I pushed Timp to the limit. The old girl was struggling, favoring one side, releasing an unconscious whinny with every labored stride. I kept my knees tight against her flanks to reinforce her.

  All around me, skinwalkers raced to join the fight, some still in human form, others on all fours. It was an impressive sight. They flowed in and out, from man to dog and back again, carrying the bows in their fangs to use hound-speed to get a good position, then shifting to release shots. For such an unnatural thing, it sure as hell seemed natural.

  They were giving it their all, that’s for damn sure. But above it all, the savage grunts of Rougarou sating himself on bloodshed—tearing through people and homes—rang out like a musical din of destruction.

  “Just a little farther,” I urged Timp, desperation tinging my words.

  I heard it first, the sound of tearing cloth. It was odd to single out such a thing in the midst of calamity, but I turned just in time to see a werewolf burst through a tent and leap at us.

  I caught its snout with the heel of my boot. Wasn’t enough to stop it. Claws dug into the ground as it caught its balance to prepare another strike. Two quick bounds had the beast caught up to Timp’s weakening stride. As it made another attempt to slash at us, silver flashed through the side of its head, blowing out chunks of brain. A steaming, limp body toppled.

  “James, what’s going on!” It was Rosa, staring down the sights of my Winchester. She stood just outside our tent, Mutt beside her with his bow drawn and ready.

  I brought Timp as close as she could manage, then swung off and got my shoulder against her injured side to provide support.

  “It’s Ace,” I said. “He found us.”

  “But how?” Rosa asked.

  “What does it matter?” I snapped, then caught myself. It wasn’t her fault or Mutt’s or anybody else’s. Only mine. I turned to the kid. “Sorry… Mutt, I didn’t know. You gotta believe me; I would never intentionally put your people in danger.”

  “We have always been ready to fight wolves,” Mutt said as he loosed an arrow, taking a werewolf down from a roof all the way across the village. He quickly nocked another.

  “Not like this.” I shook my head. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “Fight is fight.”

  “James, let me help,” Rosa cut in. “How do I help?”

  “I don’t know, dammit!”

  Suddenly, something landed right next to us as if from above. The ground reverberated under our feet, rocking us wildly. The thing—whatever it was—grabbed on to Rosa’s rifle and a shot went haywire. Silver clipped my thigh, sending me to my knees in searing agony.

  I witnessed the next bit through blurred vision, the rifle’s butt bashing Rosa under the chin before the thing ripped it free. I tried to rise, but it was too late. The newcomer snatched Rosa and jumped fifteen feet high, clear over the tent and onto an outstretched limb of the Life Tree.

  “James!” she shrieked.

  I caught a glimpse of the creature as I called her name back. Halfway through, it turned to a wince.

  An itch in my chest accompanied the silver, meaning I still did retain my ability to sense a Nephilim nearby. And this was one I’d run into a handful of times. Beast Boy—a performer I hadn’t taken for a scoundrel, throwing in his lot with Ace too after Crescent City.

  Mutt swung his aim around. I slapped down his arm. “I don’t care how good you are, she’s up there!”

  Plus, Beast Boy didn’t know what he’d got himself into. This was the West, wild and free. You expect a damsel, you get a cutthroat. Brick walls couldn’t stop that woman when she had a mind to walk somewhere. Still kicking and screaming, Rosa dug her thumbs into the Neph’s eyes, sending Beast Boy into convulsions, and causing the bough beneath them to begin to break. They tumbled a bit, but neither fell.

  “Watch my back!” I told Mutt. Then, hooking the rifle with my boot, I kicked it up to my one remaining hand, aimed it over my arm-stump, and approached.

  Saints and elders, Beast Boy was quick. So was Rosa. She yanked a knife from a scabbard at the top of her thigh, which I didn’t even know she had, and swiped. Beast Boy ducked, then rolled over her back and caught her in a bear hug, squeezing until the knife fell free.

  “C’mon, move him,” I whispered to myself. Both their flanks faced me. I could risk a shot, but they were moving too much for me to feel good about it.

  Rosa’s dark hair whipped, and she drove the crown of her skull into Beast Boy’s nose. I heard the crack from where I stood. He lost his grip—rightly so—and Rosa staggered forward in a daze, catching herself against the tree trunk.

  I fired and the round only nicked his tail fur before he charged, not even a scrape to curse him with silver. Damn, missing an arm made it hard to steady the barrel. So, I gripped it like a bludgeon and ran as fast as I could, my sights set on Rosa.

  Again, a damsel, she was not.

