“Yeah, but they were stolen from me. I just put things back the way they were, except a little longer.”
Des snickers.
Marina punches his shoulder at the same time as I say, “I’m talking about my dreads.”
“Dude,” he says with an innocent look. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I knew you were talking about your dreads.”
But he laughs out loud, and Donalita joins him. I try to keep a smile from my face, but it’s not working very well, especially when Marina gives in and starts chuckling. It’s so stupid and not even all that funny, but I guess we’ve been stressing so much that we’re all looking for some kind of release. We’re all about to dissolve into ridiculous laughter—the kind that’s too loud and you just can’t stop—except the map in my head pings a warning that Tío Goyo is approaching.
Donalita senses it, too. She’s on her feet in a fluid motion. There’s a knife in her hand and I have no idea where it came from.
“It’s okay,” I say as Tío Goyo comes around the corner of a building, a couple of large backpacks hanging from either shoulder. “He’s a friend.”
“The hawks of Halcón Pueblo have never been friends to cousins.”
“Chill,” Des tells her. “That’s the dude from Josh’s story.”
Donalita nods, but she doesn’t relax and she doesn’t put away her knife.
Tío Goyo pays no attention to the threat she presents. When he reaches us he gives everybody a friendly nod and dumps the backpacks on the ground.
“You left these behind,” he tells me. “Food and blankets.”
I was wondering before where he got this stuff when we were camping. Now I know. He calls them up the same way we call up our bodies when we’re finished being in our spirit shapes. Instead of just focusing on bringing himself back, he brings himself back with a couple of backpacks and fresh supplies.
I make introductions.
“Don’t worry, my young coati,” he says to Donalita. “Your soul is your own, so you have nothing to fear from me.”
Donalita continues to glare at him. “I’m not scared of you.”
“Which is as it should be since I mean you no harm.”
I grab one of the backpacks. “Can you get that?” I ask Des, nodding at the other.
We open them at the fire and Donalita brightens right up as the smell of fresh warm burritos wafts up from the foil container that I open. Her knife, I note, has disappeared again.
“Oh, I love burritos,” she says.
She grins happily, snatching one out of the container along with a bottle of water. A few moments later, and we’ve all got food and drink, with blankets to sit on.
Tío Goyo doesn’t eat. I don’t really feel that I have to, either— when I regain my body from the earth, it’s rested, healthy and nourished—but I can’t resist the smell of the burritos. And I already know that they taste even better than they smell.
“You found your friend,” Tío Goyo says.
I nod and swallow. “But she didn’t need rescuing. Or rather, she does, but it’s the kind of rescuing she has to do for herself.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
I feel Marina shift on the blanket and I lean slightly toward her.
“Me too,” I say to Tío Goyo. “Hey, you were watching from above. Nanuq—the polar bear guy—does he have an evil spirit inside him?”
Tío Goyo shakes his head. “Just a great deal of anger.”
He takes a kettle and a bottle of water from one of the packs, then fills the kettle and places it on a stone by the coals. When he pulls a clear plastic pouch of tea leaves from his pocket, Des regards it with interest.
“Is that your special tea?” he asks. “The one that lets you fly like a hawk?”
Tío Goyo gives me a look.
“You didn’t specifically tell me not to talk about anything,”
I say. “And these are my friends. I don’t hide things from them.”
I find Marina’s hand and give her fingers a squeeze. When I look at her, her eyes are a little shiny in the firelight. She squeezes back.
“I’m afraid this is normal tea,” Tío Goyo tells Des.
“Too bad,” Des says. “I’m the only one in this crew without any superpowers, so I could totally use some of that magic tea.”
Tío Goyo smiles. “That’s not exactly how it works. It takes years of study and practice.”
“But Josh—”
“Has apparently been given more than one gift from the Thunders. He should not be able to do many of the things that he can. But nothing is ever freely given. There is always a cost. A responsibility one must assume.”
