Shadow Walker

by Allyson James

  “And that’s what you’re telling me to do?”

  “Partly. I shared that story with you to tell you I know how it feels to be rejected, even if it happened in primeval times. Wrapping yourself inside another person can hurt. I learned that again when I lost your grandfather, although what I shared with him was a true love, not girlish infatuation. Now, you need to ask yourself this: Do you want to lose Mick?”

  I rubbed my face. “Of course I don’t.”

  “Then finish your grieving and get back to work. Mick can’t help you, so you need to help yourself. I like your Firewalker, as good-for-nothing as Firewalkers are, and you need to get him free.”

  I couldn’t help but smile even as I wiped away more tears. “Yes, Grandmother.”

  “We need to start by finding Gabrielle. Where has she got to?”

  “I have no idea.” I tried to think. “She grew up on Fort Apache with a family called Massey. That’s all I know.”

  “It’s a place to start.” Grandmother rose creakily from the toilet.

  “But Gabrielle doesn’t have Mick. Vonda Wingate does.”

  Grandmother gave me an impatient look. “Janet, there’s a child of your goddess mother running loose, and there’s mischief about. The coincidence makes me suspicious. You focus on the witch, and I’ll try to find Gabrielle.”

  “No!” I hauled myself up, water everywhere, and grabbed a towel as Grandmother moved swiftly out of the bathroom. I yanked the towel around me and hurried after her. “Stay away from Gabrielle. She’s dangerous.”

  Grandmother had her hand on the doorknob. “So am I. And so are my friends.”

  “Grandmother.”

  She ignored me and left the room. I couldn’t run after her in my bath towel, so I quickly rubbed myself dry, fuming. I’d get her out of here even if I had to ask Fremont to help me truss her up and haul her back to Many Farms in his pickup.

  “Hurry up, Janet.” Grandmother’s voice floated back to me through the closed door. “There are more Firewalkers out front, trying to get in.”

  Fourteen

  I reflected, as I tugged on my clothes and ran out to the lobby, that Grandmother’s story had effectively stopped my crying jag. Her tale had surprised and touched me, but it had also pulled me out of my self-pity.

  Grandmother had slammed her way into the kitchen by the time I emerged, but someone was indeed pounding on the locked front door.

  “It’s Colby,” Cassandra said.

  “Why haven’t you let him in? I need to talk to him.”

  “He’s not alone.”

  I felt the second dragon then, one more powerful and far colder than Colby. I recognized his aura with some dismay.

  Colby thumped again. “Let me in, Janet. It was a long drive, and I need to pee. And a beer.”

  I opened the door. Colby hadn’t changed a bit; still massive and dark haired, still inked all over, yakuza style, except for hands and face. Behind him stood a man with sleek dark hair and dark skin, the ends of his dragon tatts rising above his collar to touch his cheekbones. Drake was tall, handsome, and brusque, and he didn’t like me. He worked for a member of the dragon council—I called him a flunky, but he probably called himself an executive assistant. Drake was the dragon version of Nash Jones, all law and order all the time, only Drake was quieter about it.

  I let them in. Drake’s nostrils widened as he took in Cassandra, scenting a witch, and a powerful one at that. The derisive curl to his lip let us know what he thought of her, and of Pamela the Changer standing protectively behind her.

  Colby charged past me to the saloon, and I turned to Drake. “Did Colby say drive? No flying, either as dragons or in a helicopter?”

  “Flying either way attracts too much attention.” Drake gestured to Cassandra. “She is not the witch who enslaved Micalerianicum?” Drake only used the Latin names for dragons, sneering at the shortened versions humans needed. Drake’s name was really Draconilingius, but damned if I could pronounce that.

  “She wouldn’t be standing here if she were,” I said. “We know who the witch is.”

  “Then why has she not been killed?” That was Drake—strike to the heart of the matter, worry about who gets hurt later.

  “Because I haven’t been able to get to her. Mick is protecting her, and killing her might kill Mick.”

