Trail of Lightning (The Sixth World Book 1)

by Rebecca Roanhorse

  I pull the bike up next to its partner, which is parked by the front steps of the trailer. I notice smears of bloodstains on the console. If I didn’t know Rissa was already okay, it would be a sorry omen.

  Kai slips his hand into mine and gives it a squeeze. I’m so surprised, I don’t do anything but let him hold on, his palm dry and cool against mine. He gives me a wink before he lets go to open the door and let me enter first. I steel myself for the tongue-lashing I am sure Grace has ready for me, and it’s nothing I don’t deserve. Her twins trusted me. I was their leader, and it was my job to get them in and get them out safely, and I failed.

  It occurs to me that Grace may do more than yell at me. She may throw me out, and for all that Rock Springs feels like another world, we’ve only been gone from the All-American a handful of hours. We still need a safehouse for the night, and it looks like I just blew it.

  Clive and Grace are seated on the sofa, the lavender one with the flowery print. He’s got his mom’s small hand wrapped up in his big one, and huddled close together like that, they look so much alike that I pause. He may have gotten the red hair from his father, but those apple cheeks and mouth are all Grace. It’s obvious she’s been crying, and she dabs at her face with a tissue that’s replaced her bar rag for now. She looks up when I enter, gives me a look I can’t quite read before she stands up. My eyes shoot to Clive, trying to get a heads-up from him on what to expect, but he’s a blank page.

  Grace comes toward me around the coffee table and I tense up. She lifts her arms up and opens them wide, and I brace myself for the blow. But instead, she does the damnedest thing. She wraps her arms around me and gives me a hug.

  I stand there, stupefied. Frozen like a deer in the headlights. It sounds pathetic, but I can’t actually remember ever being hugged. I’m sure my nalí did, but that was four years ago if it was a day. Neizghání? That thought makes me laugh. But here is Grace, she of the big talk and the little stature, holding on to me like I mean something.

  I let her hug me because it’s the polite thing to do. And I may be in shock. She finally lets go and holds me out at arm’s length, big eyes wet and shimmering. Then she turns to Kai, who has come up beside me, and does the same to him. He’s not an emotional cripple like me, so he relaxes and wraps his arms around her in turn. She holds him for a minute too, before she lets go and straightens up to face us both.

  I was expecting the worst, but now I have no clue. Even so, I am stunned at the words that come out of her mouth.

  “Your debt is paid to me, Maggie Hoskie. In perpetuity. You and Kai are always welcome in my home for as long as you want.”

  My eyebrows shoot up and my jaw drops. Kai murmurs a thank-you for both of us. Grace sniffs and dabs at her eyes before she comes around me, briefly touching my shoulder as she passes, and heads out the door. I hear it firmly shut and then the stairs of the porch creak as she heads back to the bar to finish up the night’s business.

  Kai shuffles his feet beside me and I turn. He’s got this bemused look on his face. “I wonder if that means we drink for free?”

  Clive’s laughter bursts through the room. Kai flushes and grins along with him and soon they’re both cracking up, but I still can’t get my head around what just happened.

  “She’s not mad?” I finally manage to ask.

  “No,” Clive says. “By her thinking, you saved both our lives. If you hadn’t been here with the intel on the monsters, the two of us would have gone alone. Tried to shoot those things, and you saw how well that worked. We were figuring that without you, we’d both be dead about now.”

  “But Rissa . . . ?”

  “She’s hurting, but she’ll be fine. Mom stitched the wound, but she said whatever Kai did for her out there with that field dressing, well, it sped up the healing. She’ll be up and about in no time.”

  Kai’s face wrinkles in concern. “I still think she needs a prayer done.”

  Clive shakes his head. “Let her rest first. A body needs sleep before you go burning tobacco at them.” He’s on his feet and coming around the coffee table with a goofy grin, ready to drape an arm over Kai and me. I slip out of the way before he can touch me, but Kai lets him wrap a meaty bicep around his shoulders. “And I wouldn’t push it on the drinks, Rabbit. My mom’s grateful you saved my sis’s life and all, but nobody drinks for free. But, tell you what. First round’s on me.”

