Trail of Lightning (The Sixth World Book 1)

by Rebecca Roanhorse

  “Sounds about right,” I admit.

  “Will they be looking for you?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But Kai was probably seen with him. It might take a few days, but someone’s bound to put two and two together and want to ask me a few questions.”

  “I reckon it’s only a matter of time before the word is out that you and that boy are here.”

  “Then I guess we better go.”

  “I’m not telling you to leave,” she says. “I’m just telling you what to expect, is all.”

  I nod. “Understood.”

  She sits for a few more minutes before she says, “Well, I better get back to the bar. Stick to what I’m good at.” She gives me a tight-lipped smirk and then hauls herself up out of the chair.

  The creak of footsteps on the wooden deck tells me we have company. She raises her eyes and whatever she sees over my shoulder makes her smile for real. “Now, aren’t you a fine-looking young man,” she says, and I know it has to be Kai. “I can see why Maggie dragged you over here and let us patch you back together. But you need to learn to defend yourself. You and this girl gonna keep taking on Law Dogs, you’re gonna have to learn to hit back. You hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Kai’s voice comes from somewhere close behind me. I can almost see the blinding smile he’s flashing at Grace right now.

  Grace rests a hand on my shoulder for a minute. I tense at the touch, but she acts like she doesn’t notice. She leans in close to my ear. “Think on what I said, Maggie.” She straightens up, points toward Kai. “Make her listen. She won’t listen to me. But I imagine a handsome young man like you could say things to a girl that would make her listen right up.”

  “Jesus, Grace,” I say, embarrassed.

  But Kai handles it smoothly, makes some joke about having a silver tongue that the ladies love that has her chortling and proclaiming herself scandalized, and old enough to be his grandmother. And then she’s down the stairs and across the dusty yard, back to the bar. I watch her until the door swings shut.

  The chair next to me rocks as Kai sits down. “You didn’t tell me your paramilitary hideout was a freakin’ bar. There’s hope for you yet, Mags.”

  Kai’s wearing different clothes. A red T-shirt, AC/DC emblazoned on the chest, with a pair of black cargo pants. And actual boots, the kind that come up midcalf and lace up. The outfit looks too small to fit Grace’s twins, and too big for the kid at the gate, so it must be from the pile she keeps for her cast of perpetual misfit houseguests. Either way, it’s miles better than the dress clothes and fancy shoes.

  Kai’s black hair is wet, slicked back against his head instead of in its usual artful disarray, and his face looks flawless, skin smooth over high cheekbones and full lips quirked in a half smile. But his eyes are rimmed in red and it occurs to me that he’s probably been crying, not for himself but for Tah. And the fact that I have no tears for my friend who saved my life not once, but twice, settles down into my soul like a ten-ton weight. I pray that Grace with all her hokey wisdom is right, and that people mourn differently. That I can mourn at all.

  And then what I’m looking at finally clicks. “What the hell, Kai? Your face. It’s perfect!”

  “It’s about time you admitted you find me attractive.” A joke, but his voice is tight and careful and he sounds held together by hope and prayer more than skin and bone.

  “Don’t be a smartass. How do you look so good?”

  “Genes?” And there’s that brilliant smile. Well, a version of the smile, markedly dimmed.

  “Kai, start talking. You’re healed. Completely.” Which isn’t exactly true. I can see the echo of bruises below his slightly swollen eye, a light line of yellow and green that looks days old instead of hours.

  “Not completely. My ribs still hurt if I breathe in too hard, and I feel the need to projectile vomit if I stand up too fast. Found that out the hard way.”

  “Did Grace’s twins do this?” My hand reaches out involuntarily, almost touching his cheek. I stop short and pull my hand back to my lap. “I saw you. You looked like, well, like you took a beating. I saw you take a serious beating.”

  He looks down when he says, “ ‘Azee’tsoh Dine’é, remember? Medicine People clan.”

  I do remember. “Tah said your prayers were strong. I thought that would make the prayers you did for other people strong. But it makes you strong.”

  “It does both,” he acknowledges. “Guess I’m indestructible.” Another joke, but there’s something in his voice, something not so lighthearted, that suggests that he understands how close he came to dying. “Don’t think I want to test it, though,” he adds quietly.

