Geneva turned to Asia with a small smile. “I’m going to repeat some of that in our own language.” She shrugged. “Some of the older people prefer to speak it. So the discussion will probably be in Dineh also.”
Asia smiled back. “I understand.”
She glanced at the man she had seen watching Geneva with such animosity. He stared back at her, his eyes black and cold. He looked away, toward the speaker, but it was clear he was only biding his time. New voices droned on in the language of the Navajo, each of the elders taking a turn responding to the problem that had been presented to them. Asia settled back against the warped metal of the chair in which she sat and closed her eyes, hoping that it didn’t seem impolite. Jack slipped to the floor beside her and began to amuse himself with a pencil and paper that Geneva had given him earlier.
Asia was impressed that no one so far had batted an eye at the whole time-walking/Spirit World-battling/evil hunters-baiting aspect of the strangers among them. An equal number of WASPs from her home town would not have taken this so well. And yet the issues were profound for this little community. They were at risk even now, just by giving strangers shelter from their kidnappers, who were no doubt scouring the desert for them. Geneva was proposing they stand up and fight the “evil ones,” with what weapons Asia didn’t know, and with what consequences no one could possibly know. It made no sense.
Asia opened her eyes and sat up, waiting for a plump woman in a pale blue polyester pantsuit to finish her speech. She couldn’t allow these people to put themselves at risk, no matter what Geneva said; she had to put a stop to it. When the woman sat down to nods all around, Asia started to stand up. Geneva clamped a hand on her thigh and shook her head. By the time she’d recovered, she saw the man she’d been watching was on his feet.
“Elders. Please forgive me for speaking in the language of the outsiders, but I want to be sure this one understands what I say.” The man’s baleful gaze was aimed straight at Asia and Jack. “I came here today even though I had sick animals on my ranch and fences to mend. I came because the people said a matter of great urgency would be discussed. And yet I see we are here because two outsiders are in trouble. They have brought trouble to us. We talk of evil openly when we have been taught that to speak of evil brings evil among us.”
A whisper went through the assembly, of agreement, or of fear, Asia couldn’t tell.
“If evil follows these two it must be because they did something to attract it.” The man’s logic was relentless. “That is what the old ones tell us. If we keep them here, the evil will come to us. They are outsiders, not Dineh. We have no obligation to protect them. Let them go to their own people for protection. Our ceremonies are not for outsiders.”
The man took his seat again and the murmurs grew louder, more insistent. Asia could see plenty of nods in the crowd.
Before anyone else could stand and defend her, Asia was on her feet. She refused to look at Geneva, who she was certain was ready to toss lightning in her direction.
“Elders. I thank all of you for coming today, and I especially thank Geneva Twohawks for her efforts on my behalf and my son’s.” She had paid careful attention to how things were phrased, and she followed suit. “All that she has said about me is true. I believe what she says about my son. But some of what this man says is true, too. The people who are searching for us are dangerous. Just the fact that my son and I are here puts all of you at risk. I believe there must be other ways to defeat the ones that hunt us without putting you all in danger. Just help us return to my husband. He and our friends can protect us. Please. This is not your fight. I beg you, don’t put yourselves in the line of fire.”
There was silence as all in the gathering studied her face for signs of what? Intention? Sincerity? Insanity? Asia waited, unsure whether she’d committed an unforgiveable breach of etiquette or deeply offended Geneva, whose face was as unreadable as Jack’s. Only the man who had opposed her presence seemed satisfied. He sat with a smug little smile on his face, waiting like all the others.
A man nearly as tall as the shelter’s low ceiling, with shoulders as wide as a wrestler’s, stood to face Asia. He was a younger man, his hair black and glossy, his features as sharp as the intelligence in his eyes.
“My name is Leonard Begay.” His deep voice was a match to his size. “I’m the County Sheriff as well as a singer for my tribe. I think I know about being in the line of fire. Sometimes, if you don’t stand up and defend yourself when you have the chance, you find yourself dragged out of your own house in the middle of the night and shot in cold blood. You may be outsiders, but the ones who hunt your boy want him for a purpose that affects all of us. My dreams tell me we will all be drawn into this battle, whether we wish it or not.”
He paused and looked around at the others. “Everyone here can feel the boy’s power. If he is taken by the evil ones, when we fight this battle we will lose. Better to fight now, with the boy on our side.”
There were many nods and murmurs of agreement around the room. Asia felt the sting of tears in her eyes and dropped her head. Jack got up from the floor and took her hand, pulling her back to her seat.
She looked up at Begay. “Thank you.”
The sheriff nodded and sat down.
Next to her, Geneva Twohawks smiled. “You see how it must be. The Holy Ones sent you here for a reason.”
The tenor of the discussion changed now as the voices grew more animated. The man who had objected continued to argue, but he seemed to have few supporters. Jack still clung to Asia’s hand, and after a moment her head snapped up, eyes wide. She looked from one speaker to another in shock, her ears confirming what her mind could not conceive. The elders were speaking the language of the Navajo, but she understood every word. Geneva was grinning at her as if she held a secret.
