Chapter Thirteen. In Which the Trio Encounters Outlaws
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
In Which the Trio Encounters Outlaws
The Wolf was making them wait until the wee hours of the morning before leaving.
Javi complained about sitting on the floor, his muttering coloring Risa’s dreams as she went back into a fitful sleep.
Eventually, she rolled out of bed and let him have the cot for the last few hours before dawn.
He was asleep within moments while she sat in a corner, glaring at the Wolf, trying to see past her drawn hood.
After a little while, a faint scratching at the window filled the air.
Risa turned to find Brunie staring through the glass, eyes yellow in the dim candlelight.
Risa let the cat in, thankful that he proceeded to sit on the ledge and regard the Wolf with a thinly veiled suspicion that matched her own.
“I do not like cats,” the Wolf declared.
“Yes, well, it’s clear the cat does not like you, either,” Risa shot back.
The Wolf finally determined it was time to make their way to the stables, where they would steal some horses and escape into what was left of the night.
“It is important that we ride toward the far end of town,” the Wolf ordered in a whisper as they crept through the inn on silent footsteps. “No matter what happens, you must not raise your hand in violence.”
“What do you mean?” Javi asked, panic laced in his voice.
The Wolf’s answer was vague. “Do not do it, and you will have nothing to worry about.”
Outside, the moon was a blot of silver against a clear, inky sky, turning the dusty road and dunes colorless.
Sounds of raucous merriment rose up to greet them as people stumbled in and out of half-crumbled establishments, spilling liquor onto the thirsty ground.
No one paid them much mind as the Wolf turned the corner of the inn and disappeared behind the side of the building.
Risa followed, Brunie slinking close, and Javi took the rear. The inn was quiet, all patrons having gone to bed. The windows overlooking the alleys and stables were dark, allowing the trio to remain invisible as they crept by.
The Wolf stalked toward a post to tuck a pouch of reales into a hanging purse. Money for the innkeeper to pay back his soon-to-be-horseless patrons. For an outlaw, she was rather thoughtful.
The Wolf was heading toward the stables when the horses stirred as one, alerted by something in the air.
Risa had no time to prepare. She was thrown against the side of the inn, a horrible pop ringing in her ears. Sharp pain, like lightning splintering across a darkened sky, lanced down her arm. She crumpled to the ground like a rag doll, landing in a heap, her head spinning.
She choked back a sob, her arm hanging limp at her side.
Before her, bathed in scarlet and moonlight, was Mustache, holding the Wolf by her hooded cape. A wound at his shoulder pulsed around the dagger embedded in it. He looked unfazed by the injury as red-hot liquid soaked the front of his shirt. Magic scented the air and made her insides twist.
Mustache’s yellow teeth glinted. The Wolf struggled to free herself, feet kicking the air as she twisted in Mustache’s grip. With every fervent swing, her cape tightened further around her neck, a strangled noise escaping her throat.
Eyepatch stood at the end of the alley with another friend. Through the haze of pain, Risa could make out a smear of crimson on his friend’s right biceps, a tattoo of a crescent moon so bright red it glowed.
She remembered that symbol from another night, a night when dead guards’ blood had seeped into the ground like a grim stream.
“We almost believed ya,” Mustache told her, grin wicked. “About this boy not being el principito. But then I remembered all those rings.” He turned his cold green eyes onto the prince. “If ya don’t want us to hurt yer little girlfriends any further, you’ll stop making a fuss and come with us.”
Javi raised both hands in surrender. “I can pay you double the reward. You can have all my rings. Let us go and it’s all yours.”
Eyepatch’s one eye widened. He exchanged a look with his fellow, Tattoo, whose face brightened at the prospect.
But Mustache laughed at the suggestion. His hand wound around the Wolf’s cape until she stopped moving.
“I don’t think so. We got a job to do, me and my boys. Orders from the top.”
“Boss.” Eyepatch scratched his nose. “More money is more money.”
“Genius observation,” Mustache growled, eyes rolling. His grip on the Wolf loosened a fraction. “We don’t need the money, ya big moron.”
Risa could sense a fight brewing in the air. Taking another step toward Javi, arm cradled by her working hand, she said, matter-of-factly, “Who doesn’t need money? The housing market is down, the price of”—she faltered, racking her mind for something—“stuff is so high.”
Tattoo nodded. “Eggs are through the roof.”
Mustache turned to Risa, eyes blazing. “Shut up.”
She didn’t need Mustache to grab at her with his other hand. What she needed was a distraction. “He’ll give you his circlet!”