  Colby back came out of the saloon, looking less tense. “Hey, Pamela.” He winked at her. “Switched teams yet?”

  Pamela gave him a derisive look. “Even if I had, you’d still be my last choice, dragon.”

  “Aw, too bad. But a dragon’s gotta try. All right, Janet. How are we going to get the bitch?”

  Colby struck to the heart of the matter too. Dragons were like that. Mick liked to talk and play, but always in the back of his mind he was working the quickest solution to a problem. He was probably doing that even as we stood here.

  “I need to find out Mick’s true name,” I said. “Cassandra says that clues to it might be in his lair. Is lair the right word?”

  Colby’s expression changed to one I’d never seen before. All humor, anger, and impetuousness left him, and he looked at me with an ageless gravity that showed me what an old and powerful being he really was.

  “True names are serious shit, Janet. No dragon is stupid enough to leave it lying around.”

  “It’s impossible for any of us to know another dragon’s true name,” Drake said.

  “Vonda knows it.” I tugged at the cuff of my black shirt. “She found it out somehow.”

  “Dragons sometimes will tell a human lover without meaning to,” Drake said. “In the height of passion, especially with a human, the dragon might forget to hide it. Most humans wouldn’t understand what they were hearing in any case.”

  The silence that followed was absolute. Colby looked at the ceiling, but Drake frowned at me, unaware he’d said anything that might upset me.

  The voice of the magic mirror floated from the saloon. “I know for a fact that Micky-kins has never let slide one syllable of his name around here, no matter how much passion he’s been in with Janet. And darlings, Micky and Janet shag a lot.”

  “But if he were the witch’s lover,” Drake went on remorselessly. “He might have told her, as I said, without meaning to. She has gained power over him somehow, and that seems the most likely way.”

  Colby put his hand on Drake’s shoulder. “Drake, my friend, take some advice. Don’t ever tell a Stormwalker who’s the daughter of a goddess from Beneath that her boyfriend is cheating on her. Not unless you want to end up as a smoking hole in her tile floor.”

  Drake still looked puzzled, but I didn’t blame him. Drake lived with dragons and worked with dragons, with little contact with humans, and so he could only think like a dragon. Mick sometimes did that—he’d ruthlessly pursue the truth without worrying about pesky things like hurt feelings. Mick’s own feelings for me had amazed him, and he’d watched them develop in wonder, like a nature-lover watching a butterfly unfold.

  “It’s all right, Colby,” I said. “Drake isn’t wrong. How do I know what Mick gets up to, or who he’s with when he’s not here?”

  “Does it even matter?” Pamela broke in. “Whichever way the witch snared him, she did it, and if she decides to send Mick to fry us, we won’t be safe from him. We have to consider Mick not as our friend, but as the witch’s weapon. Cassandra explained to me how much trouble we could be in for.” Pamela, a Changer who could become a wolf, thought like a wolf. Friend. Enemy. Protect one, kill the other.

  “You know where Mick’s lair is,” I said to Colby. “Even if he hasn’t left his name lying around as you say, Cassandra believes I might pick up a clue to it in the vibrations of material objects. I can read auras of things and places—I might be able to figure it out from those.”

  “Maybe,” Colby conceded. “But if I take you there, and you figure out the name, then I could figure it out too. You want to trust me with that?”

  I didn’t, but I didn’t h
ave a choice. “It’s in the middle of the Pacific, right? If we go at night, can you fly me out there?”

  “Love to. But . . .” Colby jerked his thumb at Drake.

  “But Colby is on probation and may not fly anywhere as a dragon,” Drake said smoothly.

  Oh, perfect. “Probation?” I glared at Colby. “What did you do this time?”

  Colby looked hurt. “Hey, why do you automatically assume I’m guilty?”

  “Because I’ve met you. What kind of probation?”

  “I have to work for them,” Colby said before Drake could answer. “If I’m a good dragon, and do whatever they say for a year, they won’t make me face a trial.”

  “In any case, he will not be allowed on any search for Micalerianicum’s name,” Drake said. “I will undertake the journey with you, once I get Colbinalius back to the compound.”