Asia looked down at Jack, who looked back at her with a slight smile on his face. “Are you doing this?”
He lifted one shoulder.
She let go of his hand—and the words swirling around her lost their meaning. She grabbed his hand again—and comprehension flowed back into the conversation. Her mouth was suddenly dry, her muscles trembling. But she held on for dear life. Because the elders were discussing what would have to be done to defeat the brothers that hunted her son.
“Why not just perform the Night Dance?” suggested a younger member of the group. “That should bring the boy back from the Spirit World and anchor him here. Then the evil ones can only fight him in this world and the sheriff can protect him.”
“No!” Geneva’s voice sliced through the murmur of reaction. “The boy draws his strength from the Spirit World. Cut him off from it and he cannot defend himself at all. Asia, tell them what these creatures are capable of. Do you think Leonard Begay can protect your son from the ones that stole you from your home the first time?”
Her heart shrinking in fear, Asia shook her head. “They can move across time and space. They have weapons and tracking abilities that go far beyond our science. Believe me, I know this from personal experience. We wouldn’t have a chance of protecting ourselves here without the help of my friends. They have similar weapons. But who would be the stronger? I can’t answer that question.”
“Through the Enemy Way, we might be able to draw out the evil spirits and destroy them.” Leonard Begay’s dark eyes met hers, seeking to reassure her. “It’s one of our most powerful ceremonies.”
There was a lot of agreement with this viewpoint, many speaking in support of the idea. Several people even went so far as to begin to make plans for the ceremony, suggesting roles for those in the room, assigning tasks and so on.
All talk ceased when Jeremiah Nakai raised a hand. “Leonard has made a good suggestion.” The old man’s thin voice carried clearly despite the waver of age. “But I am thinking about this in another way. We use the Enemy Way to help those who may be carrying the weight of evil spirits in this world. We send those spirits back where they belong so the people can live their lives
free of that burden here in this world.
“This is a different problem. This boy is under attack by evil ones who can move in both worlds. We cannot destroy them in this world. We must destroy them in the Spirit World. The boy is not only the target. He is also the weapon. How can we help him fight his battle in the Spirit World? There is only one way to do that. We must go there with him.”
The silence of a cathedral fell under the corrugated metal of the shelter, broken by the occasional bleat of the sheep in a nearby pen. Asia felt Jack’s hand fall from hers as he reached for the drawing he’d been working on throughout the morning. He brought it up and placed it in her lap. She glanced down and was astounded. He’d never shown a talent for art before, but the details of this drawing were far beyond the normal abilities of a six-year-old. Horror walked the page—a creature that looked like a cross between a bear and a dinosaur, with four tree-like legs, massive jaws filled with rows of jagged fangs and long, ripping claws at the ends of its forelegs.
She heard Geneva gasp and turned to see her staring, her eyes wide. “What’s wrong?”
A word Asia did not understand slipped from Geneva’s lips. Then the old woman grabbed the paper, crumpled it and threw it in the fire outside the shelter. Jack watched her do it without emotion.
“What?” Asia demanded.
“Demon.” Geneva’s hands were shaking. “Some call it the Beast of the Four Winds, but most will not name it at all for fear of waking it from its slumber. And if the evil ones can call this one to the fight, then we battle to save both this world and the next.”
“Portal’s Balls, but this planet is a godsforsaken heap of burned out cinders!” Kinnian swiped at the river of sweat rolling down his face. “I see nothing but star-blasted dirt in all directions! Why are we here?”
Trevyn weathered the storm of bad temper from his captain and pointed toward the horizon shimmering in the heat. “A team of men from STEELWALL is investigating the site of the boy’s disappearance just over that rise. If we approach on foot through this draw we can take them with minimal casualties.” He made a point of meeting his brother’s gaze. “You did want to question a few of the men, did you not, my lord?”
Kinnian spat into the red dust. “Let’s get it over with, then. D’Lac!” When the lieutenant of the guard snapped to attention he gestured up the draw in the direction Trevyn had indicated. “The enemy is just over that rise. We want them alive.”
“My lord!” D’Lac saluted and led his men ahead through the shallow cleft in the desert left by the occasional flash flood. Trevyn, Kinnian and the captain’s personal guard followed close behind.
They moved through the unforgiving landscape, the heat a weight pressing down on them from above and rising to meet them from below. His body armor, light though it was, chafed against Trevyn’s bruises and the cracks in his ribs. His head was spinning, and his knees buckled with each step. But it wasn’t the heat or his injuries that threatened to send him to the sand. And it wasn’t the thought of what Kinnian would do to the men of STEELWALL once he found them. Trevyn had read about the organization and what it did; its agents probably deserved whatever Kinnian had planned for them.
No. What had his heart flailing and his blood surging in alarm had little to do with what was going to happen and everything to do with what had already happened in this crucible of sun and sand. The place still sang with power and vibrated with the electromagnetic signatures of those who had used it. He could still taste each and every one of them on the air, unique and separate—the boy, immensely powerful, but untrained and unfocused; his mother, fiercely protective, with powers of her own; Gabriel, stronger every day as his bond grew with Lana; and Lana, so innocent, so much at risk.
