 
No Quit

By Clover Autrey

Copyright 2014 Clover Autrey

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover art Photos licensed from Dreamstime.

All Rights Reserved

~~~

Do Not Resuscitate

First Published 2014

Fishing

First published in Deep in the Hearts of Texas 2013

Jase's Challenge

First published in Deeper Magic: The First Collection

Edited by Jeremy Whitted

Amberlin Books 2003

Día de los Muertos

An original Cael and Jake story from The Anointed series

New edition 2014

Fallen Warrior

The Eaglekin series

First published 2011

A bit from Clover: The only thing these stories really have in common is that they each feature a soldier/warrior who has no quit in him. Actually this guy does want to quit several times, but his resolve holds out. Do Not Resuscitate is a story that has seen many transformations. This is one of the oldest and one of the ones I like the best. It ultimately became a 60,000 word young adult book titled Extraction about a teenage girl who has her soul stolen, rather than an old WWII veteran as in this original version. But I still like this version and thought it had a place in the universe.

~~~

Do Not Resuscitate

When Mike Matthews took the eggs out of the fridge, he had no idea he'd be dead in twenty-three minutes. Or that the biggest adventure of his life was beginning.

Where the hell? Sprawled across cold uneven gravel, he squinted up at orange streaks of tracer bullets, whizzing across a darkening sky. Pounding crumps of distant mortars rattled along his skull. He'd know those sounds anywhere. Flashback? PTSD episode? Hadn't had one of those in decades.

The last thing he remembered was breaking his morning eggs into the sizzling pan—the same pan he'd been using the past thirty years that Sabrina said should be thrown out—and a terrible pain in his chest.

The pain had subsided, had actually shifted downward. Groggily, he sat up. What in all...?

He wore dark fatigues, steel-toed boots. His shirt was torn and dirty, shredded at the left pocket. Pulling aside the stiffly dried material, he frowned.

Two tiny punctures marked his highest ribs. He'd seen too many bullet holes at Guadalcanal to not know what they were. Dried blood stained his skin in light swirls where someone had attempted to mop it away. He'd been shot in the chest?

No, not his chest. His pulse banged in his ears, drowning out the stuttering of artillery. This was not his chest, not his body. He stared at his shaking hands, blunter, wider and darker than his own. And much younger. No wrinkles sagged vein-edged flesh that molded upon each knob of bone. Some sort of wiry bracelet shone around his wrist, hot. It steamed in the balmy night air. Just a dream then. This was all just some really vivid dream.

Hushed voices called to one another, stilling Mike's heart. Footfalls scraped over stone and gravel as shapes of men moved toward him from the darkness.

This couldn't be real, could not be happening. He must be flat on his kitchen floor, suffering from the blasted coronary Doc Burke had been warning him about, and having the mother of all hallucinations. And sure, why wouldn't he dream up a war zone? Leave it to him to plop himself back to a place he had no unequivocal desire to relive. While he died like a putz in his kitchen.

And who was there to find him? Shawn wouldn't get worried for days, wouldn't think to check on old dad for a while. He supposed the eggs would burn and at least send smoke through the house. Funny, he was more worried about how he'd be found than the actual possibility that he was dying.

The shadowed men swarmed around him. Soldiers all, authentic from their dirty helmets, loaded ammo belts and rucksacks to the long rifles palmed in agile and filthy hands.

But that's where his imagination must have taken a crack in the head.

Mike stared. Sickening dread curled around his gut as long golden eyes peered at him from a lean face streaked with dark grease. Certainly a hallucination. Who had eyes that color? And those thin slashes of skin at either side of his neck, like gills on a fish. He usually dreamed in bold and vivid strokes, but this took on an entirely new clarity. A new intensity.

The soldier spat out a tangle of incomprehensible words and slapped a helmet onto Mike's head. That felt real enough.

Others crowded around him, patted his leg, inspected the bullet wounds. Each had those same skin flaps at their necks, and eyes of too vibrant shades, violet, silver, seafoam green, that shimmered like jewels beneath the war-lit sky.

In an unaware motion, Mike's hand drifted to his own neck and found soft folds of skin there as well.

Two more soldiers crouched low over an oblong machine, turning keys and punching buttons as it radiated a low hum that vibrated across his skin. A tool and dye man by trade, Mike's interest perked up considerably at the sight of the machine, even one dreamed up in his own hallucination.

Even so, he winced when one of the soldiers, frustrated and fuming in garbled tones, slapped the odd contraption. The soldier grinned as the machine blinked off. The man next to him nudged the soldier away and gently slid the thing down into his rucksack.

One of the men closest carefully removed the steaming bracelet from Mike's wrist and handed it to the soldier in charge of the machine. "You got a name?"

"Uh Mike," he answered numbly. "Mike Matthews."

Strange words were barked out, obviously commands, and Mike was hauled to his feet and pointed in the direction they were to take.

So he ran with them, these unearthly soldiers, through concertina wire, and in and out of bomb craters, while the barrage-ravaged skies lightened to day.

While Mike admittedly enjoyed running again with the loose rhythm and almost casual ease of youth, each stride taken also increased a snaking fear that this was a little too real.

He must be in hell. Died on his sticky kitchen floor while his breakfast burned. That was all there was to it.

His mouth went dry as he tried to think his way through this.

"Sietz, sietz!" The soldier in the lead motioned everyone down. They all hunkered close to the ground under whatever cover was available while plumes of dust from what Mike guessed was a motorcade moved down a scraggle of road about one klick off.

Whatever was real, or better yet, whatever wasn't, the tension streaming off the soldiers surrounding him was an undeniable fact. Heart and mind racing, Mike watched the distant vehicles roll off while he hid behind a hump of soil far too inadequate for cover.

"Hey, you okay?"

Mike nearly jumped out of his skin. Well, it wasn't his skin at any rate. "Geez, kid, you scared the crap out of me. Wait. You speak English?"

The young soldier scooted next to him, grinned sideways and whispered, "Sure. Yeah, yeah. I'm borrowed from Earth, same as you."

"Borrowed?" A ton of ore dropped in Mike's stomach. "What—what's going on? I don't understand any of this. You're saying this is all real?"

The soldier grinned. "Yeah, I know. I thought I'd lost my friggin mind when I ended up here. You died, pal. You're not on Earth anymore, and the Machts...they snatched your bright sparkling soul right outside the pearly gates. Lucky for you we stole you right out from under them first."

"Tuan ep," the obvious commander called out.

"Cap'n wants us to zip it and move out," the kid said. "Hey, don't worry 'bout it, you're in good hands. I'm Sal. I'll be right behind you, but don't call out. We've gotta move real close to where a Macht unit dug itself in during the night. We ventured far in behind our lines to retrieve you."

"You crossed enemy lines to get me?"

"Well, sure." Sal's brilliant rose-pink eyes squinted. "That's our squad's sole purpose. We resuscitate the dead."

~~~

This wasn't a hallucination. This was a walking, breathing, living nightmare. Mike's flesh puckered with chills that had nothing to do with the humid air. He was dead, flat on his cold kitchen floor. And his soul was here, on some other friggin planet, walking around in another man's shot-to-pieces body, enlisted, apparently, to fight in some other world's war.

Fine. He was dead. Fine! Good and well. Surprisingly that wasn't the part that shook him up. But he'd be damned if he was going to happily go off and soldier for some planet or some cause he knew nothing about. He'd already fought his war, fought for family and country, and yeah, for America, he'd do it again. Definitely for Sabrina, God rest her soul, and the kids. But this wasn't even his planet! .

Behind him, Sal stumbled over an exposed root. The soldier ahead turned back and gave them both a golden-eyed warning.

Mike nursed his growing fury. They and their little war could kiss his ass. He'd have no part. And what could they do about it? Kill him for mutiny?

He stumbled. Stopped.

The enormity of what had happened crashed over him. Pressure built in his head and chest so quickly, he wondered how it was possible that his ribs simply didn't burst apart. He was dead. He was dead! He should be with Sabrina.

No wonder the realization of his death hadn't bothered him. He hadn't sought it, but he'd been waiting for it. He wasn't so angry that he had ended up here either. Not really. He was angry because they had kept him from her.

They'd all stopped, we're looking at him. Sal laid a hand on his shoulder. "This isn't the best place to take a breather."

Mike looked at him coolly. Coughs and shrills of distant battle hummed across the dark land. These people kept him from his wife. Eight years she'd been dead and eight years he'd missed her. No longer. These people, these aliens, had no right to keep him from her. No right whatsoever.

"Send me back."

Sal's features went pale as milk. His gaze shifted toward the others, troubled. "We can't do that."

"Yes, you can. Use that clever little soul snatching machine you have and send me back."

"It's a one way trip, pal."

Mike took a step forward, stared down at him, waited a beat. "I'm not your pal, and the hell you can't."

The soldier with golden eyes shoved Mike back, spitting a brood of stilted sentences at him. Mike held his ground. Whatever he was saying, there was an emotional kick to it.

"Easy, easy. We gotta go." Sal wedged his shoulder between them. The others clamored close.

The captain pulled back on the angry golden eyed soldier, hissed out a low command.

The soldier's body snapped rigid, his fists imperceptibly clenched.

The captain's dark violet eyes ran the length of Mike, measuring. "I feeeell..." the words vibrated in the air. He glanced at Sal.

"Understand, Cap'n. Tyst," Sal supplied.

"Onnderr sssstand," the captain said in a slow rolling tone like rocks being smoothed by waves. "I onderr ssstand isst harrd." He turned to a tall, lanky youth who watched from the outer circle of men, leaning on his rifle, and fired off a slew of words in his own tongue.

The soldier pressed between the men, who were still watching curiously as the captain pulled another man back with him and drew out a sketchy rag of a map from his uniform pocket.

The soldier also looked Mike up and down, shook his head. "Cap'n wants me and Sal to do a little explaining so you'll be willing to move out quiet like. See, here's the thing, we got a ways to go to circumvent the known Macht hotspots. We had to come way in here for you. The least you could do is go along until the squad's tucked in safe and sound. Cap'n says he'll explain everything after that and if you still want, he'll personally send you on your way." He lifted the muzzle of his weird rifle to his own temple. "It wouldn't be the first time."

Golden eyes barked out what could only be a livid curse and stalked away.

Mike watched him go. He cocked his chin at the retreating back. "What's his beef?"

Sal tipped up his helmet. "It's not you. The body you're in...it was Nial's brother."

Mike's heart skipped, then beat heavily.

"Garren got himself shot last night." Sal fingered the holes in the pocket of Mike's uniform. "The meds couldn't patch him up fast enough to save him, but he was in good enough shape still for you. BETI, what'd you call her?. Our little soul snatching machine...I like that." Dimples appeared with Sal's grin. He was just a kid. Or his body was. "When BETI gets a soul into a body, things kinda get fixed, cleaned out and cauterized or something. Better than before. I dunno. Techs are still working on figuring that one out."

"The thing is," the lanky soldier took up, "Garren wanted his body used. There just aren't that many lying about, not so fresh or not shot full of holes or worse, ruined by bio-plague. He made Nial promise him, but the poor kid hasn't got a handle on the entire situation yet. I don't know what he'll do if you decide to check out."

Mike slanted a glance at Nial. The young alien paced furiously, tossing heated glares over his shoulder like cigarette sparks that floated down and disintegrated behind his steps.

"So, what do ya say? You'll wait to hear us out?" Sal asked.

Eyes hard on Nial, Mike nodded.

"Good." The other soldier patted his arm. "I'm O'Malley by the way. Guess you already figured I was from Earth too. Me, Sal, Rich here, Smitty and Preach over there with Cap'n, are all borrowed souls. The rest are native." He grinned. "Let me lay it out simple. These Machts, they got a machine that can snatch newly deceased souls leaving earth. Screwy thing is, they built it for another purpose entirely. Only found out accidental-like that it could take souls, and they needed souls—almost lost the war due to low manpower."

"Yeah." Sal snorted. "Idiots almost wiped themselves out with their own bio-disease. Rotten luck for us that they didn't."

O'Malley patted Mike on the shoulder. "I'll go tell Cap'n we're ready."

~~~

They moved into the awakening day, keeping to the shadows made from husks of burned-out farm buildings. The land was moist and fertile, dark beneath a delicate orange-cast sky. Sharp violet crops tilted together like racks of spears, coated in fuzz and velvet soft as they trailed through them. A stiff line of trees, similar to oaks and pines, brooded ahead at the edge of charred fields.

The soldiers grew quieter, more alert, as the barrage that was constant throughout the night thickened around them, closer. Teeth rattling concussions of air vibrated through Mike's bones. Blue streamers whined and smoked overhead, spiraling to the other side of low hills Mike assumed were east of them and behind. Debris-packed clouds threw massive splinters in the air. It surprised Mike how easily he reverted back to the demeanor of a soldier. After all, it had been more than fifty years since he'd been in the military. He relied on skills he thought long discarded. It was exhilarating to walk without arthritis pain, and have the strength to carry heavy gear. Now he was alive, in another man's body, an alien at that, smack in the middle of another world's war. How was this not insane?

And he missed Sabrina. He'd been so close to getting to her, had waited so long. This was wrong. This was all terribly terribly wrong. He didn't understand how that machine had worked, but he'd been robbed of his death. He didn't want to be here, didn't want to be a soldier again. He didn't know what their war was about and he certainly didn't care. He wanted out. His next step faltered.

Out. Getting out was easy. All he had to do was run out of the shadows and get himself shot or blown to pieces. He'd be dead all right. He'd be with Sabrina. Let them try to snatch his soul a second time. It obviously didn't work for souls exiting this planet. Otherwise Garren would be in his body now.

"Down, down."

They dropped into the stinking bottom of a crevice. A soft hum moaned above. Smoke drifted into the hole. Nail's eyes burned into Mike's profile. The inside of his mouth tasted of oil. Then the unmistakable clanking and whirring of what could only be a tank moved right over their heads. The soldiers flattened against rough earthen walls. Miniscule landslides of loose dirt spilled over the edges.

Mike had been close to tanks before, Shermans—big, massive monsters. He'd never gotten this close to a Panzer though. If he had, he probably would've been dead.

The thought brought a curve to his lips. This was his escape out of this little insane side trip. If he just got up, got out of this hole...

He felt Nial's stare and looked over at the golden-eyed soldier. The man was poised, watching him carefully, ready to pounce. As the lumbering vehicle moved over them, they simply stared.

Just as the tank moved on and the other soldiers eased away from the dirt walls, Nial sprang onto Mike, knocking him to the ground. The alien shouted out what could only be garbled curses. The veins in his forehead bulged.

"Get him off him! Pull him off!"

Several voices, several arms and faces hovered above, trying to disengage them. Nial continued fighting as they pulled him off.

The captain rapped out orders and Nial finally gave up, shoving the other alien's hands off him.

Sal and O'Malley crouched down around Mike. "You all right?"

"Yeah, fine."

They glanced at each other, though neither attempted to say anything more on it. Finally O'Malley gave it the old college try. "Look, I know this isn't easy, but what you were thinking would have put all of us in danger."

"Wasn't thinking anything," Mike defended.

O'Malley's lips tightened. "We've got a stretch farther to go. Just stick with us long enough to get into friendly territory."

"Right. Because it's so easy to tell friend from foe around here," Mike muttered.

"Hey, hold on—it's not like that," Sal said. "We don't borrow souls, we save them. We saved you from being taken by the Machts."

"From where I sit, I don't see much difference. How do I know I wouldn't have it better with them?"

"Oh, you'll see all right" Sal spat.

