Frowning, Manny edged closer to the window, coming up behind Black and staring out the same opening Black had created between the glass and the curtain.
“You know this guy?” Black murmured. “He looks like one of yours.”
There was a silence while Manny squinted out at the form in the dark.
It struck Black that Manny wasn’t seer, and might not be able to see the human very well, certainly not as clearly as Black himself. The moon was high enough now that he should be able to make out his basic shape and clothing, but he might not be able to discern his features, especially given that Manny’s eyes would have aged along with the rest of him.
Black was wondering if he should try calling out there, see if he could ask the wolf-man what he wanted, when Manny cursed suddenly, his voice openly amazed.
“Mother of hell. Mą’iitsoh.”
Black turned his head, staring at his friend.
“What is that? A name? A cuss word? What?”
“Mą’iitsoh. It’s a name.” Manny gave him a grim look. “Means ‘Wolf’ in English.”
“You know him?”
Manny pursed his lips in a sideways frown, still staring out through the window.
“I know him,” he said.
His words came out decisive that time.
Before Black could fully make sense of the expression on his friend’s face, Manny was walking to his front door.
Black stared at him, watching him go, until his friend reached for the handle of the door.
“Manny, no! Gaos! There’s a shit-ton of vampires out there!
Manny didn’t give him so much as a glance.
Black moved to block him, but the old man was already jerking open the wooden door, making the hollow panel rattle and reminding Black just how worthless that material was, if it came to them needing protection.
Standing in the opening, Manny stared down at the lone wolf-man in his Navajo garb, his wolves, and the twenty or so vampires who circled him like gaunt birds. Manny didn’t just look at the man, he glared at him, nothing but firelight to give him an outline in that door.
Black knew that wouldn’t matter to the vampires––or to the wolves.
They could see in the dark just fine.
Scooping up the rifle he’d propped inside the foyer, he raised it to his shoulder, receding into the shadows behind Manny to cover him. He knew they could probably see him, too––the vampires at least, and probably the wolves––but the human couldn’t.
He also knew the gun would do little but slow down a motivated vampire.
He kept the gun up anyway, even as he threw part of his light into the Barrier so he could get the lay of the land. He knew even before he’d tried and failed to read the wolf-man’s mind, that the vampires were somehow his, in the same way that the wolves were his. The vampires were also protecting their Wolf King, and keeping Black out of his mind, so manipulating him from the Barrier was definitely out.
So was Black’s ability to determine what he wanted, at least in that way.
The thirty-something Navajo man with the silver guns and the smirk on his lips was definitely running the show down there.
He stared at Manny alone.
For a long-feeling moment, neither of them broke the silence.
Then the man called Wolf exhaled, taking off his hat, exposing the dark red scarf that covered most of his forehead and the back of his head. He gazed up at Manny, his eerily light-colored eyes shining in the moonlight. Black noticed for the first time that he had feathers and what looked like colored stones and crystals woven into his hair with leather thongs.
“You have something of mine, Mañuel,” the man said, his voice deep, and heavily accented. “I would like it back.”
“I don’t have anything of yours, Mą’iitsoh.” Manny’s voice was equally cold, and equally uncompromising. “You were asked to leave these parts. You are not welcome here, not after what you did. The Council––”
“I don’t acknowledge the authority of the Tribals,” Wolf cut in, his voice warning. “They’re nothing but greedy, begging lapdogs of the squatting powers of the United Liars and Enslavers of America. They are traitors. My wolves might mistake them for real sheep one day.”
Black bit his lip, rolling his eyes in spite of himself.
He didn’t lower the rifle though, or take the bead off Wolf’s forehead.
“And yet, I still have nothing that belongs to you,” Manny said. “What do you want, Wolf? Why are you here, threatening my family? After everything we tried to do for you?”
