“I know, but you couldn’t have told me?”
“What part of binding spell don’t you understand? They tell me to go to the campground and fly off with a cute human blond woman—and by the way, don’t tell anyone, especially not Janet Begay and her boyfriend Mick—and I have to do it. To the letter. Now that you know, my lips are loosened. But now that you know, there’s nothing left to tell.”
“What about Ansel? Was he there?”
“When I got to the campsite? No. When I grabbed Laura, yes. He came out of nowhere. Blood frenzied, strong as . . . well, as strong as a Nightwalker in a blood frenzy. I fought him hard—that boy is damn fast. I tried to fry him, squash him, grab him, drop him. Nothing. He moved like lightning. I finally chased him off, but by that time, Laura was gone.”
“Gone where?”
Colby shrugged, looking unhappy. “Just gone. She wasn’t stupid enough to sit around waiting to see who won the fight over her. She ran off into the night, and it was hellacious dark out there. I flew around looking for her, but nothing. By sunup, I had to leave before anyone saw me as a dragon, but I never found her.” He shot a look at Drake. “Don’t think that didn’t get me into trouble.”
“The Nightwalker must have taken her,” Drake said. “It’s the only explanation. She ran while Colby and Ansel fought, then Ansel caught up to her and spirited her somewhere. There’s nowhere to go out there.”
That was true. The Chaco Culture monument was surrounded by a whole lot of nothing. Beautiful nothing, but miles and miles of open country. A human woman, especially one unused to the open desert, was unlikely to survive a hike across that country, not in the dark, and not in daylight when summer temperatures rose into triple digits.
Therefore, either Laura was dead in the desert, and Heather’s séance really had conjured her spirit, or Ansel had found her and taken her to safety.
Ansel had said he remembered nothing until he’d awakened alone, and I believed him. The blood frenzy erased whatever part of him was Ansel the stamp collector, turning him into an evil fiend. That didn’t mean, though, that Ansel hadn’t hidden Laura somewhere safe and simply couldn’t remember where.
“Damn it,” I said softly.
Mr. Young had accused Laura of switching the pot on him. If he was right, that meant that the one person who knew where the real vessel lay was Laura. And if Colby and Drake were right, the one person who knew where Laura was, was Ansel.
If my Nightwalker didn’t start talking to me, I’d slay him myself.
I needed to go home, and I needed to do it quickly, or I’d have to wait another day for Ansel to wake up. Riding back with Mick on his motorcycle would take too long, even as swiftly as Mick drove. We wouldn’t reach home much before dawn.
Albuquerque, an hour from here, had an airport, but any flight that could put me in the middle-of-nowhere Arizona would have to go through Phoenix or Denver, with a connection that would get me only as far as Flagstaff. There’d be another hour or so drive after that to Magellan, and the last flights to Phoenix and Denver had probably already left Albuquerque anyway. A passenger train from Albuquerque heading west did stop at Winslow, only thirty or so miles from Magellan, but only once a day. I’d likely already missed it, and a train might not get me to Winslow any faster than riding with Mick down the freeway.
“Move,” someone said.
I knew that voice. Small but stentorian. My grandmother, Ruby Begay, barged through the front door of the shop to plant herself in front of a startled Drake.
My grandmother, as usual, wore long skirts and a dark blouse. Most Diné women these days donned traditional garb only when dressing up for an event, but Grandmother lived in her traditional clothes and didn’t care who thought her old-fashioned. I saw that she’d taken the time to put on her turquoise and silver rings and a necklace as well. Anyone who came across her would be impressed, which was the point.
“Firewalkers are nothing but trouble.” Grandmother leaned on her cane, turquoise-clad fingers gripping it tightly. She looked Drake over with her crow-dark eyes, the glitter in them of a creature who could be both wise and deadly.
Behind my grandmother came Gabrielle and Mick. Drake looked pained. “I was trying not to alert the street to our presence,” he said.
News to me. But I agreed with him that a bunch of people walking in the front door of a closed shop might attract attention.