"Drones," Preach sauntered over. "That's what we call them—souls borrowed by the Machts—nothing more than drones. When those souls are piped into the bodies they use, the ones died of bio-disease..." Preach shook his head.

"Come on," Sal said. "Cap'n's giving the signal to go. Don't worry, gunner, you'll get a chance to see for yourself."

Sal slapped his shoulder. "Don't worry. They're not gunnin for us. That's Raptor Division plastering the bejebas outta the Machts. We radioed in our position. A squad's waiting for us just inside those trees."

They ran along a crevice for several more miles, then, on a signal from the captain, scrambled out of the soggy ground to make a frenzied dash across an exposed field for the cover of a breaking line of forest

"Stay close to me, I'll lead you straight in." Sal smiled and a bullet slammed into his back. He fell like a bag of cement.

"Drones!" O'Malley shouted.

Bullets buzzed around them like flies. Mike couldn't see anyone shooting, just the direction the shots came from. Their immediate left. Grabbing up Sal's gun, he slung the young soldier over his shoulders and sprinted toward the trees.

"C'mon, c'mon." Preach ran by his side, firing his weapon backward.

Mike could see them now, gray-clad soldiers moving fast to intercept them. They weren't even ducking for cover.

The squad emptied their ammunition into them, striking them over and over, but none of them went down. What the hell were they?

Finally someone threw out some kind of a grenade. The air whooshed and erupted in red streaks of lightning and violet flame right on top of a man. His right side and half his head gone, he took a couple of steps before crumbling into the snapping strands of electricity. More lightning grenades were hurled, finding targets, but not near enough.

Mike strained for the treeline, ran into the forest.

"Hey, hey, this way! You're going the wrong way!" O'Malley shouted over the roar.

Mike veered for him. "What are those things? They don't die!"

"Drones!" O'Malley shouted. "They die. Just takes some doing. Here. Put Sal down. Raptors are coming."

A squad was racing toward them from deeper in the trees, readying their weapons. O'Malley sprinted off to join them. Relieved, Mike glanced back out toward the charred field. Almost inside the treeline, the captain and his men were still laying down fire. Splinters of bark and leaves danced hypnotically in the air. Farther out, to the left, Mike caught a blur of movement as Rich went down. What was he doing caught off by himself? No one else had seen him.

Damn! This wasn't his war! Taking Sal's weapon, Mike ran out of the trees. Where was the damn trigger? It looked similar enough to a tommygun, but there was no trigger mechanism. Useless.

He reached Rich in moments. The sharp staccato of firing pulsed. A drone rose above Rich.

Acting on instinct, Mike pulled back on the sliding undercarriage with the palm of his hand, and the gun vibrated and barked satisfactorily. Blood flowered on gray uniforms like tiny red explosions. He hit them over and over at point blank, yet they came on.

He grabbed Rich, pulled him up under the arm, still shooting.

"Behind you," Rich rasped.

Mike spun. A drone swung a busted rifle toward his head, gem-bright eyes terrifyingly flat and absent of life. With his own weapon awkward across his chest, Mike dove into him, dropping Rich, and toppled the drone onto his back. The drone grabbed the rifle, trying to wrest it away.

The hell he would! Ramming his arm forward, Mike smashed the butt into his temple, heard and felt bone crack.

Might as well have been a love tap for all the damage it did.

The drone shoved Mike off him, ripping the gun away. More of the drones rushed passed, firing at the soldiers. Mike flew through the air, landed in a stunned heap.

The drone pulled the gun into position. Mid-step his body jerked back and forth like a pinball stuck between counters. Blood splattered Mike's face. A nickel-sized hole sprouted in the drone's forehead and he toppled over.

"Gotta get 'em in the head! In the head!" Preach shouted and he and Nial passed them, running back into the drones.

"Go! Go!" Preach shouted.

Mike pulled Rich across his shoulders. A sting flicked past his ear. He ran, his vision dimmed by the smoke. His ears rang from the heavy barrage. Bullets buzzed around them. He reached the trees and raced past the captain and his men before he realized half of those bullets were being fired by them. They had all come back to give him cover. Abruptly, O'Malley, the captain, and the others were with him, running back into the trees, slapping low-hanging branches, while gunfire plowed the forest around them.

Mike felt a shift in himself, recognized it because he'd felt it once before decades ago with different men. Men he'd cherished his entire life with those kinds of emotions that never diminish over time. Seeing those alien soldiers come back for him, firing at the drones, he knew their caliber. He didn't know them, barely knew a few of their names, but it didn't matter.

The Raptors streaked toward them, shouting for them to make it, and as soon as they were past, poured their thundering heavier artillery into the drones. The ground lit up with snaking layers of red lightning.

Mike staggered to his knees into a press of arms and legs and a dozen hands. Rich was lifted off and one by one the rescue squad stumbled and rolled down beside him.

Mike shook his head, rolling the back of it on the trampled grass while the sweet sound of the Raptors's fire slowed to stilted coughs. "This is all real, isn't it? Has to be. Those things were too hard to kill. I've never imagined anything so hard."

O'Malley popped his head up. "Hell, you think that's hard. Back on Earth, I was a woman."

Mike stared at O'Malley speechless. And remained quiet as Sal explained everything about this new world, imploring at how much they were needed here.

But Sabrina. All Matt could think about was Sabrina. He stared at the alien weapon in his hand. Just one shot and he could be with her.

Apparently Nial noticed where his gaze landed and he stalked off.

Mike got to his feet. "Tell Nial...hell. Tell him I'm sorry, but I got a wife. She's waiting..."

"Yeah, okay. But Mike?" Sal asked, hunched over with pain as O'Malley prodded the wound in his back.

"Yeah?"

"How do you know your wife's there?"

A great weariness settled over Mike. "She was a good, decent woman. Of course she's..." A chill prickled his flesh. Sal wasn't talking about heaven or hell. "How long? How long have the Machts been using the soul-snatchers?"

Preach stood to join him. "Only five years, but the seasons are different here. Maybe nine, ten years back on earth. Matthews, you okay?"

Mike heard Preach as though from a vast distance. Nine or ten years? No. Nononono. Lowering his head, he let the weapon drop.

FISHING

The old pond didn't look any different from how he remembered it. Maybe a bit smaller, the vegetation and trees more overgrown. But this. This scrubby little smelly backwater hole in Frankincense, Texas was exactly what he needed.

Jake hadn't been back here in ten years, not since he'd turned eighteen and signed up with the navy. Life had been a full-throttled adrenaline rush since: earning his wings, earning his dare-or-die reputation, and breaking hearts up and down every coastline of the good old US of A.

Yet his own heart had never been broken, and up until this week when he'd started his three week furlough and found his current girlfriend, former Miss Canowick Falls, doing the jungle mamba with some long-haired guitarist on his kitchen counter, it hadn't bothered him. What did bother him was that he really wasn't unsettled by it in the least. In fact, was relieved to have an excuse to send former Miss Canowick Falls packing.

What did that say about him?

That he didn't want a relationship? Because he was fairly certain that he did. Marriage, kids, the whole nine. He'd just never been able to see it with the string of groupies that cropped up around the pilot bars.

So he'd tossed his clothes back in his duffel and driven, concluding somewhere along the highway that what he needed was the calm and relaxation that came from a fishing trip.

And there was only one pond that would do.

He couldn't really say if it was a conscious decision as he passed the worn welcome sign to Frankincense and turned into the first hardware store he came to in search of fishing gear and bait.

Now he sat in a new camp chair, one leg propped up on a cooler, his cowboy hat perched low, and a shiny new rod secured between a pile of stones he'd pushed together, enjoying the late afternoon breeze and the quiet plop of turtles poking their heads out of the green algae. He wondered if Old Snagglesnout still prowled the pond or if someone had finally caught the ancient catfish while he'd been away. He and his pals had only come close once.

"Gotta be at least thirty pounds," Scuff had informed them, his pointed chin lowered between his knobby knees as he concentrated on placing the hot dog just right on the hook. "Today's the day I'm gonna get him."

"Not with that hook." True eyed Scuff's handiwork critically, crouched down beside him, several strands of her wild hair unraveling from the loose braid trailing down her bony back. "It will never get through Snaggle's thick mouth."

Scuff huffed. "Like you know anything."

True slammed her palms in the dirt and pushed to her feet. "I know I'll catch Old Snag before you do. It's so true."

So it had gone every summer, his childhood friends quarreling over who was going to catch the monster fish although none of them ever did.

Scuff came close once with a bigger hook and an epic battle between boy and thrashing fish that ended when Snagglesnout dragged him in and ripped the hook from its mouth so hard it left a mean slice as long and jagged as the Grand Canyon.

Jake grinned at the memory, thinking he might just give Scuff a call and pull him away from his pawnshop for a few hours. I'd been a couple years. It'd be good to catch up.

"Um, excuse me." A feminine voice jolted him out of his reverie. "I've been baiting this hole for weeks."

Too relaxed to stand, Jake pulled his hat off and tilted his head way back to squint at the incongruous sight. Pinched angry mouth. Mirrored sunglasses reflecting the shine of light on the water. Severe kind of updo pulled back off a pale face. Tight skirt. Shiny blouse. She looked ready to PowerPoint her way through some high-functioning boardroom affair instead of standing here beside his fishing hole, giving him grief about little nets of bread she'd been leaving in the water to get the fish accustomed to feeding where she wanted them to.

The contrast was so odd that he lowered his head and turned to face her straight on.

Hands on hips, she frowned at him. Wow. She really was in mousy business attire, from unflattering bun down to her...He grinned. Bare feet with glossy pink painted on her toenails.

His stomach took a slow little dip. The combination was sexy as sin. He lowered his shades just enough to glance over their frames for a sharper look-see. "Seems you missed the turnoff for the company picnic, missy."

The toes of one of those dainty little feet curled into the soft dirt with the woman's hiss of exasperation. Now this was fun and relaxing.

She ripped her sunglasses off to glare heatedly down at him. "Now look here, mister. I've had a long and arduous day working with a load of jackasses. I'm in no frame of mind to deal with one here. Especially not here. So if you don't mind..." The stiffness in her shoulders deflated. "There's another pond half a mile south down the road. It's even stocked. Please, for the love of...I don't know, chivalry or something, could you please just take your gear and go?"

Playing the gentleman card, was she? That was pretty low, although admittedly in any other place or circumstance it would work on him.

"Sorry, but I believe my claim supersedes yours. This has been my hole since I was a kid, so if you don't mind..."

Her nose scrunched, and her head canted to the side as she looked hard at him.

"Jake?"

He frowned. Did he know her? He searched his memory, sifting through all the uptight, pinched-lipped, bossy girls and couldn't place her. Not that he'd made a habit of hanging around the starch-in-their-drawers types.

"It's me. Shelly."

Shelly? Did he know a...wait. "True?"

Never in a million years would he have guessed that the adventurous, thrill-seeking kid who could outrun, outspit, and outclimb any of the guys would become the prim pantheon-to-society creature before him in a lackluster business skirt.

Before he could form a coherent greeting over that shock, she was in front of him, pulling on his arms. Numbly, he let her drag him out of the chair and found himself thoroughly enveloped around the waist in an enthusiastic hug.

Warmth crested inside his chest, pushing away the surprise, and he had to admit it felt nice. He brought his hands up along her spine and squeezed back, more content than he'd felt in a long time. This. This was what he needed. A simple embrace by someone he'd once known, who accepted him as him, not as the hotshot pilot the base groupies wanted to notch on their headboards. He doubted True even knew what he did for a living.

"I can't believe you're here. What are you doing here?" Her cheek pressed into his sternum while she talked a mile a minute, and Jake found himself quite content to stay right there, was actually disappointed when she pulled back, breaking the embrace, and slipped a flat leather bag like most business types used for their laptops off her shoulder.

He grinned when she pulled out a second pair of clothes, still rambling on. He wondered if she realized he hadn't yet answered any one of her questions.

"I made a beeline to get here as soon as I left the office. Didn't even stop at the apartment." Bent way over, she stepped into a pool of cutoffs. Pink toenails disappeared fleetingly. "I've had the most horrendous day." The cutoffs were tugged upward, pushing the hem of the skirt high as they made their journey, revealing silky legs that kept going up, up, up while Jake's mouth went dry, dry, dry. "My client will just not cooperate for his own sake. I know he's innocent, but he's so nasty and hardcore it's going to take a miracle to get any jury to believe that." The skirt dropped to her ankles. Stepping out of it, she folded it neatly and exchanged it in her magic briefcase of tricks for a pink T-shirt. "He's so damn annoying I almost wish he was guilty." The silk blouse was replaced with the little pink top, though Jake had no idea how that happened. He'd watched the entire time—intently—catching flashes of skin and the cup of a white bra while every single...damn...muscle in his entire frame locked up agonizingly tightly.

He doubted he could take the strain. He knew his jeans couldn't.

"Jake?"

His eyes snapped up to her face.

"You all right?"

No. He most definitely wasn't. He was lusting after one of the best friends he'd ever had in his life. That was not all right.

Nodding, he sucked in a breath. Let it out. And True pulled the knot out of her hair and shook it free.

The blood rushed from his head so fast it nearly dumped him on his ass.

All curves, long legs, and tumbling hair, True could give any calendar babe adorning half the mechanics' walls from here to New York a run for their money.

It was time to punch out and pull the chute. The pond down the road was looking like a safer option. "Man, True, it's really great to see you and all..." She had no idea. "But I got to be heading out."

Her forehead crinkled, same as it had years ago, and warmth and nostalgia hit him in the gut. "You sure? It's not me, is it?"

Sure as hell it was her. She was just too gorgeous. And warm. And sunny cheerful. And knew him as just Jake, or at least had known him, and he wanted that, wanted that familiarity. And she was his friend.

Looking at her, he realized he wanted that in his life so damn bad it crashed through his carefully constructed lifestyle with the force of a wrecking ball.

He'd never find what he wanted within the target-rich environment of the pilot-groupie pool.

What he needed was standing right here with the letters USA stretching across her pink shirt, and he lacked the training in how to navigate around it.

Damn. Because, well...damn.

Fight or flight. He didn't know what to do.

True was staring at him in concern.

He stared back, running through strategies...

And the line on his rod joggled. Water splashed. Both of their gazes jerked to the pond just as a huge flubbery spine crested the surface. Large.

"Snagglesnout!" they cried simultaneously, both diving for the pole as it was yanked out of the pile of stones.

True grabbed it first, sliding on her knees. Jake's leg collided with her thigh, snagging the very end of the rod.

Together they pulled back, feeling the resistance of the granddaddy fish.

"Snag's still out here?"

True laughed. "Not much longer."

"Let out the line," he told her.

"I got it." She expertly let the reel turn. Thirty pounds of angry fish thrashed beneath the surface, jerking the line.

"Not too much."

"Gah." A huge tug and True was yanked forward.

Jake caught her around her middle, surprised at the play of firm muscles beneath satin skin where her tight top rode up. True was turning out to be an exciting combination of textures and possibilities.

With both of True's hands busy on the rod, Jake hauled her back, easing her into the vee of his legs, and brought his arms around to place over hers.

"That's right, nice and slow, honey." His cheek pressed against hers. Her wild hair tickled his jaw, and all thoughts of reeling in Old Snaggle filtered behind a dizzying blend of heady sensation and woman.

There was nowhere else on the planet or skies above he'd rather be. He hoped the battle with the monster fish lasted for hours.

Everything went quiet except for the frenzied splashing and the clicking of the reel spooling in. True leaned back into Jake's chest, and he leaned with her, their heartbeats synching up.

