Shadow Twin

by Rachel Neumeier

  Prophetess: L8R KIT

  -4-

  Natividad knew where Ezekiel was—all right, not exactly where he was, but at least she knew in which direction she had to go to find him. And she knew he was not so very far away. Distances were hard, but he was not so very far away. She thought they should just go.

  Except she could practically hear Miguel lay out all the reasons why too much haste now would be a bad idea. If Ezekiel truly had run into a witch, maybe more than one...if a witch had caught him the same way the one in Roswell had briefly caught Keziah...obviously it would be really dangerous to just throw a lot more black dogs after Ezekiel and hope it would be different for them. Obviously Grayson and Étienne had to work out something more sensible.

  But she still hated waiting.

  Also, she didn’t really feel safe left here outside the main house with so many black dogs she didn’t know. And she was a little bit worried about Alejandro, despite Grayson’s last order. Grayson hadn’t seemed worried when he took all the trustworthy older black dogs away with him. Maybe that casual confidence was supposed to be kind of a message: I am too strong to worry about any of you disobeying me.

  Or maybe the Master just intended to let the lower-ranking black dogs sort things out without the seniors looking over their shoulders. Usually no one from a civilized house died in dominance fights, even without an explicit order. Not that Carter, say, really believed he belonged to a civilized house. Or actually knew what civilized even meant. Also, she was pretty sure he was the strongest of everyone here. Carter was turning his head slowly, meeting the eyes of one black dog after another; and one after another they all looked away. Except Théo Callot. There was going to be a fight, she was pretty sure.

  Alejandro didn’t look worried. He was leaning against one of the boulders arranged along the driveway, his arms crossed over his chest and an assured, half-disinterested expression on his face like he didn’t expect to be challenged but wouldn’t mind if he was. She knew a lot of that air of assurance was faked—actualmente, she was pretty sure her brother had deliberately copied that attitude from Ezekiel, which he probably wouldn’t want her to notice. But he did look intimidating. And she knew his shadow was strong for a black dog his age.

  Absolon Lumondière and Ian Olney had already headed away. They would probably run, probably hunt, kill some little rabbit or something. Then they’d come back when the older black dogs had sorted things out. Even as she watched, the quiet one, Steven Knauer, turned his back on the rest of them and strode back toward the house, jumped up on the porch and leaned against the railing, watching but uninvolved. That left Théo Callot and maybe Jim Gotz against Carter and maybe Rip.

  Though he had once belonged to Carter’s shadow pack, Rip now pretended he didn’t notice the look Carter shot him. Rip just turned his shoulder and walked away around the house, which was a way of rejecting any suggestion of alliance before Carter could even make one.

  Carter was smiling, but Natividad thought he was pretty mad about that. When he took a step toward Théo Callot, he moved with direct aggression and a hard stare. Théo Callot had never been a callejero. Of course Carter resented him. Natividad could tell that without any trouble at all. A rock could have told that. She caught Stéphanie’s eye. The woman returned a little nod and, as Théo Callot and Carter began circling, Natividad edged around the outskirts of the tense little group to join her.

  “That one of yours is trouble,” Stéphanie murmured to Natividad as she came close.

  Natividad rolled her eyes expressively. “Your Théo, he might not be as strong, do you think?”

  Stéphanie answered elliptically, “That is the difficulty with these black dogs who trace their blood back a hundred years, two hundred years. Even when they are not the strongest, they are proud. You are Toland, are you not? Toland is a bloodline I know, and your mother must have owned strength of her own or your brother would not have so dense a shadow at his age. He is stronger than my Théo, do you think, your brother?”

  “Strong enough.” She wouldn’t admit Alejandro wasn’t up to Carter’s strength. She said instead, “Also, he can put another black dog’s shadow down.”

  “Ah! Yes, that is useful.” Stéphanie looked appraisingly at Alejandro.

  Alejandro was standing back, watching Carter square off against Théo Callot. Jim Gotz took a step toward Alejandro, but Alejandro only looked at him and Gotz spat on the ground, turned and strode away as though he’d never intended to fight.

