Men gathered with whatever weapons they had on hand. The stable boy’s tale was recounted several times over: he’d found a dead foal in its pen and seen nothing more than a scuttling of shadows. But by the time the story had made its rounds, the villagers believed a monstrous slithering beast had killed ten full-grown horses.

“It will be disappointing if we do not see a coyote, at least.” Marco’s humor had an edge of nervousness to it. “The boys see shadows everywhere.”

“At least one horse is dead, though. Something killed it.” Hettie watched the stable door, wondering if she should drop into her time bubble to have a look. But every nerve ending bristled at the thought—she did not want to go in there alone, time bubble or no. It was a lucky thing Jezebel had been transferred to one of the corrals.

Raúl cut a swath through the men as he marched toward the stable. He spotted Hettie and halted. “It would be best if you went back to the house. You know El Diablo will be of no use against the chupacabra.”

She met his gaze head-on. “Maybe not as a weapon. But I can lure that thing out, if it even is a chupacabra. Besides, I’m not hiding in a closet with Abby if Diablo does attract that monster.”

He grimaced but didn’t argue. He called out instructions to the men, and Marco translated for her. “We’re to block all the exits. Raúl will go in and try to get rid of the beast, but we must make sure the creature does not leave.”

“He’s going in alone?”

“His magic is very strong,” Marco said.

Hettie knew that firsthand, but she still didn’t think it wise to let Raúl go on his own. After all, if he was killed, who would break the bond between her and Diablo? She went to the sorcerer. “I should go in with you. I can help.”

“No. Diablo’s powers will only agitate the beast.”

“You’ve seen for yourself Diablo’s good for more than blasting holes in things.”

Raúl huffed. “Just stay out of the way. I don’t want Diablo’s magic mixing with mine accidentally.” He shouted at the gathered men. The ones with rifles took up positions around the stable, weapons cocked. Raúl slipped in through the side door and shut it behind him.

For a long time they heard nothing. A cloud passed over the moon, drenching them in the dark, and the only sound was the nervous shuffling of the men as they readjusted their guns. Hettie’s skin rippled with gooseflesh. Something didn’t feel right. Diablo’s pendulous weight twitched in her grasp.

A cry from inside the stable was followed by a loud banging. Hettie rushed in, with Marco shouting after her.

The door swung closed behind her, plunging her into darkness. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the single dirty lantern that barely lit the velvety dark of the stables.

“Raúl?” She listened—silence. Broken glass crunched underfoot as she proceeded down the aisle. Several lanterns had been knocked off their hooks. It was a lucky thing the oil hadn’t spilled and ignited. She couldn’t hear any horses—perhaps the stable boy had been smart enough to release them instead of locking them in with the beast. Or perhaps they were all dead.

A low gurgling in the darkest corner had her whipping around. “Raúl?” Her heart slammed in her chest, and her grip tightened around Diablo. The air thickened with the smell of blood as she drew closer.

A gout of thick ooze jetted into the air as small hooves jerked and scrabbled against the stall. Hettie recoiled as the twin crescent whites of a foal’s eyes rolled toward her. Blood gushed from its mouth as its body sawed back and forth, its gory neck contorted at an unnatural angle. It gave a thin squeal.

The rattle of the stall had Hettie spinning around. In the dark she thought she saw a flash of white like a nightgown—but the movement was so fast, she couldn’t be certain. She held still, hearing nothing but the rasp of her quick breaths. Her throat closed over the one word she didn’t want a reply to.

Abby?

A low growl rolled from the darkness, halfway between a hiss and a yowl. Sweat popped out all over Hettie’s body. A dark shadow clambered noisily over the wall separating the stalls. With cold fingers she fired into the corner, and as the ball of green light expanded, she took a deep breath and slipped out of time.

The chupacabra was smaller than the first one she’d seen but no less deadly looking. Blood dripped from its curved horns. Its muscles bunched beneath the shaggy fur as it scrambled through the stables, still moving with extraordinary speed despite the fact she watched it from her bubble. The creature’s long neck bent as it turned and looked at her through slit eyes. Its gaze felt like a million tiny hooks catching onto her skin.

Hettie aimed beneath the monster’s claws and pulled the trigger. Time sped up as a green-white flash exploded against the ground and turned it into a pool of molten earth, flames leaping up as if hell had opened to reclaim its pet.

