Trail of Lightning (The Sixth World Book 1)

by Rebecca Roanhorse

  I can’t speak, couldn’t answer him if I wanted to. I choke on my own blood and tears.

  His eyes soften as he watches me struggle. “Ah, Chíníbaá, you are so fierce, so beautiful,” he breathes, wonder in his voice. “But you don’t know when to quit. You never have.”

  And then his bloody lips are on mine, forcing my mouth open with his tongue as he kisses me. He is rough, brutal and possessive. I taste iron and salt. Holding my throat in his one hand, mouth still on mine, he reaches down with the other hand, wraps his fingers around the hilt of his weapon, and thrusts his lightning blade up and under my ribs.

  Digging for my heart.

  Chapter 32

  I am on fire. Blazing inferno. My skin peels from my bones, the blood in my veins boils and evaporates. I scream as I ignite.

  And then water. Like the mountain rivers of the spring thaw, rushing and powerful and cool, spreading through me to wash away the scorching firestorm.

  A tsunami of sound, all at once. So loud it hurts. Cacophonous. Screeching awful sound. Two hundred people shouting together.

  And pain. So much pain. An agony of screaming nerves, muscles distended and bones shattered. God, I hurt. I try to curl inside myself.

  An echo of sound, an urgent cry pulling me back.

  Whatever you’re doing, hurry. He’s coming back!

  But it’s distant. Too distant.

  No, Mags, stay with me! I can save you, but you’ve got to fight! I need you to fight!

  That voice. I know it. It is kind. And when it speaks, it makes me want to fight. I want to. I do.

  But I can’t do as the voice says. I was so stubborn. I already fought. And I lost.

  And now my heart won’t work.

  Because it’s broken.

  Chapter 33

  I wake in darkness. And pain. But less pain than before. It is the ache of injury, but not the searing pain of an open wound, not the agony of cracked bones. I gingerly rotate my wrist, the one he so casually shattered. I reach for the place below my ribs where his knife dug for my heart, and become aware of sheets and blankets. I am in a bed that is not mine. In a room I don’t recognize.

  I panic until I smell cedar and tobacco on my skin and in my hair. I can almost hear the echo of prayer songs in my ears. Kai? My eyes search the darkness, but I can’t see anything.

  Exhausted and confused, I fall back into sleep.

  The next time I wake, it is at his gentle insistence. He is there with food, urging me to eat. So I sit up, wrap the sheet around my shoulders, and eat. But then I remember that my heart has been ripped open by a lightning blade and I weep. So he sets the food aside and climbs into the bed with me and holds me and lets me sleep.

  The sun has crossed halfway across the sky before I wake again. The curtains in the room are drawn shut, but I can see the bright yellow of a noonday sun creeping through the corners of the windows. I am tempted to stay in bed, Kai’s arms wrapped tightly around me, but I know I have to get up. I have to find out what happened, how I am still alive. And there are matters that need attending to.

  I slip out of the warm bed, careful not to wake him. Accidentally trip on something soft and fuzzy that makes an annoyed yelp and bolts for the slim opening in the door. Grace’s cat. I’m at Grace’s house. Just in an unfamiliar room. No, now that I look around, I recognize the room. It’s the same one Rissa was in the night the monster ripped her open. This must be their sick room. As my eyes adjust, I see it is. A table with bowls and bandages, a feather fan and a spool of dental floss, various mixtures and salves.

  I search in the dim light for my clothes, but realize they must have been ruined, either too bloody to salvage or discarded in the aftermath. It doesn’t bother me to lose Clive’s ridiculous halter top, but I hope my moccasins were saved. And all my weapons. I need them. If I knew where they were, I would strap on every single knife and gun I own. I would sleep in them. I would never take them off again.

  I finally find a bathrobe at the foot of the bed. It’s thick and woolly and a hideous shade of lavender, but it’s better than nothing. I slip it on, gingerly belting it at the waist, hyperaware of the wound on my side. I open the door and the murmur of voices greets me from down the hall. Before I leave the bedroom, I look back over my shoulder at Kai.

