If anything, the courtyard was worse than the church. Corpses lay everywhere, and the air stank of blood, shit, and gun smoke. But farther away, the prisoners, freed now, surrounded the Seagraves, their faces wet with tears of gratitude as they thanked them profusely, each trying to touch a member of the werewolf family. Jay she could understand; he had the face of an angel. But an old woman even hugged Casey, wrapping her arms around the huge man, crying into his chest.
For his part, Casey looked dumbfounded, but he gently reached an arm around her, hugging her back, and Angie heard him say, "You're safe now, Grandmother. No one will hurt you. You can go home."
He was wasting his time, she knew. In this part of the world, even Ferals would speak Spanish, not English, not even the Spanglish of the Nortenos. Still, his tone was soothing.
That was when she felt tiny fingers tugging at her hip. She looked down to see a small child, a girl of no more than seven years old with dark-brown skin and filthy clothing, her hair bedraggled. She looked up at Angie with huge sad eyes, dry eyes, the eyes of a child so poorly treated she was no longer capable of crying. "Donde esta mi mama?" the child asked.
And then Angie began to cry for her, the tears washing away the blood on her soul. No matter what ugly acts she and the others had committed this night, they had also saved these people. That had to mean something.
Angie dropped onto a knee and hugged the girl, whispering into her hair. "I'm sorry. I don't know where your mother is." Then she repeated the words in Spanish.
The girl's mother wasn't with the other prisoners, which most likely meant she was dead, but Angie handed the child over to a middle-aged woman who said she knew her and would care for her. That was the best Angie could do.
Tec interrogated the prisoners, learning what he could from them. Angie had hunted Ferals for so many years that she was somehow surprised to realize they were just people, not cannibal monsters. Damn the dragons for doing this to us. They've turned us against one another.
Casey and Jay found food and water and told the prisoners they could take whatever they wanted, as well as the horses they didn't need. Rowan had already chosen twenty mounts, enough for everyone to ride with another animal to carry supplies and even a pair of spares.
The assault had been an unqualified success, the fighting over almost as soon as it had begun. The church had been stocked with more supplies than they could have hoped for: food, weapons, and equipment they'd need to move north. Rowan had even found a pair of M72 light anti-armor weapons—disposable one-shot rocket launchers. Wyn Renna had found the high-frequency radio sitting on an old wooden table in a back office of the church and was already speaking to someone in Coronado on the frequency her mother's people monitored. Tavi was inside, watching her, her face marked with distrust. Angie understood, even if Tavi didn’t. The Fey did what they felt they had to do to survive, and the hell with anybody else, especially humanity. Her own adopted mother, Char, had done almost the same thing, sending the nymph Astris to spy on Sanwa City.
Any misgivings Angie might have felt about shooting sleeping men vanished when she heard what the prisoners had to say to Tec. He had been right. The Tzitzime mage had already told the prisoners they were to be sacrificed for the glory of the Aztalan Empire, which really meant sacrificed for the blood magic of the Tzitzime cult and its dragon worshipers. When Tec had finished speaking to the prisoners, he urged them to flee. As they slipped away, Angie joined Tec, watching the little girl be led away by the hand. These people would have a hard time getting to safety, but they were alive and free. That was the best they could do.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He didn't answer at first. When he did, his voice was devoid of emotion. "For what?"
"For helping, for fighting. For saving those people."
"Have we saved them? They could easily be rounded up again. The Aztalans have gone to war. They're going to need a lot of sacrifices."
His voice was filled with pain. He was clearly still in turmoil over the death of his master. She reached her hand out to touch him but stopped herself. Instead, she changed the subject. "There was a vampire with them."
He turned to stare at her, his eyes narrow. "Really?"
"That's not the first time, either. A pair of vampire assassins tried to kill me in Canyon City, tried to kill Tavi and Presidente Carter as well. I asked Queen Elenaril, and she said some Fey serve the Tzitzime and Aztalan Empire."
He exhaled, which sounded more like a growl. "I've heard rumors of a renegade clan of vampires. They call themselves the Night Kin."
"Why would Fey serve the Tzitzime?"
"Same reason people do: power."
For the first time in days, he was coming out of his shell. She wanted to ask him questions, so many questions, about Quetzalcoatl, the Tzitzime, the black dragon Itzpapalotl, and his bunker beneath Mount Laguna filled with weapons and supplies. But more than anything else, she wanted to know about the Awakening and if he had known it was coming, because it sure looked as though he had. And it looked as though the United States government had also known about it.
"Listen," she said, trying to find the best way to broach the topic. "I'd like to—"
"We're moving out!" Casey yelled as he stepped out of the church, holding a belt-fed heavy machine gun over each shoulder by the barrels. "Rowan wants to be on the move before sunrise."
Tec turned from Angie. "Where?"
"Ask Rowan." Casey began to strap the weapons to one of the spare horses, as well as boxes of linked ammunition.
"You really think you're gonna need all that?" Angie asked Casey.
"Of course," he answered, giving her a look as if she were crazy. Then he turned away and went back inside the church for more weapons.
Rowan came out next, followed by Wyn Renna, who wore the Tzitzime mage’s hexed saber on her hip. "What's up?" Angie asked Rowan. "Where are we going?"
Rowan ran his thumb and forefinger over the ends of his mustache and cocked his head at Wyn Renna. "East. Our elven friend says her mother is going to meet us to the east, at an old airfield along the coast, maybe a half day's ride."
Wyn Renna nodded. "Forty kilometers to the northeast, there's an old runway at a promontory that juts out into the Gulf of California called Cueva de Leon."
"The Lion's Cave, I know it," Tec said. "There was a large pre-Awakening town nearby called San Juan de Los Planes, but it’s been abandoned. I don't know if that airstrip is serviceable, but I very much doubt it."
Angie cocked her head. "I thought you said your mother doesn't have any planes."
"She doesn't," Wyn Renna said. "But that's where she told us to wait for her. If she says she'll be there, she'll be there."
Erin stepped out of the church, a large rolled-up map under her arm. "Hey, Rowan. You need to see this."
Rowan joined Erin as she knelt and unrolled the map. Casey held a lit lantern over their heads, and Angie recognized the southern California coastline centered upon the ruins of San Diego and Coronado Island. Tactical markings covered the map, showing routes of advance for military units. It didn't take an intelligence officer to see what this was: the Aztalan military plans to attack the Coronado Island Fey Enclave. "They're going to attack the elves."