"I can't believe it, Jake." Grit and excitement flushed True's voice. "We're going to get him. We're finally going to land Snagglesnout. Grab your net."

"Sure?"

Snagglesnout was thrashing wildly, heaving into his last efforts. True's arms were clamped tight, guiding the fish to the bank like a pro. "Yeah, I got him."

Easing out from behind her, Jake grabbed up his never-before-used net—he hoped it was big enough—and ran to the muddy bank where Snag whipped halfway out of the mire.

He was huge, speckled gray, covered in gouges and nicks like a war-ravaged veteran. The slice in his hardened mouth rippled like edges of a clam shell. It was Snagglesnout all right.

Wading in, Jake got the net underneath the fish and nearly had his arms ripped out of his sockets just as the line broke. True dropped the pole and floundered in, grabbing onto the net.

It was a battle of wills, strength, and determination hauling the granddaddy in, but together they pulled the beast onto the bank, where it flopped, tangled in the net, flogging and rolling to get back to the water.

Jake and True sprawled in the muck, chests heaving, half on and half off each other, limbs tangled. Jake didn't know where he began and she ended. He stared down at her. Excitement suffused her triumphant, mud-splattered face, and Jake's heart cartwheeled into his throat.

Before he knew what was what, she lifted her face and kissed him. Long and sweet. Her hands curled around the back of his head and pulled him down.

His brain cells were pretty much shot when she released him, smiling up without an iota of embarrassment or apology. "I've been wanting to do that for fifteen years, Jake Mulligan."

He felt the smile curl through his entire body, taking just as long to crease his mouth. "Well damn, woman, what took ya?"

Her smile was swift and sexy as hell...and tasted even better as Jake bent in for more. A whole lot of more.

Only the sudden, loud splashing of water stopped them. Their heads snapped to the side, cheek to cheek, to find Old Snag had rolled his way back to the water's edge.

Without a word, Jake and True shared a knowing glance before crawling toward the water and unraveling the net.

As they watched Snagglesnout submerge, Jake took True's hand, thinking about new possibilities and the wondrous idea of beginning something substantial.

"Just so you know, Jake." Her mud-slick fingers squeezed his. "You, I'm not throwing back."

Catching her about the waist, he tipped her into his lap, looking into her eyes with all the seriousness he could muster. "Yes, ma'am."

Her lips tipped up in an unrepentant grin. "You know, we should have taken a picture."

"Next time." Jake bent in for another kiss because if he had anything to say about it, they'd have all the time in the world.

JASE'S CHALLENGE

Willec scrambled toward the clearing, worn travel gear banging against his broad back. By all rights that couldn't have been what he'd heard!

Another high-pitched squeal rolled among the trees. A flock of chatterbrights shot out from dark leafy branches, squawking furiously as they winged up toward patches of blue sky.

Willec slackened his pace. Healthy curiosity was one thing; rushing up to the unknown, quite another. His bitter years defending the border had taught him that.

The squeal rang out again, so shrill and close Willec ground his teeth against the sudden assault on his ears. Carefully, he moved to the edge of trees. His breath caught in his throat.

A streak of brilliant yellow soared just above the meadow grass, ruffling thin green stalks back with powerful strokes of air.

Dragon.

A small one, at that, roughly half the length of a man.

Abruptly, the dragon veered. With an exuberant squeal, he flew straight upward. Leathery wings pushed the air in great whooshes. Sunlight flashed across glistening scales, momentarily drenching him in riotous color. With a twist of his body, he dove. Air whistled across folded wings.

Willec flattened his palm against a tree's trunk where the wrinkled bark pressed seams across his flesh.

In flight, the young dragon's slender neck arched. A fraction above the ground, he curved and skimmed across the grasses, wings gracefully extended, before flapping into a climb again.

Sweet Mother Of All, the dragon was at play. A smile Willec hadn't felt for a long time crept over his features.

The dragon rolled in the sky. Young muscles rippled in the sun's glow.

Willec wanted to step out from the trees, get closer. But where there was a young dragon, a mother would also be about. He scanned the meadow and the sky, and found no sign of another dragon. He didn't think a grown dragon could fit between the trees, yet that didn't mean she wasn't sprawled across the leafy tops, sunning herself. She could likely be over his head this very moment. He eyed the forest ceiling, looking for any overly large shapes or shadows.

A sharp whistle snapped his attention back to the clearing. The young dragon squealed as if in answer and turned over in the sky. Claw-tipped feet lowering first, wings rounded out, the dragon descended, moving on a course that was taking him directly toward Willec.

Willec froze, knowing he'd have a better chance of remaining hidden without any sudden movements.

Gusts of air from the dragon's rapid approach blasted him. Leaves lifted in the air. The dragon skidded through the meadow grass, tearing huge furrows of soil with his hind legs and came to a rattling halt. His frontward momentum carried him end over end until he landed on his belly with a grating thud, less than ten strides from Willec.

"Oh, no! Dragon!" Two boys rushed out from beneath the shadows of trees, not far from where Willec stayed concealed.

The smaller boy knelt beside the dragon. "Are you hurt?" The dragon cooed low in his throat and lifted his large, hard muzzle onto the boy's shoulder.

Willec blinked. And blinked again.

"He's well enough. Still can't land worth a dilly, though." The older of the two boys gently helped the dragon fold his wings and regain his feet.

"His mother will help him learn."

The mother! Scanning the sky, Willec couldn't keep quiet any longer and allow harm to come to these children. "I'd get away from that dragon if I were you." He stepped out into the sunlight.

Two pairs of green eyes snapped onto him. Yet rather than move away from the little beast, both boys shifted in front of him. The dragon craned his long neck around the taller boy's hip and looked at Willec with large golden eyes.

Willec's lips twitched.

Reaching behind him, the younger boy stroked the skeletal joint of the dragon's wing. His eyes never left Willec. Such bravado in one so young. He looked to have seen eleven, possibly twelve years. And the older boy, only a couple of years more.

Shaking his head, Willec took a step closer. "Look, here. You boys don't know what you're doing. You don't want to be around when that dragon's mama comes back."

The boys shared a knowing look. The older visibly relaxed. "But that's what we're trying to do, find Dragon a mother."

Willec's brows rose.

The older boy smiled. "We found Dragon close to a year past. A bone in his wing was broken. So, Jase, here, decided we should take him home with us."

"Your parents allowed you to keep a dragon?"

"Ah, well...ma won't refuse Jase when he's really got his heart set on something." The older boy winked at Jase.

Jase grinned back, lowering carefully to sit beside his dragon. Willec noted the dark hollows below the boy's eyes, the pallid skin.

Jase shook blond hair back from his eyes. "Dragon's wing has been healed for a while now. It's time for him to find a mother."

Again the brothers shared a glance. "But I don't think it will be today," the older said.

"But, Cyle, it has to be!"

Cyle crouched beside his brother and stroked the dragon. "Dragon's been flying around all day. I just don't think there're any dragons around here or they would have heard him."

"It has to be now. Let's go closer to the nesting grounds."

Cyle's lip twisted. "That will take another day. Ma will worry."

"She knows I have to do this. She'll understand."

"No, she won't!" Cyle's chin quivered.

Willec looked from one boy to the other. He felt drawn to the younger boy's gaze. Long sought for hope blossomed inside his chest as though he was on the precipice and could reach out and grasp that intangible something... Either that, or fall.

Tears shimmered in Jase's large eyes. Cyle's fists clenched. "We'll move closer to the nesting grounds and see if we can find Dragon a mother tomorrow. Tomorrow will be soon enough, won't it?"

"It will, Cyle! I know it will!" Jase's smile suffused his entire face with light. "Do you hear that, Dragon? You'll have your own mother by tomorrow." He pressed his forehead to Dragon's hard leathery muzzle. Puffs of breath from the creature's nostrils lifted his hair.

Jase lifted his head. "It will work, Cyle. It has to."

Frowning, Cyle slanted a glance at Willec. "Don't worry. Dragon will get his mother."

Willec didn't know what compelled him, but he knelt beside them. "Would it help if I came along? I mean..." He offered his hand. "I'm Willec, just a simple traveler...but I'd like to come along. I'd like to see a dragon return to its kind."

Cyle eyed him warily.

Jase's head bobbed up and down. He coughed and sank back against the small dragon.

Brows furrowed, Cyle looked at his brother. "You're certain?"

Jase turned a penetrating gaze on Willec. Willec stared hard into the green depths. For the trace of a moment it seemed the child delved into the deep recesses of his soul, then the feeling evaporated. Willec couldn't fathom why he had requested to go along, but, then, what did it matter? He had nothing but time.

"Yes. I'm sure. Let him come. Please."

"Very well, Jase. He can come."