  “No,” I agree, wondering if prayers could have saved him if Longarm had managed to put a bullet in his head.

  We’re both silent, letting the night simmer. After a while, Kai starts to talk.

  “Back in the Burque.” He scrubs a hand over his face and starts again. “Back in the Burque, there was this girl. Her name was Lachryma. It means ‘tears.’ She was beautiful. An Urioste family princess, a water baroness in the making. Her family hosted these huge Fiesta de Burque galas, masked balls up at their compound in the mountains. Pageant kings and queens, Spanish reenactments. The whole old-school thing. Me and Alvaro, we had these costumes. His was a conquistador and I was the King of Storms, and I talked our way into this party. That’s where she and I met. And it was . . .” He grins weakly. “Oldest story in the book, right? And I’m the fool.”

  I’m not sure where he’s going with this story, but I can guess how it ends. A land-grant princess, a poor Indian boy. “Not if you loved her . . .”

  “A romantic,” he says with a little nod. He picks at a loose thread in his shirt. “I didn’t love her, Mags. I wanted to—” He makes a crude gesture with his hands. “We were hot and heavy from the beginning. But a few weeks later when we were caught, she left me to the wolves. I wasn’t worth alienating her family over. That kind of wealth and power . . . well, you don’t toss that to the wind over a couple of good nights slumming it with a dirty Navajo.”

  “What happened?”

  “Sentenced to a public beating. And banishment.”

  “For dating a girl?”

  “For deflowering a princess, although to suggest I was the first to visit her garden was comedy. But the Uriostes are powerful and old. If they want to insist their princess was a virgin and use me to make a point, who’s going to stop them?” He swallows. “Broke both my legs.” He lifts an arm and touches his elbow. “And here.” Lays a long finger against his cheek. “Shattered my jaw. After that, I wasn’t so pretty anymore. Hard to believe, right?” His smile is small and sad. “But it was more than that. It was the humiliation. My friends, my father, everyone we knew witnessed it.” He rips the thread out of his shirt, a quick jerk. “I had until sundown the next day to get out of the Burque. Alvaro paid a guy to drive me to my cheii. He was the only person we knew who might take me in. A cripple. Deformed. And he was a medicine man, so we thought if anyone could help with the pain . . .” His voice trails off, his eyes full of memories. “We didn’t think I’d ever walk again. Only I wake up after my first night at Tah’s and there is no pain. My legs work, my arm feels fine. And my eyes turn silver.”

  I knew I didn’t imagine it. “Clan powers,” I breathe. “Your prayers aren’t just strong. You have clan powers that manifested as healing.”

  He nods. “I don’t know what the eye color has to do with it, but it seems to get worse, the more I use my powers.”

  I rock back in my chair, slightly stunned. The eye color is strange, definitely unsettling, but now that I know it’s a side effect of his clan powers, it makes more sense. “Is that why you thought you could talk to Longarm? You weren’t worried about getting hurt because you figured you would heal?”

  He hesitates. “Something like that,” he admits. “But he jumped me from behind before I could even say much. Got me in a chokehold where I couldn’t speak. Started yelling abou
t . . .” He hesitates, waves whatever he was going to say away. “It was dumb. I was dumb. I should have seen it coming. I just thought what I said to him yesterday would last a little longer.”

  “You can’t reason with guys like Longarm. All the Dogs are that way.”

  “Maybe you can’t reason with them. I didn’t even get a chance to talk. Otherwise—”

  “Kai.”

  He raises a hand in surrender. “You’re right. You’re right. I blew it. I’m just glad you were there to play hero.”

  I want to laugh, but the sound gets stuck in my throat. “Pretty sure heroes don’t shoot cops. Pick again.”

  “I did pick,” he says, low and intense.

  I flush under the weight of his gaze, the flash of twilight in his eyes. When he takes my hand, I let him. We sit there silent, both of us looking out at the desert sky, the thin line of clouds above the horizon painted orange and purple and deep navy by the setting sun. Faint voices and honky-tonk music waft over from the All-American, the party starting up inside.

