Hexed

“She’s being team leader again,” Fremont said.

“It’s better than sitting on our asses waiting to be picked off. Now do it.”

Cassandra looked up from her huddle on the floor. “Sorry, Janet.”

Fremont helped Cassandra to her feet and gave me a salute. “Aye-aye, ma’am. We’re on it.”

I put my arm around Maya’s waist and guided her to the lobby. Mick was back at the walls, the fight over. Coyote sat on the stairs to the second floor, near the statue of the coyote my friend Jamison Kee had made for me. Blood stained Coyote’s face where it had run from his nose and a cut on his lip, but Mick looked whole and unscathed.

I gave Maya to Mick’s capable healing—for a man his size, he could be incredibly gentle—and strode into the saloon.

Through the saloon windows I could see the Crossroads Bar, now teeming with life. Floodlights glared to illuminate the motorcycles parked in front, and I saw movement inside the open door. Oh, to be there sipping beer provided by the taciturn Barry Dicks, fending off unwanted passes from drunk bikers. Paradise compared to being stuck in a curse-ridden hotel.

As I turned away from the windows and moved to the mirror, Maya wandered in. She still cradled her arm, but less tenderly now. Mick’s magic would have easily fixed whatever burn or damage she’d sustained.

Maya walked to the window in her high heels and looked out at the bar with the same wistfulness I’d had. “Mick and Coyote are growling at each other again. I never thought I’d say this, but you are acting the least weird of anybody, Janet.”

She flattered me. I went behind the bar, unfolded the stepstool I kept back there, and stepped up to look into the mirror.

“I think it’s time to get Drake,” I murmured to it. “And while you’re at it, tell him to call the Hopi County Sheriff’s Department.” I couldn’t have the mirror contact Nash directly, because Nash was unable to hear it, but Drake knew who Nash was and would find him.

Silence met me.

“Hello?” I tapped on the mirror. “Is this thing on?”

“Janet?” Maya said from the window.

I stood on tiptoe and shook the mirror in its frame. “Wake up, damn you.”

A piece of glass fell out and shattered on the floor. The mirror made no sound, and my breath stopped. It hated pieces of itself breaking, would scream in melodramatic terror when it happened. Simple breakage couldn’t hurt it, but the mirror always acted as though it was on death’s door when a piece broke.

“Hey.” I shook it again. “Talk to me, or I pulverize you.”

Nothing. No Oh, sugar-pie, don’t hurt me, I’ll be good. Or Only if you promise to wear a leather bustier and thigh-high boots.

“Janet, who are you talking to?” Maya asked. “I take it back about you not being weird.”

“Damn it all to hell.” I jumped down from the stool and fetched the broken pieces of mirror, cutting myself on one. I put the pieces into an ashtray, selecting one of the smoother ones to shove into my pocket.

I’d been arrogant, thinking that while the ununculous might be a big, bad sorcerer, we stood a chance to defeat him because we had a magic mirror. Even a minor witch can face the strongest mage if she has a magic mirror behind her.

If the hex had rendered the mirror dormant, we could be seriously screwed.

“Hey,” Maya said, rushing to the window. “There’s Carlos.”

Carlos was my bartender. At the moment, he was staring in confusion at the outside door while he rattled the handle, trying to get in to work his shift.

“Janet?” he called. “Anyone home?”

“Carlos!” Maya banged on the window, but Carlos didn’t hear her. Maya started beating on the window so hard I feared she’d break the glass. “Hey, we’re here! Carlos!”

Carlos obviously didn’t see her either. He kept trying the door, and then he attempted to pry open the window right next to Maya. He backed away from the building, frowning. Maya shouted at him, calling him names in both English and Spanish, but Carlos wandered away toward the front of the hotel.

“Idiota,” Maya screamed at him as he walked away.

“Give him a break, Maya. He can’t hear you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a curse. A hex. Magic badness. Cassandra’s enemies want her trapped in this hotel, and they don’t want her to get help.”

Thinking about that, I wondered why the ultra-bad sorcerer hadn’t waited until Cassandra was alone to confront and kill her. I could understand a sadistic man making Cassandra watch her friends die first, but why would he allow her the potential help of a dragon and the god Coyote? Why risk that?

Something was wrong here, and I needed to know what. But even if Cassandra had neglected to tell us everything, it didn’t really matter. We were cut off and in trouble, and now we were without the magic mirror’s communication ability. We needed help.

“We need Nash,” I said. If dragons were out, Nash Jones was the next best thing.

“Don’t you think I’ve been trying to call him?” Maya demanded. “I told you, all the cell phones are out and so is your landline.”

She went silent as we both watched Carlos circle back to the saloon, frown in puzzlement at the door again, then drift to his car and get in it. He started up, his taillights flashing as he pulled away from the parking lot. Maya muttered under her breath, calling Carlos more names.

“Let him go,” I said. “And let’s concentrate on contacting Nash.”

“How?” Maya asked sourly. “Smoke signals?”

“Maybe. I’ll think of something.”

I left the saloon a lot less confident than when I’d gone in. I made for Coyote, who still lounged by the coyote statue as though drawing comfort from the stone. He’d at least wiped the blood off his face.

Mick was touching the walls again. He was becoming obsessed. Maya thumped down on a couch, folded her arms, and pretended to ignore us.

“Tell me you really do have your god powers,” I said, sitting on the steps next to Coyote.

“Sorry, Stormwalker. Tell me you’re not going to try the Beneath magic again, when we can’t predict what the hex will do to it.”

“I will use it to defend my friends if I have to. I’ll not stand by and let the sorcerer, whoever he is, kill us or get to Cassandra.” When the ununculous attacked, I planned to kill him. Quickly. End of problem.

“When he comes,” Coyote said, as though he’d read my mind, “Mick fights him, not you. Mick’s the only one who can.”

“Like hell I’m letting Mick face an over-the-top powerful sorcerer on his own. If I can take this guy down, I’m doing it.”

Coyote gave me a stern look. “You need to stop and think about what kind of forces you’d be unleashing if you use your Beneath magic, Janet. Undampened, on something like that sorcerer, with everything complicated by his hex. There’s no way of knowing what kind of magic he’ll be drawing on. The two of you could rip open the vortexes and release who the hell knows what, including your bitch-queen goddess mother. I will not let you do that.”

My blood chilled. The desert to the east of my hotel was riddled with vortexes, confluences of mystical energy. New Agers liked them, thinking that they enhanced their chi or whatever, but I knew what vortexes really were—gateways to the world Beneath. If my mother got out, she wouldn’t be looking to have a happy family reunion. She’d destroy every single person she could get her hands on, beginning with those most special to me. What she’d do with me, I had no idea, but it wouldn’t be anything good.

I was about to concede that Coyote had a point when Mick rushed across the room, yanked Coyote up by the shirt, and slammed him against the statue.

“Mick!” I protested.

I was more worried about the sculpture than Coyote, but Mick’s eyes were black with fury. “I told you what I’d do if you threatened my mate again,” Mick snarled.

“He wasn’t threatening,” I tried. “He was explaining.”