  Meanwhile Carter was stalking around Théo Callot, who stared at him with eyes that had gone bright gold. Théo suddenly lunged, shifting in mid-leap almost as smoothly as Ezekiel, though not nearly as fast. He was only halfway in black dog form when he struck Carter. By that time Carter himself was mostly through the cambio de cuerpo and way too big for Théo Callot to just crush the way he might have wanted. Carter’s black dog was bigger than average, bigger than anybody would expect considering Carter himself was slim and neat-bodied rather than bulky. Stéphanie hissed something in French under her breath. Natividad raised her eyebrows at Alejandro, who smiled rather grimly back at her and then glared hard at the snarling, grappling black dogs.

  Suddenly they were both snarling, grappling men. Alejandro was good at this. Their Papá had taught Alejandro to practice hard things, had taught him patience and perseverancia, so difficult for a black dog to learn on his own. Then Grayson had taken over where Edward Toland had left off. Grayson was very strict and very patient himself, and so now Alejandro was good at rolling other black dogs’ shadows under. Natividad knew that. But even she was surprised at how fast it was, the cambio de cuerpo that left both Carter and Théo Callot fighting with bare hands and blunt human teeth.

  They broke apart, Théo cursing in French and Carter swearing furiously in English, and for a second Natividad thought they might both turn on her brother. He grinned fiercely at them both. His eyes were no longer human. The bones of his face were distorting, his shoulders broadening, subtle changes so far but very obvious to a black dog who might be thinking of attacking him. Human form against black dog: that would be stupid.

  Théo Callot turned away first, though with poor grace. If he wasn’t stupid, he must realize Alejandro had intervened mostly to help him. He just didn’t like it. Stéphanie patted Natividad’s arm, though, to show she understood and was pleased.

  Carter did not look exactly like he meant to back down. But Alejandro said shortly to him, “Estás siendo un estúpido.”

  Carter swore again, but he pivoted and stalked away, into the house.

  “So, everything is settled,” Stéphanie said in a low voice to Natividad. “Fortunately your troublemaker is not strong enough to take two at once, not when your Toland brother is one of the two. And your brother will support anyone against him, yes?” She nodded in satisfaction. “That should go far to keep the peace. Your Grayson Lanning left everyone to discover that. Subtle. We had heard that. That your Dimilioc Master is subtle.”

  “Your Master too,” Natividad answered, a little nettled. She wasn’t sure she liked Stéphanie Callot very much. How peculiar not to like another Pure woman. She could see now she might have been a little bit stupid, thinking that all Pure woman would just naturally like every other. No doubt Stéphanie was nice enough. Just nice in a engreida kind of way. There was a good American phrase...stuck up. That was how Stéphanie seemed to her.

  “So. Yes. Now he is.” Stéphanie patted Natividad on the arm. “We don’t mind. Better to be Dimilioc than Lumondière. Étienne Lumondière would be too proud to be a good Master if he were not required to bend his head before Grayson Lanning.”

  This was close enough to what Natividad had been thinking about Stéphanie herself that she blinked.

  Alejandro, coming up to them, said to Stéphanie abruptly, “Your husband will never rival Étienne’s strength.”

  Stéphanie shrugged, not surprised by this comment. It was the sort of thing a black dog would say. She said, “Oui. But
until Frédéric Lumondière came to this place, Étienne depended on my Théo for support. Now Étienne sets Théo back and listens to Frédéric. He prefers closer kin for everything important.”

  “Frédéric is stronger.”

  “Oui. But that is not why Étienne prefers him. You should speak to your Master about this. Théo is a good man. He understands how to be loyal. He must be given the trust he deserves. We are so few. All of us who were raised properly must be raised up or we will lose the traditions of our houses.”

  “Dimilioc will change,” Natividad pointed out. “It has already. Every other house is gone, and Dimilioc cannot be as it was.”

  “We must hold to what we were,” Stéphanie declared passionately. “If we do not try, it will all be lost. It would be a terrible thing to allow that to happen.”

  Natividad said, “Grayson will give anyone the trust he is due.”