A discomforting feeling of relief swept through Willec.

~~~

They walked until daylight faded, traveling slowly. Jase's weakened condition became ever more apparent. Cyle carried both his and Jase's packs. They rested frequently so he could catch his breath. The dragon remained a constant at Jase's side, taking what must be achingly slow steps for a vigorous dragon. Jase leaned often against Dragon while the beast stood patiently still. They stopped early and let the boy sleep awhile before waking him for supper.

Willec banked the fire and sat back against his travel pack. Across the fire, Jase bent forward, coughing. Through Jase's thin homespun shirt, Willec could see the boy's ribs as his body tightened with each wracking fit. The coughs had begun at dusk and had been increasing.

Dragon paced behind Jase's back.

"Here, let me help." Cyle put down a stack of dead branches and knelt behind Jase.

Willec shot to his feet when Cyle began pounding Jase's back. "What are you doing? Doesn't the boy suffer enough?"

Both boys stared up at him.

"It doesn't hurt," Jase said. Cyle cups his hands."

After a moment, Willec lowered back to the ground. "Sorry."

Cyle shrugged. "A healer taught my ma to do this. It breaks up the nasty muck clogging his lungs."

Jase coughed. If anything, it sounded worse. He bent over, his young features contorted. Hands covering his mouth, he lunged to his feet and ran out of the circle of firelight, the dragon following at his heels.

Willec tried to ignore the sound of retching. "How long has he been ill like that?"

Cyle glanced up. "All his life. It's worse at night."

"But I'm blessed," Jase said, returning to the fire. He slumped down next to Cyle. Dragon curled around them, pronged tail encircling the brothers. His large head rested on Jase's thigh. Jase stroked the gleaming supple scales.

"Blessed?" Willec asked. How could the child belief he was blessed with this illness?

Jase smiled. "All men are given challenges they must learn to endure. I'm blessed because I know what mine is. Some are not so fortunate."

Frowning, Willec contemplated the boy's words.

"What of you?" Cyle said. "You wear the cloak of an arms man. Have you come from the borderlands?"

Willec rubbed the hem of his badly worn and faded cloak. "I was there."

"And it still holds?" Jade's pale features flushed with excitement.

"The border holds."

"When I'm of age, I'll serve my time as an arms man." Cyle's spine straightened.

"You should stay home. It's not as glorious as it sounds."

"But it's a noble cause."

"Ah, yes. To protect our liberties and keep safe the lives of our wives, mothers, and children," Willec said in derision.

"What's wrong with that?" Cyle rebuked.

Willec met Cyle's eyes over the flames. "You're young. You don't know anything about war or violence. I once was as naïve, held those Caele ideals to my heart. I went proudly to serve at the borderlands and witnessed such atrocities in the name of peace..." He closed his eyes. For what? To return to his wife who had taken another? His son who called another man "Father"? That was the freedom and the ideals he defended the borders for.

The boys looked away. Another coughing spasm overtook Jase, interrupting the quiet of the crackling fire. When the fit ceased, Cyle pulled Jase back against his shoulder.

"What will you do now?" Jase asked Willec, his voice raspy.

Pulling a stick from the flames, Willec watched the burning end as he twirled it. "They say the new king is blessed above all men by the Mother Of All."

"The Infant King?" Jase asked.

Willec nodded. "They say that to look upon him one can glimpse the miracle of the creations and everything the Mother Of All holds in reverence. I wish to see such a thing."

The brothers looked at each other.

"What if..." Jase hesitated. "Suppose you see this king...and all you see is just a baby?"

"Then..." Willec looked down at his hands. "Then...I don't know. I don't know."

Jase looked thoughtful. Dragon's eyes slowly closed. "I'd like to touch a grown dragon. To glide my hands across its scales, feel the heat from its body."

"Jase, we talked about this. We can't get that close," Cyle said.

Jase frowned.

"But you'll see an adult from a safe distance. Tomorrow. I promise."

"What makes you think a female will accept your dragon?" Willec said, immediately regretting it from the stricken look on Jase's face.

Cyle scowled. "Dragons aren't like birds. They're much more intelligent. Dragon will find a mother."

Jase nodded as another cough wracked his young form.

They slept little through the night. Jase's worsening cough kept them awake. They started out early, their pace slower than before. Soft meadow grass gave way to hard soil that was thin over rocks. The trees stood silent behind them, growing smaller with each step.

His young features creased with worry, Cyle hovered near Jase.

Dragon squealed, a mournful sound, just before Jase slumped to the ground. Dropping to his knees, Cyle skidded beside him, pulling Jase into his arms. "We'll stop here." His voice held a hint of a tremor.

"No! You promised!" Jase's lips trembled. His eyes looked huge in his lean pale face.

Cyle nodded. Tears welled in his eyes. "It's not much farther. I'll carry you."

Willec leaned over them. "I'll help."

A tear tracked down his cheek when Cyle looked up. "I've got him."

Putting his palm over Cyle's shoulder, Willec nodded and silently took their packs.

Cyle lifted Jase in his arms and headed off across the stony soil. The boy's legs dangled lifelessly.

Occupied with his own thoughts, Willec lost track of how long they walked, when he head Cyle whisper, "We're here".

Craggy cliffs loomed above them, rocky spires breaking into the skyline. Dragons sailed the blue expanse, soaring among fluffy clouds. Others sprawled across stony ledges, sunning glittering bodies that gleamed iridescent colors as they stretched, lengthening rippling muscles.

"Jase, do you see?" Cyle's voice was thick.

Jase's head lifted weakly. "I see them." His hand dropped to Dragon's head. "You've got to go, Dragon. Go find your ma." His voice was barely a whisper.

Dragon hopped from side to side.

"Go on."

"Go, Dragon!" Cyle shouted. "Fly!"

With a squeal that sounded more like a whine, Dragon backed away, turned and took to the air.

They watched in wonder as a silverback veered away from the others and flew toward the small dragon. Three times his size, she soared around him, sniffing, nudging, inspecting.

Frightened, Dragon shrieked, hovering in the air, wings flapping. The silverback slowed, and rubbed her great neck across Dragon's.

"Why did you never give him a name?" Willec asked lamely.

"Ma didn't want us to get too attached." Cyle's gaze never left the flying dragons.

Abruptly, another dragon launched itself from the cliffs and streaked toward Dragon and the silverback; a glistening black male, clawing the air in agitation. His trumpeting warning sent shivers along Willec's skin. The silverback bellowed at the male, powerful jaws snapped near his throat with a thunderous clap.

Dragon raced across the air currents, streaming toward the ground, the silverback fast behind, her greater speed overtaking.

Dragon turned, back flapping, wings rounded. His feet kicked forward and he slowed, touching the rocky soil with a gentle hop.

"He landed!" Jase cried.

Pulses of air whooshed over them as the silverback landed. The ground vibrated beneath them.

"Don't move," Willec hissed.

The silverback sniffed Dragon, arching her spine.

Bouncing from foot to foot, Dragon looked at the boys.

"Go on!" Jase rasped. "She'll be your ma."

Dragon craned his neck toward the adult dragon. Her muzzle lowered to his. She sniffed, smoothing Dragon's young scales, then moved over him, enfolding him in the protection of her body.

The rocky soil shook. Pebbles bounced, clattering upon the ground. Air whooshed around them. The black dragon stood before them, puffing out his glistening body and fully extending his great leathery wings.

The female rounded out her greater size. Arching her neck, she trumpeted through her nasal cavities before snorting a gale of steaming air at the male.

Willec's heart flew up into his rib cage.

The black male dragon rocked from side to side, his head lowered toward Dragon who pressed back against the inside of the silverback's legs. The male snorted a short puff of air. Gray eyes turned toward Willec and the boys.

Dragon squealed and ran toward them, his body and tail circled around the brothers. The boys' eyes were huge.

"Remain still," Willec whispered.

The black dragon rumbled deep within like stones scraping inside a barrel, and inhaled through his nostrils. The silverback snapped her jaws at him just as his head swiveled toward the boys and Dragon. He hopped back, wings flapping wildly. She snapped again. And again, driving him back. He trumpeted, enraged. The silverback held her ground. The adult dragons glared at each other; muscles coiled, wreathing beneath their slick scaly bodies.

Eyes narrowing to slits, the male snorted. A blast of steam rolled over the silverback and he turned away, walked several paces, and flapped into the tranquil blue.

Her great neck swooping down, the silverback stepped toward the brothers. Her head lowered to their level, golden eyes studying.

"It's your ma, Dragon," Cyle said. Dragon stepped hesitantly away from the boys. His snout met hers and she rumbled from deep within.

Jase collapsed against Cyle. "I want to touch her," Jase said, his voice barely audible.

Cheeks moist with tears, Cyle nodded and lifted his brother to his feet. Jase's hand lifted toward the dragon, then fell back to his side. Taking Jase's hand in his own, Cyle brought it to the silverback. Together, they touched her jaw. The giant head flinched, then relaxed. Dragon's tongue flicked across Jase's palm. The silverback nudged her head back toward their hands.

Frozen, Willec watched; his throat constricted, face wet with tears. A fountain of emotions flooded his soul. Here, in the majesty of two young boys, was all the meaning he had sought. There would be no journey to see an infant king. There was no longer any need.

Jase's head lolled forward, his shoulders went limp.

Cyle sank to the ground, cradling Jase, and wept, the great dragon forgotten.

Dragon whined, nosing Jase's fingers.

With rare gentleness, the silverback laid her snout against Jase's chest. For a moment she stayed there. Hot exhalations washed over them. Cyle's wet face turned up to her, staring into the shiny sphere of her eye. Then she turned to Dragon and nudged him away. Together they flapped into the air, trumpeting a long, mournful, piercing note. Gusts from their wing beats wafted over the boys, blowing through their clothing.

Cyle smoothed the hair back from Jase's smooth forehead before turning glistening eyes to Willec.

Kneeling, Willec placed a hand on Cyle's shoulder. "Let's take him home."

Día de los Muertos

The flowers were everywhere. Bright orange marigolds strung along tops of fences and bursting from pots grouped on porches and storefronts like little shrines. The moppy-headed fourteen-year-old stopped at one display and frowned at the brightly decorated sugar skulls sitting in prominence among the cheerful blossoms.

San Miguel, Arizona was vibrant with energy, even on the outskirts of town where their current motel squatted, the streets were alive with celebrants. The Gillants had never taken a hunt this close to the Mexican border at this time of year. They wouldn't be here now if Ruiz, one of the men in Dad's 666 Ranger Squad, hadn't called in a panic about a Chupacabra who had dragged two children off after it'd taken a bite out of Ruiz's side. With Ruiz in the hospital, even though the Gillants were heading north, they were still the closest demon hunters available to get to those children quickly enough.

Henry was adamant about not taking Cael on this one and Cael remained quiet, knowing it was no use complaining. He and Jake had only been with Henry a few months after their mom smuggled them out of Karavel. Jake and Dad still didn't know the full of what happened the night of the so-called initiation, just that Jake had found Cael bloody and beaten. And Cael still wasn't ready to talk about it.

Before Dad and Jake left, Henry's large palm curled around Cael's shoulder. "Remember to keep the wards up. This shouldn't take long, we'll be back before you know it. And get some rest. You're still recovering." He smiled half-heartedly.

Watching from across the SUV's nose, Jake's jaw clenched. He'd grown more tense with each mile headed southward.

Cael had nodded, not wanting to talk about being left alone either. But days passed and Henry and Jake hadn't made it back yet, and Cael had worried until he got the call from Jake. They were okay. The kids were okay, taken back to their parents, but the little toothy monster had gotten away and they were heading back out to track it.

"Hopefully only another day," Jake had said. "Um, Cael?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe, uh...just try and stay inside tomorrow. You know, watch the tube."

"Okay, yeah." Cael shifted from one foot to the other. He felt awkward. Neither brother knew what to say after that. He heard his father in the background, reminding Jake to tell Cael to double check the symbols of the wards they'd chalked on the door again.

But he didn't want to stay inside. So he walked around the area, looking at all the private altars and dolls that looked like skeletons in wedding attire. Though the excited people walking around thrummed with energy, Cael rode along a current of sadness. The entire city was celebrating. From a flyer, he knew that at midnight there would be a parade of sorts, the All Souls' Procession, with people wearing skeleton masks to honor the dead and carrying urns with prayers written on slips of paper that they would burn.

Cael rubbed his chest, feeling hollow inside, even though he'd just had a sandwich. Cael watched a couple walk by, laughing, enjoying themselves and Cael wondered how they could be so happy. Of course they couldn't know the Mexican holiday caused a still tender ache inside his chest.

Día de los Muertos. November Second. Day of the Dead.

Less than five months ago Cael held his dead friend in his arms after Gregor had staked Iason out as juncoir bait.

For Cael, he couldn't spend a day thinking about the dead. He just couldn't. Iason's torn boneless form haunted his every already.

Yet...Cael's brows pulled together. Maybe, honoring those who died wasn't a bad thing. Maybe if he did, he could get past this, stop seeing Iason in every waking moment. Certainly, holding everything in in silence, taking sideways glances at each other like his father and brother, didn't do anything to fill the hole in his heart left gaping and exposed.

Cael walked past a little flower stand. He read the sign above the blooms. Flor de Muerto. Flower of the Dead. Cael knew they were meant to attract souls so they would hear the prayers and the comments of the living. On a whim, Cael turned back and bought a small bouquet of marigolds.

He walked down the streets and into the little park close to the motel and sat at a picnic table. It was quiet here. The southwestern landscaping scheme of the park with mostly pebbled pathways wandering around sagebrush and tall sequoias was pretty, peaceful, empty of partygoers. The early evening was still warm so Cael laid his little bouquet on the table and shrugged out of his gray hoodie, placing it beside him on the bench. He picked up one of the marigolds, rolling the stem in his fingers and tried to come up with happy memories of Iason, except he didn't have any, not really. He hadn't known the kid all that long. He was shy, one of the few to befriend Cael at the Academy even though he was only half human, probably because Iason didn't have that many friends either.

"Cael."

He nearly jumped off the bench, rapping his knee on the underside of the table. His gaze jerked up to a woman, standing on the other side of the table, hands folded neatly together as she stared at him. She had dark sad eyes and long blond hair. Her pale blue sundress seemed to float around her legs in a breeze that didn't really exist.

"Hello," he said hesitantly, alarmed that she knew his name. "Can I help you?"

She smiled sadly. "Cael, don't you know me?" She took a step forward.

Turning sideways, Cael swung his legs out from under the table. He shook his head.

The woman nodded her head forward. "You brought me flowers, sweetheart."

"Who...who are you?"

She did look familiar. He looked at her through lowered eyes, studying her, remembering an image from an old photograph he'd seen only recently when he'd gone through his dad's photo albums, trying to get used to his new life in this dimension with his dad. He'd only seen one or two pictures of his grandmother. They didn't have many, and even though there were similarities, he didn't think this woman...yet...seeing someone fully was different than viewing them on the flat dimension of an old photograph, right? "Are you my dad's mom?"

Her smile bloomed and Cael's heart stuttered to a slow crawl. "Oh, Cael, I've missed you. I've missed so much of your life."

"But..." Still not convinced, Cael stood, shifted backwards, keeping the table between them. "How are you here?"

Her gaze shifted to the marigolds. "Día de los Muertos. The veil is thin on this night." Her head tilted, making her hair sway. "You were thinking of me. I felt it."

Cael's throat grew tight. His vision grew hazy from a sudden press of tears. He wiped them away. He'd been thinking of Iason, not a grandmother he'd never known, only seen pictures of recently. "Is this real? Are you real? You're...Mariam Gillant?"

She nodded. "Oh, Cael. I'm your grandmother. I really am and I've missed you, sweetheart." She came around the table, held out her hand. "Will you walk with me? Just for this one night. Will you walk with me?"

Cael shifted back, afraid. Mariam let her hand drop, disappointment and sadness creasing her face. Cael couldn't bear it. All the hurt and loneliness of surviving when Iason did not rushed to the surface. He swallowed and stepped toward her.

Her smile was so beautiful it made something pull painfully in his chest. When she took his hand, a cool tingly touch, he let her lead him onto one of the pathways into the darkening evening.

~~~

"Motel sweet motel," Jake muttered as his dad swung the Ford Explorer into the parking spot. "I could sleep for a week."

Henry shut off the rumbling engine and glanced over. "You deserve it, sport. You did well. We'll both have to make due with one night though. I want to be out of here before first light."

Jake couldn't agree more. Although they'd come in through the back streets, the music and the merriment of what the citizens of San Miguel celebrated was a little hard to take when they knew what they knew about other realms and the reality of the dead and other things that go bump in the night. The people out there had no idea what their festivities could inadvertently be calling upon. With the celebrations continuing on through the next two days, lack of sleep would be well worth putting Arizona behind them.

Jake swung the car door open, stilling upon hearing the music filtering from a few blocks away. He tried to make light of it with a quip. "I hope Cael's not sprawled across the whole bed again. I got bruises from his flopping limbs last time, but that couch is really lumpy."

Henry chuckled, sliding the key into the doorknob. "Kid's getting tall."

"And knobby." Jake pushed inside behind his dad. Complaining aside, he was happy to get back to Cael, even if the kid was hogging up all the bed space. Besides, getting him to move to the couch would give him a good excuse to wake Cael up and see his younger sibling's face light up at their return. That never got old.

Except...Henry and Jake just stood there. Cael was not sprawled out on the bed. In fact both beds were neatly made. In three quick strides, Henry was at the bathroom, pushing open the door. The scowl stamping his features when he turned told Jake that Cael wasn't in there either.

Jake glanced at his watch. Ten-fifty.

"Maybe he went out to grab a bite," Jake offered hopefully. "You know how Cael is, he gets caught up in things and forgets to eat until he's really hungry. I'll try his phone." He took out the new cell their dad had insisted they have once they came to live with him in this world.

Frowning, Henry nodded. His gaze flicked toward the little table, absent of any books Cael might have been going through. "Check the wards."

Jake flinched. "You don't think something got in here?"

"No." Henry shrugged a hand through his dark hair. "I just want to make sure."

"Yeah. Okay." Jake checked the door while Henry went to the window. His father's features had already lost that relaxed-hunt-went-well look and were hardening, shifting into focused Ranger mode, spurring a whisper of icy breath to trickle down Jake's spine.

Henry's fists came to rest against his hips, elbows out to his sides like stiff wings, the old man's stance when he was mulling over a problem...or worried. "Anything?"

"No. It's going to voicemail." Jake frowned at his phone. "But you know Cael. He's still not used to these things and always forgets to charge his."

Henry's frown deepened. "Nothing's been disturbed." The weight of his gaze fell on Jake. "You told Cael to stay inside today?"

"Yes, Sir," Jake was quick to answer, then added, "Well, it was more like a suggestion." Jake held himself still, prepared for all that tension vibrating beneath his dad's skin to bark out at him, but Henry only nodded. His hands slid from his hips, lowered to his sides as he let a weary sigh escape.

"I'm sorry," Jake said.

Henry wiped a hand down his face. For a moment it seemed to Jake as though the motion forged new worry lines into his dad's forehead. "It's okay, Jake. Your brother shouldn't have to be on lock-down while we're gone. It's just..."

"Yeah, I know," Jake interrupted, not wanting to go there. Not now when they'd just gotten Cael out of Karavel and the kid's emotions were still on lock-down, and definitely not when they didn't know where Cael was. "Dad, he's probably just down the street. You know how curious Cael gets about, well, about everything." Henry's tight lips quirked up into a hint of a grin at that. Encouraged, Jake went on. "I'll bet Cael's over at that little area with all the pretty painted girlie-type shops, just standing on the sidewalk with everyone else in this town, waiting for that weird parade to go by."

Henry nodded, the worry visibly leaching with a roll of his stiff shoulders. "All right, let's go get your brother. But Jake..."

Half-way to the door, Jake stopped at the authoritative edge of Henry Gillant's this-still-is-a-hunt tone. "This is the Day of the Dead. You know what that means."

"Yes, Sir." Jake nodded. Salt.

~~~

"What is this place?" Cael looked at the little broken down shack within the dip of a hill. He'd walked with the spirit for a little less than an hour, moving into wilderness at the edge of the park. Arizona was like that, the cities and towns small pockets of civilization within vast swathes of desert and sagebrush. The moon gave enough light to navigate his way, but still Cael wished for his flashlight, if for nothing else than to warn away snakes and scorpions. When the first of the stars came out, he'd quickly oriented himself the way Dad taught him to, though the stars in this dimension were different from the constellations back home. They were also much farther away. He wasn't worried about getting lost out here, besides the lights from town and the music that echoed loudly out in the quiet of the hills were an easy beacon to guide him back.

He turned his attention to the shack, if it could be called that. There was really only two walls left and half of a third. Except for one corner of the roof, the tilting wooden frame was open to the sky. His grandmother's cold whispery fingers tugged on his, drawing him down into the ravine until they stood within the shell of what once was possibly someone's home. Maybe a hunter's shed?

Cael tried again. "Why did you bring me here?"

The ghost shrugged. "It's just a place." She sat down on the rotted floor and patted the space beside her. "It's peaceful here. We can talk. Be together, just you and I. Oh, Cael honey, tell me everything, all your hopes and dreams. I've missed so much."

Hopes and dreams. Cael's heart did a little flip. He frowned. He had hopes. Or at least he used to. Becoming a demon hunter. Making his mother proud, showing all the Anointed what he was capable of even though he was a half-blood. He stopped his thoughts, no longer wanting those. Not after what Gregor had done. He didn't know what he wanted anymore. He lowered to the floor and looked into those beautiful brown eyes, wishing so badly that he could tell her all of that, but some things are too deep for words.

"Why am I here?" he asked again.

"Because I missed you."

He held up a hand. "Stop. I know you're not my grandmother."

"But, Cael..."

"Please. Don't pretend anymore. It hurts me."

Her head lowered. The ends of her long blond hair dipped. Cael ached to reach out and roll a lock between his fingers, even knowing that it wasn't real, wouldn't really be like touching something of his family anyway.

She looked at him through lowered lashes. "If you know that, why did you come with me?"

Cael kept his hands on his knees. "Because you need help."

