In my bedroom with the door shut, I strip down to my underwear and crawl into bed. I brought my Glock in from the truck, and I slide it between the mattress and the floor. I’ve never had anyone try to break into my trailer, and I’m certain my dogs would alert me should anything come creeping into their territory at night, but I still feel better with the gun there.
Sleep doesn’t come for a while. I listen to Kai’s breathing in the next room through my hollow bedroom door. His breath finally deepens and evens out to a soft steady snore. Only then do I find myself drifting off, thinking about the kind of life one might live where flirting is fun and friendship comes easy. But even in my dreams, I can’t quite get there.
Chapter 16
I run, chasing something unseen up the side of a pine-covered mountain. Or through a red-walled rock canyon. Or across a sagebrush-swept mesa. In each dream I am alone, just me and the object of my pursuit. The only sound is my straining breath and the steady pace of my footfalls as I speed across the mountain. The canyon. The mesa. The only feeling the exhilaration of the chase. As always, my prey is a step ahead, seen for a moment, and then hidden by a copse of trees, the hollow dip of a creek bed, a twist in the dusty path. I finally sight my target, one moment lost to the landscape and the next revealed by the light of a million stars, the brilliance of a full moon, the bright desert sun. Grinning, triumphant, I lift my shotgun in hands slick with sweat. I pull the trigger, sending the deadly shot forward. A hit, and my quarry falls. I hurry forward to retrieve my bounty, my long coyote pelt moving in the wind.
Only it’s Kai that I’ve shot. There’s a hole in his chest, straight through. His eyes are accusing. Lips, wet with blood, crack open and he speaks to me. I lean close to listen. Or for a kiss.
But he only has one word for me.
Monster!
The dream wakes me and I decide I’ve had enough of sleep. The air is cold and sharp, and with no heat in my trailer and the sun still not up, the chill of the high desert has settled into the floors and walls. Shivering, both from cold and the lingering horror of my dream, I dress. Black leggings and a cotton shirt. I carefully layer my moccasin wraps around my calves, tying them below the knee and tucking in the loose ends. Slide my throwing knives into place, Böker at my waist. I pull on a wool cap and fingerless gloves too. I know the sun will be brutal later, but for now I want the extra comfort of the fabric against my skin.
Kai is sprawled across my living room couch, oblivious to the horrid death he recently died in my unconscious, and completely unconcerned. One of his legs has escaped from the blanket, his limbs too long to be contained on my small sofa, and a socked foot trails across the floor. He’s on his back, arms tossed carelessly over his head, hands dangling off the edge above him.
He was handsome yesterday, but now he’s even more so. Long lashes resting above his sculpted cheekbones, face gentled in sleep.
But all I can see is the Kai of my dreams, weeping blood with a hole in his heart.
I shudder hard enough to feel my muscles protest. Swallow back something hot that threatens to sear me from the inside. Rattled, I walk over, reach out, and shake his shoulder. “Wake up!”
He doesn’t move, so I try again.
This time he pries one eye open. Looks at me like he’s trying to remember who I am, then closes it again.
“You need to get up,” I say.
“Now?” He yawns, heavy with the disorientation of waking up in an unfamiliar place. “What time is it? Is the sun even up?”
“Get up. I’m going to reheat the leftover coffee.”
And I mean to, but once I am in the kitchen, I find myself staring at nothing. The sun is beginning to peek over the mountains, and the first rays of dawn spread through my window to fall across my hands braced on the countertop. I watch the light as it moves over my skin. My fingers are brown and riddled with tiny cuts from my fight with the tsé naayéé’. The newer wounds complement the calluses and rigid white scars of my old injuries. My nails are short and blunt and most of them are covered with small white dots, evidence of smashed fingers and who knows what else kind of trauma I’ve subjected them to.