“It’s not here,” I said around everyone to Mick.
Mick wasn’t listening. He pushed past Drake and Colby to me and caught me by the shoulders.
Mick didn’t ask whether I was all right. He studied me with his dark blue eyes, looking deep down inside, examining me for hurt, relaxing when he found none. He brushed his hand over the back of my head where I’d hit the table, and tingling healing magic itched through my scalp. The lingering pain went away, blessed relief.
“How’d you know I was still here?” I asked him.
“I enhanced the GPS chip on your phone with a little magic.” Mick traced a circle on the base of my neck with his thumb. “When the signal went dead, I came to its last known location.”
The look in his eyes told me that when the signal had gone, his fears for me had kicked in.
I tried to lighten the moment. “Don’t tell me my grandmother rode with you on the back of your motorcycle.”
Mick gave me the smallest of grins. “She bullied a taxi driver into following me.”
I imagined the taxi had shot away once they’d reached the store, the poor driver happy to escape.
Gabrielle had darted around us and down to the basement, and now she emerged with the pot, pasted back together, more or less, by Colby.
“I’ll take that,” I said. I wanted to wave it under Ansel’s nose and demand to be told what he’d done with the real one.
“No, I will,” Grandmother said.
“It comes with me,” Drake said.
“No.” Mick gave Drake a quiet look across the room, his eyes black, and Drake snapped his mouth shut.
“Why is everyone so hot to have it?” Colby asked. “It’s not the real one.”
“To keep others from using it to dupe more victims,” Drake said.
Mick kept looking at him. “That’s not why the dragons want it. You want it because you don’t want anyone else to know the real one is loose.”
“The Firewalkers can’t ever have it,” Grandmother said.
I broke in. “I want it so I can get answers out of people without having to explain what I’m looking for. The fake pot has one magical power that I’m going to use—getting people to talk about it.”
“Which is why I instructed Gabrielle to take it,” Grandmother said. “I don’t want people talking about it.”
“Mick and I can keep it safe,” I said.
My grandmother humphed. She was master of the humph. “A fine job you’ve done so far. You’ve gotten your hotel ignited, your Nightwalker nearly killed, and you’ve lost the real pot.”
I didn’t bother answering. Any argument that if I’d known what was going on in the first place, I could have prevented much of this, would run against the stone wall of her stubbornness.
I took the pot out of Gabrielle’s hands, and to my surprise, she let me. She gave me a wink and said, “I’d rather have the real thing.”
“Gabrielle,” Grandmother said sharply.
“Big sis is right,” Gabrielle said. “This one’s harmless, and besides, if Janet uses it as a decoy, people can chase it around and not the real one.”
No one in that room looked happy, except maybe Colby, who didn’t want to be involved in the problem at all.
“What does the real one do, Grandmother?” I asked, resting the pot against my hip. “It’s magical, yes, but in what way?”
“I don’t know.” Grandmother looked troubled. “I need to find out. That’s why I want it—so I can ask the shamans about it. Ones I trust.”
Grandmother trusted about two people on the entire planet, and
neither one was me. I set the pot on a counter, took Mick’s cell phone from his belt, turned on the photo function, and snapped a picture of the vessel. I turned the pot around and took pictures from all angles, including the bottom and the inside.
I handed the phone back to Mick. “Mick will email these to you.”
“I don’t like computers,” Grandmother said. “They suck every bit of common sense out of anyone who looks at them. Your father likes the laptop you gave him.” Her look told me she’d consider any lack of sense on his part from here on out to be my fault.
“Mick will email them to Dad, then. Right now, I want to get my hands on Ansel.”
“I will go with you,” Grandmother said. “I, too, want to talk to your Nightwalker.”
I shifted in impatience. “Fine, but we have to go now.”
“I’ll fly you, Janet,” Colby said. “Promise to hold you nice and snug.”
I said no. I might, any other time, trust Colby not to drop me, but while he was under the binding spell to Drake, Drake might order Colby to use the three-hundred and more miles of empty desert to rid the dragons of a pesky Stormwalker.
