I have a thought. “So, you know this road, then?”
She rubs her cheek against the back of her hand and smiles. “I have a treasure collection here at the pawn shop devoted to her.”
“And in this collection, do you have a map?”
“Of course. Several.”
“And pictures, maybe? Landmarks? Postcards? Things like that?”
She runs the back of her hand across her forehead. “Certainly.”
“Can we see them?”
She pauses her grooming. Looks questioningly at me.
“Because it looks like that’s where we’re headed,” I explain.
She shifts her eyes to me, focusing. Nods a slow, deliberate yes. “You may see it all, everything I have. The maps, the cards, the tiny cars replicas. For a price.” Her eyes blink slowly, shifting from brown to yellow, her pupils becoming vertical slits. “Battle Child.”
Ben gasps. Clive chokes on his food.
I turn to our waitress. And I greet the shape-shifting cat, former bookie at the Shalimar, purveyor of all things macabre, and the only person who has ever called me “Battle Child.”
“Hello, Mósí.”
Chapter 16
Mósí the human grooms herself in a decidedly feline way as we all finish our meal, and then with a swish of her long skirt, she leads us to a corner of the trading post. Sure enough, there’s a treasure trove of toys, trinkets, key chains, coffee mugs, aprons, candies, postcards, and yes, tiny replica cars, devoted to Route 66. Or at least the Americana that was America’s Freeway.
“Come, child,” Mósí commands, waving a thick rectangular paper in my direction. “Let me show you the Mother Road.”
She’s holding a map, folded over six ways, with a picture of the Window Rock on the front. Across the top it reads ROAD MAP OF THE NAVAJO NATION in a font that’s vaguely Indian feeling, a sort of generic Southwest print pattern filling in the blue letters. Mósí unfolds the map and lays it out in a space she clears on a table. Motions us closer.
The map itself is a couple of feet across, wider than it is long. Hundreds of town names cover the face, the boundaries of Dinétah clearly marked by a solid black border. I immediately look for Crystal, my home, mentally tracing the road that runs between it and Tse Bonito. I wonder if Rissa and Grace made it to Tah’s okay.
My eyes cut across, almost unwillingly, to Black Mesa. The exact place where I trapped Neizghání won’t be marked on any map, but I search for it anyway.
“This is where we are,” Mósí says, pointing with her thumb to Tse Bonito and pulling my attention back to the present. “And this is where the Mother Road runs, just below Dinétah.” Sure enough, there’s a long red line there, following almost parallel with the southern border. “The only way out of Dinétah on the southern side is here.” She points to a place about fifty miles southwest of Tse Bonito, a town called Lupton. “You cross here to enter the Malpais.”
“But do we head east or west?” Clive asks.
“If Kai were going east, he would have left through the eastern wall at Rock Springs. Why go this far west just to backtrack?”
“The silver-eyed boy?” Mósí purrs. “Is that who you hunt?”
Clive starts to answer her, and I raise my hand to stop him. I remember what Neizghání said at Black Mesa, that Mósí was the one who told him of Kai’s clan power. If she hadn’t spoken, who know what would have happened? Maybe Neizghání wouldn’t have felt compelled to make sure Kai was dead before he left. Maybe my heart wouldn’t have been shattered into a million pieces by Kai’s deceitfulness. Maybe I wouldn’t have had to shoot him. I don’t blame the Cat for what happened, but I don’t trust her either.
“And what if it is?” I ask carefully. “Why do you care?”
“He would make a fine mate, now that you want nothing more from Neizghání.”
“And that doesn’t bother you? I know you are close to Neizghání’s mother.”
She lifts a shoulder, coyly touching it to her cheek. “Time will tell all, Battle Child. For you and the silver-eyed boy and the Monsterslayer himself. Your paths are far from decided. There are still many trials. Most you will fail because failure is your nature. But others . . .” She shrugs.
And just like that I’m reminded how much I dislike Mósí.
“What do you want for the map?” I say, already tired of talking to her.
She smiles, showing dainty fangs. And I know it’s going to be something I have absolutely no desire to give.
