Disclaimer: Hey, guys, look! I'm making soup! Seth and El Ray are owned by Tarantino and Rodriguez. Sands is owned by Rodriguez, and Blackheart is owned by Marvel Comics. Technically, I do not own Alex Tully – I stole him from this television show that nobody watched called Drive, where he did play a getaway driver in a former life. I do own Xanny, Augusta and Marcos. And that's it.

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Four: Harmless

Xanny had crossed the border before. But it had always been illegally. She'd never had to deal with border cops before. Somehow, it hadn't occurred to her, when Augusta had suggested this trip, that she'd need a passport to keep everything legal and in-line with her newfound privilege. So it was a bit of a surprise to her when Augusta pulled out of her back two shiny black leather booklets with gold lettering on the front.

"You'll find everything up to date, officer," she told the woman, dark haired and sleek with a pony-tail flapping in the incoming desert breeze. "Mine's been stamped a few times but my sister is new to the whole traveling thing."

The woman looked at Augusta's, which had obviously been used, although kept in immaculate condition, to Xanny's, which had never been touched save to open it.

"And why is that?" the woman asked skeptically.

"She's paranoid about leaving the continental U.S.," Augusta said without missing a beat. "And I was always the bolder one of the family."

Xanny almost blushed to the roots of her bluish-tinted hair. The cop didn't miss it.

"I see," she said dryly. "Well, everything is in order, Miss…" And then she saw the name. "Baxton."

Augusta waited.

"Have a nice stay in Mexico." The cop smiled and waved them on.

"First of all," Xanny said when they made their first stop about a half-hour later at a cantina by the road, "where in the world did you get a passport for me without me knowing? Don't you have to apply for those in person or something?"

Augusta chuckled. "You really don't know the world you're living in, do you dear?"

Choosing to ignore the snobbery hiding underneath that remark, Xanny went on. "And second, you knew we'd need those passports. You were planning all of this all along, weren't you?"

"Planning what?" Augusta asked, looking away.

"Going to Mexico. Looking for Seth and Ritchie."

Augusta swallowed. In the moment she took to answer, a dozen possibilities flittered through Xanny's mind. What was her sister hiding? Augusta had spent her whole life hiding things, and now that she had her twin, it had seemed that Xanny was her only confidant. Now, it was starting to look like that was not so.

"I confess I had hoped it might turn into this," Augusta said. "Come on, Xan, you're not gonna get all indignant on me over that, are you? You tell me you weren't concerned when they showed up all over the national news over what happened in Texas."

Xanny considered this with a scowl and a sigh. It was true enough. And it wasn't terribly surprising. "Still," she said, "at least you could have said something about the passport. You don't have to do everything for me, I'm not a child."

"Two margaritas, one on the rocks and one blended," Augusta said aside to the waitress who had approached. "No, of course not," she addressed to Xanny. "I'm sorry, I just didn't think about it."

Xanny shrugged. It was well enough.

After relaxing a bit – riding through straight desert was much less pleasant that going through greener country, simply because of the enormous amounts of dust – they headed off again. They had followed the trail that the Geckos had made during their rampage, and if Xanny knew Seth at all, he would have made arrangements.

A few nights ago, Augusta had come to her and asked her where she thought Seth might have gone. Pulling out a map, they had sat up for hours talking about it. Augusta had had a few suggestions, and claimed they were based on things Xanny was saying, but since the business with the passports, Xanny wasn't so sure anymore. It would not be unthinkable that Augusta would play her cards so close to the chest that she wouldn't even tell her own sister what was going on.

This created a very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of Xanny's stomach that no amount of tequila could dissolve.

It wasn't a very long trip to the first possible stop. The two women had marked spots on the map where Seth might have wanted to stop – always Seth, Xanny noted, rarely the mention of Ritchie, but that wasn't that strange, Seth had always run the show – but Xanny knew that ultimately Seth would want to get as deep into Mexico as he could, and to a place where he was protected from all forms of law.

That meant El Ray.

Xanny had never been to El Ray, but she had heard about it, numerous times. Seth had talked about it, but only as some vague, distant possibility. It was supposed to be this haven in the middle of the Mexican desert for all manner of criminal – for the right price. Bank robbers and extortionists were the most welcome, as they had the largest bankroll. Serial killers and sex offenders were generally not welcomed unless they could pay the piper, and the price was always higher for them. But from what Xanny understood, no one she'd ever known had gone to El Ray and come back to tell the tale. She visualized it as a no-man's land for lowlifes and bottom-feeders – a Hades-on-earth sort of place where men fed off one another.

She couldn't imagine why Seth would want to go there, but she also knew how Seth's thinking went. He visualized it as a paradise, free flowing booze and no law. It would be perfect for him.

And Ritchie…well, no place on earth could cure the sickness that was Ritchie.

Getting to El Ray, however, was not easy. You had to have an official escort. One did not just show up in El Ray, one had to pay the ferryman. Tourists who went there generally came back much lighter in the wallet, if they came back at all. And Xanny wasn't sure any of her contacts would be any good.

It was a quandary. Augusta seemed only mildly perturbed by it. They had agreed to start at the gas station that the Geckos had blown to kingdom come and follow the trail.

So far, it hadn't offered much. Xanny quite frankly had no idea if they were on the right track, but Augusta seemed like a hound dog on a scent.

They drove for a bit until they came to what was marked as a dead-end road. It was isolated from anything even resembling civilization – it looked like beyond was a giant canyon, but Xanny wouldn't have dared approach it for fear of having to go past the building that sat at the edge of it.

It was called the Titty Twister. And it was currently asleep in the head of the afternoon sun.

