Teven sweated the seconds as the inhuman figures faced off. Both held their hands at their sides, the sky a cobalt canvas above the stark fastness of the land where the territories leaned toward the Rio Grande and Mexico fell away. An arena of ancient hostility. Silence and beauty contrasted by creatures risen from the Underworld. The natural against the unnatural. Was the supernatural unnatural? Teven's experience in the Crimea and the past six days served only to confuse him, the world a wider place than what remained hidden, its ancient secrets obscured by human bias.

The stranger stood ten feet from the lead shifter. The leader of the shapeshifters raised his arms with his palms up. "Señor Diogo DaFaca."

The stranger waved a hand in a flourish and tipped his hat. "Galtero."

Moments passed and the lead shapeshifter, Galtero, gestured towards Teven and the shifters. "Come to join us?"

DaFaca smiled and stepped forward. "To where?"

"We ride south."

"I see that, and as your family's Watcher I find there is no reason for you to be so far from Gasento lands."

"Is that why you've come? To escort us home? Have you spoken with my brother?"

DaFaca raised a finger. "Don Gasento knows the rule of the Escuridon." The Watcher placed his hand on his chest. "He need not speak with me."

The lead shifter tensed, with hands held in tight fists by each thigh. DaFaca observed this and shifted into a more casual stance, his weight shifting to favor his right leg.

"Is it Los Orlos you journey to? We are aware of the true Caddite intentions beyond their mortal desire for the Caddo Republic." He paused. "But tell me Galtero, why has a gateway within Gasento lands fallen?"

The lead shifter grimaced. "There's a war coming."

DaFaca's eyebrows pinched together. "Coming? There's open war…"

The lead shifter interrupted. "Not the mundane War of the States, power struggles in Mexico, or the war waged in the depths of the Domnu, the same war you've conscripted souls of the Escuridado into. No. Not even our own fight for freedom within the greater Tezca. A Planar War is coming, perhaps even the first new High War in eons."

DaFaca laughed and everyone was clearly disturbed by it.

The lead shifter pointed at DaFaca. "You laugh at me?"

DaFaca raised his palm to the lead shifter. "My role is to guide your family."

"Enslave. My family and all the peoples of the Escuridado are slaves to the Escuridon."

"You are servants of the Escuridon, citizens of the Escuridado, and the legacy of Atlantis."

The lead shifter waved away the notion of an Atlantean legacy. "The Escuridon and Escuridado? The time of Atlantis, the gods, the Tezca Lords, that era is done. We will live free of them all."

DaFaca leaned back and looked down his nose at the lead shapeshifter. "And yet you support this foolish uprising against your own people, while the Dominion of the Sepul is awarded lands to the north by the Sedes?"

The lead shifter stepped, for the first time, toward DaFaca. "Ah! You disagree with the decree of the ‘venerable' Sedes?"

"Disagree?" DaFaca scoffed. "That's an age-old question. ‘Who will rule? Men or gods?' It's not for you to decide."

The lead shifter spoke through clenched teeth. "Did I not say that but moments ago? It's already decided. Hundreds of years ago. The gods cower and hide from the Sepul and the Siege does nothing."

DaFaca laughed. "The Tezca never joined the august body of the Sedes."

It was the lead shifter's turn to laugh. The shapeshifter pointed north. "The ‘Sedes'? In my lifetime I've only ever heard of the assembled membership as the ‘Siege', because they are under siege from within and without!" The lead shapeshifter turned like a politician to the assembled diablero riders. "I believe the Escuridon serve the Siege."

For the first time, the diableros moved, indeed cheered, and Teven was too surprised and almost too slow to act.

The lead shifter turned back to face DaFaca. "At the least, the Siege had something to do with funding the Escuridon and setting your order of Judges and Watchers to rule over the people, the Escuridado, here on this side of the world." Galtero flung an arm in a wide arc. "But you mistake the Siege for what former power it held. The Planar War will start with the Sepul and their demonic legions."

DaFaca shook his head and dipped his chin, his eyes hidden under the brim of his hat. "Ah, yet you've sacrificed your souls and humanity to be free of the Escuridon and our Tezca Lords? You've become diableros, corrupt witches. Your brother, Don Gasento, is alone now, he and his wife and daughters."

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The lead shifter spat. "As alone as you?"

Teven risked a glance at Van. Odd. His body watched the two men argue. It stood with cold, unmoving aloofness, unlike the other shifters. Even so, its stance, his expression, held none of the childhood friend Teven knew like a brother.

*

The mindscape of the ranch stretched out around them as Van stared at the skinwalker, a dark-haired, tan skinned, young Mexican of Spanish descent. Fit, his skin slick, his eyes reflective and uncanny.

The skinwalker cocked its head, confident with arrogance. "We know your thoughts, sense your fears. Your true fear is losing your wife." The creature grinned, pointing at Aleya as she continued her work on the corral posts. "That is truly what brought us here. She is your weakness and your prison. I see now, her soul is like yours, your soulmate. We know where she dwells. We will harvest her soul too. We… " The shifter hesitated.

Van stood in utter silence, as silent as possible in a spirit realm, where thoughts dwell. He seethed and the Astral mindscape began to shudder with the swell of unnatural gusts and a darkened sky.

