But Andrew was anything but ordinary. His bearing was placid and regal. He wasn't particularly large, but his frame had the look of body armor in soft saffron leather. When his eyes met Max's, the knowledge of who he was to the Beast nested there: a fledgling fattened on the kills of its predator parent.
The man whom Doris called son. The boy whom Max had bitten.
Everyone stayed very still; Max and Doris in their chairs, Andrew standing in the entrance way. Finally, Andrew took another drag off his Lucky and sauntered over to the stove. He grabbed a cup out of the cabinet. "I don't know about you," he said, as he poured, "but I have very mixed feelings right now."
Max didn't say a word, didn't take his eyes off Andrew for a second. He kept to his chair but turned in it so he and Andrew were face to face, keeping his feet flat on the floor. When Doris spoke her tone was clear and flat, the voice of reason in a dangerous situation.
"Andrew ... come sit with us. Please."
He leaned against the counter and lifted the cup to his lips. "I'm fine right here, Moms," he said, before sipping. He slid his gaze toward Max. "So. General. You come to take me away?"
Max didn't trust himself to speak. Andrew pressed his lips together and pretended to wince. "Man. If looks could kill. How'd you find me?" His eyes turned straight to Doris.
"She never said a word," Max said, quickly. "I didn't even know you were still alive until tonight. Much less what you've become."
Andrew took another drag. "And to think I've never thanked you for that."
Everything in Max screamed against what he was about to say. "It doesn't have to be this way. It's not too late."
Andrew said nothing, sipping his coffee, smoking his Lucky, swiveling his gaze between Max and Doris. When Doris spoke again, what calm she'd mustered was failing. "Andrew, please don't go. Please just stay and listen."
He shrugged. "If I was going I'd already be gone. And you two wouldn't have even known until you were done with your little lovers' spat."
Max affected a heavy sigh, as if troubled and resigned. He lowered his gaze to his left hand lying on the table and placed his right against his trousers pocket, pretending to rest it there. He could feel Andrew's eyes on him. He could feel the change in his pants' pocket, hoping he had more silver in there than copper. Then he looked back up at Andrew and did everything he could to seem sincere.
"Come back with me to Tohatchi. Both of you. You think you're a strong hunter now, Andrew? You'll be even stronger without the Beast."
Andrew chuckled under his breath, finished his Lucky and dropped the butt into a dirty glass sitting in the sink. "You don't really expect me to believe that. What's your kill rate now? About a dozen, a little more? Mine's at least twice that."
Max shook his head. "It's not about how many lineages you kill. It's about how many people you save."
"People. As in hosts? Okay, I'll give you that one. Hosts don't make it, my way. But think of the victims . Every time you and David let a lineage slip away, waiting for the chance to nab back one lousy host, more victims suffer and die. Every missed opportunity. Every First Night. And half the time, the host dies, too. My way? All hunts are successful." Andrew pulled out his smokes and Zippo again.
Max's shoulders began to tense, his throat squeeze. "You can't tell me you take out a lineage every First Night, Andrew, I don't care how good you think you are. What about the people the Great Beast slaughters between your so-called 'successful' hunts?"
Andrew squinted at him over the flame of the lighter. His face softened as he snapped the Zippo shut. "Moms already told you how that's handled. I do what I can. Listen ... I accept that my way isn't perfect. But neither is yours. And when I can't make it to a hunt on time, at least I can keep the Beast turned toward lowlifes. Been able to for years." He took a long drag off the Lucky. "You're ex-military. You understand collateral damage."
Max's voice sounded hollow and deadly inside his head. "What about Mezz? Was he collateral damage?" And he came out of his chair.
Andrew came to meet him, his cup crashing to the floor. Doris leapt between, yelling their names, pushing her shoulder into Andrew's chest and stiff-arming Max.
"Stop it! Stop it!"
Max lunged, crumpling Doris's barricade and forcing her to the side. He pinned Andrew against the counter, Andrew's left arm bent backward in Max's grip with his right arm trapped by Max's weight.
