Cruz takes a step back and turns, when high-pitched laughter rises from the darkness behind the houses. He pauses, shoulders tensing as if ready for battle.
“What was that?” I ask, backing up toward the van. Everything is still and quiet. A breeze shushes through the trees.
And then: the laughter sounds from right behind the van. I shriek and spin around. With a whoosh, something passes by on my left, but whatever was there is gone in a flash. I back up against Cruz, my breath coming in gasps.
“Thanks a lot,” he mutters.
“What the hell did I do?”
“Made me stop the van right in rebel territory, that’s what.”
“Rebels?”
“Zeke’s people. Witches and warlocks,” he answers, scanning for movement in the dark.
A cackle rises up from behind the houses again.
Witches.
“What do they want?” I ask.
“Right now? To kill us.”
“Duh,” I say. “But why? Just because we stumbled into their territory by accident?”
Cruz smacks his forehead, like I couldn’t possibly have said anything more naive. “You don’t just ‘stumble into’ someone’s territory,” he says, doing air quotes. “In jail, your turf is religion. It’s the only thing keeping witches and sorcerers from blowing each other to shit.”
“So witches hate sorcerers here too?”
His eyebrows draw up suddenly, and I realize I’ve slipped up big-time. I’ve let him know that I knew about the magic underworld before I came here. Before he told me. I open and close my mouth, searching for a way to backtrack. I almost admit that I’m a witch, but a realization stops me short: Cruz is a sorcerer. And he’s probably taking me to some sort of sorcerer headquarters—the most likely place in all of Los Demonios for Paige to be held. Ever since Cruz captured me, I’ve been trying to escape, when he could be taking me straight to my best friend.
Idiot.
He’s still looking at me with suspicious eyes.
Something moves against the sky, saving me from having to continue this conversation. A shape flashes in front of the crescent moon. And I swear I see a wing.
The dragon that chased me at homecoming pops into my mind, and white-hot fear rips through my body.
“What. The hell. Was that?”
“Mierda,” Cruz mutters.
“You keep saying that. What does that mean?”
“And I can’t even fly with the three of you,” he adds, ignoring my question. “This is awesome. Just great.”
The shape swoops down, landing with a thud on the patchy grass in the yard across from us.
I gasp. Shrieks rise from the captives in the van.
The thing looks like a cross between a monkey and a bat. Its bony, fur-covered body hunches over in the grass, a long tail curling up between glossy, leathery wings. It watches us with beady red eyes, smiling with a mouthful of too many sharp teeth.
“Get in the van,” Cruz orders.
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I dive inside the van, sliding the door closed just as the thing leaps toward us. I jump back from the door and land in the girl’s lap. She shoves me off, sobbing so loudly it’s practically all I can hear.
Cruz holds out his hand. Flame bursts from his palm, but Bat Boy takes flight before it can hit. I don’t see where the creature has gone until its paws slam against Cruz’s back and pin him to the ground. Panic overwhelms me—if Cruz dies, we’re all dead—but in a flash, he disappears. The bat is still sniffing confusedly at the spot where its dinner had been when Cruz materializes behind it. Blood trickles out of the claw holes in his broad shoulders, and sweat has pooled in the hollow of his back. He holds a long knife over his head, its blade glistening in the moonlight as he prepares to strike the bat’s wing.
Smart, I think. He wants to take away its ability to fly.
Cruz brings the knife down swiftly, but not before the bat whips around. The knife stabs into the ground, making a dull sound I can hear clearly even through the glass. Bat Boy hisses, baring its teeth, eyes flashing a murderous red. It lunges at Cruz, claws reaching to wrap around his throat. They fall back in a tumble of bodies. A loud snap splits the air, followed by an unearthly wail. I have to look away, cringing at the thought of what could have made that sound.
“I just want to go home,” the boy next to me cries, his hands clasped in prayer.
“I love you, Mom,” the girl cries as messy tears pour down her face.
My chest knots up. I don’t know what was going to happen to these people wherever it was Cruz was taking us, but I do know that if they die right now, it will be because of me.
I have to do something.
I scramble to the door.
“What are you doing?” the girl screeches. “Don’t go out there!”
I hop out of the van. My landing sends up a puff of dirt, but neither Cruz nor Bat Boy seem to notice. Cruz twists out from under Bat Boy’s grip. He heaves for air, his face a mask of rage, his rippled chest smeared with dirt and gleaming with sweat.
Now’s the time.
I sprint across the road, my head down against the biting night wind. When I reach the other side, I whirl around and cup my hands around my mouth.
“Hey!” I yell.
Bat Boy’s head snaps up. The creature has grabbed hold of Cruz again, and hoists his body over its head, as if ready to smash him.
“Over here! Catch me if you can!”
It drops Cruz so fast I swear I hear bones crack; then springs into the air.
I spin around, but I don’t make it a step before a clawed talon digs into the back of my shirt.
This wasn’t one of my best ideas.
“Help!”
My body folds over like a rag doll as I’m pulled into the sky. The ground shrinks below me at an alarming rate until the van and Cruz lying unconscious in front of it are just a couple of black specks on the road.
Bat Boy drops me suddenly. I don’t have time to brace for the fall before I land on the sticky black shingles of a roof. A wet nose sniffs at my ears, fur itching up against my cheek. I shriek and roll away.
“You got one. Excellent.”
I look up at the sound of a voice. There’s a woman on the roof.