“I want to come with you, of course.”
“To the Malpais? Can your kind even leave Dinétah?”
She raises an eyebrow. “My ‘kind’?”
“You know. The Bik’e’áyéeii.”
“Do you think we don’t exist outside the borders of Dinétah? That we aren’t real in our own right? That we endure only at the whim of the five-fingereds, and if you do not believe, then nothing?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
“I will go to the Malpais with you.” Her tone is decisive, expecting to be obeyed.
“We’re not exactly going on a pleasure cruise,” I say. “They call it the Malpais for a reason. And we’re not giving you any special treatment. You’re going to have to pull your weight just like everyone else. And I expect you to be part of the team.”
I say that all with a serious face, and I’m pretty sure part of me means it. But the rest of me knows I’m full of shit. When did I become part of a team? Hell, when did I become its leader?
Clive’s looking at me like he can’t believe those words came out of my mouth either. I give him a face that means keep it to yourself. Whatever it takes to keep the Cat in line, right?
Mósí leans back against the display case, bracing herself with her hands and crossing her ankles prettily. Her black bob falls forward to brush her shoulder as she tilts her head. Her pose is somehow both demure and alluring, a challenge and an invitation. “Do you know what happened to my establishment after your visit?” she asks softly.
I glance at Clive. He’s the one who told me.
“It was struck by lightning,” he says.
“Struck by lightning,” she agrees. “And destroyed. Everything that was mine. Gone. And did anyone worry about what would happen to me? How I, a poor cat, could ever repair the damage that the fire has done to my home, my business? Did you, Battle Child, ever even spare a thought for me?”
“No,” I answer her honestly.
“No,” she repeats, her voice vibrating with emotion. “Of course you did not. And that is why I am here, at this terrible place. Forced to collect the treasures of others, live in the daylight when one such as I prefers the night. Cook food for five-fingereds! It is a travesty. And it is your fault.” She looks directly at me.
She has got to be kidding me. “How it is my fault? You set up the fight. You got in bed with Ma’ii—” Her eyes widen theatrically, obviously offended at my word choice, but I’m pissed now, her pity-party routine grating across my already worn nerves. “You made that damn deal with Ma’ii. If anything, you owe me.”
Her eyes narrow to tiny yellow slits. “And what would I owe you, exactly?”
“You can start with an apology.”
I hear Clive sigh.
“Am I wrong?” I ask him, voice raised. “I’m not wrong.”
“Maybe we can call it even,” he says diplomatically. “I mean, we did destroy the Shalimar.”
“ ‘We’? That was Ma’ii. Or Neizghání. One of them. I didn’t destroy anything.”
“Just hear her out, Maggie.”
“Why should I?”
“Just . . .” He shakes his head, like I’m the unreasonable one. “What is it you want, Mósí? To go to the Malpais with us? What else?”
“Not because I owe you,” I say hotly. “But as trade. For your map, for your help, which you will give us. For supplies.” I wave my hand to encompass the shelves of goods in the store.
Her eyes narrow. “Very well,” she
says. “I will give you this map, my aid, and any knowledge I may have of the Malpais in exchange for your protection on the Mother Road to a destination of my choosing.”
“No. We’re on a timeline here. The longer it takes to find Kai and Caleb, the more likely . . .” Well, the more likely Caleb will be dead, at least. But I don’t say that. No need to remind Clive of the facts.
“It’s a fair deal, Maggie,” Clive says. “This map is old. Before the Big Water. Who knows what it’s like out there now? It might be good to have someone like her with us.”
“She’s probably more trouble than she’s worth.”
“Only one way to find out.”
“Fine.” I motion toward the Cat. “Name it. Where do you want to go?”
“I will let you know my final destination once we arrive,” Mósí says primly. “Until then, it is my secret to keep. Now, are we ready? I thought time was of the essence to . . . your kind. And yet here we are, dillydallying.”
* * *
“This is not going to end well,” I mutter to Clive as we bring the last of our new supplies out to the bikes.
