Her twin turned to her, raising his chin, uncomfortable but stubborn. “It’s true. I don’t know… I don’t know exactly what she meant. She said you have to be Pure to understand Pure magic. Only she couldn’t talk to you about it. She said if you knew too much about the wrong things you’d be scared and – and being frightened would be bad for you. I’m sorry, gemela. That’s what she said.”
Natividad thought that maybe, in a little while, she would be able to understand that. At the moment, she just felt sort of hollow. She realized she was trembling, but couldn’t stop. She whispered, “But what did she do to me?”
“I don’t know,” Miguel said. “Things she thought were important – things she thought would help us survive and defeat Vonhausel. But I’m not Pure and I don’t know.”
Neither did Natividad. She was supposed to know, but she didn’t. She needed to remember, only she couldn’t. She caught her breath against a shout or a scream or a sob and pressed a hand hard over her mouth.
DeAnn, frowning in sympathy, suddenly stood up and left her husband’s side to stand behind Natividad, setting her strong hands on Natividad’s shoulders. It wasn’t the same as if Mamá had stood there like that, but Natividad leaned gratefully back against the other woman’s support. She was trembling.
Her twin faced Grayson again. “Sir, I’m guessing, alright? But I think what Vonhausel really didn’t want was an alliance between Dimilioc and anybody related to Mamá. Or maybe taught by her. Or both. That’s why he came after us – only he didn’t know soon enough we’d gotten away, and Natividad’s tangle-you-up spell probably got in his way when he followed us. It’s a really good spell.”
Grayson, gazing at Miguel, said absolutely nothing. It occurred to Natividad, with sudden force, that if they hadn’t run north – if they hadn’t come to Dimilioc – then Vonhausel wouldn’t have come after them and everything would be different. Sheriff Pearson’s daughter wouldn’t have been bitten, the town wouldn’t have been attacked – most of all, no more of the Dimilioc wolves would have been killed. Zachariah and Harrison would still be alive.
She could tell that Grayson was thinking about that, too.
Ezekiel said smoothly, “If Vonhausel had caught you outside of Dimilioc territory, you’d be dead. Then he’d have come here anyway, as we are indeed his strongest remaining enemy, and we’d have had no warning at all. And no daughter of your mother’s would belong to Dimilioc.” He raised an eyebrow at Natividad. “What can you do for us, Natividad Toland? What did your mother give you?”
Natividad only shook her head helplessly. Whatever Mamá had done, Natividad couldn’t remember or hadn’t understood… She’d been too slow a student, she hadn’t figured things out fast enough, and now she didn’t know anything and Mamá was gone, dead, and couldn’t help her…
“You all saw Malvern Vonhausel fight me,” Ezekiel said. He glanced coolly around the room. “He didn’t need to shift from one form to another in order to dismiss his injuries. You all must have seen that. That is not something a black dog can do. That is a power possessed only by the true undead.”
“I think Vonhausel destroyed the church in Lewis because he’s worked out a new way to work dark magic, a way to kind of blend black dog magic with vampire magic,” Miguel said, his tone careful. He kept his eyes on Ezekiel, probably, Natividad thought, because he was afraid to look at Grayson. He said, “I mean, vampires couldn’t approach hallowed ground, and black dogs may not like to, but they can. So that’s what I think Vonhausel might be doing – making, you know, weird zombie undead black dogs.” He glanced at Grayson and stopped, swallowing.
“You suggest this only now,” the Dimilioc Master said grimly. “Indeed, it seems you have a great deal to say, now. Sit down, Alejandro.”
Alejandro was indeed on his feet. He turned his head aside and hunched his shoulders as against a blow, but, though he wouldn’t look at Grayson, he didn’t sit down again, either.
Without moving, the Dimilioc Master seemed to settle more deeply into his chair. Though she wasn’t a black dog, Natividad could almost see his shadow gathering beneath him, pressing against the light, trying to rise. She caught DeAnn’s hand and held it hard, laid her other hand flat against the wall and wished silently and fervently for peace, peace, peace in this house. DeAnn returned her grip, undoubtedly doing the same.