I sigh. “A destiny.”
Tío Goyo’s smile widens. “Precisely.”
Marina gives my hand another squeeze. “It’s not so bad, is it?” she says. “Having the opportunity to help people and do some good? And you know we’ll stand by you.”
“Dude,” Des says. “Was there ever a doubt?”
And even though we’ve only just met, Donalita adds an enthusiastic nod of support.
“You will speak to Señora Mariposa before you do anything?” Tío Goyo asks me.
“Sure. Why not. I can find Nanuq whenever I have to.”
“Good. Then I will see you later. I have some thoughts on how to address the concerns of the cousins who think of you as unborn. I will look into that now.”
I nod. “Thanks for …” I wave a hand at the backpacks. “You know … everything.”
I’m sure he knows that I mean more than just the food and blankets he brought.
“It was my pleasure … Tíoito.”
He winks and steps out of this world.
“What did he just call me?” I ask Marina.
She smiles. “Little uncle.”
“Dude,” Des says. “You’ve got your stage name!”
“Great, it sounds like a bird call.”
They all laugh and we talk a little longer until Des starts yawning.
“I’m beat,” he says. “I need to turn in.”
He makes a bed near the fire and lies down. Donalita immediately brings her blanket over to where he is and snuggles in beside him. I can see the hesitation in his body language before he puts his arm around her. But that’s Des. God forbid he should actually commit to a girl.
Turning away, I add some more wood to the fire. Marina and I watch the flames until their breathing evens out.
“Are they an item?” I ask.
She laughs. “Who knows? It’s Des. Girls just like him.”
I smile. “True, that,” I say, remembering the business with Joanie Jones. That makes me think about pheromones.
“It must be nice to know that Ampora’s worried about you,” I say. “From what Des was saying, she doesn’t totally hate you.”
“She’s just feeling guilty because she kicked me out of the house that night.”
“Harsh.”
She nods. “Except that’s Ampora for you. Though I’m guessing you must know her softer side.” She gives me a gentle prod with her elbow.
“Oh, God. That was totally her. I mean, it was the pheromones that got her going, but then it was her. I didn’t initiate anything. And I’ve had them clamped right down ever since I found out about them.”
“I know,” she says. “I’m just teasing.”
Any other time and we would move on to talking about some TV show, what the waves were like this morning. Maybe a song, or a movie.
But the life we had is gone. We’re still kids, but we don’t get to be kids anymore. Once upon a time we couldn’t wait until we were old enough to do whatever we wanted. Get a tattoo. Have a beer in a bar. Go out to some surfer’s party and stay out all night, then hit the waves when the sun’s rising.
The world seemed bigger than we’d ever need, and filled with cool possibilities. Right now I’d give anything to be stuck at home on a school night with my biggest worry being about some test the next day.
“So, how are things with Chaingang?” I find myself asking, though I don’t really want to know.
Marina doesn’t answer right away. Instead her hand slips back into mine as she stares into the fire.
“I like Theo,” she says. “I like him a lot. He’s always been nice and kind of sweet to me, and because of that, I saw this whole other side of him—one I really care for. I guess I’ve wanted to ignore what he really is.”
“A gangbanger,” I say when she falls silent.
She nods. “And a bookie, and a drug dealer, and a guy who’s been to jail. A guy who solves his problems with his fists and guns.”
“So he needs to change,” I say, “if you’re going to be able to stay with him.”
“That’s the problem. He is who he is. Why should he have to change if he doesn’t want to? But I don’t see how I can be with him if he doesn’t. He says he doesn’t like the gang life, but I can’t be the only reason he gets out of it. He has to want to do it for himself.”
“And you don’t think he wants to.”
“I don’t think he can. I think the only reason we got involved in the first place was because I was just reaching for a lifeline to hold on to when … you … we … you know …”
“When I messed everything up.”
“But I’m the one who didn’t tell you I was a Wildling when you were the first person I should have told.”
