wasn’t a sarcastic question. Since the Change, Rosa had seen proof of weird powers cropping up. Tilly and Bee were the most prominent examples in town, while others claimed glimpses of the future. Learning of stronger magic wouldn’t surprise Rosa.
“I’m just trying to be prepared,” she said.
“I understand. And I promise I won’t let him go unchecked.”
“Gracias.” Rosa tossed back her beer and rose. “I’m off to check with Bee on the status of the hives.”
“She’s still not talking, huh?”
“Not really. I don’t know if she can’t or if she just refuses to.”
“As long as she keeps us in honey, I guess we can’t complain.”
Rosa had long suspected that there was something supernatural about Bee’s ability to control her pets—and that she could send a horde of angry, stinging insects after anyone who pissed her off. That was part of why she didn’t insist on the woman taking a larger social role.
But once a week Rosa visited and brought supplies to exchange. Though Bee formally lived in the town limits, she was also the closest thing Valle had to an eccentric hermit. Most of the bravos whispered that the magic flowing through her veins had driven her mad.
She swung by the general store and with Wicker’s help put together a basket. The old man had mentioned Chris’s visit to the store that morning, making her all the more curious about what he had to trade. But that could wait until tomorrow. The walk toward the far edge of town gave her time to think about Ingrid’s concerns regarding the dust pirates. Rosa shared them, but other than constant patrols, she didn’t know how to find the bastards.
Peltz’s raids were starting to interfere with her ability to profit from the shipments that passed through Valle. That had to stop. Rosa’s men only preyed on those who refused to pay the toll for safe passage through her territory—territory Peltz often violated, not to mention attacks on the town itself. His disrespect made her livid.
Before she knew it, she stood outside Bee’s adobe house. The drone of insects was thick out here, buzzing all around until it became a throb in Rosa’s ears. That was, to be frank, a little unnerving.
Still she called, “I’m here with your trade goods.”
It took a while for the old woman to show herself. She presented an eccentric picture in her long coat, heavy glasses, and wild gray hair, knotted in an unlikely fashion atop her head. Rosa wasn’t sure just how old the woman was, anywhere from forty-five to sixty. And, as ever, bees crawled on her hands and arms, alit on her thin cheeks, and swarmed around her head. Rosa visited because nobody else wanted to, but also because each refusal to yield to her private urge to run away screaming made her a little stronger.
“Here you go,” she said, offering the basket.
The other woman peered over Rosa’s shoulder with blurry eyes, as if she saw something behind her. Rosa fought the urge to whirl and stare. She had during her first few visits, before figuring out that Bee didn’t live in the world she knew. At least, not exactly. Not wholly.
Bee claimed the supplies with long, dirty fingers and shuffled into her home. Where she kept the hives. The idea of them swarming around her food and drink, nesting in her hair, made Rosa a little light-headed.
Calm down. We need the honey.
At last the exchange was made—silently, like it always was. Rosa accepted the basket full of honey jars and stepped back so Bee could close the door. But she didn’t. Instead she hovered a moment, her gaze still fixed on the horizon. Rosa couldn’t resist the second urge to turn. When she did, she saw just what she’d expected. Nothing.
This time, though, Bee pointed. A hundred yellow-and-black-striped insects coated her thin arm. Then she spoke for the first time in all the years Rosa had known her, with a voice like rusty nails ground beneath a heavy file. “The shadow falls. Valle burns. Everything
“I’m just trying to be prepared,” she said.
“I understand. And I promise I won’t let him go unchecked.”
“Gracias.” Rosa tossed back her beer and rose. “I’m off to check with Bee on the status of the hives.”
“She’s still not talking, huh?”
“Not really. I don’t know if she can’t or if she just refuses to.”
“As long as she keeps us in honey, I guess we can’t complain.”
Rosa had long suspected that there was something supernatural about Bee’s ability to control her pets—and that she could send a horde of angry, stinging insects after anyone who pissed her off. That was part of why she didn’t insist on the woman taking a larger social role.
But once a week Rosa visited and brought supplies to exchange. Though Bee formally lived in the town limits, she was also the closest thing Valle had to an eccentric hermit. Most of the bravos whispered that the magic flowing through her veins had driven her mad.
She swung by the general store and with Wicker’s help put together a basket. The old man had mentioned Chris’s visit to the store that morning, making her all the more curious about what he had to trade. But that could wait until tomorrow. The walk toward the far edge of town gave her time to think about Ingrid’s concerns regarding the dust pirates. Rosa shared them, but other than constant patrols, she didn’t know how to find the bastards.
Peltz’s raids were starting to interfere with her ability to profit from the shipments that passed through Valle. That had to stop. Rosa’s men only preyed on those who refused to pay the toll for safe passage through her territory—territory Peltz often violated, not to mention attacks on the town itself. His disrespect made her livid.
Before she knew it, she stood outside Bee’s adobe house. The drone of insects was thick out here, buzzing all around until it became a throb in Rosa’s ears. That was, to be frank, a little unnerving.
Still she called, “I’m here with your trade goods.”
It took a while for the old woman to show herself. She presented an eccentric picture in her long coat, heavy glasses, and wild gray hair, knotted in an unlikely fashion atop her head. Rosa wasn’t sure just how old the woman was, anywhere from forty-five to sixty. And, as ever, bees crawled on her hands and arms, alit on her thin cheeks, and swarmed around her head. Rosa visited because nobody else wanted to, but also because each refusal to yield to her private urge to run away screaming made her a little stronger.
“Here you go,” she said, offering the basket.
The other woman peered over Rosa’s shoulder with blurry eyes, as if she saw something behind her. Rosa fought the urge to whirl and stare. She had during her first few visits, before figuring out that Bee didn’t live in the world she knew. At least, not exactly. Not wholly.
Bee claimed the supplies with long, dirty fingers and shuffled into her home. Where she kept the hives. The idea of them swarming around her food and drink, nesting in her hair, made Rosa a little light-headed.
Calm down. We need the honey.
At last the exchange was made—silently, like it always was. Rosa accepted the basket full of honey jars and stepped back so Bee could close the door. But she didn’t. Instead she hovered a moment, her gaze still fixed on the horizon. Rosa couldn’t resist the second urge to turn. When she did, she saw just what she’d expected. Nothing.
This time, though, Bee pointed. A hundred yellow-and-black-striped insects coated her thin arm. Then she spoke for the first time in all the years Rosa had known her, with a voice like rusty nails ground beneath a heavy file. “The shadow falls. Valle burns. Everything
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