Miguel dropped to his knees, sensibly trying to calm everything down. He made urgent patting gestures toward Alejandro. “It’s alright, it’s alright!”
“It certainly is not alright,” the Master said harshly. And, to Alejandro, “Down.”
The Master hadn’t let his shadow up, though he stared at Alejandro with a black dog’s fire-ridden eyes. Ezekiel had straightened and now stood tensely by the Master’s side. He was barely watching Alejandro: his attention was on the room and everyone in it. Natividad glanced quickly around, too, to see what he was watching.
Keziah was lounging in her chair, ostentatiously relaxed, but her gaze was intent. Amira had ducked back into her sister’s shadow. Thaddeus had his big hands curled over the arms of his chair, ready to move. His lips were drawn back in a silent snarl. Natividad couldn’t guess what he might do if there was a fight, except that his wife still stood with by her side, her arm around her shoulders, and Natividad knew that DeAnn would no more stand by and let Grayson hurt Miguel than she would herself. But Grayson wouldn’t anyway, she was suddenly confident of that. No, the one at risk was Alejandro.
Alejandro took two steps out to the middle of the room, until he stood right beside Miguel. Then he set his hand on his brother’s shoulder, took a hard breath, let it out, and sank down to one knee. He didn’t bow his head, but he didn’t look Grayson in the face, either. He said, “Master.”
The tension in the room eased. Thaddeus leaned back in his chair, his shoulders relaxing and his expression smoothing out. Keziah raised an elegant eyebrow. Ezekiel’s watchfulness didn’t change at all. Grayson stared hard at Alejandro.
“Master,” Alejandro said again, finally lowering his head submissively.
Grayson tipped his head back in satisfaction, the fire in his eyes ebbing. “Stay down,” he growled at Alejandro, and glanced around the room. He looked back at Miguel last of all. “What else can this enemy of ours do? Now that he has pulled down that church, can he come against us here with new power?”
“I don’t know,” Miguel said. He hadn’t gotten back to his feet. Natividad thought that was probably a good thing.
“Will he come against us here? Or against your sister, perhaps? One hardly believes he has yet achieved his aim here.”
“I don’t know,” Miguel said again.
Grayson turned to Natividad. “Vonhausel’s purposeful destruction of your mandala and the church that anchored it, even at considerable risk to himself; and the wide slaughter he attempted in Lewis: those acts are explicable if we stipulate that by this destruction he gains or enhances his ability to work demonic magic. Magic, in some measure, similar to vampiric magic, and thus threatened by the clean magic of the Pure. Even Vonhausel’s determination to destroy Dimilioc is consistent with this hypothesis, for, as we have at last rid ourselves of vampires and the blood kin, he must guess that we would never permit a black dog to use any similar undead magic.”
“Yes, sir,” Natividad said shakily, since he seemed to expect a response.
“You know the things your mother taught you. Consider what you might do for us. You may wish,” Grayson growled, “to discuss this with your brother.”
“Yes, sir,” Natividad whispered.
“You have a plan, I suppose,” Keziah said, smoothly, to Grayson. “I trust it does not entirely depend on this little Pure girl single-handedly defeating our enemies and saving us all.”
The Master glowered, not at Keziah, but at Natividad. “Certainly if Malvern Vonhausel particularly wants you, he had better not get you.” He looked deliberately around the room once more, compelling everyone’s close attention. “However, I
believe Vonhausel does suffer from one important disadvantage, which we may use. He cannot trust any of his followers. They are strays and curs, neither trained nor accustomed to any civilized standard. He cannot allow any of his black dogs to control his moon-bound shifters: any to whom he gave such power would immediately turn against him. He must either free the shifters to run as they will, or he must keep them gathered close about him and rule them himself. Ezekiel?”
Ezekiel gave a lazy smile. “He would sooner kill them himself than release them. To him, they are tools for his use, weapons to his hand – and weapons which might be turned against him if one or another of his followers were ambitious.” The young executioner paused.
Natividad found herself trading a meaningful glance with Miguel. Her twin had cautiously gotten back to his feet but stayed beside Alejandro, who had not moved and did not look up. But they did not need their brother to explain to them that all of Vonhausel’s stray black dogs must be ambitious to bring him down, either to rule in his place or just to get free of the constraints he imposed on them. That was what stray black dogs were like.
