Storm of Locusts

by Rebecca Roanhorse

  “She’s Foot Path, born for Deer People, or something like that,” I acknowledge. “But she did try to kill that woman today, up on the ridge. The one who killed Hastiin.” And she said some awful things about me, but I don’t tell Tah that.

  “Ah . . . ,” Tah says, sounding disappointed. Weary. “Ah.”

  “There’s something else. Before Hastiin died, he asked me to watch after her.”

  Tah fiddles with a silver ring, a habit Kai had too. It makes me smile. And then it makes me unconscionably sad.

  “And what did you say, Maggie?”

  “To Hastiin? Nothing. He died before I could answer him.”

  “What will you do?”

  I rub a hand across my face, belatedly realize that I’m raining flakes of dried blood onto my shirt. “Honestly, Tah? I haven’t got a clue.”

  He pats my knee. He takes the empty cup from my hand and stands. “Tomorrow, then,” he says.

  I nod, close my eyes, and fall asleep sitting up on the couch.

  Chapter 9

  I wake to barking dogs. Watery dawn filters in through the curtains of the living room, and at first I think my pups must be doing their morning all-clear. But then I hear voices, definitely human and definitely outside my window.

  “Maybe she’s not here.” A male voice.

  “Her truck is here,” says a female voice.

  “But—”

  “Just knock before I shoot one of these fucking dogs.”

  I know those voices. And the shock of hearing them after all these weeks makes me momentarily forget the horrors of the day before. My pulse ticks up, and a fluttery feeling tickles my stomach. If Rissa and Clive Goodacre are here, then maybe he is too. Maybe Kai’s finally come.

  I realize I’m still in my blood-crusted hunting clothes, so I hurry to the bathroom and scrub my face clean. No time to change, so I’m stuck in the same shirt, but I wear black for a reason—it hides bloodstains. I think about brushing my hair or doing something—I’m not sure exactly what—to make myself look more presentable. My hands are suddenly clumsy, and I wipe them on my pants, telling myself to calm down. That if he’s waited this long, maybe it’s not what I think it is. Maybe this isn’t some happy reunion. Maybe he’s not here at all.

  My heart slows back to normal with that sobering thought, just as a thick hand hammers on my front door. I retrieve the Glock from where I left it last night. I raise the gun to eye level, shift my angle up slightly to adjust for the twins’ height, and pull the door open.

  Despite having a gun in his face, the man on my doorstep breaks into a grin. His brown face brightens under the relative dimness of my porch light, the freckles on his cheeks glowing like tiny brown stars. I can’t see his kinky red hair under the black beanie he’s wearing, but I know it’s there. He’s wearing a dark green bomber jacket over a tan T-shirt only a shade lighter than his skin. The T-shirt stretches taut over athlete-size shoulders, showing off impressively massive muscles. But Clive’s muscles are the last thing on my mind.

  “Is he here?” I ask, my breath hitching on the last word.

  He doesn’t need to ask who. The man shakes his head, his smile dimming.

  I press my lips together, hold back something that feels like a wail. Swallow that down and blink my eyes to clear the unfamiliar tears. It’s a moment of weakness I resent, and more than anything, I hate that someone saw it. But I’m still holding a gun, so that helps a little.

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” I say, my voice sounding falsely nonchalant, “but what do you want, Clive?”

  Footsteps and Clive’s twin comes forward out of the night. She’s wearing the same jacket, tan shirt, and dark green pants tucked into combat boots, the same assault rifle slung over her shoulder. But no hat and her thick red curls are braided in two long plaits down her back. Something about Rissa seem to repel the light, coiling in shadows around her head. I know they’re twins, but there’s something hard about Rissa that her brother doesn’t possess. Something more dangerous. Something that pricks my senses and tells me to “Beware.”

  “We come in peace,” she says.

  I shift the gun to point at her. “I heard you threaten my dogs. You touch my dogs?”

  “No.” She sounds irritated, but I heard what she said, and I take Rissa’s threats seriously, whether they’re against my dogs. Or against me.