The skinwalker stepped back. Besieging Van's mind, possessed of Van's body, the beast knew Van's thoughts. The creature's threat toward Aleya awoke a terrible wrath within Van, and the shifter knew its death would follow, with finality, by Van's hand. The skinwalker knew fear, deep and cold, and the resolute anger and certainty of Van's intent, just as Van knew the creature's thoughts. The skinwalker regretted its mistake.

Van's eyes flashed. "Fear the rage of a good man, for when it comes, it is terrible and all-consuming."

*

Christian galloped atop his mare, followed by the twelve Semos vaqueros, Sende and Hernan to his left, and Marcos at his right. Temptations and second thoughts tore at his mind. Nothing in comparison to what Day Long described of his brief possession by skinwalker, yet this was more insidious. Christian was at war with himself, besieged by second-guesses and self-recriminations.

Guilt.

What did he really want? What did any of them want? Truly? Teven, uncommitted to the ranching partnership. Aleya, was she as confident and steadfast as she always appeared? His sister-in-law, Jessica, waiting at the ranch, supporting Teven? Nathan wandered the mountains until invited by Van to form the partnership. Day Long, a mystery, Señor damned Loco. Christian laughed, where did it get them? Divided, running from the very thing which drove Van from the Old World—magic.

"Damn it!"

Albuquerque still lay half a day's ride away and once there, what next? Do as he told the siblings, Sende and Hernan? Sit around and wait for the scouts, or his brother and Van, to return? The army was of no use. They'd not believe them and wouldn't mobilize to escort cattle. He shook his head. Which army? Union or Confederate? Talk at Red Clay spoke of a battle. Who held the town now?

Having to rest the horses, Christian reigned in and turned his mount, pulling on the lariat that guided his spare. Each rider rode with one spare, assigning the twenty-five horses of the remuda.

Christian stared back along their route, turning south, plagued by the further questions of his brother's fate. What was Day Long's plan, or was it more of his madness?

"Señor Har?" Sende carried her saddle to her spare horse. "You must dismount."

Christian nodded, still looking south, before clearing his throat, tossing a leg over the rear of his horse, swinging down. He reached under the mare, its breathing heavy and loud, to unfasten the saddle. Doing so he set it down beside him. With one hand on the shoulder of the mount, he paused. A glint in the rocks to the north, caught his eye. He shifted his head, moved up and down, left and right. There it was again.

To his right, Sende straightened the saddle blanket on her fresh bay gelding and, aided by her brother, swung her Texas saddle into place.

Christian removed his own blanket, a calm within him, settling the boiling anger. "Sende, who knows the most recent news from Albuquerque?"

Sende called out to Marcos, who in turn, gave an uncharacteristic shout in Spanish, repeating Christian's question.

A thick, middle-aged vaquero called out and led his horse over to Christian, chattering in Spanish.

Sende turned to Christian while Hernan secured her saddle. "A battle was fought weeks ago in and around the town. The Confederates held Albuquerque." She paused. "How does this help us? Are you afraid of the soldiers?"

Nathan pointed north. "Look north, there, toward those rocks." She looked but turned back, confused. He threw the horse blanket over his shoulder, walked towards Sende, his arm raised. "Follow my arm, see where I'm pointing, up among the rocks above the stunted cedar. Something there's catching the sun."

Sende frowned. "Metal?"

"Brass, I'm thinkin'. Gun brass. Maybe the Rebels hid some cannon on their retreat from Glorieta."

Sende's eyebrow jumped as she took on a skeptical countenance.

Christian flapped his hand at her. "Don't look at me with that face."

Hernan tested Sende's saddle. "Cannon? How will that help us, Señor Har?"

"Help us? It won't, we're riding for town. Union forces and plenty of locals to surround us with."

The siblings frowned. Sende shrugged. "Surely the diableros can hide within the town? Attack us in the night?"

Christian huffed and turned back to his mount. "Right, the longer we remain out here in the wilds, the more likely the bastards can end all this doubt and hesitation." He cursed as he realized he had the fresh gelding to saddle up.

He jumped at the touch of Sende's hand on his arm. "Hells girl!"

"If more diableros hunted us, then they would have us." She pointed back at her brother. "And I do not mean to say they hide among my family."

With an unsteady hand on the shoulder of his remount, Christian brushed the back of animal. It turned its head to stare at him, feeling his frustration.

Christian dropped his head to rest on the horse's side. The animal seemed satisfied with that as Christian felt the muscles of the horse relax with a turn of its head back to the sparse grass.

"I don't know what a bunch of witches want with us, but cattle means money. The world runs on money, magic or mortal."

"That does make sense. The Gasento family also profited as Comancheros…"

"What?" Christian raised his head and looked Sende in the eye. "What does that mean?"

"They're slavers."

Christian raised his palm in a questioning gesture. "Of Comanche."

Sende smiled. "No, they buy slaves from the Comanche. It is how my family came to live as slaves for the Gasentos."

Christian's shoulders sagged. "Suppose it's like Señor Loco says. They want our souls. These shapeshifters." He began walking toward the distant rocks. "Dunno how Day Long beat them, but I bet, if we got functionin' cannon up there, a shell or two could smoke the bastards and put an end to ‘em."