  Kai grins. “You coming, Mags? Being a hero sure works up a thirst.”

  I blink. It’s like I can hear them talking, laughing and joking, but there’s a distance between us that I don’t know how to cross. “No. You go. I’m going to get some sleep.”

  “C’mon, Maggie,” Clive pleads. “One round. And you can tell me how you got so fast with that badass knife of yours.”

  I grimace, and Kai, his eyes on me, tugs Clive toward the door. “Give her some time, Clive,” he says. “She’s not used to being a hero.”

  Clive grumbles a little but allows himself to be led off. “I’ll drink one for you, then,” he calls over his shoulder as the two of them head out the door.

  I wait until I hear them cross the yard and I catch a brief burst of noise, music and laughter, as they open the back door to the All-American, and then silence. Only when I am sure that I am all alone do I drag myself down the hall to one of the spare rooms. I pass Rissa’s sick room on the way and peek in. She looks like she’s sleeping peacefully, not at all like she was trying to hold her insides together just a short hour ago. Not for the first time today, I marvel at Kai’s skills.

  The bed in the guest room is narrow and plain, but the sheets are clean and smell like summer and the pillow is a cloud beneath my head. I don’t even bother to change out of my blood-spattered gear. I just shrug the shotgun holster off my back, slide the Glock under my pillow, and fall into bed. I hear the door creak open and I crack an eye to see Grace’s tabby cat sneak into the room and hop up on the bed before the door swings closed again. I don’t have the energy to remind her that I’m a dog person, and she curls up by my feet, purring contentedly.

  For once, I have no problem falling asleep.

  Chapter 26

  I wake up just in time for dinner the next day.

  “Dinner?” I ask incredulously as Grace pokes her head in the door to call me to the table.

  She chuckles. “You aren’t the only one. Clive’s only been up half a minute, but then he and your boy closed down the bar with the sunrise. Didn’t stop him from doing those morning prayers for my baby, though.” She’s got that rag back in her hand and she slaps it against her hands, shoulders shaking with mirth. “That fella of yours is something. A real charmer.”

  I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes. “Yeah? You’re not the first one to think so.”

  “And a dancer.” She lifts her arms like she’s got a partner and does a turn around my room. I’ve never seen her like this and I’m forced to reconsider everything I know about the woman.

  “Kai danced with you?”

  “And everyone else in the place last night,” she confirms. “Such a charmer.”

  “Yeah, you said that.”

  She can tell I’m not as amused as she thinks I should be, and she drops her arms to her hips. “Well, come to dinner. The least I can do is feed you after all you did for my twins.”

  Kai, Clive, and Rissa are gathered at the eat-in kitchen table, loud and laughing and heaping food onto their plates. My stomach rumbles at the smell of carne adovada. I wonder where Grace got the meat, but then she’s probably one of the richest people in eastern Dinétah, with the gun running and the liquor business.

  “Monsterslayer!” Clive calls good-naturedly. “Come join us. You missed a hell of a party last night.”

  “So I hear.” I slide into the free chair next to Rissa. I notice she’s got a bowl of clear broth, not any of the red chilé-coated pork that smells so amazing. I give her a nod, and she nods back.

  “Your boy here is a beast!” Clive says, boisterous a
s a puppy.

  “Oh?” I reach for the serving spoon to serve myself. There’s yeast bread too, and I take a chunk and run it through the chilé sauce, sopping up the goodness.

  “Yeah, you should have seen—”

  But I’m saved from what I should have seen as the front door flies open, slamming against the wall with a boom. Clive is halfway out of his seat and reaching for the gun strapped to his hip when Freckles’s head pops through the front door. “You guys still chowing down?”

  “Come in and eat,” Grace calls to her youngest son. “I made something special for our guests.”

  Freckles tilts his head to the side. “There’s someone here to see Maggie.”

  I freeze with my food halfway to my mouth. My eyes dart to Kai. Who would be here to see me?

  “Who is it?” Grace asks.

  “Says his name is Ma’ii.”