Trauma, scars. That’s what I know, what I’m good at. Vomiting ugly into the world, Longarm said. His words, fueled by the dream, come crashing back on me, and suddenly I feel ridiculous for even thinking Kai and I could be friends, more than friends. I feel myself swaying, dizzy with awful awareness as the walls close in around me.
“Mags?”
A distant voice calls me back from whatever’s threatening to crest over my head and send me reeling.
“Mags?” A hand on my shoulder and I whip around. Training and instinct kick in before I can think clearly and I have Kai pinned to the wall, knife at his throat before I remember where I am. Who I am. And what I am about to do.
Horrified, I stumble back. Knock my hip into the counter hard enough to want to scream. Sheath the knife away as quickly as it came out.
“Stop calling me that,” I blurt irrationally. “It’s not my name.”
“Sure thing,” he says, his voice wide-awake now. And terrified.
I back away even farther, mind lurching around and looking for solid ground. Kai doesn’t make a move, just watches me, his eyes bright. He’s pale, sweating at the temples, but his hands hang by his sides and he’s not freaking out. Which is more than I can say for myself.
I back up until I hit the stove. Turning, I flip the switch on the burner. Babble something about the coffee that I remember saying before. I sound crazy, so I snap my mouth shut.
He’s still watching me, but the surprise has passed, and I can see some of his fear becoming concern. And his compassion is about the last thing I can take right now.
“You okay?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Going to load up the truck,” I mutter. “Watch the coffee so it doesn’t burn.”
I don’t wait for an answer. I just get out of there and don’t stop running until I am out the door.
Chapter 17
“What happened back there?”
We are in the truck, retracing our route from yesterday, south to Tse Bonito. My shotgun’s back on the rack where it belongs and I have extra ammo, my special shot and plain old normal, in containers of twenty-four each under the seat. The Glock is tucked in the door pocket, the lockbox feeling too distant for my liking today. Coyote’s mysterious bag of hoops is wedged behind the driver’s seat, and Kai’s tote full of CDs sits at his feet.
I haven’t spoken a word to Kai since we left the house. I can’t. The embarrassment of my panic attack feels like bubbling acid in the pit of my stomach. I tell myself it’s the memories that Coyote stirred up, the bloody dreams, but I’m worried. I know how close I walk the line sometimes, and it feels like it’s getting worse. But I can’t tell Kai all that.
“I’m not good before my first cup of coffee,” I joke.
“No shit.” He’s not laughing, but he seems more curious than angry, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to push me for a real answer. I give him a grateful smile, try to convey my apology. It comes slowly, but he gives me something like a smile back.
“You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”
“What?”
“If that’s what’s freaking you out. I said I’d be your partner and I meant it.” His lips curl up. “Despite the knife to the throat.”
“I think it’s best if we skip the partner thing,” I tell him. “I appreciate the offer, but . . .” I shake my head. These days I’m not fit company for anyone who might break as easily as Kai Arviso.
“So does that mean you decided to take that job for Coyote?”
I frown, surprised. “How do you know about that?”
“Coyote mentioned it on his way out last night. Plus, I listened at the door before I came in. Canyon de Chelly. Níłch’i. Do you think you can do it?”
“You were listening at the door?” Some of my guilt at holding Kai at knifepoint seeps away.
“And then I looked in the bag too. The one Ma’ii left. You know, I think I know what those hoops are. Something I recognize from my father’s work.”
Guilt all gone. I shake my head, incredulous. “I thought you were asleep. I heard you snoring.”
He gives me a look. “C’mon, Mags. Oldest trick in the book. If you didn’t want me to look in the bag, you shouldn’t have left it next to the sofa.”
“You were a guest in my house. A normal guest would respect my privacy. Not listen at the door and go through my things.”
“Hey, that’s not fair. I just wanted to know.”
“And that gives you the right? Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
“My mother’s dead.” He sounds matter-of-fact enough, but he turns away from me to look out the window. “Didn’t make it past the Big Water.”
I sigh, the anger draining out of me, leaving me feeling like an asshole. “Sorry.”