"You son-of-a-bitch! You piece of shit! It was you , wasn't it? You're the one who trussed him up and stuck him in that hole! You wanted the Beast to kill him! Mezz wasn't one of your 'lowlifes'. He was just in the way!"
He felt Andrew strain, but there was no room to strike or kick. Max fished into his trousers pocket with his free hand and pulled out a dime. He raised it to Andrew's eye level and watched the sweat trickle down his temples. "All I gotta do is thumb this into one nostril and ram the cartilage of your nose right into your brain, silver and all. How 'bout it, Andrew? You ready to be collateral damage?"
Doris was sobbing, screaming, clawing at his shoulders. But he kept Andrew bent back against the counter. He looked into those eyes filled with hatred and something welled in his chest. His voice cracked as he said, "You think you're in control? You ? I saw how it hunts, Andrew, I saw what it did in Luperón. It waits for the lessers to have their kill before it kills, doesn't it?"
Andrew didn't reply. He just kept glaring, silent, hate filled, testing his strength against Max's weight.
Max said, low and deadly, "And I saw what you did, too, Andrew. You're not a hunter. You're an addict."
Doris had stopped struggling and was clutching Max's shirt sleeve, begging, "Max, please don't, please don't, please don't kill him, Max, please!"
"He's never coming with us, Doris. He doesn't want to be saved ..."
"We don't know that, we won't know that while he's so tangled with the Beast."
"I'm being a hell of a lot kinder to him than he was to Mezz!"
"Max! He would have never become this, if not for us! He's ours, Max! He's ours !"
The dime was getting slippery in his fingers. He thought of Mezz and Sister Veronica. He thought of Papo Salvador and Lloyd Stonehill. He thought of the last time he'd seen Andrew Takei: a terrified teen staring at him through the bars of Tulenar's little jail, before the lineage that Max had carried inside him found its way to the boy.
His eyes still fixed to Andrew, Max asked Doris, "What've you got in the medicine cabinet?"
Doris let go of Max's sleeve and touched a shaky hand to her forehead. "Uh ... I don't know ..."
Andrew said, pleadingly, "Moms ..."
"Any codeine?"
Doris headed for the bathroom.
Andrew struggled harder. "Moms!"
"Shut up! Hurry, Doris! And get something to tie him with."
Andrew turned his head and snapped at Max's fingers, silver or no silver. Max snatched his hand away, but Andrew kept trying: going for his nose, his chin, anything.
"Hurry up, Doris!"
Max was losing his advantage, jerking this way and that, avoiding Andrew's bite. The next time Andrew lunged at his fingers, Max jammed the dime against his tongue. Andrew screamed, jerked back, and butted his head hard against Max's nose. The pain was as bright as the star bursts dazzling his vision, and the room tilted.
The stars cleared as quickly as they came. Max saw Andrew spit the dime out as he stepped over him, holding his mouth, ignoring his own bloodied forehead and heading not toward the kitchen door, not toward escape, but down the hallway. Doris . Max forced himself off the floor.
He stumbled toward the hall, hearing her scream, hearing a horrid, choked gurgling, then clattering and crashing. But then another scream, this time a man's. And Andrew was staggering backward, swiping at his eyes. Doris charged forward slinging liquid out of a broken bottle. The tang of rubbing alcohol rushed into Max's nostrils.
He lunged at Andrew, slamming him against the wall, pinning him with his forearm against Andrew's throat. Hi
s eyes still burning with alcohol, Andrew lashed out blindly but made contact, punching Max's kidney, jamming a thumb into his eye. Max thrust back into his pocket, found more coins and ground them into Andrew's face before pain and vertigo sent him to the floor.
He was aware of Andrew shrieking. He was aware of someone yanking at his shoulders and he flailed outward in defense.
"Max, it's me! It's me!"
His senses cleared enough to realize Doris was trying to pull him into a sitting position. He struggled up until his back was leaning against the wall, damp with sweat, alcohol and blood. Nickels, dimes, quarters and pennies were scattered around him on the floor.
"He ran," she said. Her voice was hoarse and she was wheezing.
