Black Dog Short Stories II

by Rachel Neumeier

  The woman, obviously surprised, fell back a step. She looked scared, but she didn’t scream. She reached into her handbag, but she was human-slow. Ethan took the handbag away from her and tossed it onto the passenger seat of the other car as Absolon got out. Then Thaddeus got out on the other side of the car and the woman immediately took a step back. Yeah, sheer size was a plus sometimes. “Move!” Ethan snapped at all of them, and slid into the driver’s seat himself. Then they were rolling and out on the road again.

  “She will surely report the theft immediately,” Frédéric said after a moment, quietly, the way a weaker black dog would speak to a stronger when he did not want to give offense.

  “Yeah, we’ll have to trade cars again, but at least this one won’t have bugs or tracers. Special forces had our car for twelve whole minutes. What do you figure the odds on that one being clean?” Ethan signaled and turned sedately onto the highway, accelerating smoothly and...they were clear. He thought they were clear. He did think so. They would indeed need to ditch the SUV as soon as possible. But that wouldn’t be a problem. Black dogs could perfectly well go across country for quite a distance. He thought that would probably be the best strategy for all of them, in fact. They could try to rent cars, but he bet that after today they would all be too recognizable for some time. Especially Thaddeus, who was definitely going to have to stay out of sight for a while.

  He said, “In a few miles, I’ll let you two out. Étienne is in Denver.”

  Absolon, beside Ethan, let out a slow breath, and Frédéric said in a low voice, “That was true, then.”

  Ethan glanced over his shoulder at the other black dog. “You didn’t think so?”

  “I hoped...I hoped it was the truth.” Frédéric was silent a moment. Then he said quietly, “We are very much in your debt.”

  “You sure are,” Ethan agreed. “Don’t think I won’t remember, either. Now, listen. I suggest you go straight across country for fifty miles or so, then steal or buy another car. Don’t kill anyone, hear me? That would interfere with, how did I put it?”

  “Promoting a spirit of cooperation and mutual trust,” rumbled Thaddeus.

  Ethan blinked, startled. He hadn’t expected Thaddeus to pick up his line. But he said smoothly, “Exactly. We are all about promoting a spirit of cooperation and mutual trust these days. So don’t kill anyone. Do not get into situations where you can’t control your shadows. Or if you do, damn well don’t get caught. At the very least, make sure it doesn’t look like black dog work. Is that clear?”

  “Yes. That is very clear.”

  “All right, then.” Ethan was silent for a moment. Then he added, “Ezekiel Korte is out in Denver, too, at the moment.”

  “Ah!” murmured Frédéric.

  “Yeah. Just so you know. Étienne is in charge out there, but only because Grayson put him in charge. Ezekiel is nominally under his authority, but that can change if Étienne pushes it too far and I’m sure he knows that. Lumondière is not a separate house anymore. Grayson won’t stand for it. That isn’t going to change. There aren’t enough of us left to divide up that way. All of us, Lumondière and Dimilioc, need to support each other. Or we risk men like Colonel Herrod playing divide and conquer. So Lumondière is a sept of Dimilioc now. You understand?”

  “Oui. Yes. I understand, Ethan Lanning. We understand you very well.”

  A black dog who felt threatened would agree to anything, but Frédéric Lumondière had no real reason to feel that way any longer. He spoke slowly and thoughtfully, and Ethan was fairly sure he meant what he said.

  “Good,” Ethan said, and took the next exit, one that led not to a town, but just to some small road or other. Lots of not much out here in the Midwest. Amazing how close to the city you ran out of city.

  He pulled off on the shoulder. “Out,” he ordered. And added impulsively, “Good luck.”

  Absolon slid out fast, eyes down, but Frédéric got out of the car more slowly, with a little nod. “Thank you,” he said—not usual, from a black dog, but he nodded again, a little more deeply, before he backed away a step and another step, and finally turned to stride after his cousin. Not running, neither of them was running. But walking briskly.

