Bitter Night by Diana Pharaoh Francis Page B

doesn’t show up on any maps, and there is only one road in. It leads into a box canyon and ends in a gravel parking lot.

    “The canyon is one of several others surrounding a broad, lone butte. It’s got a lot of tree cover’it may be the only place in San Diego with a plentiful supply of water, thanks to witchcraft. At the top is the Conclave site’the Sagrado. Niko and Tyler, I want you to wait out here on the public roads.” Max tapped an area between Pershing Drive and Fern Street. “Most of these other streets are residential, and they dead-end above the canyons’stay out of there. If anyone sees you cruising around, they’ll think you’re casing the Mc-Mansions and call the police. Niko, I want you here at Thirtieth and Palm. It’s commercial and no one will look twice at you. Tyler, I want you down here at Juniper and Fern. Do not go to sleep or get distracted. Both are a good mile or more away from the Conclave, and if there’s trouble, you’ll need to haul ass.

    “The road into the canyon runs down along the ridge at the edge of the golf course, here.” Max stroked her finger along the green blotch on the map. “It feeds out into Elm Street, though none of you will be able to access it. The veil is thinned tonight for Conclave, but you still need a witch to get through.”

    “How are you going to do it alone, then?” Tyler asked.

    Max glanced at him. He was smart, which most of the time was a good thing. But she didn’t really want him to know how she was going to get through the veil.

    “I’ve got a talent for that sort of thing,” Max replied with a finality that slammed the brakes on following that question any further. “Niko, if we come your way, we’ll be on foot with wolves chewing our heels. Be ready for it. Tyler, if we come to you, it will be a car chase. Any other questions? Everybody know what they have to do?”

    “Why don’t I wait up on Elm? It’s only five blocks down,” Tyler said, pointing on the map.

    “Because if things go the way I think they will, we’re not coming out Elm Street,” Max said. “We’ll be climbing out on foot somewhere along here or here.” She stabbed the map impatiently, then forced herself to reel in her anger. It was a good question, and Tyler had never been to a Conclave. None of them had. It was like jumping into a pit of lit dynamite. It wasn’t so much a matter of if it would go off, as when. “If we make it back to the Tahoe, I’m more likely to four-wheel it across the golf course to Pershing or Florida Drive, than try for Elm Street. No sense making an easy target out of ourselves by going where we’re expected.”

    There were sober nods of understanding and agreement.

    Just then Giselle stepped out of her RV. Max waved at everyone to load up. She stepped up on the running board of the Garbage Pit. It would lead the others out. Magpie rolled the window down.

    “Head up 15 and find some place reasonably inconspicuous to spend the night. If you don’t hear from us by the time the sun’s been up a couple hours, hit the road and keep going. You won’t be safe until you hit Horngate.”

    Magpie nodded. Then suddenly she twitched oddly like someone had shaken her. Her eyelids dropped low and her body went rigid, her head snapping back against the headrest. Her eyes sprang wide and went entirely white. Her lips opened and her voice was guttural when she spoke. “No safety there, not for anyone. Not until you return. Only you can make it safe.”

    Before Max could react, Magpie slumped. She pushed her hair from her face with trembling fingers. Her eyes had turned black again.

    “What was that? What did you mean?” Max demanded. Her fingers tightened on the side-mirror frame, crushing the fragile metal.

    “What did I say?” the other woman asked, then waved her hand sharply. “No, don’t tell me. It wasn’t for me or I would remember. It was meant just for you. But, Max, I warn you’the things that I say are true.