"Are you all right?"
She nodded, pressing her hand to her throat as she leaned against the wall next to Max. She wept as she said, "Oh, God. Oh, God .. We have to hunt him now."
Max reached over and pulled her against him. "No. He'll come back for us."
Doris lifted her head as they both heard a siren's wail.
"Coming our way," she said, the pain of her injured throat obvious. "Neighbors must've heard the commotion. Called the cops."
"Can you make it to the door?"
Doris nodded.
"Do what you can to make things harder for Andrew. It's not likely they'll find him, but maybe we'll get lucky." Max looked toward the room where the Ham sat. "I'm going to try to raise David. When Andrew comes back for us, he'll have to come to Tohatchi."
Chapter Thirty One
The Alma Curar Ranch Compound
Thirty Miles South of Tohatchi, New Mexico
Spring/Early Summer, 1950
Twilight. Full Moon Receding.
Max and Doris turned off Highway 491 and onto the blade-straight road toward the compound. The sky's dusky blue was deepening to violet and, a half mile ahead, the first gate caught the Rambler's high beams. Before the car had even rolled to a stop, a dark figure on the other side of the two gates stepped away from the bramble and cactus barriers and aimed a rifle right at the windshield.
Max squinted, rolled down his window and called out, "Samuel?"
Samuel lowered his rifle. He pulled a flashlight from his belt, turned away and blinked a code. In the distance a pulse of light replied. Samuel disappeared briefly behind the barrier, and then unchained the gates. Max drove through the first one and Samuel locked up again before coming to the driver's side window.
Max said, "Where the hell have you been!"
Samuel grinned. "Good to see you, too, Maxwell."
Then he did a double-take and brought the flashlight up for a better look. "Damn! You look like something the Klan drug in." He looked past Max. "So do you. The two of you all right?"
Doris nodded and waved away his worry.
"You must be Doris," Samuel said. "Nice to meet you after all this time. I'll bet under better circumstances, you're a handsome woman."
He popped off the flashlight, went to the second gate and held it while Max drove through, securing it again and flashing another code toward the house. There was a brief crackle as Samuel reconnected the gates to the battery cells, sending electricity surging through the metal, then hopped on the Rambler's trunk for the drive onward.
David and Mina were stepping off the porch as the three pulled up, Mina going to Doris's door while David opened Max's. Mina ushered Doris into the house while Max gave David a one-armed hug of relief.
"You look terrible," David said.
"Funny, that's what he said." Max cocked his head toward Samuel. "Now how about it? Where the hell have you been? And how long have you been here?"
"Few days or so."
Max repeated, all the more irritated, "Where the hell , Sam! We were scared to death."
"Later for that," David said. "Right now you need to catch us up on everything. Anything in the trunk?"
Max shook his head. "We got in the car and hauled ass as quick as we could. About 50 miles out of Ventura, we stopped at some flea bag and got a couple hours rest before driving straight through on shifts."
The three of them mounted the porch, and headed to the kitchen. Mina had already begun filling plates with roast chicken, fry bread and potatoes. Doris's injured throat was still too sore for her to manage more than the fry bread soaked in gravy, but she ate as eagerly as Max. Everyone dug in.
"I radioed Paul and Amy right after you called us," David said as he scooted up to the table. "They're on their way and said they'd wire us with their progress. Now fill us in."
Max tried to think through the haze of his fatigue. "What'd I tell you on the Ham?"
"Something about the Great Beast and that an Oriental man named Andrew is the host. That you and Doris were in danger and had to move fast. For us to hunker down, take no chances 'til you could get here and to shoot silver at any Asian male who approached the compound."
Max took a couple of large gulps from his milk glass and looked at David. "You tell Samuel about Luperón?" David nodded. Max said, "You were right. The Great Beast there ... it's the same one that killed the Lesser in Taney County, Missouri."
Mina asked, "How did you find this out?"
Max stopped his fork midway between plate and lips. He looked across at Doris before he could stop himself, then back down at his plate.