The chupacabra splashed down into the molten rock. It screamed as its front legs ignited like greasy wicks. The creature reared, thrashing what was left of its limbs—raw, dripping clods of quickly cooling earth. The burned stumps landed outside the pool of fire with a resounding thud, and the monster dragged itself the rest of the way out.

Someone groaned. Raúl! He was inside one of the stalls to Hettie’s left. She had to draw the chupacabra away from him.

“Hey, ugly!” She aimed to the left of the beast. A bright ball of light exploded next to the chupacabra. It growled and pivoted clumsily, its mouth foaming as it advanced on her. Hettie edged toward the exit and fired again. The beast hesitated, so Hettie aimed at its face. Diablo’s blast had as much effect on the chupacabra as a cold bucket of water. It snarled, and its muscles coiled as it prepared to lunge.

Hettie dove into her time bubble once more, straining as she moved through molasses. She got all of ten feet before she stumbled back into regular time and out of the stable, the chupacabra on her heels. She screamed what she hoped was “Shoot it!” but she heard no shouts, no gunshots. The men were too slow, probably shocked by her sudden appearance out in the open. In a horrifying split second she felt the chupacabra’s horn catch her side and lift her into the air.

Hettie hit the ground hard. Pain blossomed in her chest, and she rolled onto her back, her vision gray.

Labored pants snuffled close to her, and then the smell hit. Blood and offal and rotting meat wafted from the creature’s shaggy fur. Its sulfuric breath poured over her as the beast loomed. A drop of saliva stung her cheek. She looked up into glossy black eyes that offered no hope, twin pools of despair only the devil himself could love. As she prepared for oblivion she felt Diablo sigh, not in resignation, but in longing. As if the beast reminded it of home.

The boom of a shotgun made her bones shudder, and the chupacabra shrieked. Another blast and the beast tumbled off. Hettie rolled away and pushed up in time to see Walker pump a double-barreled shotgun.

“Fire!” he shouted.

The air filled with smoke as the men unloaded their guns into the chupacabra. Dozens of bullets poured into its hide. At first it seemed as if the monster barely noticed them, but the onslaught was too much, and eventually it toppled with a groan. Black ichor pooled around it, and the stench of rotting flesh made Hettie gag.

Walker dispassionately unloaded the last shotgun cartridge directly into its skull, splattering inky blood across the ground.

Something inside Hettie opened, and her heart beat triple time. Seeing him after all these weeks was like taking a drink of cold water after a long drought. She shivered. The bounty hunter looked as though he’d barely managed to throw on a shirt, the front tucked into his trousers, the buttons done up only halfway. He’d lost weight in the weeks he’d been recovering, but he was no less imposing.

“Are you all right?” Marco helped her to her feet.

“I’m fine. But Raúl—”

“I’m here.” The sorcerer emerged, holding his bloodied head. “It caught me by surprise. It was hiding in the rafters and knocked me down…” He trailed off and stared at the carcass. “What have you done?”

“I’ll tell you what she’s done.” Walker advanced on him angrily, shotgun tucked under his arm. “She saved your damned life. How could you be so reckless, facing that thing alone?”

The villagers nodded, and the tension gave way to incredulous victory. They’d killed a chupacabra. A cheer went up, but the celebration was cut short.

“You fools!” Raúl squeezed his eyes shut. “This is only a young chupacabra. Now that its blood has been spilled, others will seek it out, and they will find it here. Why do you think I use magic to banish them?”

The cheers subsided into chagrined silence. The look Walker gave him bordered on mutinous. The torchlight shifted over his face, his cheekbones and jaw jutting like sharp knives. Gone from ice-hard eyes was the desperate hunger for magic.

Raúl glared at him. “You should be in bed, brother.”

“If a chupacabra has breached the wall, none of us should be in bed. How did it break through father’s barrier spell?”

Raúl frowned deeply. “I don’t know. I will have to check the perimeter, and check on Father.” He snapped out instructions. “Bring wood and oil. We must burn the body right away.”

Men rushed to do his bidding. Hettie followed Marco into the stable, lighting lanterns as they went. They approached the stall where the foal lay, twitching in a pool of blood.

“We need bandages,” Hettie said, searching around. “Do you have a vet? Perhaps Beatrice can sew him up.”

