With all attention on DaFaca, sweat trickled off the tip of Teven's nose unseen. The knife-man stood but five feet from the lead shifter, bound by fierce tension. Alone. The echo of the lead shifter's last comment resonated within Teven. Was Van lost? Juan Semos? The old vaquero's body reacted the same as the other diableros. Van hadn't moved, he remained still and silent.

Teven returned his attention to the knife-man at the sound of DaFaca's voice.

"It is you who are alone, Galtero."

The lead shifter laughed, turned with arms raised and smiled with a politician's best grin. "Are we alone in our fight?"

Teven couldn't understand a word of it, but the gist was clear. The shifters raised their fists with raised voices and he joined them.

DaFaca pointed at Teven. Wary, shocked, and sweating, Teven froze with his arm still held aloft. "Hand over the souls, Galtero. To hold these souls is itself a risk, drawing the attention of those you do not want gazing upon you."

"Why would I do that?" With crossed arms, the lead shifter leaned forward. "Are you afraid? Who is it you speak of, your Tezca Lords? The demonic Dominion of the Sepul?"

"Yes, among others, I speak of the Sepul, this is what they want. Demons manifest and thrive on intense emotive energies. Hatred, conflict, war, it will create an equipoise for them, and worse, a polarity to the Celestial."

The lead shifter turned back to look at the diableros. "We will drive them from the Earth. Their kind are no more welcome than any who are not of the free peoples of the Escuridado."

DaFaca stepped forward. "Galtero, are we to stand here and discuss planar politics? You can stand with these diableros, you can continue your struggle fighting alongside the Caddite mortals and mystics, but what are they before the expanse of the Escuridon or the Sepul? This is but one world, on one plane of existence."

The lead shifter raised a finger. "It is our world. We, the Escuridado emerged from the Third World into this, the Fourth, free in Death's domain."

DaFaca tilted his head to the side. A slow, casual movement. "You wish to enter death's domain? There will be no return from it, as Coyote decreed. Or is that why you seek these souls? Do you hope to extract mementos that will reveal forbidden secrets?"

"That they are forbidden implies they are known."

Both smiled at that point. Check and mate.

DaFaca nodded. "Perhaps."

"You fail at your duty, ‘Watcher'."

"Have I?" DaFaca said.

The lead shifter continued. "Where have you been these past months, or even these six few days while I've held and sought this pentad of ancient souls?"

DaFaca adjusted his hat. "You avoided the caverns of the Third World and journeyed overland. That was but one sign of your duplicity."

Silence.

DaFaca continued. "The men you sent to destroy the gateway, led by Mateo? That is where I have been."

The lead shifter bristled at the name of the scarred and favored warrior. "You killed Mateo and let the scouts escape? The souls that killed two of my warriors?"

"Warriors? Your fallen followers? No, I don't care about any ‘scouts', wherever they be." DaFaca sighed. "No more defiance, you've betrayed yourself, seeking fellowship with the Caddites. If you will not bow your will to the Escuridon, consider, I know your true name. Yield."

The shapeshifter turned with arms raised. "I die for the Escuridado. We will be free."

DaFaca entwined his fingers behind his back. "Galtero Gervaso Amado Gasento."

The lead shifter shuddered, glaring at DaFaca with hate-filled eyes.

DaFaca stepped back with arms bent, hands raised. "It's done, you're human once more, and have three days to live. Make peace with Don Gasento and your nieces. There will be no male heirs. The Gasento name ends with your brother." DaFaca grinned. "Then again, three days is a long time to plant one's seed."

The lead shifter lunged at DaFaca with ebon macuahuitl weapon raised.

Among the diableros, Teven gave up his pretense of uncertain disguise and strained to see.

DaFaca flicked a blade from his breast sheaths in a short arc, stepped back, drawing the blade through the forefinger and thumb of his free hand, yet there was no blood, the knife gleamed bright and clean in the sun. The knife returned to its sheathe, Galtero's body and macuahuitl struck the ground. All was silent.