  “No,” I said at once. While I didn’t much want Colby to discover Mick’s true name, Colby I could at least browbeat. I wasn’t at all certain I could control Drake.

  “There really is no other way,” Cassandra said in her clear voice.

  I hated this. I balled my fists, my body still weak and tired from all the crying I’d done. “Let me think about it,” I said.

  Before anyone could answer, I turned away and made my way into the kitchen, in time to see my grandmother hanging up the phone. “Who was that?” I asked.

  “None of your business. I can have private phone calls if I want to.”

  I gave up. “Colby and Drake are here.”

  “I know that. Ineffectual lizards. I have work to do. If you fly off with them, you’d better have some kind of hold over them so they won’t drop you.”

  As much as she exasperated me, I couldn’t say she was wrong.

  The phone rang again. Grandmother and I lunged for it at the same time, but I was faster and snatched it up. “Hello?”

  The voice of my cook, Elena, rang down the wire. “I don’t want to talk to you. I want to talk to Ruby.”

  I’d had no idea that my grandmother and Elena even knew each other. Grandmother looked pointedly at me until I meekly handed her the phone and left through the back door. I was no longer in command here, and I knew it.

  With the newly made wards keeping out malevolent magic, Cassandra and I were able to find and remove the deterioration spell on the hotel. Maya and Fremont still had to make another round of repairs, but this time, the repairs should stick. Neither was happy, but they went back to work.

  I asked Drake to stay there with Colby while we figured out how to get out to Mick’s lair and who would go. I also wanted Drake close to keep him from sending a phalanx of dragons to simply kill Mick and Vonda, end of problem. So far Drake seemed willing to wait for a less destructive solution, but he couldn’t hide his impatience with human slowness.

  With everyone staying in, the hotel was quickly filling up. Pamela and Cassandra said they’d return home now that the roads were clear, but Maya and Fremont took me up on my offer of rooms so they could keep working without worrying about driving back and forth to town. Everyone was getting free room and board. If they started complaining about lack of maid service, I’d throw them out.

  I squeezed in one more person as it turned out, because at sunset, Emilio Salas drew up in his police car and helped Elena out of the backseat. Elena looked me up and down as Emilio followed her, carrying two large suitcases in his strong hands.

  “You look terrible,” Elena told me. “I’ll start my corn soup.”

  Salas set down the suitcases and blew out his breath. “Janet, will you please explain to her that a police car isn’t the same thing as a taxi?”

  Elena had excellent hearing. “A police car is better for the icy roads, and now my daughter won’t have to drive me in bad weather. I’ll give you some black bean chili to take home with you.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” Salas cheerfully picked up the bags and carried them upstairs.

  When I tried to enter the kitchen and find out what Grandmother and Elena were up to, I discovered that they’d locked the door. I gave up. As long as they were cooking, I’d let them whisper about whatever they wanted.

  For now I wanted to find Mick’s lair, and I was all out of maps of the South Pacific.

  Colby followed me into my office and closed the door. It was the first time we’d had a chance to talk alone, and Colby gave me a grave look as he sat on my sofa and propped his booted feet on my desk. “Janet, you can’t let Drake take you,” he said. “He’s dragon council, and you can’t risk giving the council Mick’s name.”

  I had to agree. “What do you suggest we do, sneak away in the night?”

  “Yep.”

  “Drake will come after us.”

  “Cassandra’s a damn powerful Wiccan. She can put a binding spell on him. Or something.”

  My eyes narrowed. Colby’s attitude was a bit too casual. “What about the binding spell on you?” I had been studying his aura and now saw the spell, lines like faint black cords wrapping his body. “You want Cassandra to remove it, don’t you?”

  “Wouldn’t say no.”

  “What happens to Cassandra when the dragon council finds out she freed a dragon they’re holding? Especially when dragons don’t trust witches in the first place?”

  Colby evaded my gaze. “She can say I coerced her.”

  “Right. Nice try.”