Xanny could picture it easily when the sun went down. Huge and ghastly, with bright pink neon depicting a topless woman getting her nipple pinched, it sat at the end of the road and made Xanny think of a fat, monstrous spider sitting in the middle of a web. It was surrounded by diesel trucks and motorcycles of all designs, mostly Harleys.

Instantly Xanny thought, Seth would love this place.

Augusta parked her bike a bit of a ways back and pulled off her helmet. They were both of them dressed head to toe in black leather, spiked with silver studs. Without make-up today, they looked like two biker chicks out for a good time, not a couple of heiresses. Augusta's only giveaway was her silvery-blond hair, which she had pulled back into a severe ponytail. Xanny's blue had faded out quite a bit, but it was still there like a halo, and the hair underneath was considerably darker for all the dying. She had left hers down, as it was shorter than Augusta's.

"I don't know about this," Xanny said.

Augusta looked at her, wide-eyed. "What, you're not afraid of this little old place, are you? Besides, it doesn't look like its open."

Xanny blinked. There were a few bikes and trucks scattered over the expanse of the dirt plane that passed for a parking lot, but no people. The doors seemed to be barricaded shut.

"Well, it is daytime, and the sign says 'From Dusk Till Dawn,'" Xanny pointed out.

"So therefore its harmless," Augusta assured her. "Come on."

"Come on where?" Xanny cried as Augusta started to walk toward it. "What good is it to go to a bar when it's closed?"

"Maybe there's a cleaning crew," Augusta pointed out. "Maybe we can ask them questions. Besides, you want to be here when it's open? We'd never get anything done. We'd be beating off men with sticks."

"Who'd have the sticks, us or the men?" Xanny muttered as Augusta went right up to the door. She placed her hand on the wooden door and pushed.

Nothing. It was locked.

"Why don't you try knocking?" Xanny asked sarcastically.

Augusta shot her a look, made a fist, and started to pound. It echoed around the insides, sounding hollow and forlorn.

Nobody answered.

"Dammit," Augusta swore. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a credit card.

"What the hell are you going to do with that?" Xanny exclaimed.

"If it's locked, maybe I can get it open."

"Oh, yeah, this kind of place would have a lock you could pick with a credit card." Xanny shook her head in disgust and went back to the bikes, and returned a few moments later with a crowbar. "This is the way to get into a place like this."

Augusta grinned wryly. "Well, the criminal awakens."

"Oh, shut up." Xanny put the wedge side of the crowbar between the doors, and pushed.

It creaked, but didn't budge. Augusta joined in, and they alternated between pushing and pulling, but nothing, absolutely nothing gave way.

"It's almost like its bolted shut from the inside," Xanny said several moments later as they panted against the heavy structure. "What the hell do they have in there that they gotta bolt it shut from the inside?"

"Beats the hell out of me," Augusta said. "I am exhausted. And I shudder to think what kind of hotel we're gonna find out here."

Xanny nodded. "We may have to come back later," she said. "At night, when its open." She paused. "You did bring your gun, didn't you?"

"Course I did," Augusta said. "Wouldn't leave home without it."

"Certainly not tonight," Xanny said. "Come on, let's go find a safe place to crash in the meantime."

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"What the fuck do you mean, you're not feeling well?" Xanny raged at her a few hours later, when the sun had made most of its descent into the horizon. The dusky evening was ripe with shades of orange and pink, but there was an overlying purple and gold that gave everything a mildly sinister look. It shadowed the bedroom the two of them were sharing, the bridal suite, the only decent room in the entire hotel. Augusta had been the one to insist on sharing it, although Xanny had been willing to take a lesser room next door. Either Augusta was feeling insecure, which was likely, or it was something else…

"I think I've got road burn," Augusta said, not peeking out from under the cold compress she'd made out of a plastic bag, ice, and a few washcloths. Her voice was somewhere between a husky whisper and a child-like whine. "I swear I can hardly see past the lightshow. I think it's a migraine."

"I don't believe this," Xanny grumbled as she plopped down on the far side of the bed. It was a huge king, big enough for both of them. Xanny didn't mind, but she knew Augusta had probably never shared her bed with anyone, certainly not a woman, and even with a man it had probably been sex and then "see ya." "We've come so far…"

"I know, it's just going to have to wait one more day," Augusta whispered, peeking one eye out from under the washcloth. "Come on, Xan, I swear to God I can hardly move."

Xanny sighed, considered this, and then shrugged. "I guess it doesn't matter," she conceded. "You're right, one day more or less. I don't suppose you'd mind if I went tonight without you, would you?" She started to get off the bed.

Augusta reached out and seized Xanny's wrist with such force that Xanny almost fell back. She looked at her sister, startled.

"Don't you dare," Augusta said, and then her voice switched to a whine. "You can't go without me, Xan, that would be just horrible. Can't you wait?"

"Well, if I go alone," Xanny said, carefully pushing the subject, "we wouldn't lose a day. I mean, I'm perfectly capable of handling a rowdy bar on my own, Gus. I was in prison, for juniper's sake. It can't be worse than that."

The grip tightened. "No," Augusta hissed. "No, I don't want you to go. I feel so bad, Xan. I might start throwing up, and I don't want to be alone. Please, don't go."

"Well…all right, for you." Xanny got up, realizing that Augusta's fingers had left red marks on her skin. "Geeze, the sick and the dying do get pretty strong," she said, showing them to her.

"Sorry." Gus actually sounded meek. "Thank you though, for staying."

"Yeah, sure. Look, you mind if I use the shower? You can barf in the toilet while I'm in there, I don't care."

"Yeah, fine," Gus said, crawling back under the washcloth pack. "I just… wanna rest."