  And just like that, the two Lumondière cousins were out of Ethan’s hair. Another load off his mind. Ethan stretched, shaking his head, relaxing for the first time in...it seemed like hours and hours. Days. He yawned, hardly able to believe they had got away with...all that. And in pretty decent order, all things considered. He said over his shoulder to Thaddeus, “We’ll leave the car here. Remember to lock the doors; the lady might as well get her car back intact. We’ll cut across country too, pick up another car someplace where it might not be missed for a couple of days.”

  “Yeah?” said Thaddeus. “Probably that’ll be smart of us. You still giving the orders, huh?”

  It took a second. Then Ethan’s heart jumped, all his relaxation abruptly gone, every muscle tense. His hands closed hard on the steering wheel. Because it was true. He had been giving the orders. From the time they’d pulled up outside the bank, right through to this moment. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it.

  Obviously Thaddeus had noticed.

  Clearing his throat, he faced forward, staring out the windshield. Definitely not looking at Thaddeus. He had to clear his throat again before he could be sure of his tone. “Yeah, okay. Will you take an apology?”

  There was a pause. It didn’t help that Ethan knew the other black dog could hear his rapid heartbeat.

  Then Thaddeus said, his voice rough, “No, I don’t want an apology.”

  “Fine!” Ethan said tightly. He flung himself out of the car, looking around to assess this location. As it happened, the spot really did look pretty much ideal. It wasn’t a busy exit, not much in sight to draw traffic, not even a gas station, just this little road going off nowhere important.

  Then Thaddeus got out of the back seat and straightened to his full height.

  Ethan wanted, badly, to back up. But there was just no point in putting it off, so instead he snapped, “How do you want it? Human form or black dog? The former might draw less attention.” And it would be better for Ethan; a little safer. He didn’t say that, but then it wouldn’t make all that much difference anyway; he was sure Thaddeus could do a bang-up job with just his fists and feet, no need for claws. But there was less chance of one black dog killing another accidentally if they stuck to human form. And less chance of drawing too much attention, if Thaddeus would make it quick. There was a good reason to do it right here in this semi-public place; Ethan would have suggested it just for that reason if he’d thought of it. He hadn’t, though. He hadn’t thought of anything much. That was the whole problem, right there.

  He met the stronger black dog’s eyes for a long moment, deliberately. Then he bowed his head and waited.

  “Shit,” said Thaddeus.

  He sounded seriously pissed off, and again Ethan had to fight the urge to back up. He shoved his hands into his pockets to make it perfectly clear he wasn’t going to fight back, but he didn’t otherwise move. But...nothing. At last he risked a look up.

  Thaddeus was just standing there, scowling at him.

  “What?” Ethan snapped, now truly exasperated as well as tense with sheer physical fear. “Damn, what?” And realized a heartbeat too late just how out of line that tone was, under the circumstances. He couldn’t keep from flinching. “Look, I –”

  “I don’t want an apology because I am not angry,” Thaddeus said, coming down heavily on the last words.

  He was plainly furious, but Ethan wasn’t about to contradict him.

  The bigger black dog went on in a low growl, “I’m not mad. I wouldn’t have known how to handle Herrod. Or those Lumondière black dogs. Hell, I wouldn’t even have thought of that thing with the bank guy. How would I know stuff like that?” He stopped, but Ethan didn’t know what to say. After a pause, Thaddeus said slowly, “The thing is, I don’t know how to figure when I�
��m in charge and when I’m not. When Grayson’s around, it’s simple. But out here, I don’t understand how you can...just tell when to take over. I don’t understand when I’m supposed to step back. How am I supposed to tell about shit like that?”

  Thaddeus was still glowering, but...this time Ethan could see what he meant. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and shook his head. But he had to come up with something, clearly. He said finally, “I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t think it through. I didn’t think about it at all. I...guess I was thinking about Grayson, about what he would do, how he would handle it. I guess I was trying to deal with the whole damned mess like I was the Master of Dimilioc.”

  He looked away, took a deep breath, and looked back. “But I’m not the Master. I am never going to have half Grayson’s strength. I know that. I can’t begin to challenge you, and I didn’t mean to try. I should absolutely have checked with you before flying wide. It was not your job to figure out I had forgotten you were in charge and accommodate that. It was your job to tell me to take over, or if you didn’t, I should have suggested it. I had no business just...pushing in.” He hesitated, but he had to say it, so he did. “You have every right to beat the crap out of me. I could not say a word about it.”