“She is kind of right that we owe her,” he says. “I mean, we did destroy her home.”
I stop, balancing a six-pack of Spam against my hip so I can wipe the sweat from my face. “I don’t know who this ‘we’ that you keep referring to is. As I recall, I was tricked into a fight to the death and at that moment was probably bleeding out on the floor. I don’t owe that cat anything.”
“I still think it’s a good omen that she wants to come,” Clive says, glancing over his shoulder. It turns out Mósí has a sidecar that attaches to Clive’s bike, and she’s settled herself in the small seat, donned a pair of black sunglasses, and tied a flower-patterned scarf over her hair. She’s waiting demurely while we do the work. “She probably has powers that we don’t even know about.”
“Her only power is self-preservation. I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her.”
“We don’t have to trust her. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship as long as we’re going in the same direction. If self-preservation is her power, then maybe that will work in our favor.”
“And maybe it will get us killed.”
He snorts, sounding dubious.
“You don’t know them like I do, Clive. They’re all tricksters, ready to stab you in the back as soon as it’s convenient.”
“And maybe you can’t see this clearly, Maggie.”
“What does that mean?”
“Not everyone is a Coyote or Neizghání,” he says. “Or even a Kai.”
“Fuck you, Clive.” I pick my crate of Spam up and stomp over to the bikes.
“Maggie—” Clive starts behind me, but I wave him away. I don’t want to hear it. Mósí sits silently, facing forward, humming her road song. I don’t even bother to look in her direction.
Clive joins me. He looks up at the setting sun. “Rissa should be here soon. Wonder what’s taking her so long?”
“Hey, you guys?” Ben says from the back of my bike, where she’s patiently waiting. Her voice is high and scared.
“What is it?” I ask, instantly alert.
“Do you hear that?” she asks.
I listen. And sure enough, there it is, a low rumbling buzz, like a freight train far away but inexorably heading your direction. Mósí stops humming, shifts to look over her shoulder, and raises her designer sunglasses to look east. “Well, child, it looks like you have a very angry swarm of locusts headed in your direction. I supposed that’s not your fault either. Even so, I’d suggest we make haste out of town before there is no more town.”
Without another word, Clive and I shift our packing to high gear. We’re done and ready in a matter of seconds. I slide onto my bike, Ben huddles in behind me. She wraps her arms around me, and I can feel her shaking. I try to think of something reassuring to say, but I’ve got nothing. I put my commlink on and motion for her to do the same. Strap on my goggles and pull the rag up over my nose.
“Which way?’ Clive asks, his voice a lie of calm.
“What about Rissa?” Ben asks.
“We can’t wait for her,” I say. And with the swarm on our tail, I wonder if Rissa is even coming. Maybe we overestimated the safety of sending her and Grace to Crystal. Clive must be thinking it, too, but if he is, he’s keeping it to himself. Doesn’t argue with me. Which tells me he’s scared too.
“Lead them out of town,” Mósí says. She’s not wearing a commlink, but I can hear her clearly.
“What?”
“The locusts will destroy any and everything they touch. They are devourers by nature. If they come through Tse Bonito, there will be no more Tse Bonito. Lead them out of town, Battle Child. And quickly!”
I realize even the Cat is scared.
Well, that makes all four of us.
I hit the gas and tear out of the parking lot, shouting for Ben to hang on. She clutches me tightly. We ride due south across open desert, hoping to turn the swarm. No roads here, but no town, either. The shops and trailers that mark the edges of Tse Bonito quickly disappear, and all that’s left is the wind whipping around us as we race for the Lupton. Driven by the surety that somewhere behind us there’s a monster following.
Chapter 17
We ride at full speed south across the open desert.
After half an hour, we hit a paved road and a sign pointing us to Lupton. The road is pockmarked by time and weather, but it’s better than the bare suggestion of a trail we’ve been on. Finally, the Wall comes into view.
