I weaved through tables until I reached the doorway in the back where Elena still leaned against the door frame, her dark eyes watching me. She straightened when I approached and stepped in my path. I looked at her expectantly, but she just stared at me and crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“Um, thanks for bringing me here?” I said uncertainly.
“You may have Alba fooled, but I know something is missing from your story,” she said icily. “We’re at war. And I don’t trust you. If you make one wrong move, I’ll curse you into oblivion.”
My eyes widened, and I gaped at her. “I—okay.” What else was I supposed to say?
Elena slid out of my way. I hurried past the empty kitchen to the storage room where several cots had been squished next to each other. An older man was already asleep in the far corner. He snored so loudly I was surprised the building didn’t shake.
I claimed a cot in the opposite corner next to a large container of flour, and curled into a ball. Despite the stifling heat and the gnats buzzing around my ears, my heavy eyelids closed, and I was asleep within seconds.
Chapter 6
TORNADOES AND FLASHES of red light plagued my dreams. My parents screamed, and I woke up with tears on my cheeks.
Disoriented, I wiped my face and glanced around, blinking sleepily. I was alone in the storage room, but voices echoed from the kitchen. I readjusted my tank top and wrapped my jacket around me. After patting down my mane of curls, I stumbled out of the storage room.
The voices quieted when I entered. Alba and Ramón stood next to the older man who’d been sleeping in the cot earlier. He had long, white hair, which was pulled into a ponytail, and a short mustache.
Alba smiled when she saw me and waved me over. Relieved that my presence was welcome, I hurried to her side.
“Desi, this is Manuel,” she said, gesturing to the older man.
Manuel glanced at my clothes, his thick, white brows furrowed.
I sighed. I would have to find a change of clothes soon. The odd looks were getting on my nerves.
“Nice to meet you,” I said with a tentative smile.
Manuel inclined his head. “You as well. Alba tells me you have an . . . interesting story.”
“Yes. I’m not exactly from around here.”
Alba and Manuel chuckled, and Ramón snorted. I glanced at Ramón, whose massive arms were crossed over his chest again, Bouncer-Style. But his eyes were kind like Alba’s. I wondered if his gruff exterior was just a mask.
“How is it out there?” I asked, tilting my head toward the lobby.
Alba’s smile faded. “Still chaotic, but it’s settling down. We think the demons are bringing in their prey, which will give us an opportunity to emerge.”
Sickness swirled in my stomach. “‘Their prey’?”
Alba nodded, her expression grim. “It varies with each demon. Some use their victims for sacrifices or rituals. Others just feast on them, like vampires and werewolves.”
My jaw dropped and I glanced from Manuel to Ramón, whose expressions were equally solemn. “And you all just let this happen?” I blurted out.
Ramón dropped his arms and gaped at me, his brows lowering in fury. He opened his mouth, but Alba raised a hand to silence him.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, Desi, we’re at war,” Alba said, her voice sharp and her eyes hard. “There will be casualties. The demons outnumber us two to one. Mortal men aren’t the only ones fighting the Spanish right now—our healers are assisting, too. We’re taking hits on all sides, and El Diablo knows this.” She put her hands on her hips in a very motherly fashion. “Besides, I remember you saying you weren’t a Huntress back in your time. Did you stop every demon attack from happening?”
Silence and shame pressed in on me, and I rubbed my elbow awkwardly. “No,” I mumbled, remembering the werewolf attack and how badly I’d bombed that. “I’m sorry.”
Alba nodded stiffly, as if that settled the matter.
Hurried footsteps resonated behind us, and we turned to find Elena, her cheeks pink.
“It’s over,” she panted. “The Americans won.”
I expected cheers or sighs of relief, but Alba’s jaw tightened, and she shared a fierce glance with Ramón.
“That’s good, right?” I said uncertainly.
Elena’s gaze turned to me, and she rolled her eyes.
“The battle is over, but the war still continues,” Alba said, her eyes tightening. “The Spanish and American ships have been circling each other in the bay for weeks now. There’s bound to be a naval assault any day. I don’t see the Spanish giving in so easily.”
“And there’s the demons to consider,” Manuel said in a slow, gravelly voice. “Who knows how long those skirmishes will last?”
“Let’s go out front,” Alba said. “Our men will be returning soon.” She gathered her skirts and followed Elena to the dining area, Manuel and Ramón close behind her.
I lingered in the kitchen for a moment before floating behind them and peering into the room. The usual crowd remained, but their conversations were more urgent and enthusiastic. Some gesticulated wildly with their hands, others stood on tiptoes to watch the door for the soldiers to return.
Manuel stood nearby. I approached him and whispered, “How many warlocks were fighting?”
Manuel glanced at me. “A dozen or so from Santiago. More from other cities.”
My eyes widened. I opened my mouth to respond and then frowned. “But don’t they have to stay with their unit or whatever?”
“They would if they were mortals. But they aren’t. We’re fighting our own battle here in the magical realm. All our men have vanishing potions, so they are able to slip away and assist us here.”
The door opened, and the air stilled as the crowd seemed to collectively hold their breath in anticipation.
A young man stepped inside, his face and uniform covered in dirt and mud. He
