Crossroads

by Jeanne C. Stein

  I place the cup on the table, lace my hands together and lean in toward him. “I’m sorry for your loss. I know you and Sarah were close.”

  No response. No tightening of the shoulders or jaws. No sharp intake of breath. Is this stone face because he’s Navajo or because he’s a cop?

  “The way you and John-John greeted each other made me suspect. And George confirmed it. I want you to know Frey was no threat to you and Sarah. He came here to see his son. That’s all.”

  Kayani is watching me more closely now. Still, he lets nothing of his own feeling show. I wish I could penetrate his thoughts, figure out the best way to proceed. I can’t. So I fumble onward.

  “There was a second reason we came. Had nothing to do with Frey and everything to do with me. Sarah was speaking on my behalf before the council. You may already know it.”

  Finally, a response, a tiny nod of the head. I take that to mean “go on.”

  Now we tred on dangerous ground. Do I tell Kayani what I am? Will he react like George? Maybe I won’t have to admit the whole truth right now. I gather my thoughts, continue slowly.

  “Frey is a Keeper of the Secrets. I assume you know that. He is a friend of mine who has helped me through some trying times. I asked him about Sani. He told me where I could find him. Here.”

  Kayani’s eyes flicker. “How do you know about Sani? The shaman’s identity is a well-kept secret among the Dine’é.”

  “I respect that. That he was here and what he can do was passed on to me by someone else. I don’t know how this person came to know of him.”

  He isn’t pleased with the answer. A scowl darkens his face. “Who else knew that you were looking for Sani?”

  “George, no one else.” Chael, too, but I can’t open that can of worms until I’m ready to admit what I am.

  “And he didn’t try to talk Sarah out of making the request ?”

  Knowing how George feels about me, I can imagine he probably did. But since I don’t know for sure, I shake my head. “I’m not sure. We didn’t discuss it.”

  “Why would you seek Sani?”

  The question I’ve been dreading. I stall a moment by drawing in a breath and letting it out slowly. The act does nothing to make framing a response easier. “I have a personal reason to seek his council.” Ambiguous.

  Unsuccessful.

  Kayani shifts irritably. “Did you lose someone close to you?”

  I should have known he would not accept such a vague response. I know I sure as hell wouldn’t. But before I can reply, Kayani adds, “Because if that’s the reason you came, you could have saved yourself a trip. Sani does not use his magic to reverse death on a whim. If he did—”

  He lets his voice drop and for the first time, a spark of emotion flares through. It’s easy to finish his sentence. If Sani reversed death just because he was asked to, Kayani would have already petitioned for Sarah’s life to be restored. Wanting something, no matter how badly, is not enough.

  It strikes me that Kayani really has no idea that I’m vampire. He’s never touched me, even to shake hands, so he’s not experienced the marble coldness of my skin. Outwardly, unless I show my vampire face, I look human. A little thin, perhaps, with an unlined face that may make me look younger than my thirty years, but human.

  “Have you spoken to George at all?”

  Kayani draws himself up, his stoic mask back in place. “No. I expect I’ll talk to him later today.”

  Now I have to decide. I have no doubt George will tell Kayani about me. Would it be better to do it myself now and take my chances?

  Kayani drains his cup. “I have to go.”

  “You can’t stay a little longer? I have something to talk with you about.”

  “No.” He rises and crushes the cup in his hand. “I need to prepare. We are burying Sarah this afternoon.”

  “This afternoon? I thought burial was to be in four days.”

  “Sarah’s parents fear there is black magic at work. They want to bury their daughters today before a curse can be laid.” He frowns down at me. “I thought that’s why you were here. Frey sent you away until it was over.”

  Kayani’s words stab at me. The man I passed on the way here. Sarah’s father come to tell Frey of their plans.

  I rise, too, trying to control the uneasiness overwhelming me. If Kayani is right in his assumption, I have to get back to Frey. Because in my gut I know. I remember the expression on the old man’s face as he passed me.

  Frey is facing Sarah’s hostile parent. Alone.

  What did Frey say? In their eyes, he deserted Sarah and her son. He’ll need support. I should be there.

  Kayani and I walk out together, though I’m barely able to restrain the instinct to break and run to the Jeep. I manage to keep the alarm out of my voice long enough to ask, “Will John-John take part in his mother’s burial?”