  His face is drawn and wan, and he has deep bruises under his eyes. His hair is stuck every which way in wet clumps, and his skin has a dull sweaty sheen to it, like he’s been running a fever. His whole body seems drawn into itself, like he has lost a lot of weight in a very short time, and he didn’t have much to spare to begin with. I know he must have used the prayers that Tah taught him to save me, but even more I know he drew from his clan powers, and his body is paying the price.

  “Big Medicine,” I whisper.

  I close the door gently behind me.

  Clive spots me first. He gets to his feet, smiling big. “Monsterslayer!”

  I wince. “Don’t call me that. Not today.”

  He sobers. “Maggie, then.”

  I look around the room at the unfamiliar faces. Take a step so the wall is at my back. “What’s going on?” I ask, voice tense.

  “I put out the call,” Grace says. “They owe me a favor. So now they owe you a favor.” She’s sitting on the couch next to Clive. Rissa takes up another chair. I can hear Freckles in the kitchen, humming loudly and banging pots around. But it’s the others in the room that I want to know about.

  “Hoskie,” Hastiin drawls.

  I nod at the Thirsty Boy. He looks the same as he did at the checkpoint days ago. Shorn hair, scruffy beard. Blue fatigues and skull bandanna. He’s leaning against the far wall, closest to the door. Three more Thirsty Boys in fatigues and leather look up at me from lavender floor pillows. If I wasn’t so shocked to see them here, I’d laugh at how ridiculous they look.

  Something crashes in the kitchen and we all jump, tense as cats, a room full of uneasy killers.

  Grace sighs and pushes herself up. “I’ll go help him. He’s likely to make a mess of the coffee, anyway.”

  “There’s coffee?”

  Grace gives me a smile.

  “Black, please,” I tell her as she hustles over to help her youngest with the domestic duties.

  “What are you doing here, Hastiin?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “You heard the lady. Thirsty Boys owe her a debt. She’s transferring that to you. Plus, wasn’t going to let you run off and kill the monsters by yourself and get all the glory.”

  My eyebrows rise. “You’re here to help me?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “But you hate me.”

  A tic in his jaw. “You owe me money. That’s not the same thing.”

  I want to argue, but what’s the point? He’s here, and that’s the important part. And frankly, I’m so relieved to have backup, I could hug the bastard if I didn’t think it would send him running.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  He stares at me a minute, then grunts. “Don’t mean you don’t still owe me money,” he grumbles.

  “How do you feel?” Clive asks.

  “Like hell,” I admit. I close my eyes, lean back into the wall. “What happened?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  I remember most of it. The arena, the brutal kiss, the knife in my heart.

  “It was chaos at the end,” Clive says gently. “Lightning struck Mósí’s glass house. The bleachers caught on fire. The crowd panicked and ran for it. Kai was doing what he could to heal you, but we had to get you out of there. I managed to save this for you.” He reaches around the other end of the sofa to produce a metal lockbox, dented and slightly charred, but otherwise intact.

  I gasp. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “I thought you’d want it.”

  “Thank you,” I breathe. Somehow, against all odds, he saved my weapons.

  “Couldn’t find your Böker, though. Just the box.”

  “It’s fine,” I assure him. “More than enoug
h.”

  Grace comes back with coffee and a pot of tea that smells like mint and we each take a cup of our preferred poison. Honey is passed around, and one of the Thirsty Boys murmurs in delight as he squeezes a dollop into his tea.

  “So what now?” Rissa asks.

  There’s a hush in the room as eyes turn to me.

  I cradle my cup in my hands, its warmth soothing. “Like Hastiin said, there are still monsters out there. Still a witch to kill. I know I almost died, but I didn’t. So, I’m fine.” A lie but a necessary one.

  “I think we all know what we have to do,” comes a tired voice from the hallway. Everyone looks over to watch Kai pad into the room. He slips into the space next to me and confidently takes my hand in his. I flush, embarrassed at his display of affection, and my first instinct is to pull away. But I like the feel of his skin, the comfort of him being so close. And I got used to his arms around me as we slept. So I leave my hand where it is.

  “Kai’s right.” I take a deep breath. “We have to go after Neizghání.”