He shrugs and clears his throat, like he’s choking on something hard. But his voice is light. “She’s not the only one. Last time I checked, a couple billion people worldwide didn’t make it past the Big Water. And then another hundred million or so perished in the aftermath. It’s been a pretty shitty time for everyone, if you know what I mean.”
I nod. What else am I supposed to do? I’ve never been good with other people’s emotions.
“She was back east for a conference,” he says. “Washington, DC. She was an expert in traditional weaving. Knew everything about it. She was consulting for an exhibit at the Smithsonian when the storms started. The planes were grounded and within hours the highways along the coast were impassable. You remember how it was. Phone lines overwhelmed and crashing. The blackouts.” His quiet laugh is bitter. “You know, I always say she was killed in the Big Water, but that’s just a guess. We have no idea what happened to her. We just know she’s never come back.”
“We?”
“My dad. He was a professor at the university too. But I told you that. He never really recovered from losing my mom. By the time they shut the university down for good, he’d already stopped going to work months before. When the Urioste goons started rounding up people to dig freshwater wells and water catchments up in the mountains as part of their waterworks, he was one of the first to volunteer. That’s the last I saw of him. I guess he figured I was old enough to be on my own by then. I fell in with some other kids who were on their own too. For a while it was teenage heaven, you know? We lived in abandoned houses, scavenged for the stuff we needed. There was always plenty of day labor for one Familia or another. So we worked when we had to and partied the rest of the time. Sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll.” He gives me his now-familiar grin, but it doesn’t quite get to his eyes.
“The champagne parties you were telling me about.”
“Yeah.”
“So what happened?”
“It all went to hell, just like it always does eventually.” He rubs a hand through his hair. “It’s a stupid story. Cliché, even. I did something reckless, people I cared about got hurt, and now the Uriostes want me dead.”
“The Uriostes. That’s that family back in the Burque?”
“Familia,” he says. “And yeah.”
His revelations sit in the air between us. I know he’s trying to make up for last night, share something about himself that’s close to the bone to rebuild some trust, and I appreciate that. But I don’t intend to return the gesture. What I can do, though, is apologize for this morning.
“About this morning, Kai. With the knife.”
“It’s okay. I get it. Shouldn’t have touched you like that. Won’t happen again.”
“No, it’s . . .”
He leans his head to the side and gives me a look. “It’s fine. I’m fine. And I can tell that you’re terrible at apologies. So let it go, okay?”
I swallow, surprisingly relieved. “Okay.”
“So what’s your Big Water story?” he asks.
“You already know it.”
“You mean the thing with your mentor, Neizghání? Coyote sure seemed interested in him.”
“Obsessed,” I acknowledge.
“But what about before him? What did you do before?”
“Nothing before him really matters.”
He frowns. “I don’t believe that. Didn’t you have a family? Siblings?”
My voice is as steady as it’s ever been. “I grew up with my nalí. Until she died. Then I was with Neizghání.”
“Then what?”
“Then he left. End of story.”
“Yeah. I know that feeling.”
I’m ready to tell him he has no idea how I feel, but then I remember what he said about his father. I keep my mouth shut.
“Everybody’s got a sob story these days, huh? Depressing as shit, if you ask me. Let’s talk about something happy.” He gives me a roguish wink and I smile despite myself.
“What did you have in mind? Unicorns? Rainbows? World peace?”
“What’s that?”
“You’ve never heard of world peace?”
“No, I mean, what’s that in front of us?”
Kai and I watch as half a dozen figures melt out of the early morning mist fifty yards ahead of us. Not monsters, that much I can tell. Or at least not the kind we’re hunting. These monsters look to be humans.
“Company,” I warn Kai, and he sits up a little straighter to get a better look.
“Bandits?” he asks.
“We’re about to find out.”
I consider speeding up and ramming my way through. Instead, I lift my foot off the accelerator. Crank the handle to roll down my window. I can hear the shrill revving of a motorbike somewhere just out of sight. More than one. No doubt just waiting to see if I’ll run. I’m not stupid. Running now would only give them a reason to chase.