The Tribal Council built the Wall. Protection from not just the natural disasters of the Big Water that rained down on the earth—the storms and earthquakes—but for all the man-made horrors too. The Energy Wars that gutted the Midwest, the fracking engines shaking the earth until she broke, the oil pumps bleeding her dry. But Dinétah was spared, safe behind the Wall.
And here I was about to leave willingly.
Clive’s voice comes through the speaker in my head. “Guardhouse on the left, coming up fast.”
“I see it,” I say, throttling down. I glance around the camp itself. “That’s strange.”
“What’s strange?” Ben says, her voice anxious in my ear. She hadn’t said anything the whole ride from Tse Bonito, but she stayed tight up against my back, her arms holding on to me like I was the last life preserver on a sinking ship.
Clive answers first. “There’s no one here.”
There’s a refugee camp here in Lupton, much like the one I remember from Rock Springs. Probably four dozen tents of various shapes and sizes, some nylon camping tents and some canvas, some just makeshift lean-tos held up by wooden poles. The tents spread out between the sparse piñon trees and brush along an open field in the shadow of the Wall. There’s a few more solid-looking buildings here and there. Something that looks like a meeting hall. Another building with a big red cross on the roof that marks it as a medical facility. A hogan for ceremony.
But just like Rock Springs, Lupton is empty. Back in Rock Springs it was because the people had fled the flesh-eating monsters and hid in smuggling tunnels. We never found them, but news came back that that’s where they’d been. The people had clearly left Lupton, too. But to where? Through the Wall into the Malpais? Somewhere else in Dinétah? And more important, why? What could have made them all abandon the hope of a new home?
A shiver runs down my back as I realize the most obvious answer. They followed the White Locust to whatever new home he promised them, swelling the numbers of the faithful, building his Swarm.
“Hand me my shotgun,” I mutter to Ben through the comm. Ben keeps one hand around my waist and pulls my shotgun free from the side rack with the other. We drive slowly through the ghost town, our engines the only noise. I maneuver around a metal tent pole that’s left abandoned in the road, like a windstorm had come through. Windstorms make me think of Kai. He could have done this, but why? He was so careful with his power, worried about hurting people. I ca
n’t see him destroying a whole town even if it was within his ability. But if the White Locust made him? If somehow he has control of Kai and his powers?
“Gates are open,” Clive says. There, fifty feet in front of us, the road leads us to a gatehouse and, just past it, a massive gate. The gate is a heavy steel door set on a huge pulley system that would take at least three men to operate. I imagine it would close with crushing force if recklessly released. To get that door open and closed is no small task. But now the door is wide-open, listing dangerously off the single metal chain that it’s still attached to. Something, or someone powerful, ripped that door free from its hinges. Something with supernatural force. Someone with clan powers.
I swallow, uneasy. And then something above the gate catches my eye, and my unease turns to horror. Because high above the top of the gate, hammered into the turquoise rock itself, is a body.
“Up there,” I whisper. “Above the door.”
The body is slight, young. Too hard to tell the person’s gender so high up and half-hidden in the shadows of the Wall. They are nailed to the rock, their arms spread Christ-like, held by some sort of stakes through their shoulders that look like railroad spikes. The spikes hold all their weight, which isn’t much. But it’s enough to leave the legs hanging uselessly and their head lolling senselessly on a bent neck. It’s a terrible thing that’s been done, and my stomach threatens to bring back my hard-won lunch at the sight.
Then I realize who it is staked into the Wall, and my whole being shudders in revulsion.
“Oh God,” Clive moans, a strangled cry as he sees the same shock of red hair I do. Comes to the same inevitable conclusion.
“Caleb.”
Chapter 18
Clive is off his bike in seconds. He rushes forward, eyes riven to the scene above him. His hands clutch ineffectually at the Wall, searching for holds.
I turn off the engine and wait. Take a deep breath and try to ease the tightness in my chest. I’ve killed more people than I care to count, no doubt inadvertently caused pain to their friends and family. But whoever did this wanted to be deliberately cruel. Caleb was tortured, meant as a message for whoever found him. For us, most likely. I have no doubt that whoever did this is a monster.
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