  Ma’ii’s on the porch, rocking lazily in one of Grace’s chairs. He’s wearing a variation of the Western gentleman’s suit he favors, but this one is a mix of light blues and orange with his customary camel coat over his shoulders. He twirls his walking stick idly in one hand, letting it thump against the planks of the porch, the only sign of his irritation. He’s minus his hat, pale skin exposed to the setting sun and hair rustling lightly in an invisible breeze.

  I lean against a post, just behind his shoulder, arms crossed. “What are you doing here?”

  He surveys the yard casually, taking in the All-American, the razor-wire fencing, the long bank of garages, and says, “This doesn’t look a thing like Canyon de Chelly.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Oh yes. I know. All too well.” He tsks at me, long tongue flicking over sharp teeth. Twists his body around to stare at me with glittering golden eyes. “I’m beginning to think you aren’t taking our friendship seriously.”

  I uncross my arms and take a seat in the rocking chair next to him. “Some bad things happened yesterday.” I leave out the details. I can’t see anything positive about telling Ma’ii about Tah.

  “Ah yes, the medicine man,” he says, voice theatrically melancholy.

  “How do you know about Tah?”

  “I am Coyote. I know—”

  “Yeah, whatever. But what does that have to do with you? If you’re just here to complain about me not getting to your job—”

  He lifts a hand to hold me off. “I did not just come to this . . . where are we exactly?”

  “Grace’s All-American. It’s a bar.”

  He sniffs. “Are you sure? No mind. I was saying that I did not just come to check on your progress in completing my quest. I came because I have learned something of the monsters you seek.” He pauses dramatically. “I believe you would call it a clue.”

  “The tsé naayéé’?” Kai’s voice calls from behind us. I hadn’t realized he was there, but now he steps forward to face Ma’ii. “What is it?”

  “Ah, Kai Arviso!” Ma’ii’s face lights up. “How splendid to see you again.” His sly eyes roll toward me. “Have you and Magdalena become lovers yet?”

  I exhale loudly. “Can you focus, Ma’ii?”

  “In time, then,” he says before he turns back to me. “A fire drill.”

  “A what?”

  “A drill.” He waves a clawed hand. “A tool used by Haashch’ééshzhiní to set the stars ablaze.”

  Kai and I exchange a look. The same god from the Crownpoint recordings. The thing I called a firestarter.

  “And that’s related to the monsters, how?”

  “I have told you all I know. But there’s an associate of mine who trades in such things. She knows more, may even have this drill in her possession. You seek her out, you learn what she knows, and you may have the source that animates your monsters.”

  “Are you saying this fire drill is used to bring the tsé naayéé’ to life?”

  “That could be it, Maggie,” Kai says. “Could be the same thing from the CDs.”

  “What’s in this for you, Ma’ii? Why are you helping us? Why should we trust you?”

  His face droops and he gives me what could only be called puppy dog eyes. “You wound me. Did we not bargain? Make a deal and share a meal as friends? I vowed to tell you what I know of the monsters, and you, in return, owe me a trip to Canyon de Chelly.”

  He’s shrewd. I’ll give him that. And it’s the first real clue we’ve gotten in a while, and it fits in with everything else. “Okay then.”

  He leans in. “ ‘Okay then’ what?”

  “Thank you.”

  Ma’ii gives me a little seated bow. “The pleasure is all mine.”

  “So where do we find this friend of yours with the fire drill?”

  “A place I understand young Kai Arviso has frequented before. Why, just three nights ago he had a conversation with a dead man there.”

  “What’s he talking about?” I look at Kai. He flinches before giving a little derisive shake of his head. He obviously knows where Coyote means.

  “What’s he talking about?” I repeat. “Where did you meet a dead man?”

  Kai looks at Coyote, lips pursed in thought, like he’s reconsidering every nice thing he might have thought about Ma’ii. He finally looks over at me. “The dead man is Longarm, isn’t it? So he’s talking about Tse Bonito, a place in Tse Bonito. He’s talking about the Shalimar.”

  Chapter 27

  “Are you sure this is necessary?”

  An hour later and I’m stuffed in the bathroom of Grace’s trailer with Clive as he fusses over my hair. For a muscle-bound gun nut, he’s got some remarkable styling skills. “A bundle of contradictions,” he warned me with a wink before we started, and I laughed, not expecting much. But now he’s making me eat my words.