“Hettie—”

“Thread, hot water, towels, and linen. Lots of linen. We can save—”

The muted pop of a revolver made Hettie jump back. Marco wiped the muzzle of his sidearm, grimacing down at the now-still foal. “It was a mercy. He could not be saved.”

Hettie stared. She felt sick to her stomach. Pa had put down animals before, of course, but that poor little foal had barely been weaned.

The stable master sighed. “We were fortunate many of the horses were out in their paddocks tonight. They’re all safe.”

She wasn’t so sure of that anymore. If the chupacabra had managed to find a way in, who else could? She left the stables as Marco called the hands in to clean up.

“Are you all right?” Walker’s deep voice startled her. His gaze flickered over her as if he couldn’t look at her full-on, and he stayed a generous arm’s length away.

“I’m fine.” She turned and winced at the stab of pain in her side.

“You’re a piece of work, all right. Let’s have a look.”

She drew back and wrapped her arms around her waist. The high-necked nightgown and the boots she’d shoved on her feet when she’d gone to speak with Javier hid far more than the blouses Julia and other village girls wore daily. Covered as she was, though, she felt especially naked in Walker’s presence. “It ain’t appropriate.”

“We’re past inappropriate.” He reached out to guide her away, but the barest touch shot heat straight to her cheeks. She recoiled sharply, sending another stabbing pain through her side.

“Call my mother,” he shouted to a young boy, who took off running. To Hettie, he said, “You need to sit.”

“I’m—” Before she could say “fine” again, Walker scooped her up and carried her toward the central fountain with long, quick strides.

“Put me down!” Anger and helplessness braided around the thrill chasing through her. “I can walk on my own.”

“Sure you can.”

Blood pumped hard into her head. Hettie drew her fist back and slugged Walker in the jaw. He dropped her, and she landed on her rump at his feet. Pain stabbed through her ribs, and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying out.

“Damnation, woman, I was trying to be helpful!” he shouted, holding his face.

“I don’t need that kind of help!” She staggered to her feet, shaking out her knuckles discreetly. Egads, the man had a hard head. “Next time I say ‘I’m fine,’ mind my words.” She sat on a cold stone bench by the fountain and shivered. Walker huffed and planted his fists on his hips.

“Rushing in there was mighty stupid,” he grumbled. “Marco said you ran headlong into the stable when Raúl said not to.”

She scowled. “If I didn’t go in, your brother would be dead right now.”

He glowered right back. “Is there something you wanna tell me about you and my brother?”

She didn’t reply. The air between them crackled.

Beatrice arrived, along with Julia. Walker’s mother had hastily thrown on a dress and apron, and carried a physician’s bag, but Julia looked … perfect. Did she sleep that way? The two women studied Walker warily.

“Stop acting as if I’m going to eat her. I’m fine.”

“So you say.” Beatrice probed Hettie’s ribs. “Just bruises. We can wrap them, and I can give you something for the pain, if you like.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll sleep it off.” She wasn’t keen on bandages or medicine. She’d survived being shot in the head—she’d live with a little bruising.

Beatrice didn’t question her decision and cast her son a warning look before heading off. Julia lingered. “Here.” She removed her shawl and draped it over Hettie’s shoulders. “I do not know how you do it. You saved my cousin … again.”

“He does get into a lot of trouble, doesn’t he?” she snickered.

Julia’s gaze flicked up to Walker. “She is as brave as you said.” She left then, trailing after Beatrice to tend to the others’ wounds.

Walker nodded stiffly to Hettie. “The men will take care of things here. Go back to bed.”

Not even a thank-you for saving his brother. She got to her feet and stiffly made her way back to the great house alone.

She paused at her bedroom. The door was ajar. Had she forgotten to close it? Chest tight, she pushed it open.

The moonlight slipped in between the cracks around the shutters, barely limning Abby’s slumbering form beneath the blankets tucked under her chin. She stirred and croaked out, “Hettie?”

Hettie released a breath. She’d only imagined her sister had been in the stables. “Nothing to worry about, Abby. Go back to sleep.”

Before she went to bed herself, she reported the chupacabra attack to Javier. He listened intently as she related the night’s events. “How do you think the chupacabra got in?” she asked.

He closed his eyes, frowning deeply. “I don’t know. The barrier is intact as far as I can tell…”

Hettie realized Javier was holding something back. “But?”

He waved her off. “It is nothing. I am simply tired.”

And now Javier was lying to her. But why? What did he have to hide?