*

Winds whipped through the few trees near the corral, a cluster of cottonwoods. Van glowered at the confused diablero. Black-tongued flames intermingled with a mane of golden fire rising from Van's shoulders and around his head. Thin, molten lines cut across his face, spoke-like from the bridge of his nose. The diablero backed away, cast its head about and held it between both hands, screaming.

"Trying to exit my mind? Attempting to escape? Are you in the grip of fear?" Van smiled. "Surely, fear leads to suffering. Yet, what happens when one embraces their fears?" Van pointed at himself. "This is what I fear."

The diablero shrieked, baring long, canine fangs.

In contrast to both, Aleya continued her work on the corral posts, sinking each thrust of her shovel with a good stamp from her booted foot.

Van smiled. "Ah, but you see, you can never know."

No matter what the diablero knew, the creature possessed Van's body, his mind, but not his soul.

"Memories I cherish, love I hold!"

The beast knew only the thoughts and memories of Van's mind. The fear of magic dwelled deep, his true fear, held within the depths of his soul. Not so much fear, but revulsion.

He didn't fear losing Aleya, he'd never lose her. But magic? The corruption and temptation of magic, he feared.

As the sky grew darker, and the light failed, the vision of the ranch fell away. Only Aleya, he, and the diablero remained at the center of a roiling Astral storm. Aleya worked as if in a pantomime, her surroundings and shovel gone, Van's heart warmed by a final glance at her, as she too, finally faded. Van turned back to the now weakened, shriveled diablero. "Time I think, for an end to you."

*

Atop the vermillion rocks, Marcos studied the two, 12-pounder, M1841 mountain howitzers partially buried in a deep stone cleft. Two more vaqueros stood over three crates of canister shot and limited, but dry, gunpowder charges. No limber or caissons and certainly no gun carriages could be found among the rock outcropping.

Frustrated, Christian turned to Sende. "We get one shot, maybe, if we tie the gun down and get the shifters where we need them."

Marcos lit a cigarette.

Sende looked at Christian with sad eyes. "We can still ride for town."

Christian stared east towards Albuquerque. Their perch atop the seven-foot high, broken ridge offered an expensive, panoramic view of the always stunning countryside. He sighed. "Sende, I know I asked you before, but I'm inclined, much as it sticks in my craw, to think of what Day Long said."

Hernan pushed past Marcos. "And you said my sister doesn't know anything."

"Give it a rest, Hernan." Christian looked down at Sende. "I think you do, I think you know precisely what it is you're running from, Sende."

She shared a long look with Hernan, before turning to Marcos, who drew on his cigarette and held his breath before he shrugged and exhaled silver vapors.

Sende squeezed her left arm and tilted her head down. "I saw Galtero Gasento die."

There was a stunned silence before all eyes turned to Hernan. He realized the inference. "No, I didn't kill Galtero. Sende?"

Sende looked up at Christian. "As I've told you, I was a servant, a slave, to the Gasento Family, in Señor Galtero Gasento's household. Señor Gasento awaited visitors and sent me into the hacienda to fetch him a fresh pair of boots. Galtero was always very particular about his appearance."

"Bit of a dandy?"

"Dandy?"

Christian pulled on his vest. "A Belvidere, a fancy dresser."

"He was, yes." She looked away. "While inside the hacienda I heard terrible noises, a fight and horrible screaming, and so I hid. But the noises continued."

Hernan stepped between Christian and Sende. She pushed her brother back. "Shh, it matters little that he knows. We all know. The diableros may be waiting for us, what will it hurt to tell him? They've all gone, his friends, the gringos. Young Señor Har is alone."

Christian waved Hernan away. "Yeh, hobble your lip, Hernan. Go on, Sende."

"I waited for hours, as the diableros went through the house." She pulled on her dark hair in absent-minded thought before drawing her own attention to it. She released the raven lock, studying her hand before looking up into Christian's eyes. "Señora Vargos and her diableros, they killed Galtero Gasento and his men. Now, only his brother, Don Gasento, remains. The Don and his wife have tried for many years to have a boy. Try as they have, their child is always a girl. With Galtero dead, they have no male heirs."