“Hell’s bells!” Dean cursed. “Grab the kids! Dump your carts! We’ll shelter under them.”
Mystified by the mesmerizing murmuration, her astral body drifted to the sky.
“Mommy, come back!” The warning echoed through Scarlett’s mind, but she had lost control of her will.
Scarlett didn’t understand why Dean stood next to her, shaking her back, when all she desired was to fly away—for an eternity. But that look of petrifying desperation in Dean’s eyes brought her back.
Dean darted to Mindy. “Crouch down. I’ll cover you with the cart.” He froze. “Two babies? Is that Mateo?” He quickly placed the cart over Mindy.
Did he say, two babies, Scarlett puzzled, floundering with her cart. The birds swooped closer, their shrieks insufferable.
“Dean?” Scarlett yelped out at the unbearable pain stabbing her blind.
Dean rushed back to her. “Scarlett, sit. On the road.” He grabbed Twila. “In your mama’s lap.”
They huddled as small as they could while Dean flipped the cart over them. Instead of focusing on the Ancient Ones’ minions, Scarlett pondered over why Mindy had Mateo. It was like one of those ridiculous dreams that didn’t make sense, no matter how she rationalized it.
“Grandpa Dean”—trembling-terror took over Twila’s voice—“hurry!”
Through the cart’s metal grids, Scarlett helplessly watched the fiendish flock swarm Dean. She should help him. She knew she should. Yet, she was paralyzed.
Dean kicked and cursed. He flung his arms, knocking them away. Gathering her inner strength, using mind over matter, Scarlett sent an ethereal energy blast at the blackbirds. The birds squawked and nipped at each other as if blaming each other for the attack.
Relief gasped through her lips when Dean made it under his cart. Then, an invisible force retaliated. Her head spun. The pecking of beaks, the slashing of talons, ripped at her skin. Her vision went blood-red. Blood poured out of every orifice of her body. An image of Luther’s Andara crystal flooded her mind. That’s what they want!
“No!” She had to protect it. A sudden knowing warned the illusion would soon manifest into a reality if she didn’t regain cerebral control. With Twila limp in her arms, Scarlett willed in calmness. A tingling sensation climbed up her feet and to her root chakra, grounding her.
Scarlett plunged into her inner sanctuary. She stood in the middle of an infinite beach. Time ebbed away like a cosmic ocean in low tide. An hourglass took over her inner vision. The last grains of humanity remained. Grain by grain, humanity spiraled down, slipping down . . . into nonexistence.
A familiar voice spoke to her about something called Entangled in Time, of all things. “Time is on your side . . .” an enchanting voice repeated. Images of continuous colorful geometric patterns bloomed into life. Fractals, she suddenly knew. A magnificent mandala swirled with a myriad of archaic numerals chiseled from stone spiraled in and out of focus.
***
The next thing she remembered, Dean was massaging her shoulders. His words finally registered. “They’re gone.”
A wide-eyed Twila ran to Dean. Instead of comforting Twila, Scarlett ran to Mindy sitting beside her overturned cart. She had to know. To her amazement, Mindy coddled two babies strapped to her chest. There was no mistaking Ella’s Archangel Michael pendant around Mateo’s neck.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Scarlett demanded, hurt Ella hadn’t confided in her.
“ ’Cause,” Twila shouted, “only Mindy and I know how to keep the bad ones away. You and Dean don’t try hard enough.”
Scarlett pushed back the anger threatening to lash out. She wanted to scream, “How could she try harder?” This was all—too much! Still, so much more was at stake than her own well-being. “Dean, she’s right. We must mask our thoughts. Every second of the day,” Scarlett hissed, releasing her pent-up fury as if deflating an overly filled tire. Although she didn’t see how it would be possible during dreamtime.
“Oh, Grandpa Dean. Does it hurt bad?”
Lost in her funk, Scarlett finally realized Dean had taken a beating. Spurts of blood pocked his arms where the birds had pecked him.
“I’ll be fine,” Dean assured, hugging Twila. “Folks, get those carts loaded.” The look in his eyes as he searched the skies belied his steady voice.
“Twila, help Mindy load her cart.” Scarlett grabbed the tea tree oil from her tactical vest. The oil’s antibacterial and antiviral properties would help fight off infection.
“You think those things, whatever they are, will be back?” Dean husked under his breath, wincing at her gentle dabbing.
She wanted to ease his mind, but the words stuck in her throat. Dean was the group’s equalizer, taking on the responsibility of their day-to-day survivalist decisions, keeping them safe. Alive.
The tired lines around Dean’s eyes creased deeper. “We lost two hours! I tell you what,” he chattered on, “those things give me the screaming meemies.”
Two flippin’ hours? No wonder she was so depleted. “Shouldn’t Luther be back—” Scarlett started.
“Anytime now, I’m sure,” Dean said. But she didn’t buy it as he haphazardly hurled supplies into his cart. “We ought to get going. Got an hour of daylight left.”
The roar of an engine took them by surprise.
A camouflage military truck approached. “What are Enforcers doing out here?” Dean grabbed his Glock.
The vehicle flashed its lights and tapped the horn playfully. Still, Scarlett fingered the 9mm’s trigger.
The cargo truck with canvas siding pulled up beside them.
“Your Uber’s here!” Justin shouted from the passenger’s window.
“Uncle Luther!” Twila trilled.
Luther jumped out of the truck. “What happened here?” He tiptoed between the dead birds littering the ground. “And what happened to you?” Luther took a step back from Dean as if he were about to turn creeper on him.
“Lord knows?” Dean brushed him off. “Is that