Trevyn felt his heart drop into a deep, black chasm in the center of his chest. Kinnian would sense the same things he sensed; know the same things he knew. It was only a matter of time before he found his way to Lana and destroyed her.
Up ahead the first of D’Lac’s men topped the lip of the draw, and the laser rifles began to fire. A few of the STEELWALL men screamed as the volley hit them; most dropped as they stood, stunned into unconsciousness. It was over in seconds, with no casualties among the troops from the Bloodstalker. A simple operation, one they had accomplished countless times on dozens of planets. Trevyn pressed his lips together and suppressed a sigh.
He gestured at D’Lac, indicating the men sprawled closest to him. “Rouse these two.”
Kinnian strolled over to begin his inquisition once the men had regained consciousness. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” He grinned. “Lovely day.”
The men were professionals. They said nothing.
“I don’t suppose either of you would care to tell me what you’ve been able to find out here in the desert today?” He looked from one to the other. “Save us some time?”
“Sure,” said one. “I’ll tell you. A whole shitload of nothing. If that’s what you’re looking for, then I guess you’ve found it.”
The other one crooked a smile at that, but otherwise kept quiet.
Kinnian looked around. “It does seem a little desolate at that. Not much to look at. It would seem we’re all wasting our time out here. So I have only one other question for you. Which one of all of these men would be your, um, leader? Your captain, lieutenant, chief—I assume you know what I’m after?”
“Well, shit, man, I think you went and shot him.” The talkative man’s companion smirked. “Bad luck.”
Kinnian offered them a wide grin. “Oh, yes, I quite agree. That is bad luck. I’ll just have to begin with you, then.”
He placed his hand to the man’s temple, and the man began to scream.
Sometime later Trevyn was standing at the edge of the draw. From behind, it must have appeared that he was overseeing the disposal of the bodies, but in truth his eyes were unfocused. He was deep inside himself, shielded from all others, particularly from the one who clapped him on the shoulder in unbridled glee.
“A most productive afternoon after all, my brother,” Kinnian crowed. “We are close. I can almost smell our quarry, can’t you?”
“You learned something from the men?”
Kinnian snorted. “Hardly. They were useless. And now that the organization has lost a third team? They should change their name from STEELWALL to SHITHOLE!”
“What, then?”
“Please, Trevyn, you can’t tell me you don’t feel it.” His sibling studied him. “Have I rattled your brains so thoroughly you sense nothing?”
“I sense the boy’s phenomenal power. He killed the first team, didn’t he?”
“Of course, he did, you idiot, but that’s not what I mean. Our dear brother has been here. Oh, yes. Yes, he has. His track is like the whip of lightning across the sky—it makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. And he’s not alone, Trevyn.” Kinnian turned to him and grinned, the black ash of death in his eyes. “He has a woman with him, a human so close to being his bondmate the air is full of the scent of sex. How delicious is that? I can’t wait to meet her.”
Trevyn returned his intense, inquisitional stare with a dull reflection of boredom. Behind that bland shield he fought to control his every physical and neurological reaction—heartbeat, respiration, pupil size, cranial pulse, electroencephalographic markers. He could not let Kinnian see what he knew. If he had any chance of helping Lana now he had to keep his sibling out of his head.
At last Kinnian’s lips curled upwards, and he turned away. “Send a team into the nearest town. Gabriel and the girl must be holed up there somewhere. Go with them—I don’t want anything overlooked. I’m going back to the ship.” His grin widened. “I’m going to conduct a little search of my own.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lana had gone through the motions of her job all morning, flashing the credentials, saying the words, maintaining her expression and her body language in the open, non-threatening, professional manner she’d been trained to use when encountering the public.
But it was no use. She was a walking train wreck, her mind in turmoil, her emotions simmering just under the placid surface of her outward calm. Her skin felt too tight for her face, her chest too tight for her hammering heart and laboring lungs.
She had killed a man last night. She had killed Mark Jamisky, an FBI agent, her former lover, last night. The man sitting next to her in the car had killed three other men and together they had buried them all in the desert and rolled their vehicle off the edge of a craggy ravine to destroy the evidence. She was in this thing so deep she would never work her way out of it, and she was beginning to wonder where it was going to end. Nowhere good, was the only possible answer.
Gabriel pulled the car into the pitted parking lot in front of a sun-bleached roadside store and turned to look at her. “You okay?”
“Sure. Just peachy.” Lana didn’t want to talk to him about how she felt. She didn’t want to talk to him about anything. She unlatched the seat belt and stood up out of the car into the Arizona heat.
The store was marginally cooler than the desert air, thanks to the wheezing A/C unit in a hole in the wall over the register. The teen-aged girl sitting under the unit looked like she appreciated the difference, though, and would be ready to fight for her cool spot.
Lana approached the counter. “Afternoon.”
“Hi.” The girl’s face showed that she recognized them for the aliens they were. Well, Lana thought, at least she was half right.
Trouble In Mind (Interstellar Rescue Series Book 2) Page 25