  Her palms pressed against the trunk and eldritch green light pulsed around them. It wasn’t too different from what I’d seen back in the bayou emanating from Madam Laveau’s fire pit. I swear, all the leaves started to shudder. As Beast Boy gained his composure, he grabbed her again. As if an extension of Rosa herself, branches extended and coiled around his arms, hoisting him into the air.

  “She’s here!” he called out. “She’s he—”

  One of the wooden limbs filled his mouth, continuing to grow until his eyes bulged from forced suffocation. A group of werewolves charged at us from the side. I hip-fired and caught one in the shoulder. At the same time, rage propelled Rosa’s scream, and Huupi Sokobi’s roots broke through the earth, snaring the pack of them, and creating a temporary barrier against any others who would try to approach.

  Beast Boy gagged. His throat tore open, blood vessel by blood vessel. His eyes popped like grapes.

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  Then, to my absolute horror, the branch snapped, and Rosa came tumbling down with it.

  I ran with all I had, watching it all in slow motion, skirting around the yurt to place myself between her and the dirt. But I didn’t have to make it in time, for the tree itself sprouted a new branch beneath her, cradling her like a baby.

  “Rosa!” I yelled, grabbing her shoulder. “Rosa!”

  Her screaming became a wheeze and she collapsed. She didn’t stay there. She rolled to her knees and stared at her hands until they stopped glowing. With some kind of fire in her eyes, she spun on the brutalized Nephilim. Seeing he was dead, her attention returned to her own hands. Her shoulders rose and fell rapidly with her breathing.

  I took her chin and forced her focus. “Guilt comes after the fight. We survive, just like you’ve always done.”

  Mutt ran up behind us, only he didn’t look ready to fight. He was awestruck.

  “She bends the Huupi Sokobi to her will,” he muttered.

  And he wasn’t alone. At least a dozen natives in the area slowly encircled us, their weapons at their hips as they stared in amazement, all despite the gore covering their sacred tree. Amongst them was Mukwooru and a few of the elders.

  “What have you brought upon us, taibo?” Rowtag the elder said to me. Only, it wasn’t anger which fueled his words. They were well beyond base emotions. Seeing Rosa do that seemed to instill a sort of wonder in them I didn’t think existed. A cultish amazement. Legend come true.

  Mukwooru stepped between us. “We are, as always, where we belong. The world between order and chaos.”

  The shrill scream of a distant woman being slaughtered by the werewolves echoed.

  “Mukwooru, you all have to get out of here!” I said.

  “For fifty generations, this has been the home of my people,” she answered, voice full of peace and calm.

  I tried to argue. She raised a hand and silenced me as quickly as a slap to the face.

  “But it is only land,” she continued. “Our people have always been good at finding more of it, whether by choice or force.”

  I noted her solemn tone. It wasn’t a boast, just a fact. She brushed past Rosa and placed her palms tenderly upon the tree. Chanting something under her breath, she closed her eyes, and a gnarled cleft at the base of the tree began to peel open in a way far more peaceful than what Rosa had caused. Planned and controlled.

  “There is one other way out, only it is not meant for man.”

  Peering in, I found it formed a narrow tunnel perfectly sized for the skinwalkers’ dog forms. I could fit at a crouch, but there was no way anything other than a werewolf runt could follow. And definitely not Timperina.

  She must’ve realized it too, cuz she snorted and stomped a hoof in protest.

  “I ain’t leaving you, girl,” I said. “You all go through. Rosa and I will ride right through them out the front. They won’t expect it.”

  “Our homes burn to keep her safe,” Mukwooru said. “This way is fastest. They cannot easily follow.”

  “I won’t let him leave her for me,” Rosa declared, seeming to have regained most of her energy.

  “It is battle and she is his mount,” Rowtag stated. “What other way is there?”

  I grabbed him by the collar. “She’s not just a horse, dammit!”

  “Unhand me, white devil!” he hissed.

  “Would you both stop it?” Rosa said.

  “I will take her,” Mutt interceded. Calmly placing his hand between us, he pried us apart. “You cannot leave Rosa. She faces power only you understand. I trusted you with my soul. Now trust me with her life. They are after you and Rosa. They will not catch us. I know these hills best.”

  I’d never heard him use so many words at once. “If they do—”

  “They will not,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

  I didn’t offer one. Just looked at Timp. She gave me those big, old pleading eyes, dragging at the dirt with one bent hoof. No more protesting. It was like she actually wanted to go with him. Be still, my wounded heart.