  “Will he? Then that is well.” Stéphanie did not sound convinced.

  Théo Callot came up beside his wife. He took her hand, careful to keep her between himself and Natividad to avoid offending Alejandro. He touched the fingertips of one hand to his chest, glancing aside, though not down. “Théo Callot, once of Évanouir, now of Lumondière and Dimilioc. You are a Toland, yes?”

  “We no longer ask such things in Dimilioc,” Alejandro said shortly.

  “Still, everyone knows them. This Carter of yours is presumptuous, but strong. Too strong for a cur who should know his place. Your Master should kill him.”

  “Perhaps he will,” Alejandro returned. “Perhaps you should advise him.”

  Théo made a little touché gesture, though he did not quite smile. “Perhaps I will not be so unwise. You are strong for one so young. But it is your skill with, what is the term, the dispossession of the shadow, that makes you a dangerous enemy. Or desirable ally.”

  Alejandro shrugged.

  “Stéphanie and I wish to be your allies, and allies of Grayson Lanning. You may tell him that, young black wolf, if you will.”

  Alejandro shrugged again, but Natividad thought he was pleased. She wasn’t sure she was. She didn’t think she liked Théo Callot any better than his wife. Way too focused on bloodlines and who ought to be privileged. Probably he would truly be loyal to Grayson and Dimilioc, but he would also try to shape Dimilioc into something that always remembered who had which name and bloodline.

  The entry here was generous: three stories high and wide enough to practically hold a footrace across it. The walls were all exposed log, though some of the logs nearest the door did not match exactly and a few had been charred around the edges. Natividad didn’t want to imagine different ways the defenses of this house might have failed. But she couldn’t help but picture how it might have been: black dogs and their Pure and human kin sheltering here while vampires and their blood kin hissed in the dark outside...way too easy to picture. The memory of the vampire she had faced last spring came back to her. The sickening dread, the terror...Ezekiel had been there that time. He had saved them then, or he had made it possible for them to all save each other.

  Where was Ezekiel now? What if it wasn’t possible to save him? What if they had come all this way and got there just too late?

  Natividad clenched her teeth shut hard and blinked, making herself look around at the high-ceilinged hall, deliberately trying to guess where the various doorways led so that she would not have to think about fear and death and grief. About the fear of more death and more grief...if anything happened to Ezekiel, she didn’t think she could stand it.

  “You are cold.” Alejandro put an arm around her and pulled her gently against his side. He looked forcefully at Théo Callot, who raised his eyebrows at his wife.

  Natividad did not deny this. Yes, she was cold, though not from the chill in the air. Her brother was warm, of course. Black dogs were always warm. And confident. Sometimes unreasonably. She wished she could feel some of that confidence now. She leaned against Alejandro and tried to believe everything would be fine.

  Stéphanie must have guessed some of what Natividad felt, for she patted her hand and said kindly, “It’s a long journey you have had. I’ll show you the rooms across from ours. There is great depth of peace in those rooms, from generations of the Pure women who have lived in this house. You will be warm there.”

  “Yes,” Natividad agreed, but she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder, south and a little west, the direction where she knew they had to go to find Ezekiel.

  “My husband and your brother can bring us something to eat, if they will be so kind, and you can tell us about this witch your people encountered in New Mexico,” Stéphanie said. She looked at her husband and said something quickly and softly in French, which Natividad could not understand. Then she added in English, speaking now to Alejandro, “I am a little bit afraid of what those other black dogs may find to do in our house. But perhaps you will say I am foolish to be worried. Surely they will not dare rouse Étienne to anger. Nor Grayson Lanning.”

  “I think they will not,” Alejandro agreed, in the confident tone that Natividad knew meant he was not quite certain. “But perhaps it would be wise to keep an eye on them.” He looked Théo Callot up and down, a slow, assessing stare.

  Théo returned that measuring gaze, not giving way by so much as an inch. “Shall we fight, you and I?”

  “Later, perhaps,” Alejandro said, unsmiling. “After we have recovered Ezekiel Korte and torn out the hearts of our enemies. Until then...” he shrugged slightly.

