Dismal winds sputtered down from the Peak, blowing a terrible chill into the devastated cabin. Achilles barked, as if warning the Lost Causes of danger.
Strong Heart put a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “We will saddle the horses.” Then to Duck, “You and Keech help the Enforcer, then join us outside.” Together with Quinn, Strong Heart darted out of the cabin, pausing to look down at the moaning, weakened Ranger. Her gaze brimmed with equal parts pity and disgust. She shook her head, then turned and sprinted to the barn.
Keech and Duck helped O’Brien to her feet. Still clutching her wounded gut, the woman said, “Take me to the trapdoor.” They helped her stagger over to the hidden hole. After inspecting the lime-green weeds and grasses that grew inside, she threw the trapdoor back down. “The plants are still hearty. That’s good. I’ll need ’em soon.”
She stepped back, wobbling on her own. “Go. Help with the horses. You tadpoles need to make haste and ride out of here.”
“We ain’t leaving you,” Duck said.
When O’Brien saw that Keech and Duck weren’t moving, she waved them toward the barn. “Just go! Find the House of the Rabbit. And whatever ya do, don’t let Rose’s monsters get the Key.”
Keech turned, then stopped. “You haven’t told us what it does.”
O’Brien winced in pain. “Enoch’s Key is the way into the Palace. It’s the only way the Reverend’s men can get inside to free him.”
“Sounds like we’d be better off leaving it lost,” Duck said.
“No. That won’t put an end to Rose,” O’Brien said. “If ya find the Key, you have to travel to the Palace. You have to use the artifacts to finish him.”
“But how?” Duck asked.
O’Brien glanced around in desperation, as though searching for a last-minute answer. “I don’t know, tadpole. The Reverend only allowed a handful of Enforcers to witness the ritual. I suspect you’ll find the answers once ya get inside.”
“We’ll find a way,” Duck said.
“I surely hope so. Just make sure ya put all five pieces of the amulet together. Without the amulet restored, y’all can say farewell to hope.”
“We understand,” Keech said, again remembering Pa Abner’s final message: Find the shards, Keech, and unite them.
O’Brien put a hand on Duck’s arm. “One last thing. Somethin’ was triggered when Black Wood picked up the Key. A charge of energy opened up a door on the Peak’s summit, a door that grants passage between the places of power. Rose led us through it in thirty-three, and we stepped out into Thunder Pass, the canyon that hides the Palace.”
“Magic doorway, Thunder Pass. Got it,” Keech said. “Once we have the Key, how do we get to the summit to find the door?”
“Take a path known as Old Beggar’s Trail. You’ll find it on the map I gave ya. But yer team will need to make haste; if memory serves, the door won’t stay open for long.”
The hairs on Keech’s arms prickled. But it wasn’t the woman’s words that made him shudder; the air inside the cabin was humming. The noise was low at first, reminding Keech of the dull buzzing in Floodwood forest, and then it surged with fury. Achilles faced the hearth and bared his fangs with a low grumble.
Inside the fireplace, something slithered behind the rising gray smoke.
“There’s something moving in there!” Duck said.
A wave of sick intensity poured out of the hearth. Keech recognized it and backed away. “La Sombra. He’s here.”
Shimmering darkness flowed out of the fire. The malignant pitch twisted into the smoky shape of a man standing upon the hearthstones.
“Buenas noches, O’Brien,” La Sombra said.
Achilles released a barrage of barks and snarls that could have rivaled the fiercest wolf. Thick fur bristled along the dog’s spine as he padded backward to stand beneath the table.
The dark thing tilted its head toward the dog, then back up to the Enforcer. “I knew you were close, Em. Clever to hide yourself on cursed ground. We would never think to search here.”
“You kids get movin’ now,” O’Brien commanded.
The bedeviled shadow watched Keech and Duck. “Good to see you again, niños. There is no need to run. I mean you no harm.” The semblance of a smile cracked the smoky face.
Duck took a step away, but Keech held up his hand, stopping her. Perhaps they didn’t need to run, not yet. In November, Doyle had said Ignatio could manipulate shadows and mold darkness, but the Ranger had never said anything about Ignatio’s being able to kill with his shadows.
Keech said to the apparition, “You can’t hurt us, can you? You can drown our senses, but I think you’re just a bunch of smoke. The real Ignatio is somewhere around the Peak, searching to find the Key. But you can’t touch us, can you, La Sombra?”
The shape stepped off the hearthstone and drifted closer. The sulfurous fog moved with the creature, reaching into every corner of O’Brien’s cabin. Dreary laughter crept from the empty face. “True. I cannot touch you myself. But I can send out a call.” A smoldering finger pointed behind Keech.