Grayson rumbled quietly, “Yet holding so many shifters under his constant rule must require a great deal of his attention. I believe we may safely assume that Vonhausel will find the remaining time of the full moon difficult. Yet this is also the only time he may use his full strength against us.” He lifted heavy eyebrows at Miguel.
“Yes, sir,” Miguel said meekly. “I guess that’s probably true.”
Ezekiel agreed, his tone light and unconcerned, “If he wants to keep the advantage of numbers, then he must come tomorrow. After that, the moon will wane and he’ll lose half his cannon fodder.”
“I guess you and the Master have worked all this out between you,” Thaddeus said abruptly. “But I think maybe you should fortify this house. I guess you’re right that the next thing he’ll do, if he can’t get us to a battlefield he chooses, is bring his pack here. We ought to arm a couple people who can shoot. We got all that silver ammo, be a shame not to use it.” He glanced warily at Grayson. “Some of the townspeople must be able to distinguish between Dimilioc black wolves and the enemy. Maybe we could set up an ambush, you know?”
Grayson’s eyebrow went up again. “An ambush.”
“If we could draw Vonhausel’s black dogs out of the forest into the cleared ground in front of the house, then people with decent guns and silver ammo could shoot them up. Catch the bastards in a decent killing field if we set it up right–”
“The humans could shoot them down like the dogs they are,” Grayson said. “Then we could easily tear down the ones who survive. Indeed.”
Thaddeus looked at him. “Yeah. You already thought of it, huh?”
“The Master and I have discussed it,” Ezekiel said blandly. “Vonhausel isn’t likely to know about the bullets our own silversmith has been making.” He gave Miguel a cool nod, then Thaddeus. “An ambush such as you describe should be simple, direct, and difficult for Vonhausel to counter. Even if he knew about the silver and expects exactly such an ambush, what can he do but walk into it? He must attack, and he must do so during the period of the full moon. In carrying out such a plan, darkness would not be our ally. But if we expect an attack no earlier than dawn, we might reasonably expect an ambush to succeed. If he attacks before dawn, we shall have to hold him a little while. This should be possible.”
“Well, but what if Vonhausel attacks Brighton? Or even Newport? At least, that’s what I’d do,” said Miguel. “It’s an obvious tactic, isn’t it? He’ll have a huge numerical advantage over us no matter what, if he’s been making zombie black dogs. If he makes enough of them, he won’t need the shifters, will he? And that’ll free him from the moon. He can attack one town after another and wait for you to come after him, and you’ll have to, won’t you? Because otherwise he’ll get a new war, a war between black dogs and humans, and in a hurry, too, because now everybody knows black dogs exist. And the humans, they’ll find out a whole lot more about black dogs real fast if they decide they need to, won’t they? I mean, now the blood kin aren’t messing with people’s minds to stop them perceiving supernatural stuff, there’s nothing to stop them coming after us just as hard as they went after the last of the vampires. That’s obvious, right? It won’t be Dimilioc that wins that war, will it?”
Ezekiel tilted his head, gazing curiously at Miguel. “And yet, he hasn’t done anything of the sort.”
“Well,” said Miguel, as though this, too, was obvious, “I’m sure he still wants to kill Natividad, or at least take her away from Dimilioc, so there’s that. He’s probably resting in Lewis tonight, making zombies. But I don’t think he’ll come here tomorrow. I bet he’ll take his black dogs and his esclavos and go hunting and wait for you to come after him, and he’ll make sure the ground is of his choosing and not yours. He’ll have the advantage, not you. He’ll kill you all. Then he can come after Natividad at his leisure.” The boy looked from one of them to the next, ending with the Master. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly what he’ll do.”
“I hardly think that likely,” said Keziah, sounding faintly amused. “Of course a human boy will not understand. But no black dog ambitious to rule and to be free of the constraints of law would ever turn aside from the personal destruction of Dimilioc. Malvern Vonhausel will come here. I expect he would be here now, except he cannot drive his black dogs so hard. So, we see his control of his… minions… is not so complete, whether he finds or makes or compels them. He will come here, and here we shall destroy him at last, as,” she finished with a definite edge of irony, “he so clearly deserves.”