  He’s coaxed the front of my hair down into a long sweeping bang on one side of my face. It looks cool, but it’s impractical and annoying, much like everything else he’s conceived for me tonight. He’s rimmed my eyes in black liner, and my lips he’s painted a deep scarlet red. I haven’t worn cosmetics since high school, didn’t know they were still around until Clive produced a stash that would satisfy a drag queen. Which, it turns out, is pretty much the truth.

  “Where did you get all this?” I gape as he rummages through the box of lipsticks, eye shadows, and who knows what else.

  He shrugs. “An old boyfriend who used to have a drag show. He dumped me, I kept his stuff. And now I collect when there’s trade. Dabble a bit. Because you never know when you’re going to be called on to make over a monsterslayer.”

  “I thought you liked guns!” I blurt.

  He laughs. “Is that your way of asking if I’m gay?” He works his thumb against my cheek, rubbing in a contouring cream. “Because, what, I can’t like guns and glamour at the same time? They’re not mutually exclusive, you know.”

  “Uh yeah, they kind of are.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says dismissively as he brushes some kind of finishing powder across my face. Gives me a critical once-over and then jerks his chin, indicating that I should turn and look in the mirror. I do. A stranger stares back.

  I squirm. Tug at the halter top Clive produced earlier from a box of discarded clothes. It consists of two inverted V-shaped black straps that start at my shoulders and meet a fraction of an inch above my belly button, giving “low-cut” a whole new meaning. A thin horizontal strip of leather holds the shirt together at my breasts. I’ve still got on my leggings and moccasins, but a good three inches of skin shows between the top of my pants and the bottom of the halter top. I’m wearing my hunting knife sheathed on a low-slung leather belt at my hips, and my shotgun is strapped across my back. Clive’s dug up a bandolier from somewhere that crosses my chest like a lethal beauty pageant sash. It’s filled with my shotgun shells—supernatural and plain old human-killer. He’s even found a holster for the Glock, so it rests against my other hip.

  “This is really going to chafe,” I mutter, shrugging my shoulders to adjust my back rig. The straps
dig into my bare skin, but every time I complain, Clive insists there’s no way to avoid it.

  “How about you let me wear my leather jacket?” I tell him. “That’s what it’s for. To protect my skin.”

  “No, it would ruin the look.”

  “And what exactly is that look? Mad Max?”

  “Monsterslayer,” he says. “And you need to own it.” Our eyes meet in the mirror. I got nothing.

  He sighs at my discomfort. “Think of it like a costume if you have to.”

  “You don’t?”

  “You need to understand that the Shalimar is not a normal place. It’s a . . . well, you’ll have to see for yourself. But, trust me, you need to make an impression. You saw what Kai was wearing when you brought him to us.”

  The teal pants, the dress shirt and tie. The silver shoes.

  “People dress to impress,” he continues. “Besides, with all the hardware you’re carrying, you need something to make it look like it’s part of your overall look, not like you’re actually there to kill anyone.”

  “I don’t see the difference.”

  He sighs again, tortured by such a poor pupil. “I know you don’t.” He pushes my hand away when I try to get the long bangs out of my eyes. I grimace, but concede control over my hair to the man. He obviously knows more about it than I do. He fusses for a few more minutes and, finally satisfied, he gestures to the door. I maneuver around him to push through and get the hell out of the claustrophobic space. Only to pull up short.

  Kai is leaning against the opposite wall, dressed like some sort of futuristic Navajo headman. Soft black lambskin pants tucked into knee-high black moccasins, a dark blue crushed velvet shirt, loose and long, held tight by suede bands on his upper arms and a silver concho belt around his waist. A white shell necklace hangs from his neck, black drops of pearl from his ears, and every finger glitters with rings. He has his hair back up in a messy wash of spikes, the tips edged in silver, and a midnight-blue length of fabric tied around his forehead and knotted to the side. A smudge of silver paint shows around his eyes. It’s all I can do not to gawk like a starstruck schoolgirl. Boy-band movie star doesn’t even cover it.