“I’m told you brought a white man out here. I’m told he looks like a hired gun, maybe even a soldier.” Wolf paused meaningfully. “Are you bringing this white man’s guns out here, too, Manny? Maybe you’re afraid of me? Maybe you’re so afraid, you need to desecrate our sacred ground, inviting white men out here to hunt one of your brothers?”
Manny grunted. Black felt a plume of humor leave the old man’s living light where he stood in front of him. Somehow Black got the impression it was mostly related to Wolf calling him a “white man.” Black had to admit, it wasn’t without irony, although he’d be the first to admit he’d taken advantage of that designation over the years.
The truth was more complicated.
Not only were Black’s people actual slaves where he came from, and enslaved to humans no less, but Black himself left his world a slave.
Moreover, Black wasn’t even human.
Still, the guy wasn’t entirely wrong, either.
“What do you want, Wolf?” Manny repeated.
“I want what’s mine. I want my property returned to me. Unharmed.”
“You mean the vampire?”
“Yes,” Wolf said, curt. “I mean the vampire. I want him back. Now.” His voice grew more cautious. “Tell Red to back off. Tell him to call off his dogs in the Navajo Nation and B.I.A., and you won’t hear from us again. All of this was a mistake.”
“A mistake? Sending them down here to kill us––”
“I didn’t send them,” Wolf broke in, warning. “It was a mistake, Manny. Tell Red that. Tell him to back off. Tell him, there won’t be more problems, not unless he brings the Feds here. Not unless he brings more white men… or those police from Santa Fe. Not unless he turns this into some kind of war. Then there’ll be problems. Big problems.”
There was a silence.
The man with the silver guns sighed, gazing up briefly at the moon.
“Don’t do this the hard way, Manny.” He shook his head slowly, glancing around at the silent vampires, at the wolves who stood obediently beside him. “Just give him back. Give him back to me now, and no one else will get hurt––”
“He’s dead.”
Manny paused, letting the words sink in.
“He’s dead now,” he repeated. “So there’s nothing to give back. Not unless you want the body. We might need that for evidence now though, Mą’iitsoh.”
Pausing, Manny went on almost conversationally, despite the edge in his voice.
“So these vampires coming down to our town, these vampires killing our children, our old people––including Lucy, who I seem to remember you being fond of, and Tsidi––these vampires belonged to you, all this time? You taming them, Wolf? For what purpose?”
The man holding his hat frowned, resting the hat against his thigh.
He exhaled, but the harder, shrewder look never left his face.
“I’ll deal with the problem,” he said. “A few got loose. It won’t happen again.”
“Got loose?” Manny frowned. “What the hell does that mean, son?”
“Who killed it?” Wolf broke in. “Who killed my vampire? I know it wasn’t you… or Elsie. So who did it? Was it the white man? Or Red?”
Manny hesitated, glancing at the vampires spread in uneven lines across his front yard.
“What does it matter?”
“It matters,” Wolf said.
“It was me,” Black said, from behind Manny’s back.
Wolf’s eyes flinched, then darted to the darkness behind Manny.
If nothing else, it told Black he’d been right; Mr. Wolf hadn’t seen him, or known they had an audience.
Manny stiffened too, giving Black a look and a hand-gesture, telling him to be quiet.
Black ignored him, stepping to the side, so that he was also outlined by the firelight, and not hiding behind Manny. He continued to hold the rifle at his shoulder, aimed at the head of the man with the dark red sash tied around his head.
“Vampires don’t make good pets, friend,” Black said, keeping the line of the rifle on the man’s forehead. “No one ever tell you that?”
The man smiled. The smile never touched his eyes, which never left Black’s face.
“You’re meddling in things that don’t concern you, ‘Ana’í.”
Black kept the assault rifle trained on the man’s face.
“Where’d you find these pets of yours?” Black ignored whatever word Wolf had called him, assuming it was some kind of racial slur or insult. “Where’d you happen upon them, if you don’t mind my asking?”