I let go of her hand and put my arm around her shoulder.
“Can we agree to just let all of that go?” I ask. “My fault, your fault—what does it matter if it’s all in the past? It’s not like either of us is going to make that mistake again.”
She leans against me. It’s amazing how well she fits under my arm.
“Sure,” she says. “That’s easy.”
We stare into the flames for a while. I’m dying to kiss her, but I know we should go slow. Everything we’ve been through is too fresh, and it sounds like she’s still confused about Chaingang. No matter what happens, I don’t want to mess up our friendship, so I try to ignore everything my body’s screaming at me to do, and just content myself with being close to her.
It’s very quiet out here in this abandoned city, and even with Wildling sight, it’s hard to make out much beyond the light cast by the fire. It’s so dark. The map in my head tells me what’s out there on those deserted streets, but there’s nothing to see. This is such a weird place. I don’t know all the constellations back home, but when I look up here, I know they’re different. I wish someone could tell me why. Regardless, I love being close to Marina under any starlight.
“So what are you going to do?” I finally ask.
She gives a slow shrug. The movement of her shoulders gives me the start of an unbidden erection.
“I don’t know,” she says. “It’s hard. The story Cory told gave me serious creeps, but—and maybe this is a mean thing to say— what Chaingang did doesn’t surprise me. I just don’t see that I can get past the violence of his lifestyle. It’s a part of who he is. It could just as easily have been a bunch of the Kings that got in his way as those dog cousins.”
“Maybe it’s not all his fault. Tío Goyo thinks we’re having these anger and violence issues because we were made Wildlings instead of being born to the animals under our skin. He thinks it’s a temporary thing—a kind of adjustment.”
“I guess …”
“You’ve talked about how you tore into your sister,” I say, “and you fought off those canids that attacked you in the playground. And when you think of the awful things I’ve done …” I don’t have to mention Vincenzo or the researcher in the laboratory. We both know what I’m referring to.
“But you regret what you did,” she says. “Cory’s right. Theo never will.”
I’m tired of defending Chaingang. Yeah, he’s had my back, and I’d step up for him if he ever needed my help, but I don’t want to see Marina with him, even if she’s not with me. I can’t see her as one of those hard girls who hang around the Ocean Avers’ compound or ride around on the back of their bikes.
“Marina,” I start, but I don’t know what to say. A wave of emotion comes over me and I can’t help myself. I pull her in and kiss her. She stiffens for the briefest moment, then she draws me closer, her lips parting, her tongue slipping slowly into my mouth.
It seems the most natural thing in the world for us to lie down on the blankets, the fire between us and where Des and Donalita are sleeping. My hand goes up under the back of her shirt and she arches toward me, pressing her hips against mine. A moment later and I’ve pulled her shirt over her head and she’s lowering the zipper of my jeans.
I stop thinking of everything except for her.
J-Dog and I figured we’d have plenty of time to get organized if we got the boys out early, but even though we’re downtown for seven a.m., the grounds are already crawling with people, most of them dorks. It’s the antithesis of that old hippie Woodstock movie. There’s this straight, pickle-up-the-ass vibe in the air, except for the odd Wildling or Ocean Aver.
We came in cars and we’re all suited up in civvies—no gang colours, head scarves or banger gear, and definitely no weapons. Can’t do much about the tats and shaved heads, though J-Dog’s wearing a jaunty fedora that’s pretty fly, even with that tat of a handgun on his neck. Most of us went for baseball caps. We’ve all got what look like Bluetooth phone earpieces, but they actually came our way courtesy of the Feds so that we can all communicate with one another.
Security looks good. I don’t see any Secret Service, but then the congressman hasn’t shown up yet, either. Right now there’s men from the sheriff ’s department, state troopers, our boys and maybe ten thousand crows. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but I can’t look anywhere without seeing at least one.