Keech wheeled around to see a stooped figure standing in the rubble where O’Brien’s door used to be. He recognized the floppy hat and the black muttonchop sideburns.
It was Black Charlie, the wagon train captain.
“’Ello, mes amis,” the dark-eyed man said.
In the depleted light of O’Brien’s fire, Keech could see the Frenchman’s single fang jutting from his mouth. Except it looked different now. The fang had grown longer and thicker. Extending from each of his thumbs, the fellow had grown a pair of scythe-like claws, barbed and deadly.
La Sombra stepped back into the dwindling flames of the hearth. “I have delivered them into your arms, Weaver. ¡Mátalos!”
Before Keech or Duck could react, O’Brien was on the move, dashing toward Black Charlie, one hand still pressed against her wounded belly. She smashed her fist into Black Charlie’s face.
The captain snarled as he took the hit, but he didn’t fall as he had when Quinn struck him at the wagons. He had transformed into something worse, had become more powerful.
“Let’s help her!” Keech yelled to Duck.
“No!” Still raining blows down on Black Charlie, O’Brien turned her hectic eyes toward Keech. “Go with yer team! I’ll hold back the Weaver.” She pulled her hand out of a pocket—Keech hadn’t even noticed her reaching into her coat—and flung a handful of dust into Black Charlie’s dark eyes. As the powder touched his skin, the grains glowed red and popped with searing heat. He screamed in pain and clutched at his face.
“Go now!” O’Brien ordered.
Duck darted out of the cabin, hurdling over the debris. The Weaver screamed as the red-hot pepper danced across his face.
O’Brien called to Achilles. “Go, mutt! Lead ’em to the Peak!”
The dog barked twice, then hurried out after Duck.
Keech hesitated, hating to leave the Enforcer to fight alone. “We’ll come back for you!”
Black Charlie raised one of his claws, but O’Brien seized his wrist and shoved the arm down. “No! Go to yer friends!” She thrust her other hand into another pocket.
Keech bounded out of the cabin. He emerged to stand under the silver moon, unfettered by the clouds. The light illuminated the frosted meadow, the squirming leech trees, the mammoth outline of Skeleton Peak above the lea.
The place in the snow where Doyle had landed was empty. The Ranger’s moccasin prints scrambled off into the nearby forest, and there was no sign of Saint Peter. They would have to worry about Doyle later.
Back inside the cabin, Black Charlie squealed, “You will die for that, Enforcer!”
Keech scampered toward O’Brien’s barn. Achilles and Duck were just a few paces ahead, sprinting toward it. Strong Heart and Quinn had opened the doors wide, and lantern light spilled out. They emerged with the gang’s four horses, harnessed up and ready to ride. The Protector was already astride Flower Hunter, one hand gripping a lantern.
Quinn beckoned to Duck and Keech. “Run faster!”
Keech rushed to Hector’s side and mounted up, just as Ignatio’s billowing black cloud poured out of the wrecked front wall. The obsidian belt of smoke rolled toward the Lost Causes, sidewinding like a rattler over the snow. “It’s La Sombra. He’s coming!” Keech said.
Achilles barked shrilly, drawing their attention. He was standing a few yards ahead, waiting at the fringe of the mountain evergreens.
“Everyone, follow Achilles!” Quinn said, then shouted a command at Lightnin’. The gelding jumped into action, kicking up a scatter of wet hay and dirt.
As the riders galloped into the forest, Keech dared a look back. Under the silver light of the moon, he could still make out O’Brien’s barn and the ravaged cabin. Two figures stood in the snow between the buildings—O’Brien and Black Charlie—ripping and tearing at each other. “Don’t y’all stop!” Keech heard the woman cry out. “Whatever ya do, keep ridin’!”
The Lost Causes chased Achilles up the mountain. They followed the snowy path to a steep rise, the golden light of Strong Heart’s lantern guiding their way, and soon reached a rocky ledge, peering down at O’Brien’s meadow far below. The narrow trail continued to curl upward, ascending Skeleton Peak like a swirl of smoke from a candlestick. As they rode, occasional roars cracked across the night.
“What is that?” Duck asked.
“Sounds like thunder,” Strong Heart said.
“Not thunder—explosives,” Quinn replied. “Distant, though.”
The jagged terrain of Skeleton Peak made Hector move with a steady bump, sparking fresh fire in Keech’s arm with every step. He winced at the pain till he remembered that he’d taken the Fang of Barachiel from Doyle. Letting the others trail ahead, he pulled the Fang out of his belt and gazed at the bone dagger in the moonlight.
If the account of the desperado Big Ben Loving was true, Keech was holding the dagger that Abraham had taken to slay his son Isaac. But the angel Barachiel had seized the knife before Abraham could fulfill the sacrifice, blessing the dagger so that it could never spill blood.
