Then I shape-shift and bite his ass.

NOTHING FOR ME TO DO NOW BUT WAIT. I TRUDGE back to the same spot I occupied this morning—well, yesterday morning actually—and crawl back inside my little burrow. In thirty minutes I hear Ramon and his troops come into the village. The men disperse, Ramon barking a sharp order that they have fifteen minutes to get supplies and get their asses back to the well. I watch to see if he’s going to the shack where Culebra is being held, but he goes instead to where Culebra said Luis Santiago and the girls were hiding.

The guard snaps to attention when Ramon approaches. Ramon ignores him and pushes open the door to stalk inside. His anger is apparent and the guard doesn’t challenge or question him—in fact he doesn’t even greet him, just ducks out of Ramon’s way.

I can’t hear what’s being said behind the door Ramon slammed on his way inside. Gives me a chance to decide what I’m doing next.

Culebra?

Yes.

When the men start out again, I’m going to follow them for a while. Make sure they pick the trail I laid and not Max’s. He’s gotten a pretty good head start but hopefully they’re not adding a bloodhound to their posse.

Culebra’s rasping chuckle comes through once again. Haven’t seen any bloodhounds around.

Ramon appears just then and heads for Culebra’s shack.

Uh-oh, I say. Ramon is on the way.

I feel it as Culebra’s thoughts turn dark and dangerous. Stay tuned in, he says. I’ll try to find out what he has planned.

Ramon heads for the shack, his gait as stiff and angry as it was before. He greets this guard with as much arrogance as he did the other, too.

“Mueve el culo,” he barks. Move your ass.

The guard jumps to his feet, stands at attention. But he needn’t have bothered. Ramon whips past him without a backward glance.

In a moment, Culebra has opened a mental conduit that allows me to hear what is going on. Ramon must have struck Culebra because a wave of pain colors his thoughts bloodred. Ramon and he are talking in Spanish, but Culebra’s interpretation comes through to me in English. It’s a trick of this telepathy thing. No language barriers.

I don’t know where Max would go. Or why he left.

You are lying.

Another gasp from Culebra. And another. Ramon keeps hitting him until I feel Culebra’s thoughts grow dim. I’m just about to jump up and pull him out of there when Culebra sends me a message.

Don’t. Make sure they follow the false trail. Ramon won’t kill me. He has orders to bring me to his brother alive.

The beating goes on.

Let me stop this, Culebra. I can kill all these motherfuckers and we’ll leave with the girls.

No. Culebra’s answer is quick and heated. We need to find Santiago or I’ll never be safe. Go. Please.

Vampire stirs, feeling Culebra’s pain, not understanding why I don’t unleash her to save our friend.

But the human Anna understands.

I fight my way out of my bramble hiding place and take off down the trail to the rocks. Culebra’s pain follows me but I know he’s right. It’s the only way. I’ll lay the false trail farther and farther from the village. By the time Ramon and his thugs realize they’re chasing a ghost, I will have Culebra and the girls to safety.

CHAPTER 34

MY THOUGHTS ARE FOCUSED ON ONE THING—take this trail deeper and deeper into the desert and farther and farther away from the village. If Ramon wonders why Max would come this way instead of heading back toward the road, I’m hoping he attributes it to Max being disoriented. He heard Max say in the Jeep that he’d never been in this part of Mexico before.

I run, fast, leaving as much damage as I can in my wake. Environmentalists would rank me with off-road vehicles and dirt bikes on the list of forces destructive to the Earth’s gentle crust. I kick, pull and crush whatever is underfoot.

When I gauge I’ve gone ten miles or so, I stop and look back. The meandering path of destruction looks good. A little obvious, maybe, but I’m hoping Ramon either isn’t smart enough or is too angry to make that distinction. And it’s dark. Ramon will only see what his flashlights allow.

Now to get back. This time, I make a wide arc away from the trail I just laid and run like a light-footed cat instead of a charging rhinoceros. I doubt Ramon will be able to tell anything except that the trail suddenly stops. Let him waste time trying to figure it out.

I almost get caught. I hear Ramon and his party as they arrive across the road from the rocks and burned-out truck. I have to dive for cover in some brush. I end up sharing the space with a startled rattlesnake that curls and hisses at me.

Culebra? I ask hopefully.

The snake’s only response is to rattle threateningly and slither backward away from me.

Away from me.

Vampire is smiling. Not Culebra.

Ramon leads his gang toward the rocks and has soon picked up “Max’s” trail. I wait until they are well on their way to leave my hiding place and take off for the village.

As soon as I’m in communications range with Culebra, I open my thoughts, hoping Ramon didn’t do any permanent damage.

His reply is weak but coherent. You’re back.

Are you all right?

Depends on your description of all right. But maybe you should check with Ramon. I think I broke his knuckles with my face.

The husky sound of Culebra’s labored breathing as he attempts to laugh wipes the urge to smile off my face. You don’t sound well. I’m coming in to get you.

No. As quick as before. Adamant. I’m in no danger now. Luis and his guards will be coming here to eat at daybreak. They might let something slip that will give away his brother’s location.

Are you sure you’ll be all right?

Yes. I told you. They have orders not to kill me.

But it’s all right to beat him senseless. Reluctantly, I settle back into my den. By this time, I’ve actually made a nice little indentation for myself. Max’s duffel is secure behind me. A glance at my watch shows there’s still three hours until dawn, four until Max is due to call. I’m glad I had time to tell Max about Maria. She may be waiting in ambush on the path to the Jeep. If she and Gabriella were able to get out through that damaged door, that is.

I scoot down, curling into a ball, and rest my head against the duffel. Stephen’s face pops into my head. I’ve been gone how long? He’s probably in Washington already. I can’t call him. I have no idea how much battery power I have left in my cell. I can’t waste any to check. Besides, what would I say? Hadn’t I already come to the conclusion that going to Washington was out of the question for me?

Can’t dwell on something I can do nothing about. Four hours. This may be the last time I have to question Culebra about his past. I reach out to him.

I’m here, he replies with an echo of sarcasm that asks, where else would I be?

Tell me why Santiago still has it out for you?

At first, I think he’s not going to answer. Or he’s ignoring me. There’s no open communication link between us. All I can do is wait for him to make up his mind.

At last he does.

I did more than kill for Santiago. His tone is heavy with recrimination and regret. I told you I was hungry for money and power. So an opportunity came along—one Julio found out about—and I jumped at the chance to participate.

Another pause. I feel Culebra steeling himself to go on. At last he does.

It was a gun deal. Julio had a contact in the ATF. An extremely well-paid contact. A cache of guns that was to go to another government organization was hijacked with this mole’s help and brought across the border. Eighteen hundred automatic rifles and handguns. And we delivered them into Santiago’s hands.