  I scan the yard for my pups. They’ve gone back to their patrolling now that I’m at the door and taking care of things. Satisfied Rissa was only being an ass, but still wary of the twins’ intentions, I say, “Speaking of threats, you know what my next question is going to be, Rissa.”

  She nods. Holds up her hands in innocence. “I said we come in peace.”

  “Because last time we saw each other you said you’d try to kill me if you ever saw me again.”

  Clive makes a surprised face and looks back at his sister. Interesting. Did Clive not know?

  “Things have changed,” Rissa says.

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “And I think you owe me an apology,” I say.

  She sighs audibly, and her brother frowns. I can tell Rissa would rather eat nails than apologize. Too bad. I’m not going to forget the way she ran me out of Black Mesa at gunpoint, threats of murder over my head. Even if was a misunderstanding. Hastiin came and apologized, so Rissa can too.

  Oh, Hastiin. The twins don’t know.

  “It’s not my fault that you and that medicine man were keeping secrets,” Rissa says. “How was I supposed to know he could come back from the dead? And you still put Neizghání in that trap. He’s the hero of Dinétah. It’s still wrong what you did. And I don’t owe you shit.”

  That medicine man? Is that how she sees Kai now? A knot of uneasiness twists in my belly. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong with Kai. There’s a reason he’s not here. Relief, quickly followed by worry. But I’ll be damned if I let Rissa see that.

  “Then we’re done here,” I tell her. “See yourselves out of my yard.”

  “I knew she wouldn’t help us,” she says, throwing up a hand in irritation.

  “Maggie, wait,” Clive says, reaching out as if to touch my arm. I arch an eyebrow at his outstretched hand. He freezes, maybe remembering what happened the last time he tried to touch me without permission. Not that I’d draw a knife on him now, but you never know. I’m jittery like that.

  “Rissa’s just upset. She doesn’t mean it.”

  “Sounds like she means it.”

  Clive looks meaningfully at his sister. “She doesn’t. We need to talk to you. Can we come in?”

  “What do you want, Clive? Why are you here?”

  “That’s why we’ve come,” he says. “Kai’s in trouble.”

  Reluctantly, and against my better judgment, I let the Goodacre twins in. They squeeze into my living room, broad shoulders taking up all the space, Rissa’s attitude sucking the air out of the room. Whatever it is, my demand that she apologize or something else that’s bothering her, hangs like a foul cloud around us.

  I gesture with the Glock for them to move past me so I can stay close to the door. They do as they’re told.

  “Can we put our hands down now?” Rissa asks.

  “No.”

  She stops in the act of lowering her hands and raises them back up. Gives me a look of disgust. But it’s fine. I’m getting used to her disapproval. Clive waits, his face patient.

  “Lower your hands,” I say. “But keep them where I can see them. You carrying anything besides those rifles?” It’s sort of a rhetorical question. I remember well enough both the Goodacres’ love of a firearm.

  Rissa hesitates.

  “A .44,” Clive says. “Rissa’s got a .44 Magnum in a shoulder holster under her jacket.”

  “Jesus, asshole,” she mutters.

  “Hey, be grateful,” I say. “Clive is the only thing keeping you inside my door right now, so I suggest you thank your brother for his honesty.”

&nb
sp; “This is so unnecessary. I already said that I come in pea—”

  I cut her off with a look.

  “Fine.” She tears open her jacket and reaches for the sidearm.

  “Slow.”

  She grimaces, but moves nice and slow, holding the gun away from her body. Lays it on the floor. They both do the same with the ARs.

  Clive takes a few steps back until his big body is framed by the kitchen door. Rissa flops onto the chair next to him. It’s my second favorite chair, and I only have two. Confident they are far enough away from their guns that they can’t surprise me, I lower my Glock.

  “So, tell me what’s wrong.”

  Rissa gestures to her brother like she’s finished talking to me and it’s Clive’s turn. Clive shifts on his feet. “Well, it’s not that we think he did it. At least I don’t. Rissa doesn’t agree, but she doesn’t know Kai like I do. Like you do too, I mean. I just don’t see him doing something like that, do you?”