  “Yeah,” said Thaddeus. “No.” He flexed his big hands and then stuffed them in his pockets. “No,” he said again.

  Ethan nodded, intensely relieved, yet baffled. “You don’t . . .” he stopped. Then he said, “You wouldn’t have to worry about Grayson. You know that, right? He’d agree I had it coming.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Thaddeus said shortly. “You were right to step in. I get what you mean. I should have figured you would know what you were doing better than me. I should have told you to take charge. That was my fault.”

  “Yeah, well...anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t handle it better. I was out of line.” Ethan thought about it and winced inwardly. “Not the first time. I’ve been, look, I’ve been holding it against you. That you weren’t born into Dimilioc. You know that, I expect, I haven’t been— well, anyway. But...I knew you had my back today. I knew you were backing me up and I knew I didn’t have to worry about you. So, I was wrong. Grayson knew what he was doing when he brought you in, and I know that, and I’m sorry.”

  Thaddeus heard him out, his broad face expressionless. Then he shrugged. “Shit, kid, you’re all right. A stuck-up asshole sometimes, but what kid isn’t?” He ran a powerful hand over his bald head and laughed suddenly. “You know what? Since I’m in charge, I’m telling you, you get to write the damn report about this.”

  Ethan groaned, but he laughed, too. “Right. All right. Yes. Fine.”

  “Yeah. Well.” Thaddeus looked around. No one had stopped yet, though a few cars had gone past. “Somebody’s probably called us in by now, you think? Across country, is it?”

  “If you agree,” Ethan said, not quite smoothly.

  Thaddeus chuckled, deep but with real humor. “Yeah, I agree. Look . . .”

  Ethan glanced at him.

  “The Master of Dimilioc doesn’t have to be the strongest,” Thaddeus pointed out, his voice a quiet rumble. “Grayson isn’t the strongest. Ezekiel backs him up, but even that’s not why he’s Master. Grayson is the Master of Dimilioc because enough of us agree he should be. If he had only half his strength, he would still be Master.” He stopped, gave Ethan a hard look that dared him to say anything, turned off the shoulder of the highway, and strode away toward a distant belt of trees. The sun was low by this time, shadows stretching out. After a moment, Thaddeus shifted to his massive black dog form and loped away toward the setting sun, much faster than a man could run.

  It was a little bit of a risk, maybe. But soon it would be dusk and then full dark, and after that two black dogs would be damn near invisible. Ethan stared after Thaddeus for a stretched-out moment. Then he laughed suddenly, and shifted, and leaped away from the cars and highways of ordinary humans, running toward the night along the path of the sun.

  A Family Visit

  Justin flipped his phone closed and put it away, frowning.

  Keziah glanced at him, sidelong and skeptical. “She said you are not to come,” she observed. “She said she is too busy for you to visit. She said she has duties for her church that will use all the hours of her days, and so she has no time for you, the son of her daughter. She said many foolish things to you, her grandson, who has come so very far to visit her.”

  Of course Keziah had heard every word of both sides of the conversation. Everyone had heard. Black dog hearing was death on private phone conversations, even if they hadn’t been in the close confines of a rather small car. “Yeah, kind of a change from last week,” Justin said. He tried to keep his tone neutral, even though he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. Black dogs could hear your heartbeat speed up, too. They could probably smell your sudden anxiety. He wasn’t sure about that; he’d never asked. Frankly, he didn’t want to know.

  “Well, I think you will not wish to turn around and go back to Dimilioc,” Keziah said drily.

  Justin knew she was being sarcastic, but he shook his head anyway. “Could you maybe drive a little faster?”

  Keziah was driving, of course. Black dogs always wanted to drive. They hated being passengers. They hated not being in control. If Justin had learned one thing over the past eight months, he had learned that. The highest ranking black dog always got to drive, and in this car right now, that was definitely Keziah.