~~~

Jake pushed through the crowd, searching, a persistent bubble of fear expanding in his gut. Cael wasn't anywhere. It was just like looking for him in the forest all over again. Costumed people moved down the street, carrying bowls with little fires while others dropped little pieces of paper into the flames. Doubling back, Jake made his way across the crowded street, skimming through the tail end of the All Souls' Parade. Another idiot in a skeleton mask got in his face, shrieking and waving his hands. Jake's fingers wrapped around the Glock inside his jacket. He swore to the gods the next clown that did that was going to get a gut full of iron.

He spotted his father easily. Hell, just the controlled posture and nervous energy seeping off the man set him apart from the crowd. He was on the opposite sidewalk, gaze scanning every face.

The dark head snapped up as soon as Henry spotted Jake. "Anything?"

Jake shook his head. "He's not on the street. I looked in all the shops, even the back rooms and bathrooms. I've tried his phone several more times. Nothing."

A muscle in Henry's jaw twitched. He nodded. "All right. We keep looking. I want you to head back toward the motel, but take a different route this time. I'm going the opposite way up the street a bit."

Jake nodded. "What if he's at the motel? Should I come get you?"

"No." Henry's answer was swift. "Call me but stay there. I don't want either of you out of that room again tonight. I'll be there after I check a few more places." His features softened. "I hope you're right, son. I hope Cael's there and we just crossed paths somehow."

Jake's throat was tight. "What if he's not?"

"Then wait for me. We'll regroup and go from there. "

~~~

"I don't need help, Cael," the spirit insisted. "I'm your grandmother. I just want to be here for you. Don't you need a grandmother? I could be that for you."

Cael shook his head.

She reached over and took his hands. Coldness leaked into his skin where she touched. "You need me. You called for me."

"I didn't call for you. I didn't call for anyone. I just..." He shrugged. "I just was thinking about someone."

"But I came," she pleaded. "I can be your grandmother. I can be your mother if you want. I know you miss her."

Cael flinched at that. "You came because you need help."

She stiffened. Her form flickered out for a moment, before settling again.

"It's the Day of the Dead. I know it's a time when spirits can pierce the veil." Cael's face scrunched as his mind worked to reason it all out. "I don't understand why, but maybe it has to do with all the energy that gets focused around here when everyone thinks about their deceased relatives, like a huge collective summoning...except you came to me. When all the other spirits probably sought out their own family members, you came to me so you must not have anyone to go to. Is that it? Is your family gone? I can help you. I can help you move on."

"You will pour salt on my bones? Douse my remains?" She was angry. Her fingers dug into the backs of his hands.

"If I need to." He tried to pull out of her grip. "Or I can help you move on all on your own. Help you resolve unfinished business." That was a theory his dad told him once. He wasn't sure that would work, but it was worth a try.

Her hands slipped from his. "You would really help me?"

Cael nodded.

Her shoulders slumped. "I shouldn't have brought you here." She began sparking again, sputtering in and out of view like a television with bad reception. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought you here, but he makes me, he makes me."

That didn't sound good. A chill swept across Cael's skin, tiny pinpricks signaling danger. "Who? Who made you?"

"Him. De-Diego. The man who murdered me." With the sudden confession, the spirit's face changed, blinking into a young Hispanic woman. The loose blond hair faded, lifting as though a sudden breeze picked up until her hair materialized into a long dark braid.

Cael leaned forward. It was all starting to make a kind of sense to him now. "You're trapped here, aren't you?"

She nodded rapidly. Liquid brown eyes searched his as her hands clamped over her mouth to hold back a sob.

Cael patted her elbow. It felt like the right thing to do. "Your family doesn't know what happened to you, do they?"

"No. I'm lost. They don't know where I am."

He nodded, trying to speak as calmly as he could so she wouldn't just disappear on him. "Do you know where your body is?"

She went stiff. Her gaze shot over toward the outside corner of the shack.

Cael stood, went over there. The ground was uneven, flattened in places. He'd spent enough time in ancient cemeteries to know that before the more modern use of cement liners came into practice to hold the dirt off the caskets, eventually gravity took over and the heavy soil squashed casket and bones, leaving rectangular depressions. By the looks of it, there was more than one body buried here. Not rectangular. No caskets. Unmarked and forgotten. Lost.

Anger flared through Cael, a quick flash, stronger than he'd ever felt before for this, this Diego. Murderer. He tamped it down, let the anger carry to his curling fists while he tried to keep it out of his voice, off his features. He turned to the ghost. "Tell me your name. And your family's name. I'll find them. I'll tell them where your...where you are. Then you can have peace." All the victims could have peace because the first thing he was going to do when he got back to the motel was give the police an anonymous tip.

Shaking her head, she backed away, her slight form started fading.

"No!" Cael reached for her as if he could hold a spirit. "Please, don't leave. I can help you."

"Why would you do that when I brought you here to..."

He tilted his head. "Brought me here to...what?"

She buried her face behind her hands, shoulders shaking as she began to sob. "To take my place."

A jolt lanced down Cael's spine.

The spirit flung her hands away. "Diego hurts me. He murders me. Every night. Always. But on Día de los Muertos when I can find someone else..." She started sobbing again. "I just want an escape, just for one night. You can't blame me for that. You can't blame me."

Cael stood stock-still, letting his mind absorb the horror of what she was telling him. He glanced at all the flattened graves and felt his stomach flip sideways, forcing all its contents up into his throat.

"Your name. I can help you." He stepped closer. "I promise. This can all stop."

"Why?" She disappeared and then reappeared behind him, standing over the uneven burial ground. "Why would you help me?"

Cael spun around. "Because..." He really didn't know what to say. "Because you didn't deserve to be murdered. You didn't deserve this. And your family, they deserve to know what happened to you." Instantly the thought of Jake and their dad not knowing if something happened to him slammed into his gut and he regretted coming out here alone. It wasn't smart. He reached for the phone in his pocket, realizing he'd left it in his hoodie back at the park. This was why his dad insisted he carry it always. For situations like this.

"But he won't let me go," the ghost cried. "He'll never let me go."

"My family, we'll take care of Diego too. Don't worry." Cael's chin lifted. He suddenly felt very proud of being Henry Gillant's son. Completely human without any of the Anointed abilities, his dad took care of things. He saved people. "It's what we do. We'll take care of you."

In a flash she was right next to him. "My name is Aimara Medina Reyes. My husband is—was—" A tear spilled down her cheek. "Renau Reyes from Tuscon."

A low growl tingled across the quiet air. Aimara's eyes widened. She spoke faster. "I disappeared June twenty-second, nineteen eighty-seven. You must go. Hurry." She pushed on his chest to get him moving. "You...you will tell him?"

Cael nodded. "I promise." Something vibrated across the air, reeking of dark emotion.

"Go then. He is coming. Diego..."

She didn't have to tell him twice. Cael ran from the shack, started climbing the small knoll.

Aimara's voice called behind him. "Cael, if I would have had a chance to have a child..." He glanced back. The moonlight cast her sorrowful smile in a silver glow. "I would have been a good mother."

Cael nodded once, then swung around to resume climbing and found himself staring into a broad chest covered in a dirty mechanic's work shirt, a name patch over the pocket. Diego. Meaty palms clamped onto Cael's head, shooting a voltage of liquid pulsing pain through every nerve ending. His muscles locked up, twitching, while his mind was dragged into memories not his own. He felt Aimara. He was Aimara. Bones breaking. Clothing torn away. Slapped. Restrained. Strangling. Choking. Can't breathe. Can't breathe. No, I'm Cael. I'm Cael. Dad! Jake!

~~~

Jake's anxiety grew with each footstep. The beam of his flashlight fanned back and forth across the quiet street. Come on, Cael. Where are you? He passed the little park on one side of the street, a row of adobe style houses on the other side. The park was small and open with very little trees or bushes. It had a little play area that had one slide and a swing set, and two or three picnic tables scattered about. There wasn't really any place to hide anything—or anyone. He'd swept the flashlight beam across the area and walked on, anxious to get off this wrong street and get back to the motel. Cael had to be back there by now and Jake wanted to be the first one to tear into him over this little disappearing stunt.

He was about to head around the corner house and go onto the next street when a niggling little feeling made him turn around and flash the beam down the road once more at the same time he pulled his Glock out. Bright eyes reflected in the light, watching him. Stupid cat.

Swinging back around, his flashlight cast a wide beam and Jake froze, catching sight of something. He jerked the flashlight back, playing it over one of the picnic tables. Something lumpy was on the bench and he had a feeling he knew what it was.

He ran into the park, over the soft desert soil, and scooped the hoodie off the bench. No no no no, dammit Cael. His fingers curled into the worn fabric, the evidence that something was very wrong. There was something hard in the front pocket. Cael's phone. Batteries dead. He was going to tape the charger to the kid's head if he pulled a stunt like this again. He frowned at the little orange bundle of marigolds on the table, knowing what they were used for. The entire town was covered in the blooms. Jake's fear meter kicked up a notch. Aw, Cael, what were you doing?

Okay, okay, I'm gonna find you. Jake cast the light out into the night, far into the quiet wilderness where it bounced off the little hills. Ah, hell, if his brother went off that way... Clenching down on the low throb in his gut, Jake crouched down, balancing the handle of his gun on his knee while he cast the light over the ground, searching for tracks. The sole patterns of Cael's sneakers were easy to pick out. Jake followed the tracks away from the table where the kid had backed up, shuffled around in the dirt, then moved forward—walking straight—

He jolted. A woman appeared in front of him, just floated out of thin air, not two inches away. Acting on pure instinct, Jake let himself roll back onto his butt and fired.

~~~

Henry was coming back down the crowded street, shards of apprehension slicing at his chest. It was after midnight and Cael was missing. His youngest child was missing on the Day of the Dead, the day when spirits had the combined energy from the festivities meant to honor them to run amuck. Henry wasn't going to lose his boy to this misguided celebration. Not while he had a breath left in his body.

He angled his broad shoulders sideways to get past a strolling mariachi band when the blast of a distant shot echoed across the air. Attuned, Henry would recognize the sound anywhere, even if the people around him only registered the melody of joyful trumpets and guitars. Jake.

Henry took off like the bullet he'd just heard, jostling his way through the crowd, ignoring angry grumbles in his wake as he left the center of activity behind to burst into the quiet neighborhood streets. The motel was straight ahead, but he'd told Jake to take one of the roundabout ways to look for his brother. He knew the left road ended up toward a park while the right led into a seedier part of town.

Come on, Jake, let me know where you are, buddy. Making a quick decision, Henry ran to the right.

And an apparition pulsed out of the air, blocking his way. A young Hispanic woman.

Henry had the salt palmed with his next inhalation.

"No! Please. Por favor. Don't throw that. I came to help."

Henry's fingers remained curled around the canister. "Where's my son?"

"Please. He promised you would help me."

Henry's brow arched. He didn't want to trust her, but damn if that didn't sound like something Cael would promise. And at this point, Henry was willing to hedge all bets. "All right. First my son." He didn't know exactly what Cael had promised her or if a promise had even been made, but if it meant getting to his youngest, Henry was more than ready to back his child's play.

"I'll take you to him." The spirit winked out of existence.

"Son of a—"

"This way," she called from the corner leading into the left street.

Henry ran after her and she disappeared again, reappearing farther ahead down the road. Perfect. He was playing follow the leap-frogging ghost. Hang on, sons. I'm coming.

~~~

Jake couldn't wait for his dad. He'd picked up Cael's trail and he wasn't about to wait. But he couldn't be stupid either and make things worse. Scooping up several rocks on the run, Jake sped back to the street. Right next to the sidewalk where Henry couldn't miss it, Jake hurriedly piled the rocks on top of each other, then placed a long stone near the base to mark the direction he was headed in. As a final touch he placed one pebble on top. One for Jake. Two pebbles if the marker had been left by Cael. It was the best he could do to guide his dad. He wasn't waiting any longer.

Tracking his brother in the dark was difficult, but not impossible, and Cael's prints were still fresh, easy to follow. Actually the only prints out this way. As Jake walked farther away from town, his uneasiness grew. Why the hell had Cael come out here on his own? Jake pulled out his pouch of rock salt, knowing the answer to that. If that spirit back at the park was any indication of what was going on, Cael wasn't exactly alone and that made all sorts of things skitter around inside his gut.

He raced up another hill, feeling every muscle in his thighs working. The usual sounds of nature were eerily quiet as laughter and music from town carried oddly loud on the air.

Jake came over the hill's cusp and his heart jerked painfully in his chest.

Not two yards away from him, lower on the incline was Cael. Held upright by the beefy paws of some Neanderthal sparking ghost clamped around his head. Jake could clearly see Cael was on the losing end. His toes angled downward, dragging in the desert sand. His arms were hanging, yet there was nothing limp about him. The kid's muscles were coiled tight, jerking in tiny rhythmic spasms. His eyes were nearly rolled up inside his sockets and his mouth gaped in a soundless scream.

Jake moved in an eruption of fury. "Hey, Pancho Villa!" Running headlong, he flung a fistful of salt out at the same moment he crashed through the dispersing ghost, slamming into Cael instead, carrying them both downhill in a snarl of arms and legs. They hit the bottom with a jolt.

Where Cael's screams had been silent before, he was now shrilling at the highest decimal point of his young lungs, back arching off the ground, the back of his head digging into the ground.

Jake went to push himself up off his stomach and felt the give in his arm, instantly recognizing he'd broken it. Pulling it in to his body, he rolled the other way to get to his knees and lean over his brother.