  I’m trying to follow what Clive is saying, but he’s not making a lot of sense. “From the beginning.”

  He flushes, showing red at the neck. “Well, I don’t remember much of Black Mesa. Rissa can tell you what happened after you left.”

  “No,” I say, exasperated. “Not that beginning. Why are you here?” The one thing I really want to know sits on the tip of my tongue, demanding I ask. But what if they say he’s left Dinétah? Gone back to the Burque or somewhere else I can’t follow. What if they say he doesn’t want to see me?

  “He’s missing,” Rissa says, an answer to my questions, asked and unasked.

  “Kai?”

  “Not just him. Caleb, too.”

  “Who’s Caleb?”

  “Our little brother.”

  I remember. The teenager at the gatehouse when I brought Kai to the All-American for the first time. We had been running from the Law Dogs, and Kai had been bloody from the beating he’d taken from Longarm. That was before I knew he had healing powers. But I’d never learned the youngest Goodacre’s name. Just called him Freckles.

  “What do you mean they’re ‘missing’?”

  The siblings exchange a look.

  “Maybe you want to sit down,” Clive says, his voice gentle enough to make me nervous.

  Rissa’s face darkens, angry. “Clive, I said no.”

  “She deserves to know.”

  “And we’ll tell her. But not here. Mom said to bring her back. That the only way she would understand is if she saw.”

  Clive sighs and pushes himself up. “She’s right, Maggie. It’d be better if we just showed you. Every minute we waste here is a minute they both get farther away. Plus, I think it’d be better to explain it there, with Mom”—he shoots his sister a look—“and stuff.”

  “But Kai’s not dead,” I say, keeping the tremble out of my voice this time.

  Rissa snorts, irritated. “If you recall, you put a bullet through his heart. If that didn’t kill him, then I’m pretty sure he’s not dying anytime soon.”

  “Maggie?” a voice calls from my bedroom doorway.

  The twins both reach for their knives. Clive’s on his lower back, Rissa her ankle. I mark the locations before greeting Tah.

  “Are these my grandson’s friends?” he asks.

  Clive understands first and reaches forward to shake Tah’s hand. “Sir,” he says, suddenly formal. Rissa stands and offers her hand too. Even if she’s pissed at Kai for some reason, she hasn’t lost all her manners. Point for Grace’s home training.

  “The Goodacre twins,” I explain to Tah. “Clive and Rissa.”

  “Ah,” Tah says, smiling. “I know you mother, Grace. How is she?”

  “She’s been better,” Clive admits. “That’s why we’re here.”

  Tah’s brow furrows. “And did I hear you say that my grandson is missing?”

  “We’ve come to ask Maggie’s help in finding him. We think he and my brother might have been taken against their will.”

  “Kidnapped?”

  “We’re not sure.”

  Tah looks at me. “Maggie will help you.”

  And just like that Tah calls my bluff. Because the truth is that nothing in the world could keep me from going to the All-American to find Kai.

  I run a hand through my hair, thinking. “I’ll need some things,” I tell the twins as I turn toward the bedroom.

  Tah, behind me, says, “Can I make you both some tea?”

  Chapter 10

  “Who’s out there?” Ben asks, a small dark lump in the middle of my bed. I’d forgotten she was here.

  “Some people I know,” I say, stepping over Tah’s makeshift pallet on the floor.

  “Friends?”

  “Not exactly.” Ben watches me as I pull the sword scabbard from the closet. Run my hands along the black leather. The baldric is elaborately hand-tooled with Western swirls and filigrees. It’s beautiful and something I would have never considered myself, but Tah said it was important to have the proper house for such a sacred weapon when he gifted it to me. Where it came from and how he could afford such a thing is beyond me. But I’m grateful. It’s a work of art created by a master leatherworker. I lay the scabbard across the foot of my bed. Ben sits up to get a better look.

  “Move,” I tell her.

  “What?”