  He was okay with that, though. He’d learned to accommodate black dog emotional volatility. Every one of them was like that: fierce-tempered and intolerant of any constraint. They were born that way. He was willing to make allowances. After all, the Dimilioc black dogs did their best not to be monsters. Most of them, anyway.

  Besides, not only was Keziah a good driver, this was actually her car. Dimilioc owned a good many big muscle cars, high-slung vehicles with broad tires, the better to handle rough roads and snow, several passengers and plenty of luggage. Keziah’s car was shiny silver Jaguar, quick and responsive, with deep bucket seats and plenty of guts to send it slashing down the highway in the fast lane. He didn’t know where she’d gotten the money for it. Keziah always seemed to have money; he guessed she’d stolen it from her family when she fled, but he didn’t know for sure and had no plans to ask.

  However she’d come by it, Keziah’s Jaguar wasn’t the best choice for Vermont where it was winter practically all year. But Justin had to admit that way out here in the desert, it was just right. Or it would have been just right, for two. The back seat was a little cramped, unfortunately. More than a little, when you were talking about a couple of black dog kids who weren’t exactly sure they got along.

  Oh, neither of the kids whined He’s touching me or Make her stop looking at me. They weren’t five. Besides, Keziah had made her opinion of whining real clear. So Amira and Nicholas ignored each other. But it was the ostentatious kind of blatant ignoring only kids in their early teens could pull off.

  Keziah’s sister Amira was all right, actually. She was an odd combination of timid and bloodthirsty, wistful and violent. It probably made sense if you were a thirteen-year-old black dog girl with a long scar where a silver knife had cut across your face some time in the past. But somewhere in her life she had learned really solid control. Maybe that injury had done it, though Justin suspected it was Keziah’s influence during her sister’s childhood. Whoever had trained her, Amira was deadly in a fight—Keziah said so, and despite the girl’s age, Justin was sure it was true. But he trusted that she wasn’t likely to kill anybody by accident. Besides, she took Dimilioc’s mandate to protect the Pure very seriously. So even before this peculiar conversation with his grandmother Justin hadn’t minded having her along. Or not much.

  He’d been a lot less happy about having to bring Nicholas along, though. But Grayson had been adamant: three black dogs, a full team, or he wouldn’t permit Justin to make this trip at all. That was why Nicholas Hammond was
back there with Amira.

  Nicholas was a sullen, angry fourteen-year-old, a real pain in the neck sometimes. Not that the kid didn’t have reason to be sullen and angry: Last spring, Nicholas and his friends had fallen afoul of a master vampire—hopefully the only master vampire left in the world. Justin didn’t like to remember that vampire, or the brief, grim, desperate struggle to destroy it. But it had arguably been worst for Nicholas, who had lost every single one of the remaining black dogs of his sept, including his sister. Worst of all, no one had ever found Carissa’s body.

  Justin knew all about loss and grief. But not knowing what had really happened to someone you loved...that had to be the worst. So he was sorry for Nicholas. He really was. And he knew from personal experience that the kid was brave and determined and quick-thinking. But even so, he would never have trusted this kid’s sense or his temper around Grandmama Leushin, except that there was no question who was in charge of their little team. Keziah was in charge. Nicholas was scared of Keziah, like anyone sensible would be. Justin might not have trusted the kid on his own, but he trusted that.

  Still, until this phone call, he’d definitely wished neither of those kids were in the back seat; that no one was in the car besides him and Keziah. He had first conceived of this trip as just the two of them, with endless miles between them and Dimilioc. He’d thought of it as a chance to...not get to know each other, exactly, because after all they’d been living in the same house for months. Even if it was a huge house. But he’d definitely thought of it as a chance for them to get to know each other far away from the numerous eyes of all the rest of the Dimilioc black dogs.

  And, until now, Justin had looked forward to introducing Keziah to his grandmother. He knew Keziah expected the worst from that meeting, but Grandmama Leushin was just the kind of woman to appreciate a fierce, haughty, beautiful girl like Keziah. He was sure she was. At least, as long as she didn’t realize Keziah was a black dog—a werewolf, she would probably say.