Javi glared at her. She hoped he understood.
She was doing this for him, anyway. Well, mostly for herself, since she didn’t want to die, but also because she didn’t want to see anyone else die, either.
She didn’t want to be responsible for another massacre, and certainly not for the death of royalty.
“You want me to give up an antique—”
“Yes.”
“A family heirloom—”
“You have other heirlooms.”
Mustache snarled as he pulled the dagger from his shoulder and chucked it at the ground. It clattered somewhere to the side. “Enough! Ya talk too much.”
From the corner of her eye, Risa saw the Wolf’s fingers slip around her dagger’s twin, still sheathed on her other hip. She had to keep going, even if her arm was screaming in pain.
“It’s what makes her insufferable,” Javi agreed.
“Me?” Nervous laughter bubbled out of Risa and sent a spasm of pain down her arm. “You’re intolerable. Categorically exasperating. You are selfish, vain, maddening—”
Javi pouted, though his mouth flirted with a half smile. “If we’re going to list my attributes, you should include handsome, witty, great ass—”
“This is a life-or-death situation!”
Mustache looked back and forth between them, head swiveling. A flash of silver slashed through the air, and he let out a howl. Crimson spurted from a deep gash in his hand, revealing sinew and tissue. Another slice appeared on his thigh before the dagger was buried in his stomach.
The Wolf withdrew the dagger and danced out of reach, cape billowing gracefully behind her.
The distraction had worked.
Mustache tried to catch the Wolf, but his wounds spurted more blood and forced him to his knees. The prince slammed a shoulder into Eyepatch, sending him careening into Tattoo. The two fell in a flurry of limbs, and the Wolf pounced, blade flashing.
Then Javi was there, retrieving the dagger at the Wolf’s feet. He weighed the weapon with an aloofness that belied his ease with it. He might have seemed useless, but it was clear he knew something.
Risa, however, was no good with a dagger, and less so with an injured shoulder.
She staggered toward the stables. Inside, two horses were standing in stalls.
They seemed unaffected by the violence and didn’t shy away from her presence as she fumbled with the latch on one of the stall doors, the warped wood becoming stuck.
Realizing it might be impossible to open the latch with one hand, she released a huff.
Before she could begin gnawing through the door out of frustration, she was nudged aside by the Wolf. The outlaw opened the door, bridled the horse, and handed the reins to Risa.
“Find a way to get on,” the Wolf ordered, moving to the other horse.
Risa tried. She scrabbled for purchase with her working arm, but she couldn’t figure out how to mount. The horse barely registered her attempt. A glance back to the alley told her the three men were already struggling back onto their feet.
Risa sagged, the weight of her fate crushing. She was going to die right there, under the moonlight like a tragic heroine.
“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Javi said, appearing by her horse and placing the reins over its neck. He grabbed her good hand and set it on the horse’s mane. “Hold.” She gripped on as Javi’s hands followed the line of her body until one found her knee and the other wrapped around her ankle.
Perfect stillness. The heat of his fingers lit a fire against her skin. Brunhilda’s spell tightened around her chest.
And then magic tingled down her neck again.
“The sheriff is coming!” the Wolf shouted in a frantic voice, staring at something down the alley.
Risa followed the Wolf’s eyes.
Haloed by the moon was a figure in a wide-brimmed hat standing unnaturally still. She couldn’t see their features, the full moon bright against their back, but she could tell something was wrong. Then it moved, moonlight skimming the side of its face.
Spearbelly’s scarecrow, marching on stiff legs, a tinkling sound accompanying each step. A shiny silver badge with SHERIFF scratched on the surface glinted on its leather vest. Though its straw face was blank, Risa could feel it staring.
More magic. More curses.
Javi cupped his hand around her knee. “Listen to me. Bend your leg and jump. I’ll help you.”
She did so, not allowing herself to question him. His hands beneath her ankle and knee pushed her up until she could kick her leg over the horse.
“Brunie?”
Javi shrugged. “That cat will find us. Or if he knows what’s good for him, he’s gone.”
“We need. To go.” The Wolf punctuated her words in desperation.
Javi hauled himself onto the horse and settled in front of Risa. He took her good hand and forced it around his waist, encouraging her fingers to grab his tunic. “Hold on. And do not even think of trying to be contrary with a cute little quip.”
Looking back over her shoulder, Risa saw that the sheriff had lifted a stiff arm in the air, a pistol in its straw hand.
“Go, go, go!” the Wolf cried.
The bullet startled the horses into motion.