  “Do you want to talk about Grandpa?”

  “No.”

  “Maggie—”

  I take my hand away. “You say one more word and I will walk.”

  He leans back, runs a hand across his eyes. His palm comes away wet. I know I should try to comfort him. But I can’t. I can’t. Something like terror wells up at the thought. He swipes his face clean with the hem of his shirt. It’s another minute before he speaks. “I heard you tell Grace’s daughter you were leaving.” His voice is raw, but there’s another emotion besides sorrow there. Something tense. Worried. Which makes sense, I guess.

  “Yeah. I did. I was.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “I don’t know.” And that’s honest, or as honest as I can manage. I can’t admit the rest, not to him, barely to myself. I’m not even sure what the rest is, exactly.

  I expect him to push me about it, say something smart or make another dumb joke to try to lighten the darkness that’s settled around us. But he sits there, silent.

  “Kai—” I start.

  “I hate this depressing shit,” he says, cutting me off with a laugh, raking his hand through his hair and leaving it standing on end. “People die, right? They die all the goddamn time.”

  “We don’t know for sure.”

  He sits forward in his chair and leans toward me. “So live while you can, right? Isn’t that what they say?”

  “Who’s ‘they’?” I ask, wary of his burst of mania.

  “I don’t know. People.” He stares at me, until whatever it is breaks and he slumps back down in his seat. He lets out a little laugh, a bitter sound, and turns to me with a smile. “Don’t suppose I could talk you into a couple of beers and some country line dancing?”

  I’ve been thinking about something, so I say it. “You should leave, Kai. It would be safer.”

  “Leave?”

  “Now’s the time. This is more than you signed up for. And it’s only going to get worse. I think you need to go.” I sound forceful. Convincing. The best lie I’ve ever told. “I’m sure one of Grace’s twins can get you as far as the Wall. Cutting across the open desert from here, it’s not more than twenty miles. All Checkerboard, no cops.”

  “You want me to leave?” He pauses. “What will you do?”

  “I’ve still got a witch to find, remember?”

  He’s quiet for a minute. “I can’t leave.”

  “No,” I say. “It’s wrong for you to stay. You’ve lost . . . Anyway, now’s the time. I know you can’t go back to the Burque, but there’s other places. Lake Powell. New Denver. Better to—”

  “I said I can’t.”

  “But—”

  “Maggie, stop. I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes lock on mine, a blaze in the waning sunset.

  For a second I lose my train of thought. Instead I think about how his hand was in mine, how his laughter brings me back from dark places in my head.

  “Say ‘okay,’ Mags,” he says, his voice quiet, intense. “Ask me to stay.”

  I close my eyes and breathe in the night sky. “Stay?”

  “Of course. Partner.”

  After a while I stand up and slide my shotgun into the holster across my back. My hands check my weapons out of habit—knives, shotgun, ammo in the belt around my hips. And the half-empty Glock tucked in my belt. I give him a smile.

  “Then let’s go.”

  A voice says, “Whatever you’ve got planned is going to have to wait.”

  It’s Rissa, coming across the yard and up the stairs two at a time, her twin brother on her heels. She has an AR-15 hanging from the shoulder strap across her back, a .44 Magnum in a holster at her hip. Black combat lace-ups, tan-colored camo pants, and actual stripes of black and sand-colored paint on her face. Her long red hair is in two tight braids against her head.

  Her brother is suited up pretty much the same way, with the addition of a leather glove on one hand and what appears to be an old watch wrapped around his palm, a red plastic lighter attached with Velcro to his wrist, and a thin clear tube running between the lighter and the watch face.

  “What is that?” I ask, staring at the device on his wrist. “What’s going on?”

  Rissa answers. “We got a report over the radio of something bad going down in Rock Springs.”

  My eyes flicker to Kai. “Didn’t you mention Rock Springs the other day?”

  He nods. “Refugee town, just this side of the eastern Wall. Spent a day there on my way to Tse Bonito while they processed my papers. What’s going on in Rock Springs?”

  The twin wearing the watch-lighter contraption—Clive, I think Grace called him—looks up at me, his face grim. “Monsters.”