“We all go,” Drake said. “I too want a word with the Nightwalker, as you know.”
“Stop!” I grabbed Mick’s cell phone again. “Let’s do this the easy way.”
I punched numbers. Almost instantly, Cassandra answered in her crisp tones, but I heard worry in her voice.
“It’s Janet. Would you go down and tell Ansel I want to talk to him?”
Cassandra dropped the hotel-manager facade. “He’s not here, Janet.” The worry escalated, unusual for Cassandra. “He went just after dark. Yes, I tried to stop him, and no, I couldn’t. He threw off my binding spell like it was a cobweb, and he was gone. Where are you? I’ve been trying to call you for hours.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ansel’s disappearance fomented another argument, which Mick ended. He’d stood quietly through most of our discussion, but now he took the pot firmly away from me.
“Janet and I are returning to Magellan. Drake, tell the dragons to stop pursuing. Ruby, this is dangerous—too dangerous even for you. Let Janet and me handle it.”
“I’m dangerous, Firewalker,” Grandmother said.
Mick acknowledged this with a nod. “True, but no mage gets to be the caliber this one is without leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. They con and kill their way to the top. He’ll use you, and he’ll use your family. I’d hate to see Pete get hurt.”
Grandmother was very protective of my father—we all were. I’m not sure Dad appreciated our protectiveness all the time, but he was vulnerable, and my grandmother knew that.
“Don’t smarm me, dragon,” she said to Mick. “If this mage finds the real artifact, you know none of us will be safe.”
“Yes, but Janet and I can meet him in battle. You can’t.”
“Don’t be so sure of that. I’m not an old woman cowering in the corner.”
“Especially not with me to protect her,” Gabrielle put in.
Grandmother turned to Gabrielle, and for a split second, her eyes filled with compassion. “I am the one protecting you, child.”
Gabrielle opened her mouth opened to argue, then she went still. She looked away from Grandmother, her gaze resting anywhere but on one of us.
Drake rumbled in his throat, his eyes sparking red fire. “I don’t take orders from you, Micalerianicum. You might be a decorated general, but I work for Bancroft.”
“Who can’t be allowed access to this kind of magic.” Mick met Drake stare for stare. “Which means I fight you.”
Drake didn’t like that, but he didn’t flinch. I’d seen a battle between them before—not the little one of last night, but a true dragon-to-dragon, all-out fight—and it had been nasty. I, for one, did not want to witness another fight like that.
Colby, on the other hand, wasn’t shy about expressing his views. “Don’t catch me in the middle of this shit, Mickey. If you fight him, I’m under this stupid binding spell, which means I’d have to join him to stop you. And I know you’d kick my ass. So if you plan to fight Drake, could you please wait five months, six days and . . .” Colby looked at the ceiling as he calculated. “Three hours and forty-five minutes.”
“I’m flying Janet back,” Mick said, ignoring him. “Ruby, would you make sure my bike is somewhere safe for the night? I’ll send someone for it tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, let me,” Gabrielle said. “I’ll take good care of your ride, Mick, I swear.”
Colby chuckled. “I like her, in a weird sort of way.”
“Come on, Mick.” Gabrielle held out her hand for the keys.
Mick handed the keys to my grandmother, and Gabrielle scowled at him. “Ruby’s right,” she said. “Firewalkers are the most arrogant sons of bitches ever to come out of the earth. Just for that, I’m frying it.” She started for the front door.
“No, you won’t,” Mick said calmly. “It’s warded. Don’t be a brat.”
Gabrielle turned around and beamed a big smile at him. “You are such a shit. I always wanted a big brother, even if he is a dragon.” She started for the door again, but as she passed Drake, she stopped and turned to him. She took a slow look at him, roving her gaze over his still body.