  Murmurs ripple through the group, loudest from Rissa and the Thirsty Boys. Hastiin, thankfully, is silent. Kai squeezes my hand reassuringly.

  “You sure about that, Hoskie?” Hastiin asks me. I know what he’s thinking. Neizghání is a hero. We don’t hunt down the good guys unless we’re the bad guys.

  “No,” I admit. “But there’s only one way to find out.”

  “Seems there might be a better way,” Rissa says.

  “He tried to kill her,” Kai injects angrily. “Why would he do that if he wasn’t trying to stop us?”

  Rissa scoffs. “There’s plenty of history between those two for—”

  “He knew about the monsters. And the firestarter,” Kai says. “If he’s so innocent, then why did he let all those people die?”

  “That doesn’t mean—” Hastiin says.

  “But why?” Clive asks, leaning forward. “If it’s him, and, yeah, it sounds like it is, then why?”

  “He’s an immortal,” Grace cuts in. “Who knows why they do what they do? Will of the gods and all that. Now’s not the time to go trying to figure him out. Look at the facts. What we know.”

  I nod, grateful for her words. “And what I know is where to find him.” The room looks at me, expectant. “Black Mesa.”

  A beat. “You want us to go to Black Mesa?” Hastiin asks.

  “It’s the last place he and I were together. At the old mine. That’s where he’ll be waiting.”

  Hastiin shifts uneasily. “This isn’t just some grudge match you’re playing out in your head, is it, Hoskie? Because I signed up to kill these monsters, not to risk me and the Boys’ lives to settle some lover’s spat.”

  “I heard him too,” Kai says. “I heard what he said to Maggie. About the monsters. Black Mesa. All of it. That’s where he’ll be and that’s where we’ll find the monsters.”

  He’s lying. There’s no way Kai heard what Neizghání said to me in the arena. And Neizghání never mentioned Black Mesa by name. Kai doesn’t look at me. His eyes remain steady, trained on Hastiin, like he can convince him through will alone.

  Hastiin stills, and for a moment I think he’s going to quit on me. But then he blows out a blustery breath and slaps his hand against his leg. “Okay, then,” he says. “I guess we’re all taking a little trip to Black Mesa.”

  We make our plans over a pot of elk stew and thick fluffy tortillas that Grace and Freckles whip up. Afterward, Rissa and Clive go through Grace’s arsenal, tagging the firepower we’ll need, talking with the Thirsty Boys about modifications to turn rifles into flamethrowers. It’s a heady conversation, part excitement and part dread. I stay as long as I can, tossing in what I remember about the geography of Black Mesa and Neizghání’s likely battle tactics. I know there’s no way he’s not expecting us. But that’s not the part that worries me. He let me live, and I don’t know why. Why he spared my life when he had me at his mercy. Why he kissed me the way he did. And why he taunted me to come back to him.

  I excuse myself from the war talk, feigning a need to rest, but I find myself in Grace’s spare room. The far wall is lined with built-in bookshelves and I thumb through the paperbacks, trying to distract my worried mind.

  “Find anything good?” Kai asks from behind me.

  I turn to find him standing in the doorway, smiling at me. He’s in the same baggy cargo pants and AC/DC T-shirt from before. He’s already starting to look healthier, but lines remain around his mouth and bruises under his eyes, making him look older, more severe. No longer regal and untouchable like he was at the Shalimar. Now he reminds me of a fallen prince, or at least one under siege.

  “Yeah, hoping to find the CliffsNotes to ‘How to Kill an Immortal Warrior who Just Kicked Your Ass and Defeat an Army of Flesh-Eating Monsters,’ but it’s not here.” I tap an empty spot on the shelf. “I guess Grace misplaced it.”

  “Ah,” Kai says, coming into the room. “It’s very popular. I’m sure someone borrowed it and forgot to return it.”

  “Those bastards.”

  He chuckles, comes closer. Pulls a random book from the shelf. “How about this one?” On the cover is a shirtless, muscled, generic-looking Plains Indian guy with long flowing locks, passionately kissing a white woman whose red hair is caught in a prairie breeze. Wagon trains and buffalo roam in the background.