  Chapter 23

  “They say what kind?” I ask.

  Rissa shrugs. “The guy was pretty hysterical. Said something about zombies, but that’s a little far-fetched even for Dinétah.”

  Something tickles along the back of my neck, a worry that’s only half-formed but building. “Why did he think they were zombies? Did he say?”

  “Said they were trying to eat their brains.”

  Clive barks out a laugh, but I can’t tell if he thinks the idea of zombies is funny or if he’s scared.

  “They’re not zombies,” I tell the twins as the thought becomes fully formed, “but I think I know what they are. Ran into one in Lukachukai a few days back. Saw what they did to Crownpoint.”

  Rissa stops her weapons check to give me a good once-over. “That’s right. You’re the Monsterslayer.”

  I open my mouth to protest, tell her that’s Neizghání, not me, but I don’t get a chance because her brother is barreling on.

  “So how do we handle this? Go in blazing? We’ve got the firepower.” He pats his rifle reassuringly.

  “There’s people living there,” Kai protests. “Families and kids. You can’t just go in shooting.” He turns to me. “What do you think, Maggie?”

  The Goodacres turn to me too. And I realize they want me to lead them into battle. But I’m no leader. I’ve always followed Neizghání, or gone in solo. I’m not sure I can give them what they want from me.

  “You’re the monster expert,” Kai says quietly, his voice reassuring. “We trust you.”

  I stare another minute. Take in his placid eyes. The two pairs of identical hazel eyes, not quite as trusting, but ready to listen. Willing to believe that what I say is going to keep them alive. I’m worried that it won’t. That I won’t. Just like I failed to keep Tah safe in Tse Bonito or Kai from taking a beating. I worry that Rock Springs will become another dot on my personal failures map and, if so, how big and how full that map can get. But there’s no use for it now. Someone has to do something, and it looks like it’s going to be me.

  I just hope like hell I get this right.

  “Okay, listen up,” I start, and they sort of huddle in. “If this is the creature I think it is, it’s hard to kill. Shooting them won’t do it. You’re g
oing to have to remove the head.”

  “Or burn them?” Clive asks, and flexes his watch-lighter contraption, which I now realize must be a flamethrower of some kind.

  “Rock Springs is a tent city,” Kai says.

  “Okay, so we keep the fire to a minimum. It gets out of control and we’ll do more damage than good. The creatures aren’t particularly bright, but they’re strong, and surprisingly fast. They may have crude weapons, but they don’t have the dexterity to work a trigger. Oh, and they bite.”

  Clive shudders. So that laugh earlier was fear. Good to know.

  “But,” I say, “their teeth aren’t sharp. They’re dull, and won’t get through your protective gear, assuming you’re wearing it.” I look over at Kai in his borrowed T-shirt.

  “I’ll find him something sturdier,” Clive offers. “Assuming he’s coming with.” It’s been less than eight hours since Kai took a serious trouncing, and frankly, I’m not sure he’s up for another fight.

  I’m not the only one thinking it, because Rissa pipes in, “No offense, but you sure you’re in shape to help out? You came in here with your face smashed in and a boot-shaped dent in your kidneys. Now you want to go take on the monsters?” Her words are cynical, but she’s looking at Kai’s unmarred face the same as the rest of us.

  “I’m sure.” He hesitates, eyes cutting to me briefly. “I can help.”

  “Then you’re in.” My tone is final. I won’t second-guess him in front of the Goodacres. He doesn’t deserve that.

  Rissa looks to Clive, which I don’t like much, but Clive just shrugs. “Sure. Why not. Takes a lickin’ and keeps on tickin’.” He pounds Kai across the back hard enough to make the smaller man wince. “Our own Navajo Energizer Rabbit.”

  Rissa chuckles. “All right. So, Rabbit, how are you with guns?”

  “I don’t need a gun.”

  She scoffs. “You say that now, but I’m not going anywhere with you if you can’t watch my back.”

  “Leave him alone,” I say. “He won’t do it. He’s got his own way of being backup.”

  Rissa starts to protest, but her brother cuts her off. Looks pointedly at Kai’s face. Something passes between them, and Rissa lets it go.