If the rifle bothered the man with those odd, light eyes, it didn’t show. Black found himself memorizing his features for real that time, noting the high cheekbones, the wide set of his eyes, his severe mouth, the deep tan of his skin.
He wondered briefly if he might be a seer, with those odd-colored eyes, but dismissed the idea a few seconds later. The guy didn’t feel like a seer. Even though Black couldn’t actually feel him much where he crouched behind the vampire’s shields, there was something about him that told Black they weren’t the same.
It might have been something superficial even: something in his mannerisms, the way he stood and moved, or simply something about the off-center stare he aimed up at him, which was superficially like a seer’s stare, but utterly different in feel.
He noticed Wolf looking him over now, too.
“The gods gave them to me, white man,” he said after a beat.
Black grunted. “The gods, eh? And where did they bestow this wondrous gift, Wolfy?”
“They came to me, from the land’s temple. I saved them.”
Black frowned. He felt puzzlement waft off Manny from next to him, as well.
“Saved them from what?” Black said.
“From hunger. From death. From the great Tawa in the sky.” Wolf motioned with one arm in a sweeping gesture, aiming a finger towards the heavens.
“The sun,” Manny muttered from next to him.
Black gave him a bare nod, his eyes and the assault rifle still trained on the man holding his hat against his jean-clad thigh.
“You want to come in?” Black said. “Talk about this some more? You’ll have to leave your pets outside. All of them.”
Wolf smiled, his eyes reflecting moonlight.
“I don’t think so, white man,” he said. Exhaling as if in regret, he added, “You do owe me, though, ‘Ana’í. I’m afraid I’m going to have to exact a price for what you’ve taken from me.” He glanced at Manny. “Maybe not tonight. We only came down here to collect our missing friend tonight.”
His light eyes focused on Black’s, his expression cold.
“…But soon.”
Black stepped forward, putting himself between Manny and Wolf. He raised the rifle higher, his arms flexing as he aimed it more obviously at the Navajo man’s head.
“I don’t think so,” Black growled, his light coiling around him in sparking flashes he knew the other man wouldn’t see, but might react to anyway. “Your pet tried to kill me. If anyone owes anyone, it’s you who owes me. Consider it a favor I don’t take out my displeasure on its owner. Or try to exact a price of my own.”
Wolf smiled, looking at him a beat longer.
Then those light eyes shifted back to Manny.
Lifting his hat back to his head, he rested it there with one hand, then adjusted it with two, bringing it down firmly over the red headband.
“Be seeing you, Manny,” he said. “Send my condolences to Lucy’s family. And Tsiti’s.”
“Should I tell them?” Manny retorted. “Should I say that your wolf’s tears flow harder since you’re the wolf who took their children from them?”
Wolf didn’t change expression at his words.
“Tell them whatever you need to tell them, old man,” he said. “But I am sorry.”
Looking over his shoulder into the dark, he whistled then, a long, loud call.
Black flinched at the sound, then frowned when he heard the unmistakeable sound of hooves on the packed dirt. Like another ghost, a horse appeared out of the desert, cantering up to where Wolf stood. Its coat shone a shocking blue-white in the moonlight, its mane and tail an equally dramatic black. A black mark covered one eye and most of that side of its face.
The whites of the horse’s eyes showed at the wolves who lingered at its master’s feet, but the horse didn’t stop, cantering right up to Wolf and stopping on a dime in front of him.
Black lowered the rifle, incredulous, watching as Wolf swung up on the horse’s back, with no saddle or bridle.
“What the fuck is this?” he said, frowning harder.
Next to him, Manny touched his arm, cautioning him to be quiet.
The two of them just stood there as Wolf rode off on the horse, his wolves trailing behind.
His mount’s white coat remained visible for some time as they receded first up the gravel driveway then down the main road, traveling away from town and growing smaller in the moonlight.
They were already at least a hundred yards away when the vampires, moving as if of a single mind, turned and began to follow their master back through the dark.