"Cael! Cael!" With his good arm, Jake grasped onto Cael's shoulder, trying to hold him still, but the kid wasn't responding. His eyes were huge, dilated. And the screams...Jake had never heard such a piercing wounded sound come out of his brother...and the scream wasn't letting up. Whatever had a hold of Cael scared the hell out of Jake.

~~~

Henry barely glanced at Jake's rock marker, noting it pointed in the same direction the spirit had just been in. Good boy, Jake. He felt the little hitch of pride as his boots kicked up sand behind him as he flew across the little park. The woman appeared in the distance, blue dress glinting in the moonlight as she waited on top of a small rise.

Henry raced after her, leaving the park to head out into the desert, tamping down the sudden spike of fear that his youngest had gone out here. He barely had his emotions under control when a soul-shattering cry punctured the night. Oh, shit, Cael. Henry's heart slammed up into his throat at the prolonged agony in his son's scream. It didn't stop, just wavered in and out with inhalations without a rift in the intensity. Henry sprinted up the first hill, side-hopping down the other side to race up the next knoll, panic urging him on. What was happening to his son to make him sound like that?

Before he reached the woman at the top of the hill he was climbing, she vanished. Henry plowed over the spot she'd been on and came to an abrupt halt. His boys were down in that ravine near a ramshackle hut, the beam of a flashlight illuminating them in shadow and gilt. Jake was on his knees, desperately trying to hold Cael who was thrashing stiffly on the ground, screaming shrilly enough to make his throat bleed.

Henry didn't realize he'd been moving, practically sliding down the slope. He just knew he was getting down there to his sons. He slid onto his knees on the other side of Cael, flinging dirt.

"Dad!" Tears spilled down Jake's cheeks even as a flash of relief cracked his devastated features.

Henry took hold of Cael, dragged him into his arms. His young body was clenched as tight as a fist, bending his spine backwards even within the circle of Henry's arms. "What happened?"

Jake shook his head. He had to shout over his brother. "A ghost had him. Was doing something to him! I don't know. He had his hands fastened to Cael's head, and Cael was..." Jake's chest was moving up and down, too fast. He swallowed, shook his head again. "I flung salt at him. The ghost exploded. Cael and I rolled down the hill, and then Cael started screaming. Dad, I can't make him stop! He won't stop! Something's still got a hold of him!"

Henry reached over to reassure Jake, gripping his arm. At the contact, Jake involuntarily hissed, flinching back.

"Broken?"

Jake nodded. "Think so, but it can wait."

It would have to. Henry nodded acceptance of that fact. "We'll fix this. Don't worry."

Jake didn't say anything, just stared at his writhing, screaming brother. The veins in Cael's neck and forehead were bulging and even though his voice was giving out, fading into a hoarse rasp, the sound was just as potent. How much more of this could his body take? There was a very real possibility of his fourteen-year-old having a heart attack. They had to get him away from here, figure out what was going on fast. Henry was tempted to hit him, knock Cael out, but feared that might lock him further into the nightmare of whatever was going on.

Henry shifted, getting his feet underneath him to stand when Jake called out.

Henry's head snapped up. He caught a glimpse of the woman even as he saw Jake fling out his arm, tossing salt. "Jake, no!"

Too late. The spirit dispersed. Salt rock particles dropped on them, reflecting in the flashlight's glow like crystal raindrops. Henry curled over Cael's head to shield him, but the salt still splattered them both.

Cael gasped, a long painful shudder and then his coiled body sagged.

Henry and Jake both stared, barely breathing.

"Oh, Jake. Of course." Henry dug into his jacket for his own salt canister. "Whatever's happening is because of a ghost." He poured half the entire contents of his can over Cael's chest, scooped some up and rubbed the salt across the boy's forehead. "Come on, Cael. Come on, son."

Jake leaned closer, his fingers fanning into his brother's sweaty hair. "Cael, it's time to wake up. I'm gonna kick your scrawny butt if you don't." Henry smiled at that.

The eyes moved beneath the closed lids. Encouraged, Jake sank his hand farther into the kid's hair. "That's it, come on. Wake up for me. Come on, Cael. You're scaring the crap out of me here."

Dark eyelashes fluttered. Slowly the lids slid open, revealing those muddy colored eyes, so much like their dad's.

The relief was fleeting as the kid's body started tensing again. He cried out, "De..."

Jake was practically hovering over Cael. "You're okay. I'm right here. Cael, it's okay. I'm right here."

"De..."

"Come on, Cael." The desperation in Jake's voice stabbed its way into the center of Henry's heart.

"De..." Cael's eyes were huge, frightened, unfocused. It hurt to see that kind of fear in his child's eyes. Cael started flailing around. His hands grasped onto Henry's arms in a vice-like grip. "De...De...Diegooooo!" he screamed.

Henry locked gazes with Jake. "We're getting out of here now."

~~~

Jake trailed behind his father, holding his injured arm to his chest even as he held the flashlight to light the way in front of his dad. Henry carried Cael the entire way, up and down the knolls, only stopping long enough to adjust his hold on Cael each time the kid arched too wildly.

His brother was back to screaming, if you could call the raw scratches of sound rasping out of Cael's throat a scream. Jake steeled his nerves against it, clenching his arm more tightly. And when they finally stepped into the parking lot, Jake thought he'd never been more ecstatic to see a junky old motel in his life.

His dad stopped at the door, arms occupied with jerking Cael. "Can you get to your keycard?"

"Yeah, Dad, I got it." He had to let go of his arm, fingers twisting into the collar of his shirt to keep his arm up while he dug in his pocket with his other hand.

And the woman in blue appeared between them and the door.

"No, Jake," Henry warned. "She helped me find you."

He barely had any salt left anyway, but that didn't stop him from reaching inside his jacket for it.

The woman pointed at Cael. "He promised he'd help me."

"What's wrong with him?" Henry snarled. "I can't help you if I don't know what's going on. Who's Diego and what is he doing to my son?"

"You have to help me." Her eyes were pleading. "You must free me from Diego first. You cannot help your son. If he stops hurting Cael, Diego will come for me again." She started weeping. "Please let me have one night."

Jake cocked his head. She wasn't making any sense.

Henry hitched Cael higher in his arms. "Diego murdered you."

Her gaze snapped up. She nodded.

"You're forced to relive it over and over, aren't you?" Henry's voice was quiet.

"Sí."

"But somehow, because of Día de los Muertos your murder has been transferred to my boy." The vein in Henry's forehead stood out. "My son is reliving your murder."

The ghost's chin trembled at the violence underlying Henry's tone. "Sí. Yes. All of our deaths."

"All?" Jake flinched at his dad's sharpness. "How many murders is my son reliving?" Henry seemed to crumble at that. His shoulders slumped as though Cael's weight finally got to him, but their dad only shifted the kid higher, pulling him closer, and rested his forehead against the sweat-soaked head that was even now rolling against his shoulder.

"Dad!" Jake pointed at the spirit. "This is her fault! She did this to Cael. I say we salt her bones and make it stop."

A horrified expression crossed the apparition's features and she blinked out.

Henry shook his head. "She's not doing it. It's Diego." Henry glared at the door. "He's the one we're going to salt. But we need to find him."

"Sorry, Dad." Jake unlocked the door, feeling miserable. "You were trying to get the information from her and I blew it."

Henry carried Cael inside and laid him gently on the closest bed. "It's okay. We're going to find him." Cael's hands scrabbled in the comforter, his body twisting, curling in on himself. The hoarse screams had turned into guttural cries.

Henry pulled out the large salt canister from the bag on the floor. "Pack this around him."

Jake immediately began pouring the fine salt granules on his brother. "Can we give him something?"

Henry had his phone out, punching in numbers. "I'm afraid that might hurt him more, trap him further in whatever this is."

Cael bucked up suddenly, his hands clawing at his throat. He looked like he was being strangled and Jake couldn't do a damn thing about it. The hell he couldn't. He poured a generous amount of salt across Cael's neck. Surprisingly it appeared to help. Cael's breathing eased and his hands flopped back to the mattress.

Jake swiped a weary hand down his face. He felt Henry's presence behind him. "Yeah, Ruiz," Henry spoke into his phone. "I don't care. Check out AMA. Just get your ass out of that hospital bed and get to researching. Diego. No, I don't have a last name. I need this done yesterday. I am calm!" Henry pulled the receiver away for a moment, closed his eyes. He placed the phone back to his ear. "Just...be as quick as you can. Cael's suffering. Yeah, I will. And Ruiz, thanks."

Henry set the phone back in its cradle. A deep weariness seemed to have settled into the creases at the corners of his eyes. A warm hand slipped onto Jake's shoulder and squeezed. "Keep doing what you're doing, son. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Jake stiffened at that. Part of him didn't want his dad to leave him alone with Cael. He didn't know what to do. What if he couldn't bring Cael out of another strangling fit? But Jake understood that his dad had to go. He had to take out the Big Bad that was doing this to his brother.

His dad must have felt him stiffen because he gave Jake's shoulder another squeeze. "You're doing fine. I wouldn't trust Cael's care to anyone else. You can do this. You good?"

"Yeah." Jake nodded. "I'll take care of him, Dad."

"I know you will. Think you can wrap your arm on your own?"

"Sure."

"Good. I'd do it, but I—"

"Can't spare the time. I know. Don't worry about me."

Henry sighed. "I will always worry about you. That's my job." He smiled sadly. "But I know you can handle yourself. I'm going over to county records." Which at this late hour meant he was breaking in. He pulled the first aid kit out, placed it on the table where Jake could get to it easier. "We're going to find this SOB and then Ruiz and I are going to dispatch his demented murdering soul."

~~~

Jake couldn't take this. He'd rather have his leg chewed off by that Chupacabra than watch his little brother toss around on the bed like that. The mewling gasping noises Cael made sounded more like a wounded cat than his kid brother.

He'd taken only a few minutes to wrap the ace bandage tightly around his broken arm and then secured it to his side with one of his shirts. It wasn't pretty, but it worked well enough. It was a throbbing ache that he should probably take something for the pain, but he had to stay alert, except he didn't know what to do and it was killing him. Cael was hurting and Jake was helpless to do a damn thing about it. And so soon after he'd found him bloody and torn in the forest...then months of being in a coma not knowing if he'd wake up. He'd just gotten him back and now this?

He stopped pacing and sat on the side of the bed. "Oh, Cael. Just hang on a little while longer. Dad's...he's gonna take care of this. You know Dad, he can fix anything. He'll fix this. He'll fix this," his voice broke. He let his palm slide over the kid's sweat soaked shirt, stopping above Cael's heart. "Gods, Cael."

He lifted the washcloth out of the ice bucket filled with water he'd placed on the nightstand and started mopping away the sweat across Cael's brow. And suddenly had an idea. Pouring a handful of salt into the ice bucket, he dipped the cloth in the salt water and began wiping Cael's cheek.

"De..." The voice was so soft, so utterly wasted. Jake squeezed his eyes closed against the sound, against the whimper of the murdering ghost's name on his brother's lips.

"Jake," Cael croaked.

Jake's eyes whipped open. "Cael? You with me?" He dropped the cloth to grasp Cael's lax hand.

"Uhhh."

"It's okay, Cael. No, don't try and talk. We know what you're going through and Dad's gonna fix it. He and Ruiz are taking care of it right now, so just try and hang on, okay? Just hang on. Cael?"

The kid's eyes were barely open. Jake didn't know if he understood him or not until Cael's hand weakly squeezed his.

"Thank gods. Cael, I've been rubbing salt water on you. It seems to help, but I want to get some inside you as well. Do you think you can drink?"

For a moment he thought Cael wouldn't respond until there was finally a little blink. "Okay." Jake ran over to the sink, filled one of the hotel cups and brought it back where he dumped at least a tablespoon's worth of salt into it. Holding Cael up and getting him to drink with one arm broken was going to be a bitch.

"All right, Cael, I'm going to slip in behind you." Setting the glass on the nightstand, Jake shifted to the side of Cael's back and then lifted him. Once he got Cael leaning on him, he grabbed the glass and brought it to his weak sibling's lips. "Come on, Cael. You gotta try. Please, just take a sip. One sip." He tilted the cup and was pleased when a little of the liquid got past the lips, though a lot more ran down Cael's chin. Under normal circumstances salt water would have made him gag. "Okay, that's good. You did good." He had no idea if that was going to help or not, but Jake was willing to try anything. At least Cael wasn't screaming or making those hideous noises anymore.

His phone rang, making him jump. Cael's head rolled to the side. Jake patted him and shifted out from underneath to get to the phone he'd left on the other side of the bed.

"Dad?"

"Yeah. How's Cael?"

"The salt seems to be helping a little. He actually knew me for a second."

He heard his father's deep exhalation. "That's good. That's real good to hear, son. Keep doing what you're doing. "

"Did you find the bastard's bones?"

"That's why I'm calling. There's five Diegos buried in this town within the last thirty years. Three in one old family plot across town and the two others are buried in the city cemetery. Ruiz's taking the family plot while I go to the cemetery. We don't have time to narrow it down any further so we're going to salt all of them."

"Okay, Dad, but just hurry." Jake didn't want to jinx it by asking what happens if their Diego wasn't one of those five.

"I will. Just as fast as I can dig. This Diego is toast. I'll call when it's done."

~~~

Henry disconnected the call, glancing about the county records. The moment Jake told him Cael had revived a little his hands started shaking. Holding in the worry and anguish over what was happening to his boy was breaking him down. He couldn't give in to it now so he did what he always did, what his military training drilled into him—push it aside, get the job done—but damn, if witnessing his own child in the clutches of some dark force didn't blow to hell every ounce of that training.

Suck it up, Gillant, you got a job to do. Shoving the papers he'd ripped out of the graveyard layouts into his pocket, Henry slipped back out through the door he'd picked-locked. He had a score to settle.

~~~

Resting his aching back against the headboard, Jake sat on the bed beside Cael and pulled the kid up so his head lay on his stomach. Cael's fingers twitched. His head started moving and those damn noises gurgled from his raw throat. Jake grabbed the washcloth, dribbling salt water over his brother's hair, then down his cheek. He'd sponge bathe Cael all night if he had to.

~~~

Henry was working on his second grave. He'd salted the first, sprayed a generous amount of lighter fluid over it, but left it to dig the other grave before lighting it up. Salt usually did the trick on ghosts, a pure mineral tied to the earth to disperse the spirit, but he'd found on the harder cases of ghosts, fire cleansed the remains, leaving nothing for a spirit to cling to. For Diego, he was going all out. He didn't want to draw any attention to an open flame in the cemetery before he could do them both, especially with all the celebrants still out on the street. The two Diegos were buried about ten yards from each other. He'd light one and then run and finish off the second.

So far there hadn't been any stirring on the air, no cold spots, which troubled him. In his experience, ghosts usually made a last ditch effort to stop their bones from being torched. He was counting on one of these being the right grave.

If not, he hoped Ruiz had an angry Diego at the family plot. Not that he wished trouble on his friend, but if the right Diego wasn't buried here, a little disturbance for Ruiz meant saving Cael. Besides, the Ranger could handle it. Henry stabbed the shovel into the ground. Once he was finished here, he'd head over to Ruiz, just to lend a hand.

The shovel struck wood. So close. He used the shovel to scrape away the last remnants of dirt from the coffin, found the latch and lifted the top half of the lid and stared down at the skeleton dressed in his Sunday best.

Henry poured a generous amount of lighter fluid and salt over the corpse, climbed out of the hole and flicked open his lighter. Taking a bandana out of his pocket he held the material to the little flame, watching it burn good and bright before he dropped the bandana into the coffin and the lighter fluid whooshed to a hot blaze. "Hasta luego muchacho."

He stood quietly for a moment, just listening, his senses alert to every noise, every crackle of flame, any pulse that might slide across the still air. Nothing.

Damn he hoped things weren't so quiet for Ruiz.

Turning, Henry sprinted toward the first grave he'd prepared, pulling the torn paper with the grave plots out. It'd make for excellent kindling. Three steps away from the open grave, Henry struck his lighter, and...He sailed through the air, landing like a punch on his stomach. He felt himself being flipped over to his back, the specter suddenly straddling him, a meaty ghost with large drooping mustaches and greasy hair. The mechanic's name patch declared him as Diego. Son of a bitch he was strong! Henry thought at the same time relief crashed over him. This was the grave! He had the bastard now!

Locking his fists together, Henry slammed his hands into the spirit's face. Diego's form sputtered and Henry's arms went on through. Crap! Henry tried to buck him off. Damn freaking heavy-assed ghost! This ends now!

Grinning smugly, browning teeth dipping between fleshy lips, Diego latched onto Henry's head and the Ranger screamed. Every muscle in his entire body locked up tight, crackled with energy. And although Diego's hands were clamped around his head, Henry knew they were, he felt them also around his neck, choking, thick fingers burrowing into his windpipe. Then he was kicked, thrown, bones breaking against a wall. No, wait, that wasn't right. He was still flat on his back, the apparition's hands squeezing into his temples.

~~~

Cael jerked upright and screamed, "Dad!"

It was the loudest sound he'd made in hours, scraping like a blade to a whetstone across his vocal chords and it scared the crap out of Jake. From behind him on the bed, Jake grabbed onto Cael's arm with his good hand. "Cael, what is it?"

Cael twisted around like he was startled Jake was there. His eyes looked enormous in his flushed face. But he was awake and seemed to be out of Diego's grip and that alone made Jake breathe easier. Dad must have toasted the ghost. They could fix whatever came next.

"It's okay, Cael. You're okay."

But Cael didn't look okay. His mouth opened to say something, but all that came out was a terrible rasp. His hands flew to his throat, his eyes frightened and darting around. Jake knew that look. The kid was about to hyperventilate.