Miguel began to protest. Grayson lifted a hand, checking the boy. “Ezekiel?”
Ezekiel gave Miguel a thoughtful look. “Miguel’s suggestion is interesting. But I believe Keziah is correct. I can’t imagine Malvern Vonhausel will turn away from Dimilioc now, no matter how easy the hunting would be in a human town. He needs to be in on the kill himself. Any black dog would need that.”
Miguel shook his head, shrugging in angry disgust, but he didn’t argue. All of the black dogs agreed with Grayson, Natividad saw. All of them. It was a black dog thing, then, a bone-deep certainty that came from instinct and not from argument or logic or anything rational. Miguel was the most rational person she knew, so he wouldn’t get that. But he could obviously see as well as she could that arguing was hopeless.
“We will all rest,” Grayson ordered. “No one will leave the house without my explicit permission.” He stood up, somehow looming almost as impressively as Thaddeus even though he was nothing like as big. He said, “We will be up no later than 5, if you please. I would like everyone to be ready for an attack at sunrise or a little before. That will be at approximately 7.30. You may all go. Not you,” he added to Alejandro, who still knelt on the floor as Grayson had ordered him.
“Master…” Miguel began.
“No,” Grayson said flatly. He looked deliberately from Miguel to Natividad and back again. “Before dawn tomorrow, I wish to hear from you regarding your possible contribution to the approaching battle. Go.”
Natividad started to protest, not knowing what she should say, but Ezekiel gave her an ironic look and she stopped, confused but somehow also reassured.
Ezekiel left the Master’s side. He took Miguel by the arm, gave Natividad a significant look, and herded them both out into the hallway. They were the last to leave. He shut the door behind them and leaned against it, his eyes on Natividad’s face. She didn’t look away. Meeting Ezekiel’s gaze should have seemed dangerous, but didn’t. His pale eyes were completely human. He was not smiling. Without that mocking smile, he looked younger and unwontedly serious. He said, “You and Miguel have things to talk about. Go talk about them. Don’t worry about your brother. Grayson won’t hurt him.”
“You’re sure?” Miguel asked sharply. “Because he mustn’t punish Alejandro – it’s my fault…”
“It certainly is. Yes, I’m sure. If Grayson wa
s going to punish him, I’d be in there.”
“Oh,” said Miguel.
Oh, echoed Natividad, voicelessly.
She didn’t know what she looked like, but Ezekiel put out a hand to touch hers, very gently. “It’ll probably happen someday, if your brother doesn’t learn to trust Grayson’s restraint. But it won’t happen tonight. Go to your suite. Your brother will join you shortly, I expect. I,” he said, his tone once again edged and sardonic, “am going to bed. If anyone wakes me up, I will tear out his throat.” He lifted an eyebrow at Natividad. “Unless it’s you. You’re quite safe to walk into my bedroom. Anytime.”
Natividad blushed.
“Dawn tomorrow,” Ezekiel said, still sardonic. He jerked his head at them: go, but despite what he had said about bed, he stayed by the door, guarding the Master’s privacy and incidentally preventing Natividad or Miguel from trying to go back in.
Trusting Ezekiel – that he was right about Grayson, that he would even protect Alejandro if necessary – was surprisingly easy. Natividad touched Miguel’s arm and headed for the stairs.
13
Alejandro knelt on the floor, head down, gaze fixed on the floor, waiting. He was intensely grateful the Master hadn’t required Miguel to stay. He felt satisfied that he’d got the Master to focus on him instead of his brother. Yet was afraid of what Grayson would do, and ashamed to have earned the Master’s displeasure. He had expected the satisfaction and the fear, but the shame took him by surprise. He had not realized until this moment that he cared whether Grayson approved or disapproved of him, not for practical reasons, but in itself.
He heard the door close, and knew he was alone with the Dimilioc Master. He knew when the Master came to stand over him, not because he looked up or because he heard him move, but just from the sense of the Master’s dense shadow falling over him. He tucked himself down low, palms flat against the floor, forehead touching the rug.
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