Only when they’d all disappeared did Black find himself taking a real breath.
Then he turned to Manny, his mouth grim.
“You and me, we’re having a talk,” he said.
Still looking off down the main road, where the white horse’s coat was just visible under the shadow of a higher bluff, Manny nodded, patting his arm.
“In the morning, brother,” he said. “I think this tired old body of mine has finally had enough excitement tonight.”
Black scowled a little, following Manny’s gaze, but he didn’t argue.
6
BACK IN THE SHIT
“ARE YOU SURE you don’t want me to go with you?” he said. “I could meet you there. It’s only a few hours’ flight from here––”
“No.” I sighed. “Thank you, Naoko, but no.”
Glancing around the airport concourse where I stood, I bit my lip, shrugging, watching people walk by, an inordinate number of them for how late it was, and an inordinate number of them wearing floral Hawaiian shirts. A part of me was soaking up the last of the Hawaiian energy of this place before I got on the plane.
“…I know you’re busy, Nick,” I added, glancing out the nearest window at the lights of planes taxiing on runways, and the distant moon in the sky. “I read about that big gang shootout in the Presidio. That must be on your desk, now that you’re back.”
Frowning, I glanced at my watch.
“What are you even doing up?” I added. “Isn’t it like three a.m. where you are?”
I heard Nick frown over the phone, and fought not to exhale where he could hear the exasperation I felt.
The truth was, I could feel too damned much right then.
I felt his guilt for sending Black to New Mexico for this job.
I felt his worry that I’d take his phone call, and his offers to come along with me the wrong way, given issues we’d had between us in the past. I felt his worry that Black would screw things up with me even more when he saw me. I felt him thinking it would be partly his fault for unintentionally pushing me and Black together too soon.
I felt his worry about me, about how I was doing.
I felt him thinking Black had been drinking too much.
I felt him thinking Black was an idiot for not trying to fix things with m
e sooner.
I felt too much honestly, and right then, given everything, I was struggling with it.
“I don’t need a bodyguard, Naoko,” I said, sighing in spite of myself, combing my hair out of my face with my fingers. “I can handle Black.”
“Is your uncle going with you?”
Frowning for a different reason that time, I aimed a narrow glance at the uncle in question, who was ordering coffees for both of us at the nearest gourmet coffee chain in Oahu International Airport that was still open.
It was a night flight, so he was the only one in line, but I’d never been good at sleeping on planes, and Charles claimed he needed to work.
I’d more or less just given in to the fact that I’d be up for the next nine or so hours it would take to get me from Honolulu to Albuquerque.
With the time change, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
The time change was also the main reason I’d decided to take a night flight, instead of a morning flight like I’d told Black. Assuming my flights all left and landed when they were supposed to, I should be in Albuquerque by around one p.m., local time.
I never took my eyes off Charles as I went over the logistics in my head. I watched the girl behind the counter bat her eyes at him, smiling up at his shocking light green irises and blushing to the roots of her hair when he smiled back.
Shaking my head a little, I smiled wryly in spite of myself.
He might be my uncle, but he still looked like he was maybe in his mid-thirties, so only a few years older than me. He also still had the same effect on women I remembered from back when I was a teenager, and old enough to notice how many women threw themselves at him.
Those damned seer males.
“No,” I said to Nick, shaking my head, once. “He’s going back to Europe for a while.”
“Europe? Do you mean––”
“I didn’t ask, Nick,” I said, sighing. “But from his phone calls, probably Paris, at least initially. He mentioned he’s still headquartered out of Moscow though, so it’s a good bet he’ll end up there relatively soon. He’s been away for a while.”
There was a silence between us.
Then Nick sighed, too.
“I don’t know why he was out there at all,” he grumbled. “Why didn’t you let me or Angel come with you? Why him? Do you really trust him that much?”
Black To Dust: A Quentin Black Paranormal Mystery (Quentin Black Mystery Book 7) Page 9