  I gesture for her to get up, and she slides off mattress. I drop to my knees and reach into the space between the mattress and the wall and pull out Neizghání’s sword. Reverent and fully aware that I’m holding a supernatural weapon, I unwrap the sword from the soft cloth. It’s close to four feet long, with a one-handed grip. Its core is a black wood I’m not familiar with, the edges a series of sharpened obsidian laid together so closely that they almost appear as a single edge, the slight differentiation resembling forked lightning. Legend says that the Jo’hanaa’ei, the sun, gifted Neizghání and his brother with four weapons. From these weapons Neizghání made two of his own: the lightning dagger that pierced my side in the arena at the Shalimar and this sword. The dagger is with him underneath the earth of Black Mesa.

  And the sword is mine.

  I’ve never used it, but I’ve seen what it can do. In Neizghání’s hands, it became a living thing, a weapon of white fire. With it, he could call lightning from the sky. Take the head of a man in a single sweep. Rouse sheet lightning to wipe out armies in a single blinding blow. It’s the weapon of a hero, but I’m going to have to do for now.

  Ben’s standing next to me, eyes glued to the sword. I give her a tight smile as I slide it into the scabbard, keeping the hilt wrapped in black cloth, secured with a length of suede tie. Wordless, she helps me lift the scabbard over my shoulder and secure the baldric across my chest.

  “Are you leaving?” Ben asks, her voice small.

  I nod.

  “Can I come?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?” she asks. “Because I killed that lady?”

  I pause, close my eyes. I still can’t decide if it would hurt her more to know she killed the archer or that she didn’t. If it were me, it would be the latter, so I go with that, at least for now.

  I take a deep breath to release the tightness in my chest and turn to her. “No, Ben. It’s because we don’t really know each other, do we? And the Thirsty Boys will be back for you later today, and they’re your family, not me. So why would I want to take you with me?”

  My words are harsh, and I expect her to cringe, maybe even cry, but instead she raises her chin, her eyes blazing. “Because my uncle asked you to.”

  So she knows about Hastiin’s request. That’s unexpected.

  “I know he asked you to watch after me,” she continues. She steps toward me, hands on her hips. “He said that if anything happened to him . . . if he . . .” She takes a deep breath and practically shouts, “You owe him!”

  “I owe him nothing,” I growl through a clenched jaw.

  “Then you owe me!” she says, just as defiant. We stare a
t each other, and even though I’ve faced down gods and monsters, I’ve got nothing on a stubborn, grieving, and annoyingly righteous teenager.

  “Tell me about your clan powers.”

  She blinks at my quick change of subject. “What?”

  “Tell me about your tracking power, and I’ll let you come.” Because it hasn’t escaped my notice that Ben might not be a burden when I’m looking for Kai, but an asset.

  She flushes. Works her jaw.

  “Your choice,” I say. “Tell me how they work, or you can stay with—”

  “Blood,” she blurts. “It’s blood.”

  “Explain.”

  “I—I can find someone by the taste of their blood.”

  Well, that’s different. “You used them up on the mountain today, but you weren’t in immediate danger. I’ve never heard of that. How did you do it?” Something I’d noticed but hadn’t had the opportunity to ask her about, all things considered.

  She flushes, smooths her hair unconsciously. “Something to do with the blood part, I think. I . . . I don’t really know. And I’ve never had anyone to ask about it before. None of the Thirsty Boys have clan powers, and my uncle doesn’t . . . didn’t . . . approve.”

  “You should ask Tah.” Or Kai. Kai would know. Or at least he could figure it out. “It’s a powerful thing, using your clan powers at will. It could change things.” For better or worse.

  “So, can I go with you or not?” she asks.

  I consider. I want to know more about how her powers work, but that can wait until we have Kai back. I utter the three words I know I’ll come to rue.

  “You can come.” I sling my bag over my shoulder. “But there are conditions.”

  She bounces lightly on her feet before settling down, face serious. “Like what?”

  “First, you follow my rules. Second, no killing people without permission, and third, no . . . annoying me.”

  She grins. Actually grins.

  “Get dressed and get your stuff. You’ve got five minutes, and then I’m leaving, with or without you.”

  “Yes, sir! Ma’am!” she corrects herself hastily.