Peeling off one glove, Keech held the Fang’s edge over his naked palm, took a deep breath, and dragged the razor-sharp bone across his skin. Instead of slicing his flesh, the ancient blade sent a torrent of healing warmth through his body. Within seconds, the pain he’d been enduring on the long trail—the ache from the bandit’s bullet wound, the cuts on his neck and face and ear from the Reverend’s attacking crows—disappeared as if they had never happened.
Strong Heart’s lantern light pointed back at him. “Keech, don’t linger!”
Keech returned the Fang to his belt. “Be right there!” he answered, and goaded Hector to catch up.
High above their heads, the snow-covered point of Skeleton Peak resembled a white fist thrust at the moon. The group trudged on, growing colder and wearier by the second. Not far ahead, Achilles slipped around a small hook in the trail and disappeared. When the horses finally rounded the bend, Duck said, “Look!”
Achilles had stopped at the foot of a gaping hole. The cavity loomed in the side of the mountain, and it resembled an open mouth with a heavy crossbeam timber for the top row of teeth. Two other long, rectangular timbers stood vertically on the left and right of the hole, forming an upside-down U in the mountain.
“It’s the mining entrance,” Keech said. “Achilles led us right to it.”
“Shohn-geh thali!” Strong Heart said with a laugh, then apparently realized she needed to translate. “Good dog!”
Quinn patted Lightnin’s neck. “The ponies won’t be too keen about going in there.”
“We’ll have to lead them on foot,” Strong Heart said, then held up the lantern. “We should have enough light to continue.”
Keech sized up the dark entrance. “We need a plan before heading in. Let’s check the map and see if we can figure out where the tunnel leads.”
Dismounting, the Lost Causes huddled in a tight circle, putting their backs to the frigid wind that surged up the path. Duck fished O’Brien’s map out of her coat.
Before she could unroll the paper, a long, unearthly growl rattled up the mountainside. Keech expected to see the tops of moonlit trees covered in snow, but instead he saw a brume of cascading darkness on the ridge.
“La Sombra,” Quinn groaned. “Don’t these monsters ever stop?”
Working quickly, Duck unfurled the map, and they studied the labyrinth of arrows and lines, all indicating tunnels that O’Brien had once traveled inside the Peak. “I think this is the adit,” Duck said, pointing to a dark square scribbled toward the bottom of the map—a location that seemed to indicate the south approach into Skeleton Peak. She ran her finger up the paper. “The channel forks to the east and west inside the mountain.”
An eerie howl cracked across the night.
Keech stared deep into the depths of the dark entrance, then shrugged. “Looks like the tunnel it is.”
But when they led the horses toward the mine, a stooped figure stepped between the group and the yawning adit. He stood a few feet away, his right arm tied up in a sling, and his wild eyes reflecting the yellow glow of Strong Heart’s lantern. The black shape of a tall stallion waited behind the figure, as silent as a breeze.
“You kids ain’t going anywhere,” Doyle said. “Not till you return my relics.”
Despite the icy winds blowing down from the summit, Keech felt his neck burn hot at the sight of the embattled Ranger. “Out of our way, Doyle. We don’t have time for your madness.”
A bitter gust kicked up before the Enforcer as he held out his unwounded hand. “The relics. Now.”
Strong Heart stepped in front of Keech. “Walk away, Red Jeffreys. The Lost Causes were charged to guard the Fang, not you.” Keech hadn’t noticed the girl retrieve a weapon—or place her lantern on the ground, for that matter—but she suddenly raised her longbow. A sleek arrow waited on the string.
Doyle’s resentful expression softened as he faced her. “My quarrel is not with you, Strong Heart. Nor is it with the Osage. I don’t desire more conflict. Only peace. Please step aside.”
“Hahn-kah-zhee,” the Protector said, not moving.
“I’ve caused you and your family enough suffering. I don’t want to harm you.” Another surge of wind played around the Enforcer’s boots.
Duck and Quinn appeared like sentries on each side of Strong Heart. Cracking his knuckles, Quinn said, “Sorry, Ranger Doyle, but if you aim to hurt her, you’re gonna have to go through us.”
Doyle’s face drooped in disappointment. “Very well, then.”
Keech prepared for the impending scuffle. But then a gruff voice called out, “I have a solution for you all.”
Black Charlie Gascon stood on the path behind them, his face ravaged with deep cuts. The battle with O’Brien had shredded the Frenchman’s coat into strands that rippled in the night wind. A perverse grin stretched his fanged mouth.
“’Ow ’bout I solve this little problème and take the relics for myself?”