The men who surround the truck wear combat boots and blue army fatigues. A familiar bandanna covers their faces from under the eyes down, black with the outline of the bottom half of a human skull, a white outline of a jawbone and rows of picket-fence teeth that stand out stark in the morning light.
“Not bandits,” I tell Kai. “But we’re not completely out of the woods yet.”
“You know them?”
“Sort of. I know their leader.”
“They’ve got big guns.”
“AK-47s,” I acknowledge. “But they don’t want to shoot us, or they’d be pointing them at us. Just let me do the talking.”
“Sure,” he says, but he sounds unconvinced.
“These are Dibáá’ Ashiiké,” I explain.
“ ‘Thirsty Boys’? What are they thirsty for?” He blinks slowly, like he’s bracing himself. “Please don’t say blood.”
“Depends. Trade, mostly. Gold, water, bootleg booze. They’re mercenaries, so they’re mostly thirsty for whatever you’ll pay them. I did a job with them once. Collecting a bounty. Their leader, Hastiin, knows me. We’re sort of friends.” And then as if to prove me wrong, the soldier closest to me raises his weapon and points it directly at me.
Kai sighs audibly. Slips his sunglasses on. “You sure about that?”
Chapter 18
The Thirsty Boy orders us off the road. No need to fight them. Not only do they have superior weapons and numbers, but I’m curious why they’re stopping us. The boy who orders us to pull over and kill the engine won’t tell us. Just orders us to wait.
When Hastiin finally shows up at my window, he’s decked out in the same uniform as the rest of the Thirsty Boys—blue fatigues, big black boots, and his skull bandanna hanging loose down around his neck. His face is hard and lean in the dawn light, all knife-edged cheekbones and deep shadows, shorn skullcap and day-old beard. The rumor is that he served on the front lines of the Energy Wars, one of the original Protectors at the Transcontinental Pipeline protest camp, the one that saw the first mass casualties. They say he breathed in a lot of nerve gas and it ruined something in his brain, so now he can’t keep still
. His fingers tap absently against my window’s edge, all that energy focused on us.
“Hastiin,” I greet him.
His eyes don’t even flicker in my direction. Instead, he’s focused on Kai, like I didn’t even speak. He introduces himself to Kai, holding out a lean scarred hand.
Kai shoots me a questioning glance before he reaches over me to shake the other man’s hand. “Kai Arviso.”
“That’s a nice tie, Kai. You headed somewhere fancy?” His voice grates like tires on loose rocks.
Kai lifts up the silver striped tie, looks at it, and lets it fall. “Thanks. Formal occasion was yesterday. Just like the tie.”
Hastiin nods. “Sorry we have to delay you, but my Boys have had some reports of strange things going on down in the valley. We’re taking it upon ourselves to warn people coming through.”
“Strange things?” I ask. “What kind of strange things?”
Hastiin’s still looking at Kai when he says, “Seems there was a monster sighting about an hour north of here near Lukachukai. A girl was killed, and there’s rumors of more monsters like this one roaming the mountains.”
Kai frowns. Looks between us both for a clue as to why Hastiin seems so intent on pretending like I’m not there. I shake my head in disgust, but Hastiin keeps on ignoring me, and he offers Kai a flash of teeth that I think is supposed to pass for a smile.
Kai gestures toward me. “Do you know Maggie here?”
“I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask you to stay here with us for a tick. Shouldn’t be more than an hour or so. Hate to inconvenience you, but I’ve got a scouting party out and until they show, I can’t have you out there.”
“That’s kind of you,” Kai says.
“Nothing kind about it. I can’t risk extra men to go rescuing you if you get in trouble, and I can’t have you feeding the monsters and encouraging them either, if you know what I mean.” Another flash of teeth. “So if you’ll indulge me and my little request, it would be appreciated.”
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