Four Summoners Tales Part 40

He shot Enoch twice in the chest.

"No!" Zeke roared, rushing toward the widening gap between the two frantic groups of prisoners and then staggering to a halt, staring in astonishment.

Enoch had barely flinched. Blood began to soak through his shirt.

"You want to talk about making deals?" Enoch said, eyes so black they made the night seem bright. "I made a lot of them, Carlos-deals with every devil who would listen. You cut my daughter into pieces and I'm going to do the same to you, first here, and then down in h.e.l.l, for every minute of eternity."

Aguilar shot Enoch twice more in the chest and then once in the forehead.The force of the gunshots knocked Enoch down, blood flying, as Aguilar rapidly pulled the trigger on an empty chamber.

Enoch lay on the ground, half curled into fetal position, chuffing with laughter as blood drooled from his lips.

"Guillermo!"Aguilar shouted, and the scarred man rushed over to hand him an a.s.sault rifle.

He turned the gun on Enoch, bullets erupting from the barrel, blowing holes in the little conjuror at close range, turning his body to b.l.o.o.d.y wreckage. When the gunfire stopped, it echoed out across the desert and the smell of oil and cordite floated on the air. The good citizens of Lansdale, Texas, now so very far from home, wept and prayed, and Alma Hawkins fell to her knees and sobbed loudly, cradling her belly in both arms.

Zeke felt tethered to Savannah by some invisible umbilical. Carefully, not wanting to spook Aguilar or draw attention to his daughter, he started moving toward her. Harry Boyd stood by Savannah with his son, visibly struggling against the urge to fight back.

No, Harry. No, don't do it, please don't do it, Zeke thought.

"d.a.m.n. That's too bad," Aguilar said, scanning the faces of his prisoners and then looking beyond them, to his men. "It would've been pretty useful, being able to bring you sad culeros back from the dead if necessary, but I guess we'll have to make use of the dead folks we've got right here."

Ice ran through Zeke's veins. He couldn't breathe, could only stare at Aguilar's grinning face.

"Nothing like slave labor," Aguilar said, admiring the size of Big Tim Hawkins. "Especially when the rest of the world thinks they're dead anyway and n.o.body's gonna come looking for them."

Aguilar's grin turned sly. He approached Harry and Charlie Boyd and Zeke froze, trying to will the killer away, wishing him upon anyone else, d.a.m.ning any of the others to whatever suffering might be in store as long as Savannah could live.

Not again.

But Aguilar waved Harry aside with the a.s.sault rifle and- eyes downcast with shame-Harry gave Charlie a shove and let the devil pa.s.s.

"Beautiful,"Aguilar said. "Some of them might be more useful than others." He reached out with his left hand to caress Savannah's brown cheek, tracing a finger along the freckles on the bridge of her nose.

Zeke was sure he saw her wince. It felt like a trigger in his heart.

"Don't you f.u.c.king touch her, you son of a b.i.t.c.h!" he roared, rushing at Aguilar. "You killed her once! Isn't that enough?!"

A big hand grabbed his arm, holding him back, and Zeke whipped around to see that Vickers had finally woken from the fog of his grief. Vickers shook his head, eyes pleading with Zeke to say nothing more. But Zeke knew nothing he did would make a difference in the end.

"Enough?" Aguilar said. "I guess not."

Zeke screamed as Aguilar shot Savannah in the chest and belly. As she crumpled to the ground, he tore free of Vickers's grasp and lunged. Aguilar turned and the gun barked again, three or four rounds st.i.tching across Zeke's chest; the pain searing through him was nothing compared to the anguish in his soul. He fell face-first, kicking up dust as he skidded in the dirt on his stomach. The smell of his own blood filled his nostrils, his vision already dimming.

Unable to do more than twitch and loll his head to one side, he watched as Aguilar backed out of the gap among his prisoners. The rest of the cartel killers tightened the circle, wolves finally drawing near at the scent of blood.

"f.u.c.k it," Aguilar said. "Kill them all."

The gunfire seemed almost quiet compared to the screams.

9 Zeke drew a long, gasping breath, eyelids dragging open. He could feel the chilly night air on his face but nothing else, save for a dreadful heaviness, as if his body had been submerged in fresh cement. His breaths came at long intervals, wet and ragged, each of them a ch.o.r.e. His mouth opened and closed and he forced himself to take a single breath through his nose.

The copper stink of blood filled his head and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear his vision, only to discover that the blurriness and the blackness that seeped in at the corners of his eyes would not go away.The stars above him were dimming, the moonlight fading. A rush of sound filled his ears and he felt himself flinch, but when he took another breath, he realized the barrage of thunder was nothing but the memory of gunfire, that the bullets were now only ghosts, their voices echoing across the desert.

Dying, he thought, the cold weight on his chest heavier. Zeke strained to move and succeeded in shifting his body just enough to feel things tearing inside him. He didn't have the strength to scream.

Savannah, he thought. My baby girl. I'm sorry. I hope you're with your mother now.

The cold weight of his flesh began to lift and he felt a lightness spread through him. His head lolled to one side, the shadows that veiled his eyes deepening.Yet he saw the bodies that lay around him and recognized the long bone pipe clutched in one ruined hand.The blood smears originally painted onto the pipe had been obscured by a new flow of blood, and the hand-carved pipe seemed to soak it in.

So much for the hoodoo man.

But then the b.l.o.o.d.y hand twitched. Enoch had been torn apart by bullets, body a blood-soaked mess, but now his fingers gripped the pipe and he sat up.Through darkening vision, Zeke watched Enoch bring the pipe to his lips.A portion of the little man's skull had been obliterated, but his eyes glowed with bright golden light as he began to play a variation on those same ugly, powerful notes.

Zeke felt nothing.

He forgot to breathe.

He did not close his eyes, but they went dark, nevertheless.