~~~

A knife plunged into Henry's gut. He roared against the brutal pain. His already tattered dress was ripped off of him. His painted nails tore into Diego's face. God, no, this was wrong. This wasn't him, not...happening...to...him. I am Henry Fucking Gillant. He clawed himself away from the memories. Not his. He knew what this was. This was exactly what Diego had been doing to Cael for hours. Twice-damned ghost had been forcing his son to relive the last moments of every one of his murder victims as though each one gave him a sick perverse pleasure. The bastard was going to end.

Henry stopped feeling the pain, focused on the anger, let it wash over him with the knowledge that his son, his Cael, had endured each one of these deaths. Over and over.

Rage fueled him, gave strength to his clenched muscles. Shaking like a loose marble on a conveyer belt, Henry inched his hand into his jacket, forced his fingers to curl around the salt canister, dragged his thumbnail beneath the lid and felt it open.

"Arrrrghhhh!" Using everything he had, Henry lifted his arm and shoved the salt into Diego's intangible head. Shrieking, the ghost dispersed in a swirl of light.

~~~

Cael clutched his head and dropped back on the bed, his eyes nearly rolled up in his head. Back arching, his feet dug into the mattress.

"No no no no!" Jake leaned over him. Why was this happening again? He thought it was over. Panicking, Jake grabbed the ice bucket and dumped the rest of the salt water over Cael.

~~~

Where the hell is that lighter? The salt barely dispersed the defiant for all of a second. Sucker had to be torched. Henry scrambled on all fours, looking for the little square of metal. There. Near the open grave. He lunged up like a runner off the mark only to have his legs dragged out from under him. He landed hard on his stomach. Turning, he kicked out, but Diego was holding tight, climbing up his legs like he was a horizontal ladder. Henry didn't have time for this. Cael didn't have time for this. Ignoring the ghost, Henry dug his toes into the soft Arizona dirt and reached. His fingers grazed the lighter. Just...another...inch.

~~~

Cael couldn't take much more. Can't breathe, can't breathe. His chest hurt, his lungs were collapsing, fading, everything was dark. Por favor, please, I have a husband. Please don't this, the woman's voice, not his own, pleaded like it was his own thoughts. Aimara, I'm Aimara. Por favor, let me go home. Please. Hands were at his throat again. Dad? I want my dad. Jake! Jakeeeee! I'm Cael. I'm Cael. Not real, not real. Oh, gods, it hurts. Can't breathe. Diego. He stabbed me. I'm bleeding...

~~~

Henry couldn't take much more. He'd pull every nerve ending in his shoulder before he gave up. Groaning, he stretched just a little bit farther until he reached that damn three dollar lighter, flicked it open and brought it to flame. Grinning like a maniac he tossed that sucker into the hole.

~~~

Jake couldn't take much more. The salt was no longer helping. Cael was curled into a fetal position, holding his head, rocking forward and back, those freaking mewling sounds grating his throat. His entire body was tight, jerking, the veins in his neck were bulging. Jake could see, actually see, how rapid his brother's pulse was in the throbbing artery. And he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Cael wouldn't even tolerate his touch anymore. Every time Jake reached out to sooth his back or just let him know he was there, Cael skittered away, frightened out of his mind.

"Cael, it's me." Tears streamed down Jake's cheeks. "Just come on, come back. You can beat this Diego bastard, I know you can. Just hold on."

Cael flung his hand out, reaching. "Jakeee," he garbled. At least Jake thought that's what his brother cried out beneath the ruined voice. He grasped Cael's flailing hand with his own and Cael locked onto him like he was the road to salvation.

His hand tightened once, twice, then Cael stopped rocking altogether, his body went instantly loose as he spilled sideways onto the mattress. Jake stared at his brother in complete shock. He looked...he looked dead.

Jake's heart thudded against his rib cage. One beat. Two beats. Before he flew into action. Check pulse. Check for breathing. Begin CPR. Oh, gods, don't let it come to that.

"Cael!" He pressed his fingers against the damp neck, found a pulse, sagged with relief, watched Cael's chest rise and fall. Thank gods, thank gods. "Cael." Jake shook the boy's arm. "Cael."

The kid's eyes slid open and blinked up at him. He looked like he'd just come out of the losing end of a fight with a trash compactor, but his gaze, though weary and frightened, was focused on him and that was more than enough for Jake.

Cael tried to talk, but quickly realized he couldn't. His brows pulled together and his chin started to tremble.

"Hey, easy." Jake shifted closer. "I know, I know. It hurts, but everything's going to be okay now. C'mere."

That was all the invitation Cael needed. He practically launched himself at Jake, throwing skinny arms around his waist and burying his head against Jake's side. Jake wrapped his unbroken arm around the kid, rubbing his back while Cael shook with silent sobs.

~~~

That's how Henry Gillant found his sons. After the damn ghost flamed away, Henry waited just long enough to make sure the bones were good and toasty. The moment he was satisfied the job was done, he sped back to the motel, his worry ratcheting up by mountains. What if he was too late?

When he slammed open the door and saw Jake sitting on the bed, tears blazing trails down his lean face as he held a weeping Cael, all the emotion Henry had held back broke like a typhoon surging over a sea wall. He didn't say a word, just walked over to his sons, wrapped them both within the safety of his arms and let the sea wall crumble, just let it go. It didn't even bother him when Ruiz stepped into the room that the younger Ranger was going to get an eyeful of the mighty Gillant sobbing. Didn't bother him a bit.

~~~

They hightailed it out of there before dawn. Not only because several graves had been disturbed, but the Gillants didn't want to be anywhere near the area for the final day of the Día de los Muertos celebration. Conveniently borrowing a bedspread and pillows from their motel room, Jake made a comfortable bed in the middle row of seats while Henry carried Cael out to the SUV.

The kid had been sleeping off and on for the past two hours, although both Henry and Jake kept glancing back. When Henry finally pulled into a gas station and shut off the engine, Cael came awake like he'd just heard a gunshot, his eyes wild, darting around and Henry felt the tip of an ice pick chip off another piece of his frozen heart.

"Hey, buddy." Jake was already on it, kneeling and leaning over the seat so he could reach Cael's wrist. "We're just at a gas station. Everything's cool. You remember?"

Cael nodded and sagged back into the pillows. His other hand slipped onto his neck and he grimaced.

"Bad?" Angling sideways in the car, Henry reached over the middle console to ruffle Cael's sleep-touseled hair. "There's bound to be a microwave in there. How 'bout I get you some warm milk with honey?"

Cael nodded, trying to stretch his lips into a tight smile that wasn't anywhere near convincing, yet still made a direct hit to Henry's chest. Such a little thing shouldn't have the power to warm the cold layers of his heart.

Jake patted Cael's arm. "So you want anything else?"

Cael's expression suddenly changed, face collapsing. His fingers locked around Jake's wrist. Henry didn't know what happened, but apparently Jake did. With that uncanny way of brothers reading each other, Jake got it. He shifted back against the seat. "I'll, um, Dad, I'm tired. I think I'll stay here?" His oldest gazed over at him meaningfully.

Now Henry got it too. Cael was afraid to be left alone. "Yeah, sure, son. You take it easy. I'll be right back." He ruffled Cael's head again for good measure before getting out of the car.

~~~

A couple hours later, Henry pulled over again into a trucker's rest stop. He glanced again in the rearview mirror at his boys. The morning light cast a sharp beam across both of their faces. Jake had finally given in to exhaustion. At the last gas station instead of taking his spot in the passenger seat, the sixteen-year-old had slipped in the back with his brother and shifted Cael's pillows, head and shoulders onto his lap. He couldn't be comfortable wedged against the door like that, yet Jake was sleeping like an infant, head flopped sideways where one of the pillows rode up high. Even in the awkward position, Henry knew Jake slept more peacefully knowing he was near enough to feel the slightest movement from Cael.

Henry scrubbed a weary palm across his stubbled jaw. He understood Jake's fierce protectiveness well, the same rooted deep within his own soul. He'd risk anything for his sons. He sighed, exhaustion making him a sappy old woman. They were far enough north into the canyonlands to leave any traces of the Mexican holiday behind them. He was beyond tired and should probably stop at the next motel, get some sleep, let his boys rest in a bed, but Henry couldn't get his mind to stop, couldn't shake the cold sweat seeping from his skin with the feeling of being murdered over and over replaying through his system...A tremble rolled through him because he knew, he knew that his son had experienced it far worse, and for far longer than he had...and if it was having this effect on him...Aw, Cael.

Henry couldn't stop his tears any more than he'd been able to stop Cael from becoming Diego's victim. He opened the car door as quietly as he could, which wasn't easy on the squeaky old girl and eased out, closing the door again. He walked over to the nearest picnic table, sat down and cradled his head in his hands. Oh, Celundria, he thought of his exwife. I'm so sorry. I'm screwing up. I really need you on this one.

He jerked when a hand feathered over his arm and looked up into the anguished eyes of his youngest. The kid had moved quietly, getting right up next to him without Henry knowing.

"Dad?" the tiny voice croaked.

"No, son, don't try to talk yet. Your vocal chords need to rest."

The expressive lips turned down, mirroring the dark eyebrows above. "I have to call..."

Henry reached over, swallowing Cael's thin wrist within his large hand and drew the kid to sit down beside him. He knew where Cael's thoughts were going. "I'm sorry, Cael, but you know the job. We can't alert anyone. It would cast too much suspicion our way...or more likely Ruiz's way since he was in the hospital and left the same night. You wouldn't want to do that to Ruiz, or to our unit, would you?"

"But..." The raspy plea was painful to hear.

"The squad can't be the focus of any unwarranted interest. We can only do what we're doing if no one knows about it. I've been doing this long enough to know that even though an anonymous tip appears innocent, sometimes you get a gung-ho officer and it backfires. You're going to have to trust me on this."

Cael's head lowered, not meeting his father's gaze. "I promised." It was so low and grainy, Henry barely heard it.

"I'm sorry, son, I really am." Henry understood keeping promises. But as far as he was concerned, protecting his children and the 666 Squad superseded any promise Cael made to a ghost. Putting his arm around the young shoulders, Henry drew Cael into his side and didn't it just break his heart all over again when he felt tiny shudders roll through him.

~~~

A week later they were back at it, back hunting things that most people believed didn't exist, getting Cael back in the game, nothing incorporeal yet that could dive into your mind, but a young werewolf, solid and tangible. They'd changed up their usual hunting pattern. Instead of splitting up, coming around their prey from two sides, they stayed together. Even when not on a hunt, Cael grew anxious when Jake or Henry were not in sight, and truth be told, Henry didn't want Cael, either of his boys, out of his sight just yet either. Guess they all had a little trauma left over to work through.

They had the werewolf cornered in the alley. They could hear it growling and banging around behind the dumpster. Three guns were raised in readiness. And when Cael stepped forward, Henry placed a warning hand on Jake's arm, stopping him. Jake glanced up confused until Henry cocked his chin toward Cael. He needs this.

Cael moved Anointed quiet, eerily quiet, lean fluid lines of stealth and for a moment Henry saw the man his child had the potential to grow into. Cael took up a position at the space between the dumpster and wall, the position Henry would have picked out himself. He and Jake trained their weapons on that space, prepared to back the kid's play.

Cael looked over at them, nodded, and then purposefully drew the bottom of his sneaker across the ground. The grating sound carried across the night and the growling behind the dumpster silenced.

Henry watched the werewolf leap out at his child, all teeth and fury, and every instinct in Henry's gut told him to fire, but he waited, his Adam's apple jumping with the gorgeous crack of a Beretta going off, followed closely by the bark of Jake's semi-automatic. The beastman thudded to the cement at Cael's feet. Kid didn't even flinch and Henry's rapidly beating heart swelled with pride.

Jake clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Nice shot." But it was Henry Cael looked over to for approval. His features were tight and wary until Henry nodded and grinned, gaining him a quick flashing smile from his youngest.

~~~

Henry thought killing the werewolf would coax Cael out of whatever dark place Diego had forced on him, you know, take control over your environment, that sort of shit, it always worked for him, but apparently Cael was wired so completely differently, the successful hunt had little impact.

Another three days passed and Cael still wasn't talking as much as he had before San Miguel though his voice was back to normal. He threw himself into researching other possible monster attacks, making Jake go with him to the library where before he'd happily spend an entire day alone among the comfort of books.

But worse of all were the nightmares. The kid tossed and turned, crying out every night. None of them were getting much sleep. Henry lay in his bed, listening to his youngest whimper while his oldest whispered things that Henry couldn't quite hear beyond the enraged pounding of his own pulse. This had to stop. He had to fix it, that was his job, but for this, he didn't know how. This wasn't the kind of monster he could blow away with silver-tipped rounds.

He was fumbling so badly. Celundria would know what to do. He could really use some help here.

He came in the next morning with coffee and donuts. In the middle of tying his boot, Jake looked up, his gaze going instantly to the white donut bag and he smiled.

"Cael in the shower?" Which was obvious since Henry could hear the water running. "I want to leave within the hour."

Jake pulled out a cinnamon cake donut and bit it nearly in two. "Which mission?" In his research fervor, Cael had actually found three or four probable monsters for them to take on.

"That possible Hellhound looks like it's doing the most damage." Henry went to the little table where Cael had been doing his research. He had several notepads and newspaper articles placed in tidy piles for each monster and the area researched. "It shows the most recent activity so the trail should be warm." He picked up one of the notepads on top of a sketch Cael had drawn of a snarling black beast and began flipping through his son's research.

He stilled after lifting one of the pages to find what looked like a letter underneath.

Mr. Renau Reyes,

You don't know me. I wish I didn't have to tell you this.

Your wife Aimara Medina is buried one mile northeast of the city park in San Miguel by an old shack. She was killed by a man named Diego who is also dead. I can't tell you anything else or how I know about this. I'm very sorry. I just thought that her family deserved to know what happened to her.

Aimara was a good person.

She saved my life.

The shower turned off in the bathroom and Henry quickly closed the notebook and put it back onto its pile. Jake looked up at him curiously.

Henry twisted his lip between his teeth. "You and your brother be ready to go within an hour."

"Okay." Jake's brows lowered. "Where you going?"