Doris cleared her throat, and then rasped, "My son."
Everyone stopped eating. All eyes were on Doris. Puzzled, David repeated, "Your son?"
Doris nodded. David asked, still utterly bewildered, "Doris .. you have a son?"
She nodded again.
"And he told you about the Great Beast?"
"No," she said as strongly as she could, shaking her head. Then, more weakly, "He is ."
None of them understood at first. David, Mina, Samuel ... their faces were contorted with confusion. David was the first to realize. His face went ashen and he leaned back in his chair. Max cleared his throat and started talking. He wanted to spare Doris the pain; from both her injury and the telling itself. By the time he finished, the half-eaten supper plates were cold.
He watched David and Mina, looking stricken and betrayed. He saw Samuel's expression grow tense as he eyed Doris, distrust coming from every pore.
"Stop looking at her like that," he told them. But they just kept staring. "I said stop it!"
Doris reached across the table and laid her hand on his. "No. Don't. I would, too. If I were them."
She started to say something else but stopped, stood and left the kitchen. Samuel rose, but Max came out of his chair and grabbed his arm.
"Leave her alone."
"I'm just gonna keep an eye on her, Maxwell."
"No."
Samuel yanked his arm away. "You really trust her? After everything you just told us?"
"You don't know her like we do."
"And none of us knows what she may be up to."
"Leave her alone , Samuel."
"Samuel ..." Mina leaned from her chair and touched his side. "Let it be. I'll go."
Max turned his wariness on her. Mina rose, holding a hand up to stop his objection. "I'm just going to see if she's all right."
* * *
Beyond the wrap-around porch, the compound grounds were a soft, dim wash beneath the dusty glow of the moon, its fullness receding. Under the porch's roof, all was black silhouette.
Doris sat forward in the rocking chair, arms crossed on knees, listless and staring. She heard footsteps coming from inside, then the creak and clack of the front screen door. She looked over her shoulder as Mina came up and sat in the rocking chair next to hers. After a moment of quiet rocking, Mina asked, "Are you okay?"
Doris shrugged. She didn't want to say aloud what she was thinking, it shamed her so. But her throat burned with the words until she couldn't hold them anymore. "I've betrayed everybody."
"No argument there."
Doris nodded, not caring much if Mina could see the gesture or not.
"I did that
once, too. Betrayed everyone," Mina said.
Doris made a guess about where Mina was going with this. "The reservation. When David brought Max."
She knew the story. All those years ago, while worrying about Andrew and the other kids at the detention center, Doris had also been worrying about Max and David, too, and thinking the worst. And she had been right to worry. Max falling comatose with pneumonia on the run to Tohatchi, David terrified they couldn't make it to the nearest hospital before Max died. Taking him to a distant cousin's Arizona hogan and begging, begging through a door that was shut in his face. Shunning lasts a lifetime. When Mina, that cousin's daughter, took pity on them, seeking them out in the nearest town's two-bit motel, she was shaming her family by aiding an accused witch.
"I don't know if I can explain how great a betrayal it was for me speak to David," Mina said, "much less help him and Max. And then I did it again when I left the rez altogether and followed my cousin here. Once I made that decision, there was no going back."
"Betrayed everyone but Max and David," Doris said. "Me? Snagged all of you. Including my son. I know where you're going with this. You can stop."
Doris rubbed her bruised throat, irritated from all this talking, and then rubbed her arms against the growing chill. Mina rocked a moment more in silence, then said, "Where I come from, intention means a lot. It's weighed against any offense."
"Really. So you can go back?"
Mina just chuckled and ignored the sarcasm. "Well ... sometimes it's more an ideal than a reality."
"Gotta point, Mina? Make it."
A moment of chilly silence, then a curt, "Okay." Mina got out to the rocking chair and crossed her arms. "The struggle between the Way of Beauty and the Way of Chaos never ends. I don't understand why that must be and I don't understand why sometimes it's hard to tell which is which. But I recognized the Way of Beauty when I saw David begging at the door, even if my father couldn't. Even if my whole community couldn't.
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