Drake was handsome as a human, with dark hair, sloe-black eyes, and swarthy skin. He was also tall and well built, with an athletic body. His suit, tailored for him, enhanced what he had rather than hid it. Because I’d seen him naked, I could safely say that Drake could make his own pinup calendar, and women would pay good money for it.
Drake also had no idea that he was attractive. Absolutely no sense of it at all. His arrogance didn’t come from self-adoration.
Gabrielle ran her finger down his dark silk tie, pressing between his finely defined pectorals. “You, my friend, are hot. You ever want a vacation from that compound of yours, you come and find me.”
She let her fingers go down, down, way down, while the rest of us watched in a kind of stunned fascination. Gabrielle skimmed her touch all the way down past Drake’s belt to rest for a fraction of a second on his fly. Then she turned and walked out of the store.
Drake had jumped when her fingers had brushed his cock through his trousers, and now he stared after her in amazement. My grandmother snorted her disapproval, and Colby threw back his head and laughed.
“Damn. That was worth my captivity to see. Okay, maybe not, but thinking about it will make the time go by faster.”
Drake scowled at him. He made for the door, catching up his leather coat. “Colby,” he snapped.
“My master calls.” Colby leaned down and kissed me noisily on the cheek. “See you, Janet. If you need me, you know where to find me.”
Grandmother was in a hurry to go after Gabrielle, but before she left, she addressed Mick, not me. “I trust that you’ll take care of it.”
Mick nodded. “I will.”
She made another humph noise, and started out the front door.
“Take care of what?” I called.
Grandmother turned around. “Mick knows. Go find that pot, granddaughter. It’s very important.”
She was gone. Not in silence. I heard her remonstrating with Gabrielle to get away from the motorcycle, then start haranguing Drake to give them a ride back to their hotel and to take Mick’s bike as well.
Mick grasped my elbow and turned me around. “Time to go.”
“Take care of what?” I asked him.
Mick kissed me on the mouth. He steered me out the back and down the alley. I had to be quiet back here, damn him, and he knew it, so no more questions.
* * *
We had to walk a long way to find a space big enough for him to change to dragon. We ended up beyond a railroad switchyard, in a deserted area among sidings. Railroad cars old and new lingered here, waiting to be hooked to an engine and carried off to a new destination.
Mick calmly undressed and gave me the care of his clothes and the glued-toge
ther pot. Then he kissed me again, jogged away into the darkness, and became dragon.
Mick’s dragon was gigantic, black and gleaming in what was left of the moonlight. His eyes were black and golden, pupils tinged with red. He brought his great scaly head down to my level, the heat of his dragon body engulfing me.
I was never sure what to do with Mick in this form. He was still my Mick, but his dragon was a precise and deadly killing machine, and dragons did not have a lot of mercy in them. I couldn’t communicate with him—I could talk, but he couldn’t answer in words. I couldn’t yet understand the snarls and roars dragons used, and the nuances of their body language was way beyond me.
However, when Mick closed his talons around me, he was gentleness itself. He lifted me without moving a hair on my head and cradled me against his warm chest, sheltering me from the night.
That was fine, but as soon as he launched himself from the ground, my stomach pretty much stayed behind, and I had to fight my screams. Think of the scariest, most stomach-churning ride at an amusement park, and then multiply that by about a hundred and fifty. That’s flying with a dragon.
Mick shot across the darkness, dragon wings pumping in the night. I huddled against his chest, clutching everything I was trying to carry, and tried not to think about the hundreds of feet of empty space between me and the hard ground.
Happily, nothing happened to make him drop me. Mick held me competently, even keeping me warm, and we landed a few hours later in the desert behind my hotel, the railroad bed between us and the Crossroads.
When I say landed, I mean Mick dove for the ground with the force of a cannonball. At the last minute, he reversed, bringing his hind feet down, his great wings spreading like sails.
He touched down with a whump, but when he leaned to lower me, again it was with every tenderness.
I stood up, unkinking my stiff limbs and trying to catch my breath. Mick glided away into the darkness, shifted, and came walking back, my tall man replete with muscles and dragon tatts.