  “Allies, then,” Théo agreed. “Good. Toland has always been a line known for good sense as well as strength. Come, if you wish. I shall show you the house, and we shall find out also where your companions have gone and what they are doing and whether they are fighting. You and I together surely have such strength as none of those can challenge. They have seen this already, but perhaps we shall find a chance to show them again.”

  Alejandro inclined his head, not lowering his gaze. Natividad could tell he was pleased to be taken as an equal by Théo Callot of Évanouir, though of course he would hardly say so.

  Stéphanie added something else, brief and crisp and in French.

  “Oui,” Théo Callot answered, and a few words more in the same language. Then he guided Alejandro away.

  Natividad looked after her brother and tried not to feel at all nervous or bereft. Stéphanie was Pure and this house was, after all, as much a part of Dimilioc as the one in Vermont. Alejandro thought it was safe or he would never have left her. It was safe. She knew that.

  “Your suite is just along here,” Stéphanie said, leading Natividad up another flight of stairs and down a short hallway. “Of course we knew you would wish to share a suite with your brothers. So protective, black dog brothers. This one has four rooms, so you can each choose the one you like best.” She pushed open the first door they came to, stepped back to allow Natividad to go first, and added, “And perhaps now that we may speak freely, one Pure woman to another, you might explain to me what you have done to yourself and your magic, Natividad Toland, for I see you have done something.”

  Natividad hesitated in mid-step, startled. She met the older woman’s knowing gaze. Stéphanie Callot was the first trained Pure woman Natividad had met since...since Mamá.

  The sharpest edges of that long grief had worn away, but she still flinched from the thought. But almost worse, she suddenly wondered, for the very first time, what Mamá might have thought about what Natividad had done to herself and her magic.

  Taking a tiny bit of Alejandro’s shadow...it had been an accident. But she had not tried very hard to clean that trace of her brother’s magic out of hers. She had been too glad of the awareness it gave her, the confidence that she could always find Alejandro, that he could always find her. Later, taking a tiny bit of Ezekiel’s shadow, that had not been entirely an accident. And she had not even thought of trying to give it back or get rid of it. Which was good, it was excellent, because how else could she have hoped to
find Ezekiel when no one else could? But now Natividad was sure she saw both caution and disapproval in Stéphanie Callot’s gaze.

  “Perhaps this is something that allows you to know where Ezekiel Korte is, and that he lives, though he is far away and impossible for me to find,” the woman said now. “This must be reassuring to you. But also disturbing, yes? A trace of black dog shadow winds through your magic, is this not so? I would not have believed such a thing was possible for one of us. I wonder whether this is...disturbing for you.”

  Despite the woman’s too-neutral tone, what Natividad ought to feel was relieved. She should be glad to finally meet someone who could help her understand what exactly she’d done to herself and to her magic, what it meant, what she ought to do about it now.

  What she actually felt was...espuesta. Exposed. She could tell Stéphanie Callot disapproved of her, or at least disapproved of what she had done. She wanted to explain, But it was an accident. She wanted to tuck herself away in Dimilioc house—in the real Dimilioc house, the oldest one, the one in Vermont—where everyone knew her and no one wondered if she’d made a mistake, letting a drop or two of shadow from the black dogs she loved most wind into and through her own magic. Where no one made her feel like she might have done something wrong when she’d accepted those little dashes of black dog magic and didn’t question why she’d never even tried to clear them out of her own magic.

  What she said, stepping past Stéphanie and looking around, was, “Oh, is this our suite? It’s beautiful, and you’re right, it’s so warm! Look at that fireplace! So big! And what a beautiful fire screen.” The iron of the screen had been formed into shapes that suggested wolves and deer and trees. It really was beautiful. Natividad went to kneel by the hearth, holding out her hands to the leaping flames. The pine logs burned clean and bright, with a pleasant scent of resin; someone had lit this fire with an ordinary match, not a flick of black dog fire. If Stéphanie Callot had thought of this to make them feel welcome, maybe Natividad might like her after all.