American Bruja: The Los Angeles Cauldron

Chapter 25. Ben Salvia

Tuesday, August 9, 2011, 1:00 a.m. Chatsworth Reservoir

Brittle grass crunches beneath our feet as George and I walk southward across the reservoir. Our passage dislodges spindly California sage needles. Crickets chirrup and an owl hoots, but the coyote chorus is silent. Fifty feet in front of us, the prairie grass ripples westward from passing animals. Pointy German Shepherd ears bob above the brush.

Motioning to George, we follow the dog pack as they race toward the darkened outline of Peppergate Ranch at the northwest end of the reservoir. Bringing up the rear is a shuffling Great Dane who groans with every step. A pfft sound erupts from his ass to crop dust us. In front of the Dane is a little Yorkie with her topknot secured by a pink bow. Above her, two Golden Retrievers hover, their legs pumping as they keep a protective pace with their tiny ward. We pass dogs of various shapes and sizes, living and dead, to catch up to the German Shepherds running side-by-side. They're in position behind Julano, floating six inches above the dried grassland.

The back of my neck's tingling. "Duke! Duchess!"

Duke ignores me, but Duchess gives me a quick side eye.

George grabs my arm and I skid to a stop. "Have you lost your damn mind? We should be at the Garcia Ranch, not running around the reservoir chasing dogs."

I shake him off. "You were too young to remember Duke and Duchess. They've been dead for ten years. Why show up now?" I sprint after the pack.

With a groan, George follows. We track the pack for fifteen minutes as they close the distance to Lizard Hill. Julano skids to a stop and the pack splits to form a semi-circle around the base of the hill. Atop the grassy hilltop, Peppergate Ranch is dark and silent.

The heavy clouds part. Moonlight reflects from the windows and onto a grey blob inside the fence. George retrieves our night vision goggles and I see Amber's fluffy yellow dog. He throws back his head and howls.

Julano raises his snout to howl, and the pack erupts in a mournful wailing.

As I remove the binoculars, a woman's voice shushes the dogs. "Keep it down or you'll wake Rose and Christopher."

George nudges me. "It's Amber and her mother, Aislinn."

The fence rattles as they climb and drop to the reservoir side. Amber's dog throws himself at the fence to scale it, but falls short and collapses. He lets out a whine that stops Amber. Speaking softly, she turns back to the fence to comfort him.

Her mother ignores the dog and breaks into a run. Halfway down the hill, her foot catches in a gopher hole. With a yelp, she tumbles to the ground.

George stashes our binoculars in the backpack as we climb to help her. I move to Aislinn's right and George to her left. We lift her to a standing position. Amber carefully side steps down the hill.

Aislinn shakes us off and tries to walk, but collapses. I catch her before she rolls down the hill. As I pull her to stand, her eyes meet mine. She blinks back tears. "I need my son."

"Lady, that thing you saw in the reservoir isn't human."

She shoves my chest and stumbles backward into George. "I'm no lady. What the hell are you two doing out here in the middle of the night?"

George grasps Aislinn's shoulders to keep her from falling. "We could ask the same of you and Amber."

Turning to Amber, I find her rigid and staring at the mysterious hill in the center of the reservoir.

I reach into George's backpack to grab my night-vision binoculars and train them towards the vast grasslands. A sudden burst of blinding light causes me to drop them. Pain shoots through my eyeballs and into the back of my head. "What the everlasting fuck!"