How do I get around it?
A pause. Do you know how a witch gets her power?
Williams said it was from the earth.
Yes. From the earth. Not of it.
And the difference is?
The barrier rests upon the earth. It is possible to get underneath.
I cast a doubtful eye toward the hard packed desert sand. Not without a jackhammer and backhoe.
Oh ye of little faith.
If you mean the kind that moves mountains, you're right. I'm fresh out.
There's another pause. If I help you, Anna, you must understand, it will be the last time.
My shoulders jump, not only from what he says but the way he's says it. Solemnly. A pronouncement from which there is no appeal. The same way Williams sounded when he said I had to disappear. You mean forever?
Yes.
But why?
Because to do this for you, I have to be with you. Once we share physical space, the bond between guardian and charge is broken.
Guardian and charge?
The relationship between you and I.
Like a guardian angel?
Casper chuckles. An angel?
It makes sense. You helped me when I was caught by the Revengers and again when Trish was in trouble. What happens if I need you in the future?
That is why you must decide now. You can leave this place. You don't need to go into Beso de la Muerte. You must realize that what you hope to accomplish may not be possible.
How does he know what I hope to accomplish? I don't even know that.
Yes, you do. You hope to help your friend Culebra and have time left over to save Max.
A thrill of alarm races up my spine. Does Culebra need help? Does Max?
You believe that they do.
He's right, of course. My mind races into overdrive. Max is god only knows where. Culebra may be here and under a definite time constraint.
Is Culebra close?
Casper doesn't answer.
Maybe he doesn't need to. The fact that this barrier is here can mean only one thing—whatever the coven has planned for tonight has something to do with Beso de la Muerte. Whether Culebra is a willing participant or not, he took great pains to empty his camp and scare me away. There could only be one reason. He planned to try to stop her. Unsuccessfully, from the message that accompanied my hitting that wall. If Belinda Burke is as powerful a force as Williams thinks, what chance did one shape-shifter have against her and a coven of witches determined to open a gate to the underworld? My instinct is telling me I need to get into Beso de la Muerte. Culebra is smart and resourceful. He may have left a clue there to help me find him.
That is your decision?
It is not surprising that Casper knows the answer before I do. Yes.
Instantly, the air around me swirls and draws away, like the sea receding from a beach at low tide. The sensation is accompanied by a rushing sound, loud, aggressive, hostile in its intensity. I put my head down, fighting the urge to cover my ears, then my eyes, as I'm assaulted by a blinding white light. A rip appears in the fabric of the desert and fills with the light. Then, just as quickly, the light and sound fade. When I raise my eyes again, I'm no longer alone.
I blink. You're Casper?
He sniffs. That's not my name, you know. My name is Avatoar. And you don't have to look so surprised. What were you expecting ?
I don't know what I expected. I just know it's not what I see in front of me. Casper—or Avatoar—stands about three feet tall and has a bushy head of brilliant red hair. He has on a green jumpsuit that looks like it's made of silky parachute material. Perfect, I suppose, for jumping dimensions.
I know I'm staring but I was expecting Michael the Archangel and I got— Are you a leprechaun?
Again, he blows out an exasperated puff of air. Where would you get that idea ?
Maybe from the slightly oversized head on the diminutive body. Since he doesn't react to that, I have to assume he's no longer in my head and I can take a few seconds to check him out. His face is wrinkled but not unattractive. He has round blue eyes and a strong chin. His body is well proportioned, just small.
His mouth is curved in a frown.
Finished gawking?
I blink again and nod.
Then we should get to work.
I wait expectantly for him to tell me what to do.
He puts a hand on my shoulders and pulls me down to a kneeling position so that we're eye to eye.
This will hurt a little. But not for long. Try to relax.
That, of course, causes the opposite reaction. My shoulders tense, my body becomes rigid. What do you mean, this will hurt?
He doesn't respond. Avatoar's eyes are fixed on a point somewhere in the distance, just over my shoulder. I try to swivel my head to see what he does, but his grip is tight and the pressure of his fingers just at the base of my neck holds me immobile.
Then the pain creeps up.
When it begins, my first impulse is to fight. I slash at his arms, but for a little guy, his grip is mighty. I can't break his hold and I can't escape the blistering heat. It starts at my feet and works its way up. My skin is on fire. I'm being drawn into some kind of whirling, white-hot vortex. I feel Avatoar's hands but when I open my eyes, all I see is a blur of space. It's a Wizard of Oz tornado but Dorothy never looked like she was experiencing this kind of pain. I open my mouth to scream, but the intensity of the gale forces the scream back down my throat.
I'm trapped, I'm powerless and I'm being burned alive.
CHAPTER 26
“ANNA. ANNA. WAKE UP."
Second time in as many days I've heard those words. This time, though, the voice is high-pitched and tinny. Like one of those munchkins in the Wizard of Oz.
Something shakes my shoulders. "Come on. It's over. Wake up."
I don't want to wake up. Wherever I am is quiet, peaceful. No pain. No noise. No light. No hunger. Over the rainbow?
"Am I in heaven?"
The laugh is loud. Rude, even.
I burrow deeper into whatever I'm lying on and refuse to open my eyes.
"You're crushing me. Get up."
Suddenly, I'm aware of movement. Beneath me. Something is squirming, trying to escape.
Oh my god. Am I back in that motel room in Santee? Have I done it again?
I pop one eye open, fight back a wave of nausea and spy an unfamiliar face with bright red hair.
I have done it again. This time with—what? This guy looks a little strange and the length of his body stops somewhere just below my waist.
I screwed a midget?
The nausea is stronger, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut again. Still, the spinning continues. It's like the horrible, out of control feeling from a bad drunk just before you pass out—or throw up.
"Don't even think about it."
The voice screeches in my ear.
I jump up and away. A midget in a bright green jumpsuit stares at me. How did I get in that movie?
"Thank the gods."
"What?"
He frowns. "Will you snap out of it?" He waves a hand. "See where we are?"