Whatever. There are more than enough of us to handle the thousand or so people here so far. But the rally doesn’t start until noon, so who knows how many more are going to show up? Because, oh yeah, they’re still arriving, by ones and twos and in larger groups—a steady stream filling a powder keg that could blow up in our faces in a second if someone lights the wrong fuse.
I can’t help but wonder if that’s what the congressman wants, because why else organize this rally against Wildlings? He’s got to know how bad this can go. He just didn’t plan on being the target. But I’ll bet he’s hoping for a mini riot, which’ll give him the ammunition to push through his stinking legislation.
As the crowd thickens, it seems to get more evenly divided between pro and con. Some of the pro-Wildlings are easy to spot. They’re wearing animal ears and tails and crap. Others carry signs. It reminds me of when Josh’s friend Dillon killed himself and so many kids showed up at school wearing the same kind of stuff.
That, I now realize, was a more innocent time.
I get pings from actual Wildlings, too—more than I expected, to be honest. I figured the kids would be lying low. But I guess they’re here for the same reason I’d be here if Auntie Min hadn’t already asked me to do it: morbid curiosity. I’d want a peek at all the people who hate me that much. Know your enemy.
We’ve been walking a circuit, checking things out. There’s already some tension between the pros and cons. Raised voices here, a push there, but the cops intervene quickly.
Our own boys are all in place. They’re used to spotting people carrying weapons, so that’s what they’re focused on. People walk differently when they’re armed. We don’t have to worry about hidden snipers. The crows have that covered. As in every tree and rooftop with any kind of a sightline.
“It’s coming up on eight,” J-Dog says.
I nod and turn on the FBI communicator in my ear like we’d arranged with Matteson. J-Dog and I move out toward the perimeter of the crowd where we can keep an eye on things, but be a little more discreet with communications.
“You with us, Washington?” Matteson’s voice asks in my ear.
“We’re here; all our boys are on it.”
“Crowd’
s antsy,” J-Dog adds.
“Already noted. Listen, Danny’s got some information for you and the cousin bosses.”
“Shoot.”
Danny’s voice comes on. “Two of the Secret Service detail are Wildlings.”
“Well, fuck,” J-Dog says. “Did you grab them?”
“And say what?” Matteson asks.
“This is messed up,” I say.
A new voice comes on. “What clan?” That’s Lalo, Auntie Min’s crow man head of security. His tone has a bit of a crow’s rasp in it.
“I can’t tell,” Danny says. “They’re old-school cousins.”
“So?” J-Dog asks.
“They might be okay, might not,” Lalo says. “Some cousins are more sympathetic to Wildlings than others.”
“Unless they’re being controlled,” I say. “Like the dogs.”
“True. But we’ve just heard that the binding on the canids has been broken, so they’re no longer a threat.”
“So you’re saying we can trust them now.”
Beside me J-Dog is shaking his head. I know exactly what he’s thinking. Like hell.
“Absolutely,” Lalo says. “The bad news is, the canids were able to tell us who’s behind all of this. It’s Nanuq.”
“Means nothing to me,” I say.
“He’s Polar Bear Clan—old and powerful, with plenty of influence among the cousins. He’s also very angry.”
“So put him down,” J-Dog says. “End of story.”
“We wouldn’t do that,” Lalo tells us. “He has too much sway and he’s more dangerous than Vincenzo ever was. Even if he were somehow killed, it would only bring more cousins over to his way of thinking: that Wildlings are a threat to the rest of us. Better to find a way to reason with him.”
“Look, if he’s this big a problem, let us just take him down,” I say. “Then it’ll be on us.”
“Easy, Washington,” Matteson warns. “We don’t want a war here.”
“That’s right,” Lalo says. “You’re not even listening. And anyway, Nanuq’s not going to set foot over here; he’d send someone else.”
Which makes me think of the dogs again. “So, this binding on the dogs—how did it get broken? Are you sure they’re not a threat?”