  He shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”

  “If you think I’ll throw everyone I care about to the wolves to get Mick back . . .” I trailed off because I wasn’t so sure I wouldn’t.

  “Janet, sweetheart, I’d love to tell you to forget about Micky and shack up with me, see what things are like with a real dragon, but Mick being enslaved is a danger to all dragons. If you can’t get him free, you need to figure out what the witch bitch wants and prepare for a fight.”

  I knew that. Grandmother was right: this wasn’t the time for grief; it was the time for planning and for action. Time to pull in every favor owed me from everyone I could think of, and find this witch and stop her. If Vonda Wingate wanted war with me, whatever her reasons . . .

  “You’ve got it, honey,” I whispered, fingering a framed photo of Mick and me. We were leaning against Mick’s bike, Mick’s arms around me, both of us smiling and happy. “You’ve got it.”

  Favors. I called Coyote’s cell phone again once Colby went back to the saloon for more beer, but again I got no answer. I hadn’t seen Coyote in my dreams lately either, naked or clothed, in human form or coyote.

  I called my father, who also didn’t like to answer the phone. His reluctant tones floated over the line from Many Farms. “Who is it?” he asked instead of saying hello.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  I heard him relax. Pete Begay didn’t like to talk on the phone, saying that he found it uncomfortable to not see a person’s face or eyes when they conversed. He wanted to connect with the whole person, he explained, not only the voice. I doubted he’d ever use e-mail, which took away even the voice.

  “Janet?” he said in delight. “How are you? Are you well?”

  My father considered it the height of rudeness to jump past greetings into what a person had actually called to talk about. He thought it more important to discuss family and friends rather than immediate problems, and I couldn’t say I disagreed. I dutifully asked about my niece’s last basketball game, and was pleased to hear her team had won. I heard my father’s worry about the heavy snow, the worst they’d seen in years.

  “Grandmother is still here,” I finally was able to mention. “Why did she come down?”

  “To look after you.” I heard surprise that I’d had to ask.

  “I’m a grown woman, Dad. I don’t need looking after.”

  “She worries about the signs. She has seen the karmii. Do you understand what they are?”

  I grew cold. “Jamison told me.” Harbingers, Jamison had said. Pointing to evil. “Where did Grandmother see them?”

  “In t
he hills west of here. She said they showed that evil was brewing and that she knew it was brewing near you.”

  Of course, when Grandmother saw evil things, she immediately thought of me. “Do you know if the karmii hurt people? Or just point out the evil?”

  “They find evil and destroy it.”

  Perfect. Had they been trying to destroy me while I’d clung to the seat in Nash’s SUV? Could I reason with them? I remembered my numb terror as I’d watched them close on me with mindless determination. Probably not.

  “Do you think you can talk Grandmother into going home?” I asked. “My cook has reappeared, so I don’t need Grandmother to make the meals, and I don’t like you left there alone.”

  “I’m not alone. Your aunts have been stopping by to look after me.” His voice went wry. “Maybe a little too often.”

  My father rarely said a bad word about the overprotective, domineering women in our family, and his admission made me laugh. Ever since the night my father had brought me home, confessing that I was his child, my aunts and grandmother had dictated every moment of Pete Begay’s life.

  Or so they’d thought. My dad and I had managed to escape the house often enough to walk the land, to drive out under the stars and watch the moon rise. I treasured those moments of my life, and missed them.

  “I like that your grandmother is staying there with you,” my father said. “Remember, Janet, that when you think you are the most alone, you are not.”

  Without further explanation, he hung up, and I was left with a silent phone. My father might believe in long hellos, but not long good-byes.

  Wondering what he’d meant, I booted up my laptop and examined the pictures I’d taken out at the sinkhole before I’d met Gabrielle. I saw nothing new. Petroglyphs, tons of them drawn so close together they overlapped one another, but no sign of the karmii.

  I knew that Jamison Kee was as traditional as my father about communication, so I didn’t bother to e-mail the pictures to him. I e-mailed them to Julie, instructing her to show them to Jamison for me. I knew that she would.