again. There was no mistake this time - with or without eyes, those dark holes were staring at her. It got its tiny hands around her neck and began choking her while she twisted and jerked her head violently to avoid the pointy beak. When it couldn't reach her eyes, the point stabbed her neck instead.
She felt pain and blood, and she blasted it again using the first spell that came to her lips: a fireball. It wasn't the smartest spell to use on something clinging to her, but it rolled to the floor, flaming and smoking, while Alexandra slapped herself to put out the flames licking at her coat, ignoring the blisters on her face and hands and the blood coursing down her neck.
Still smoking, the gruesome child-like creature snapped at her ankle. With nimbleness enhanced by the Seven-League Boots, Alexandra danced out of the way, then lifted her other foot and stomped on the little monster as hard as she could. Skeleton or mummy or whatever the withered thing was, it should have crunched and crumbled to dust, but it didn't. It was more solid and unbreakable than it had any right to be. It grabbed her other boot and as she tried to kick it away, its beak slashed her knee painfully.
–Caedarus!†she said, and the green ball of light from her wand sent it flying. She unleashed a Conflagration Spell. Flames washed across it and set the bookshelf on fire, but the homunculus of skin and bone came rushing at her again, clambering up her body and trying to bite her face off. She hit it with a clenched fist, to no effect. It clawed at her stomach, and Alexandra almost dropped her wand to wrestle it with both hands. It snatched hold of her belt with one hand and grabbed her breast painfully with the other. She slapped its head away desperately to keep it from plunging its beak directly into her stomach, and almost lost a finger.
There was something absurd about fighting for her life with something barely the size of a toddler, but the creature was relentless and untiring and its tiny hands possessed an inhuman strength.
Alexandra hexed it hard enough to knock it loose, rolled away, and chanted lightning from her wand. Jagged arcs of electricity flickered around the monstrous dwarfish form. The shreds of cloth still clinging to it blackened and charred. The sleeping pallet and blankets behind it ignited. With the bookshelf already burning, the interior of the log dwelling was filling with fire and smoke.
A Spinning Jinx spun it into the flames before it could attack again. Alexandra tried Banishing it, but whatever it was, it was not a spirit.
The smoke and heat were becoming intense. Books went up in flames, and the logs were catching fire. Alexandra began coughing. The terrible creature came leaping out of the flames.
–Levicorpus!†Alexandra shouted, and the thing rose into the air and spun helplessly in the middle of the chamber. Alexandra hexed and cursed and smote it and even tried a Stunning Charm and a Full-Body Bind Spell. Nothing made it stop thrashing and resisting. She brought her arm to her face to cover her mouth; smoke was choking her lungs.
Dangling in the air, the abomination twitched and writhed, a mummified infant in a smoking shroud. It wriggled and clacked its beak furiously. The dark sockets of its skull turned in her direction with inhuman malice that sent a shiver through her.
She fell to her hands and knees and backed toward the entrance. Fire was crawling up the walls of the log house, and some of the jars exploded with the heat. The monster's baby feet scratched against the roof at the center of the dome overhead, and Alexandra saw with horror that it was trying to gain purchase against the ceiling, to pull or push itself against her spell. Whether it could or not, the roof would come down eventually - but probably not before her Levitation Spell wore off.
From the doorway, she pointed her wand at the monster again and said, –Feordupois.†It plummeted to the ground with a thump and immediately began clawing its way toward her. She cast the Deadweight Spell again, and again, until the creature thrashed helplessly like an undead moth pressed under a glass, pinned but not crushed, and then Alexandra rose to her feet and stumbled away from the house. She turned and held her wand out with a trembling arm and poured flames into the dwelling, until the log house was a blazing inferno. The heat washed over her from ten yards away.
–Burn, you little monster!†she screamed, dripping blood and peeling skin. She almost fell to her knees, but instead she turned and ran. The burning house lit up the desert like a bonfire. If John Manuelito and his friends were anywhere between Orange Rock and the mountains to the north, they couldn't fail to see it.
She was too weak to run far. She only made it to the wash where she'd napped that afternoon, and slowed before she ran right over the edge. The moon illuminated the dry gulley and she stood on the edge of it, breathing heavily. She looked over her shoulder, and sucked in a breath when she saw shadows descending from the sky and others materializing out of the air around the burning conflagration. She leaped into the gulley, and found strength she didn't know she had. She ran along it, not even knowing what direction she was going, only that it was leading her away from John Manuelito's coven. She ran for what felt like miles before she finally slowed again as the wash flattened into a sandy mouth.
The moon was lower but it was still hours before dawn. Alexandra dropped her pack, and said, –Lumos†so that she could see inside it, hoping to find the last of the water she'd stored there.
She heard a pop behind her. She was already flinging a spell before she finished turning. Her hex rebounded as the tall figure behind her cast a Blocking Jinx.
–Expelliarmus!†she shouted, and while the wizard was deflecting this, too, Alexandra turned him on his head with a flip of her wand. He grunted as his head struck the ground, and her second Disarming Spell sent his wand flying.
He rolled and disappeared.
That's impossible, she thought. There was no such thing as an Invisibility Spell, and she hadn't heard the 'pop' of Apparition. And she'd Disarmed him. She shot flames from her wand, scouring the ground where her opponent had been a moment ago, and then she flung a cloud of thorns spraying through the air in an arc around her.
The flames left a few sparks burning in the hard, dry desert plants they'd touched; the thorns all pattered to the ground like dying flies.
Hands grabbed her ankles and hurled her feet upward. She threw her arms out to keep from being planted in the ground face-first and rolled over, just in time for her adversary to descend on her. A knee landed in her stomach, knocking all the wind out of her and almost making her vomit. A large, heavy hand caught the wrist of her wand-hand and held it pinned to the ground, but it was the knife that caught her attention, as it gleamed in the moonlight and then was pressed against her neck.
–Not one word,†the man said breathlessly. –Don't make me cut your throat.â€
She couldn't have said a word if she'd wanted to - his knee was practically forcing her diaphragm up her throat, and she couldn't breathe.
–Let go of your wand,†he said. –Easy, now - just let go of it.â€
It was hard to obey; his grip on her wrist was hard enough to grind bones together. She forced her fingers to open, and the wand slipped out of them. Immediately, the man on top of her snatched it away and rose to his feet, grabbing the front of her cloak and yanking her to her feet as well. She gulped air and was prevented from doubling over only by her assailant's iron grip. Tears of pain were streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't say anything for a moment, then, eying the knife, decided she'd rather die quickly than with the soles of her feet cut off. She kicked desperately with her knee, followed by an attempt to stomp his feet, but he anticipated both motions, and flung her to the ground. The impact knocked the breath out of her again.
–You are one crazy girl,†he said. –Are you trying to make me kill you?â€
The moon was bright in the sky, so she could see the man's features. He had long black hair, a prominent nose and cheekbones, dark skin, and a headband around his forehead - definitely Native American. But he was not John Manuelito.
–You're not going to kill me?†she said, dazed. She could feel her wand lying only a yard away, and started to roll toward it, only for the man's heavy boot to pin her shoulder painfully against the ground.
–You sure make it tempting,†he said. –Is that what Aurors do where you're from? Here in Dinétah, we don't kill damn fool kids if we can help it. You give me one more bit of trouble, though, and I'll put a Transfiguration on you that you didn't learn in your belagana school.â€
–Aurors?†Alexandra repeated, feeling as foolish as she had in the library, with a lot more injury added to insult. –You're an Auror?â€
–Henry Tsotsie,†he said. –Dinétah Auror Authority. And you're under arrest.â€