Ann Aguirre - Blue Diablo

My arms loaded up, I spun and came up hard against a tall, male figure. He smelled oddly of ammonia, as if he scrubbed himself with Lysol each morning. Kel Ferguson had shorn his hair and acquired some bizarre ritual tattoos on his skull that coiled down the nape of his neck. If I didn’t fear what it meant, I’d say that was celestial script.

Oh, shit.

“You prevented my doing the Lord’s work,” he said in his strange, flat voice.

Bad to worse.

“How did you find me?” I fought down panic. If I tried to push past him, he would break my neck one-handed, but surely Butch would sound the alarm soon. I just needed to stay calm.

The maniac regarded me from eyes so pale they shimmered like crushed ice in the faint starlight. “God sent me.”

My voice wavered. “Oh, really?”

Anytime, Butch. I’m in trouble, boy. Big trouble. The dog disappeared from sight.

Movement in my peripheral vision drew my eye away from Ferguson. For a moment I thought Chance must be coming to my rescue, stealthily making his way around the garage, until I noticed the shadow had no one attached. Darkness sailed toward me, and it carried the unmistakable aura of the grave.

Ferguson hadn’t seen it and I hoped it would veer toward him, seeking the nearest source of warmth. I remembered the thing in the cemetery and knew I couldn’t let it get close enough to immobilize me. But it kept coming, slick as oil and darker than night, roiling over the cracked cement with a hiss that was as much felt as heard. Given the choice between waiting for a closer look at that shade and startling the holy killer, well, I threw my armload of dog supplies at Ferguson and bolted.

Just in time too. A frigid burst of air grazed me as I turned, and my whole arm went numb.

Any minute I expected one of them to grab me. If Ferguson did it, my bones would break. If the dark thing did, I imagined it would feel like death, icy cold and full of hunger that nothing could assuage. Shit, this was bad. As if we didn’t have enough enemies, this warlock had sprung my worst one. I couldn’t imagine how that was possible, but I didn’t have time to speculate. My heart thudded in time to each footfall, fear spiking through my veins in an unpleasant rush.

Nothing but dead grass, rocks, and open plain lay between me and the highway. Unfortunately, the road lay two miles off. I couldn’t run forever, but I didn’t see anywhere to hide. I just knew I had to get away. I thought I heard footfalls behind me, but I couldn’t tell if they were gaining on me. I wasn’t dumb enough to turn and look.

I ran blind. My foot caught on a rock, and I stumbled, tried to compensate, and still went down, skidding onto my knees. In scrambling back up I saw the shadow looming over me, Ferguson not ten paces behind. My vision blacked as the shade wrapped around me, drawing the heat from my skin and the air from my lungs.

For a moment I felt nothing and then my whole body burned, not with the fire that seared my palm but with a soul-swallowing emptiness. Terror flashed through me as I felt the numbness spread. Soon I would know nothing at all, and—

Oh, shit, I saw the light. What a rip-off. My life didn’t flash before my eyes or anything. I did want to see my mom again, though.

Except I didn’t see a tunnel either, and I hurt .

A sharp sting on my left cheek reinforced the notion that maybe I hadn’t died. I cracked an eye open. Ferguson stared down at me, pale as corpse flesh, his arm up-raised as if to give me another whack. Shit, I’d almost rather have died than find Kel Ferguson straddling me.

“Where did it go?” I croaked.

He lowered his arm slowly. Something trickled from his fingers. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

Great. Crazy Bible talk. I ached all over. Not even the time I got salmonella from some bad chicken felt like this. When he reached into his pocket, I flung my hands over my head. He must have saved me—though I have no idea how —to finish me off himself. I had no hope of fighting him, no hope of running.

The thing in his hand squeaked when he squeezed it. I peered through my fingers and saw him offering me Butch’s play pizza. “You dropped this.”

After some hesitation, I took the toy. He eased off me then, sending a sick rush of relief to my already unsettled stomach. Ferguson extended a hand to help me up. I accepted it instinctively, and then thought about what I’d done.

As we walked—well, he walked; I limped—back toward the house, I squeezed the pizza in a nervous gesture. “How did you get here?” I wondered aloud.

Had he tracked me all the way to Mexico City and back?

“He gave me the means to transcend my earthly prison,” he said in a voice that sent shivers down my spine. “Then He guided my steps to your store. I do not understand why a good man like Alvarez chooses to work for you, but following you from there was easy.”

“So you’re the one who’s been hunting me?” A chill rolled over me. Maybe he intended me to lead him to Chance, who certainly shared the culpability for putting Ferguson in prison.

“I’m not hunting you. While I’d never choose to sully myself with you or your causes, I am the Lord’s hand and I work His will. I don’t pretend to understand His agenda. He sent me to help you vanquish a great evil, so tell me what you’d have me do.”

It took me a moment to process that. “You mean you’re not here to kill me?”

His icy eyes didn’t even flicker. “I am here to banish the forces of Hell back to the eternal fires from whence they sprung.”

“Um...” I exhaled slowly. The house came into view, all quiet inside. I picked up the bag of Hill’s Science Diet and the fuzzy dog bed. “Maybe you want to come in then?”

“I await your orders,” he said.

There’s nothing scarier than a fanatic.

“Chance,” I called unsteadily as we came into the living room. “We have company. He says God sent him to help us fight a great evil. He also just saved my ass.”

“Twice,” Ferguson said, “if you count the time in the cemetery.”

Squinting, I saw that he was wearing a black sweatshirt. Shit. I dropped into a chair, feeling like death warmed over.

Chance crossed the floor in four steps, cast a questioning glance at Ferguson, and knelt beside me. “What happened? Are you all right?”

I told him.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Chance shook his head. “Only you could go out for dog food and come back with a man.”

“Not just any man. Remember Kel Ferguson?” I braced myself for the reaction.

Maybe we could fight fire with fire, if we used him. A sane person would call the cops as soon as we could get to a phone. Maybe he was toying with us. I couldn’t begin to comprehend what went on behind those zealous eyes.

Chance straightened slowly, asking in an undertone, “Did you bump your head or are you just crazy for bringing him in the house?”

“You wonder why I’m so pale,” Kel said with a strange half smile. Chance’s expression said he had, in fact, been wondering that. “I’ve bathed in the Lord’s light. God’s Hand is not bound by your laws. I see farther. I do not blame you for trying to interfere with what you do not understand, but prison bars will not hold me, nor will they stop my doing His work.”

“You’re saying God wants you to kill?” Chance kept his hands in plain sight. He probably didn’t want to risk setting Ferguson off and having him snap my neck.

“Only those who will perpetrate great crimes against humanity.”

I raised a brow. “Even that little girl you stole?”

Over the years, I’d resisted the urge to check on her, figuring she wouldn’t want to be reminded of her narrow escape. But I thought of her from time to time and wondered.