  “Mmm . . . a romance. Didn’t peg you as the type.”

  He slides the book back onto the shelf. “Then you don’t know me that well.”

  “Oh, I know you pretty well,” I say, thinking of the past few days and nights. Remembering his arms around me, his body pressed against mine.

  He tilts his head and squints at me, one eye closed, like he’s trying to figure out if I’m actually flirting. I am, or at least I’m trying to. The truth is, I have no idea what I’m doing. But Kai takes mercy on me, the edges of his mouth turning up into a grin. “That was strictly for health reasons,” he says.

  “Really?” I say. “I can’t remember Tah ever having to snuggle to help me heal.”

  “Speaking of healing, how do you feel?”

  I sigh and lean against the bookcase, some of the levity of the moment gone. “Rode hard and put up wet,” I admit.

  He looks at me blankly. “I have no idea what that means.”

  “Such a city boy.”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  I hesitate, wondering what to tell him. But after all he’s done for me, he deserves honesty. “I’m hurting,” I admit. “Inside and out. I know my body will heal, but the rest of me . . .” I shrug. “I loved him, Kai.”

  He’s quiet for a moment, head down. “It was touch and go for a while there,” he concedes. “Your wrist I could heal, and your back. But your spirit. It didn’t want to come back.”

  Is he trying to tell me I was dead? I shudder, unwilling to entertain the thought. If I’d died, I’d know, wouldn’t I? Even Kai couldn’t bring someone back from the dead.

  “You know people who love you don’t hurt you like that,” he says, eyes steady on me. “Love’s not supposed to try to kill you.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. I know he’s right. That whatever there was between Neizghání and me is no more, if it ever was. But feelings don’t just die overnight. I can’t stop what I feel.

  But I can let some of it go, start to make room for something, someone, new.

  “You know this makes us even,” I say, my voice full of false bravery, trying to find that bright place we were moments ago.

  He frowns, unsure where I’m going. “What do you mean?”

  I take a step toward him, closing the distance between us. “I save your life, you save mine. Even, right?” We’re face-to-face now, so close I can feel his breath on my skin, smell the cedar in his wild hair.

  His smile is cocky. “Well, technically I saved your life twice. You forgot Rock Springs.”

  “I had Rock Springs handled,” I whisper close, my lips touching the curve
of his ear. “You were just showing off.”

  His arms slip around my waist and he murmurs back, “That’s not the way I remember it.”

  He hesitates above my lips, asking first, his face filled with the same kindness, the same unfamiliar but gentle strength that saved my life, the same loyalty that made him have my back against Hastiin earlier. And even though part of me feels like I’m facing down the most terrifying monster I’ve ever had to fight, I lean forward and press my mouth to his. His lips are surprisingly soft. His hands move up my back until his graceful fingers tangle in my hair and he pulls me closer.

  The kiss is as far away from the sadistic fire of Neizghání’s as it could be and still be considered a kiss. If Neizghání was scorching flame, Kai is the soothing cool of a perfect mountain spring, flowing through my body, calming my anxiety, holding the potential to tame my loneliness and grief with a simple touch.

  Medicine People Clan—the thought flickers through the back of my mind. Kai’s kiss itself is a curative.

  And then he shifts against me, his hip pressing into mine. His leg slips up between my knees. And I let myself go.

  He surges against me, hungry. He moans, a low rumble that sends a thrill of desire through my body. I pull him tighter, rake my fingernails across the bare skin on his arms, kiss him harder. His hand slides down my back, cups the swell of my ass.

  And I’m back on the ridge at my nalí’s, lying in a pool of my own vomit. Back on Black Mesa, shivering in the shadow of a coal mine, the blood of dead men drying under my fingernails. Back on the mountains above Lukachukai, cutting off a child’s head.

  When all I want to be is right now, in my body, with Kai.

  My desire shuts off like a goddamn light switch.

  He senses something’s wrong and pulls away, eyes worried. “Are you okay?” he says, breath short and voice low and thick with need. It’s so flattering that I laugh, a brief burst of joy.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” I lie. “It’s just, I need to go slow.”