"I'll be back."

~~~

Five hours later, Henry pulled into a little diner for lunch. Jake and Cael clamored out of the Explorer, heading toward the beacon of greasy truck-stop fries and colas, one of their favorite things about this dimension.

"Boys." Henry's call stopped them. "Jake, order us some burgers. To go. Cael, you're with me."

Both his sons eyed him curiously. Shrugging, Jake turned to get the food while Cael shuffled hesitantly back over to his father, biting his lip and looking at the ground. He was acting the way he did when he thought he was in trouble.

Henry eyed the payphone on the other side of the gas pumps near a weathered iron-wrought table and partially torn lawn chairs. Without an explanation he turned on his heel and started walking that way, hearing Cael plodding obediently behind him.

Dropping coins into the slot, Henry pulled out a crumpled piece of paper he'd written the number down on and began dialing.

With the receiver to his cheek, he turned toward his son. Curious, Cael watched him through the fringe of those too long bangs.

"Yes," Henry said in a lower tone than usual, making Cael's brows shoot up. "I...got a tip. No, I won't say who this is. Let's just say my ante's come due and I wanna meet my Maker with a clean conscience. Yeah, yeah, that's right. Death bed repentance. Don't believe me if you don't wanna. Just tryin ta make things right."

Cael was leaning in closer, his nose scrunching up at Henry's obvious lie.

"Sees, I had a cellmate told me 'bout another fella who killed and buried several people out in San Miguel, Arizona..."

Cael's face angled up to look at him fully. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape and just like that as Henry gave the San Miguel police station the location of the graves, his boy's countenance completely altered into something Henry could only describe as radiant.

"Dad!" Cael exclaimed the moment Henry hung up the receiver, in a tone brimming with a happiness Henry hadn't heard in a long time. "I thought that was too dangerous."

Henry snaked his palm around the back of Cael's neck. "It is, but a few weeks have gone by and we're far enough away... Hopefully the police will be able to identify the bodies, but it's the best we can do. You understand that, right?" He leaned down close. "Families deserve to know what happened to the people they love."

Cael nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yes, Sir."

Henry straightened, ruffled Cael's hair. He pulled an envelope from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to the boy.

Cael's forehead crinkled as he looked at it. It was already stamped and addressed to a Mr. Renau Reyes of Tucson, Arizona.

"I believe you know what to do with that," Henry encouraged.

Cael nodded repeatedly, his lips tight, clenching off emotion he didn't want his father to see.

"Promises should be kept."

"Yes, Sir. Hey, Dad?"

"Cael?" Henry watched him, wondering what was going on in his youngest's head as Cael shifted from one foot to the other.

Cael's lips twisted, and then all at once he threw his skinny arms around Henry's waist, pressing his cheek against his chest. Henry stilled. He couldn't remember the last time Cael had hugged him like this. Years. Henry closed his eyes, letting the moment soak in. His palm lifted to the back of Cael's head, feeling the soft mop of hair on his skin and the closed off tightness that had become his heart loosened, unraveling like a spool of thread.

"Thanks, Dad," Cael mumbled against him, and then was gone, running across the parking lot with the envelope clutched in his hand, and for once, Henry knew he had gotten it right. It wouldn't take away Cael's nightmares and the kid would still have to deal with what Diego had put him through, but killing werewolves and gremlins wasn't what Cael needed to cope with it. His son was better than that. Thinking about other people was Cael's way of dealing so if knowing that what he went through at least gave other families, even spirits like Aimara Reyes peace, then Henry would find some way to let Cael write any damn letter he needed to.

He smiled at Jake's confusion as Cael plucked a cola out of his hand, practically dancing around him. Jake stopped in his tracks, seemingly mesmerized by his brother's sudden transformation. Before joining his boys, Henry pulled a tiny orange marigold from his pocket and placed it on the table.

Fallen Warrior

The eagle dove from the sky, slicing through the air fractions above Eilwen's head. Her hair whooshed in front of her face. Bouncing off the high branch she balanced on, she leaped to another.

What was that?

The bird's sleek body dipped sideways, wingtips skimming the forest canopy as he came back around. He was the most magnificent eagle she'd ever seen. Feathers so dark they shone violet. And he was charging straight at her!

Poor thing must be ill.

Eilwen decided she'd have to use all of her forest skill to calm the beauty. If whatever ailed him hadn't completely taken over. The eagle came at her again, the dangerous beak gliding expertly past her arm. Colors, so soft, so translucent erupted around him. This was no ordinary bird. He must be one of the eagles bonded to an Eaglekin...but where was the Eaglekin?

That had to be it. She'd totally misunderstood the bird's actions. The eagle wasn't attacking. He was trying to herd her toward something and there was only one reason an eyrie-hatched bird would seek someone besides his True-bonded. The Eaglekin he was bonded to was in trouble. It would, Eilwen thought, have to be a great deal of trouble.

The bird came around once more. Hold. Eilwen threw her entire essence into the word. As a Fealinn she had a natural affinity to all creatures, yet as far as she knew none of her people dared approach one of the mighty eagles of Gaspar. The Eaglekins were far too protective of their birds and their bonds with them. The eagle slowed, landing lightly on a higher branch. Eilwen looked directly into the round golden eyes, pushing out a tendril of calming essence. Show me

Like an arrow loosed from a bow, the eagle shot into the sky. He was swift, but Eilwen was quick as well. She ran agilely from bough to bough, her lithe body bobbing with the swaying tree limbs as she descended and then dropped gently to the springy forest floor.

The eagle waited for her on a jagged stone that jutted out from the snarl of moss and leaf-litter. Anxiety spilled off him, coating the humid air, a harsh taste on Eilwen's lips. This part of the forest was lush largely due to the volcanic silt that fertilized the soil. But it also made the forest floor dangerous, with ancient lava tubes lurking beneath every footstep, which is why traveling within the trees was much safer. By the looks of the broken foliage and furrows in the soil, it appeared that the eagle's True-bonded had disappeared inside one such hole.

Pity that. He was gone, lost forever in the deep shaft. Eilwen would have liked to have gotten a closer look at an Eaglekin since she'd only been able to spy on one of their gatherings from a safe distance. But oh, the flashes of color that blossomed around them as they mind-spoke with their eagles. She wouldn't have believed such an arrogant stern domineering people could release such dazzling hues.

Tossing her loose bag from her shoulder, Eilwen plopped down on her stomach and edged over to the rim. It was dark within, like staring into a night leopard's throat.

"Hullooooo. Anyone alive down there?"

As she'd thought, only silence greeted her.

"Alive," a masculine voice rasped. "—and sorely in need of a rope."

Shocked, she gasped. "Unn, sorry. I didn't think anyone would really be there. How did you not fall to your death? Is the hole not that deep?" Eilwen leaned over farther to try and see.

"It's deep." There was the sound of a heavy exhalation. "A rope please."

Eilwen finally spotted the vague impression of a face only a staff-length or so below her. Shouldn't be too difficult to get him out. She eased her weight back. "Hold on. I'll get my—guh!" The ground gave out from under her and she toppled headlong into the darkness, slammed into something solid that let out a loud whoof of air, and continued falling in a tangle of arms and legs, scraping and glancing off sharp volcanic shale until she came to an abrupt stop that jarred her arm nearly out of her socket. She dangled in the air by that one arm. Strong crushing fingers circled her wrist as painfully as the sound of ragged breathing coming from just above. Yet it was the absolute darkness that terrified her most.

"Pull me up! Pull me up!"

More harsh breathing. "Give me a moment."

Eilwen kicked out her legs, seeking something solid, a toehold and found nothing but air. "I'm falling! Pull me up! Use your other hand!"

"My other hand...is braced against the wall."

They were going to fall! No, she was. All he had to do was let go and he'd have the use of both arms to climb up again.

She wouldn't make it easy for him. Swinging to lift herself higher, Eilwen grabbed his wrist with her free hand. The muscles of his forearm were tense.

"Easy, now, quit squirming," he said. "You'll shake us both off."

"Right. We'll both go. Together. Not just me."

"Not just...? Lass, I won't let go, I promise you. I won't let go." His hand tightened upon her wrist. "Ready?"

"Yes. No. For wha—ahhhh!"

In one swift motion, Eilwen was pulled upward and planted down on a...a thigh? She was. She sat on the Eaglekin's thigh. She could feel the flexion in his muscles.

She immediately flung her arms around his waist, not caring he was a stranger, and held on. Brittle stone broke off the wall as her arm rubbed across it. "Thank you thank you thank you. Thank you for catching me and being strong enough to pull me up. Thank—How did you do that?" His tunic was warm, slightly damp from perspiration and soft beneath her cheek where she felt the rapid beat of his heart. "My arm scraped some stone off. I didn't hear it hit the bottom yet. Did you hear it hit the bottom?"

"A lot of stone fell with us. There has been no sound."

"Oh." Not good.

He stroked the back of her neck, a gently reassurance in the bleak dark. "Don't think about what isn't below. Only on what is above."

Eilwen nodded against the indentation of his highest rib. "Yes. Up there. Right. We'll just climb up. You did it before and I'm an excellent climber. Shouldn't be too hard." Except she couldn't get her hands to leave his waist. Couldn't move away from the safely of his body. He was the only thing solid in the pressing black, the only thing keeping her from falling. "I can't."

He blew out a warm breath. "You can. You have to."

"You're incredibly strong. You pulled me up with one flick of your wrist. I think you should climb and I'll just hang onto you."

His low chuckle rumbled beneath her cheek. "You exaggerate my strength, though I would carry you if it were possible. I can't move."

"What? You have to."

"Listen to me. My hand and my back are braced against the walls to hold us here. The only other hold I have is a small protrusion under my toes."

"Of the leg I'm sitting on?" She pushed down on the knot tightening in her stomach.

She felt him nod above her head. "You must climb."

"Then what about you?"

"Send the rope down."

"How will you tie it around you with the use of only one hand?"

"I'll manage. I know the darkness frightens you..."

"It doesn't"

She felt his chuckle again. "It frightens me. Our two cultures have that in common. Don't be ashamed. Our natures thrive on wide open spaces, avoid cramped areas and holes..."

Eilwen swallowed. "I admit I'm a little afraid."

"Which will give you strength to climb. Can you do this?"

"Yes." She pulled back, let her hands slide off his waist, though she stayed in contact, let her palm move along his arm that was braced on the wall. Her heart was racing. She could feel him shaking as well. He couldn't hold out much longer.

Gingerly, she stood on his thigh. His free hand grasped her side, his fingers curled into the waist of her breeches to steady her. With monumental effort, Eilwen let go of the stranger and brought her arms up to search the shaft.

"Nothing. It's too smooth here. There isn't anything to grab hold of."

"Use my shoulders."

"What? Are you witless? I could push you from your hold."

"Be careful then."

Sucking in a breath, Eilwen placed one foot on his shoulder, exhaled shakily and lifted her other foot. The Eaglekin's hand moved to her bottom, pressing her inward so she wouldn't fall back. The low tremors coming from him were unnerving. "There's still nothing to hold—wait." She found a small lip in the stone and grabbed onto it. The little protrusion crumbled off and she slipped. Trying to push against the close walls slowed her, but also sliced into her flesh. Once again, she stopped, dangling in midair, her upper body crushed against the Eaglekin, his arm tight across the small of her back. Shudders ran through his entire body.

"That. Didn't. Work out. As planned," he panted out.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Where's your leg? I can't find it."

"I lost my hold there."

The only thing keeping her from falling into this bottomless hole was his arm around her and the only thing keeping him from falling was his back and one hand braced on slick crumbling walls and judging by the tremors of his body, that wasn't going to last.

Eilwen curled her fingers into his tunic, knuckles grazing firm sweat-soaked skin. "I'm so sorry. If I had thought to tie my rope on something before..."

He stiffened. "Exactly where is your rope?"

"In my bag up there."

Warm lips pressed against Eilwen's forehead and everything inside her went instantly quiet.

"That is for reminding me we are not alone. We might get out of this yet. I'll get Cadeyrn," he murmured. They were so close she could taste his spicy breath.

"What's a Cadeyrn?"

"My eagle." A bluish glow suddenly bloomed around them, emanating from within his flesh, the telltale evidence of an Eaglekin conversing with his True-bonded eagle. Eilwen sucked in a breath, seeing the man for the first time. He was younger than his strength and confidence led her to believe, just a year or so older than herself perhaps, and handsome. Thick lashes half-lowered over darkly golden eyes.

The glow died and they were thrust into darkness again. "He'll bring the rope."

"That's perfect. I suppose Cadeyrn knows how to tie off to a tree as well?"

The Eaglekin laughed. "I saw through his eyes and directed him to bring it around that stone jutting from the ground, giving us both ends."

"I hope it's long enough."

His forehead touched hers. It was damp from exertion. A shrill cry rang loudly within the shaft, echoing around them. Blue light immediately erupted as the Eaglekin guided Cadeyrn to them. The bird slowed at the last possible moment, dropping one end of the rope from his talons and lifted back up into the air. Wing beats washed over them. Grabbing the rope, Eilwen pulled it down to gain more slack. The glow faded.

"Tie that around yourself." Weariness coated the Eaglekin's voice.

"No." Instead Eilwen slipped it around the man's back as high under his arms as she could where his shoulders were braced. She heard the other end of the rope slap lightly against the wall as the eagle dropped it. She felt around for it, but couldn't find it. "Can you speak with Cadeyrn again?"

There was no answer. He couldn't' have passed out. They would have fallen, yet the exertion was taking its due. She found the man's face with her hands. "I can't see the rope." He nodded within her palm and his glow sparked, not anywhere near as brilliant as it had been, but enough to see where the rope was before the light winked out. It was just out of reach.

"I need to climb higher." Again she felt his slow nod.

Carefully, Eilwen shifted up his body, finding his hip bone with her heel and stretched upward. The rope felt rough and wonderful in her palm. There wasn't enough slack to tie it around herself so she made a smaller loop large enough for her hand or foot.

The Eaglekin shuddered beneath her. "I'll drop...and let my weight...carry you up."

"Not a good plan, Eaglekin. I'll never be able to pull you up and I doubt you're in any condition to attempt a climb even with the rope. I have another idea. Be ready." She didn't dare put all her weight on the rope yet or she'd be hauled up before she was ready. She pressed her lips together, hoping this worked. Keeping her weight balanced on the man's hip, she lightly held the loop while she explored the wall with her other hand.

There. The place where she'd broken the little lip of stone before. She dug into the small depression she'd made, digging her fingers beneath the thin crack until she had a large jagged fissure she could break off. Her fingers felt raw and torn. She slipped her wrist inside the loop of the rope and held on. "Now!" Swinging off the Eaglekin, she ripped the slab off the wall.

And dropped.

The Eaglekin jerked up as they passed, their bodies bumping in the small space and then she was alone, falling through darkness. Her arm felt like it was going to tear from her body with the rock slab weighing her down and threatening to slip out of her other arm even though she braced it with her thigh. And then her descent ended abruptly, wrenching her arm. The piece of rock pulled free from her grasp. She listened for the sound of it smashing against the bottom, but it never came.

"Pull me up. Pull me up!" she screamed, panicking, not knowing if the Eaglekin heard. She waited for the rope to move, to be hauled up to safety and light. Nothing happened. She was alone in the dark. She couldn't hold on like this indefinitely. It took the last of her strength, but she managed to lift her legs up and wiggle her foot into the loop she'd tied. From there she pulled out her hand and climbed up, letting her weight rest on her leg. She waited, counting her breaths, which seemed to come faster and faster.

What was going on up there? Why wasn't she moving?

He left her. As soon as he was free of the hole, he had left her. Arrogant selfish Eaglekin. She no longer had the strength to climb up the rope. He'd left her to die down here, alone in the dark. Tears pressed against her eyes and her pulse banged so loudly she didn't realize that she was moving upwards until a sphere of light showed overhead and all at once strong hands clasped hers and she was pulled up into forest dappled sunlight. The Eaglekin's face was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

"I thought you left me."

He smiled, breathing heavily, and sagged back against the foliage, his eagle hovering protectively near. "Never."

### Highland Sorcery Novels

Highland Sorcerer

The Vampire and the Highland Empath

Highland Shapeshifter

Highland Moonsifter

A Highland Sorcery Christmas

### Highland Sorcery BOX SET (First four books together)

Highland Son

### Highland illusion (coming Soon)

### Highland Soldier (coming soon)

### Highland chieftain (coming soon)

~~~

### The Anointed series

Demon Trackers

### Banshee's Cry

### A Haunting

~~~

Extracted

Never Ever

Viking mine

The Sweetheart tree

~~~

### The Eaglekin Series

### Upon Eagle's Light

### Chase the Wind

~~~

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