  “Please, James Crowley,” he said. “Let this not be for nothing.”

  What I wouldn’t have given to make this my last glorious stand to get Rosa out—a repeat of that very day I’d saved her and her mother, only this time, with all the eyes of Heaven and Hell in captive audience. A worthy ending to my nightmare.

  However, last stands were for those who had resigned to the end. And I wasn’t going out that easily.

  Mutt was right, as always. Ace had more tricks up his sleeve, and having me around tipped the scales, at least a little. A sacrifice here would be a waste. Just a delay of the inevitable. We could split attention and gain just enough time to escape on this occasion.

  I sighed. “Timp trusts you, so I guess I will too. What do you say, girl, have one more gallop left in you?”

  She snorted and nuzzled her head against my palm. I’d kill to feel the strands of her mane. To know the comfort there which I’d never known.

  “Meet us in Revelation,” I told Mutt, words hurried. “I have a few friends there who’ll help us lay low, and then we’ll catch the next train somewhere far away.”

  He nodded.

  “There is no more time,” Mukwooru said. “Go, now.”

  I grabbed Rosa’s wrist to keep her from moving. “Y’all first. We’ll just slow you down.” The old matriarch started to argue, but this time, it was me who cut her off. “At least give me that.”

  She backed down, then yelled orders in her tongue. One by one, her surviving people shifted forms and darted into the tunnel. As they went, a swath of Rosa’s wall of thick roots keeping the enemy out was shredded by massive claws belonging to Rougarou himself.

  He ripped through, with more wolves crowding in behind him. Their fur was coated in blood and soot. An arrow zipped toward him, but he was quick to slash it out of the air.

  Baring his yellowing fangs, he growled, “Look at the little mice run.” His gaze moved to Rosa. “Ah, there’s my treat. I’ve been wanting a taste for too long.”

  A mean cuss, he was; crafty, wily, and dangerous as a baby with a handgun. I knew we couldn’t stick around to let him have his way. I started shoving Rosa closer to the opening when I heard another voice join in.

  “Touch her, and it’ll be wolf for supper.” Ace had all his effects now—guns, ammo, and the unmissable cursed harmonica hanging from his belt. The instrument of a goat-Nephilim I’d sent back to Hell, able to sway the minds of men and worse.

  “You promised me,” Roo said.

  “And have delivered.”

  Roo thrust a claw into Ace’s chest and pinned him against a tall clay pole. “Well, there’s a bit few more of us than you here now. Heh. So I’m thinking—”

  Ace raised a knife to the bottom of the great werewolf’s jaw, the tip steaming as silver poked through flesh. “Thinkin’s a bad look on you.” He extended his arm, pushing Roo back, and momentarily stole the attention of the other werewolves away from us.

  “Crowley and his little cunt are mine. The rest? Chow down.” Ace unhooked the harmonica and brought it to his lips, playing a low tune.

  While they were distracted, Rosa waved skinwalkers through as fast as she could. I used my stump to pin my weapons against my chest, and reloaded both pistols and rifle.

  Roo’s eyes listed off to the side. He shook his big, hairy head, then complied. “You heard him. Only the redskins die!”

  His horde howled in approval.

  “Now! Go!” I hollered, unloading my cylinders as fast as I could into the line of werewolves. I didn’t care what I hit. It was just about delaying them.

  When I was dry, I holstered a Peacemaker and pushed Rosa into the narrow tunnel. Mutt spurred Timp onward and they raced through the pack in the opposite direction. She veered in an attempt to knock Ace over. He dodged it, but I was damn proud of her. I was fairly certain Timp made that move herself.

  I awkwardly brought my Winchester around and hip-fired that too, all as I backed into the passage. I didn’t commit fully until Timp was out of sight. We were apart often as we were together, being that my job once consisted of hunting things that made her seem small as a house cat. Always to keep her out of danger.

  Though never like this.

  “James!” Rosa yelled behind me.

  A werewolf came in hot from a blind spot. I pivoted and blew a hole straight through its belly. Another bounded at me, teeth gnashing. By then, I was ducked and entirely in the passage. As soon as I was clear of the entrance, the gap beneath the tree started to twist closed. The wolf dove for me, and I plugged it in the throat with silver. It sizzled and popped, making a hole clear through.

  Something moved me aside—a small red dog. Looked like any old hound, but the eyes gave away Mukwooru’s alternate form. She dug in the side wall, found some sort of stick or lever and pulled at it with her teeth. Netting sagged around the passage’s entry, and a second later, rock and dirt filled it in, casting us in utter darkness.