Page 25 of The Second Deal

Igroan. “C’mon,Brandy, don’t tell me you think it’s la lechuza.”Iperk up. “Onsecond thought, please do.Thenthat really means we shouldn’t go pokin’ around up there.”

Shesnatches my hand and starts dragging me to the other side of the road and towards the overgrowth of trees, brush, and mustang grapevines. “You’recomin’ with me whether you like it or not.”

Chapter9

Splinter Cell

–Darko

Myvisceral reactionis to snatch my hand fromBrandyand run away because fuck that owl and everything with it—Iain’t about to fuck around and find out if it is la lechuza.

Butthe grip she has around my hand is vice-like and impossible to escape.

“Iswear to fuckin’God,”Istart as she drags me through prickly trees and dodges random patches of cactus.Cloudsoverhead darken. “IfIget bit by a rattlesnake or cursed from stickin’ my nose where it don’t belong,I’mgonna haunt your assforever.Youhear me?”

Brandysnorts, hopping a wire panel fence and waiting for me to follow. “Atleast thenIknow you won’t leave me.”

Iland on the other side with a grunt, choosing not to smart back with anything.

Duringthe spring and early summer, vegetation normally blocks the view and the way to the abandoned approach.But, being in the dog days ofAugust, everything is brown, fried, crispy, and dead beneath theTexassun.

Thornymesquite scrapes my arms and legs, stinging as they leave behind cuts and welts on my sandy beige skin.Icatch a trickle of blood untilIrun intoBrandy’sback.

Shegasps, eyes wide and horrified, as she clamps a hand over her mouth. “Oh, myGod.”

Mynose wrinkles at the coppery smell, andIhave to look away.

Ablack ten-point deer lays sawed in half on the approach.Entrailsspill out from between its ribs, where blood has gushed out and dried over a chalk pentagram.Abottle of whisky sits before the deer’s open cavity, and puddles of hardened black wax mark each point of the pentagram.

Bloodyshoe prints fade past us like a grisly ghost leaving the scene.

Afresh, hot wave of sweet and musty copper hits me with a force so hard thatIstumble backwards, lightheaded.

Gigiwasn’t lying: someone’s been coming to the bridge and leaving offerings.ButIdon’t think she was talking about a formal ritual sacrifice.

Thisisn’t even the right goddamn bridge—theDevil’sBridgeofLosoyais hidden deep in the woods over the creek not too far from my parents’.

Brandyholds her hands to her stomach, gagging. “I’mgonna be sick.”

Ablood-curdling screech sounds from right above us.

Weboth yelp and bolt away from the bloody deer.

Wemight be right over the river, but the blood rushing through my ears and the both of us gasping as we cower behind a measly mesquite is far louder asIpeek around the thin limbs of the tree.

Thewind is knocked out of me, and not out of relief.

Irecognize that goddamn owl in the fucking tree above the deer, staring directly at us with big, pitch black eyes.

“JesusChrist, that thing is so much bigger thanIthought it was,”Iwhisper.Ithas to be at least the size ofBrandy.

“Arethey supposed to be out during the day?”Brandyfuriously whispers back, so low thatIcan hardly hear her.

Irespond as quietly asIpossibly can. “Theycome out during the day.”

Theowl flaps its gigantic white wings and swoops down, kicking up dust before landing right next to the sacrificed deer.Itshifts and shudders, inspecting the gorey display.

Itsivory beak flushes red as it pokes and prods at guts, yanking bloody intestines out before feasting.

---