  He shakes his head. “No. He will stay with George at the house. It will be a traditional burial. Only Frey, Sarah’s parents and I will tend to Sarah and her sister. After, we will come back to the house.”

  Kayani is parked in a space marked “Police Use.” He’s still driving the SUV I saw this morning. Rain is coming down harder now. It soaks our clothes and beads in our hair. He glances toward the sky. “Would you like a ride to your vehicle?”

  “No. Thank you. I’m not far.”

  His eyes are still on the sky. “It is a sad day. Even the heavens weep.”

  CHAPTER 28

  I AM STARTLED BY THE SORROW IN HIS EYES. THAT HE loved Sarah is no longer conjecture. I don’t know how long they had been seeing each other, but I hope she returned his feelings. Maybe it will offer some consolation in the dark days ahead.

  He pulls out of the lot and I sprint to the Jeep, reverse the course on the GPS and start back.

  Why didn’t Frey call me when Sarah’s parents showed up to tell me about the burial?

  And why did Kayani said he figured Frey sent me away?

  I don’t like the idea of George being alone with John-John. It took me about thirty minutes to make it to the lodge from the house. The only consolation I have is that if Kayani is just now on his way, too, we should arrive together. I should make it in time to accompany Frey.

  I catch up to Kayani quickly. I can see him checking out the Jeep in his rearview mirror and when he recognizes me, he signals and pulls over. I do, too.

  He strides back to the Jeep. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going back to the house. I want to go with Frey to Sarah’s funeral.”

  He scowls down at me. “It’s not a funeral. You are an outsider. Why do you think Frey sent you away?”

  I bristle at his tone. “He didn’t send me away. I came to the lodge on my own. I wanted to give him time alone with John-John.”

  “Well, you need to give us all time. You cannot be a part of what is to take place. You could cause irreparable harm. To Frey. To Sarah’s parents.”

  “I respect the idea that the Navajo have customs to honor their dead. I can’t see how my observing those customs can lead to harm.”

  Kayani places both hands on the door of the Jeep and leans toward me. “Listen, Ms. Strong. Sarah’s parents are very traditional. They will not have mentioned either of their daughter’s names since the accident. Do you want to know why? Because they believe after death, the good part of a person goes on while the bad part stays here as a ghost. Mentioning the name of a dead person calls the ghost. Such a simple thing. But were you to offer condolences, for instance, and in doing so, mention the girls’ names, you will have violated a taboo. Do you want that on your conscience?”

  He is so serious, so vehement in his argument that I back down. He is right. I have no idea of the intricacies of such long-held beliefs. I would only be a burden on Frey and if I did something wrong, cast a bad reflection on him in a delicate time.

  “All right. I’ll go back to the lodge. But you have to keep an eye on Frey for me. Make sure no harm comes to him.”

&
nbsp; Kayani’s brow furrows at the request. “What harm could come to him? He has studied the Navajo way.”

  “Just tell me you will. And on George, too.”

  His puzzled frown deepens. “I don’t understand.”

  “And if you have time for an explanation, I’ll give it to you. If not, please honor my request.”

  He straightens and backs away from the Jeep. “I will.” His tone is clipped, formal. “But later, when this day is over, I will come to you for answers.”

  He waits for my nod of acceptance and leaves me. If George tells him that I’m vampire, he’ll no doubt come back armed with Sarah’s crossbow and a wooden arrow. A chance I’ll have to take.

  I watch until the SUV disappears around a bluff, leaving a trail in the muddy red earth. I have two choices.

  Forget all I told Kayani and go to the house anyway.

  Head back for the lodge and try to locate Chael.

  I look around as if divine inspiration might spring from the mighty rain-streaked formations and soaked earth surrounding me. It’s Kayani, however, his face, his tone, his willingness to allow parents a chance to grieve in their own way that influences the decision. Another might find such customs archaic. Kayani is a modern cop in an ancient land but he accepts and honors both worlds.

  It’s a balancing act I understand very well.

  It seems the decision has been made. I do a U-turn and head back the way I came. Trying to track Chael down through a psychic connection wasn’t very successful. What if I try a simple human way?

  Once more in the lobby, I shake rain out of my hair and go directly to the registration desk. A pretty Native American girl greets me with a sunny smile. “Can I help you?”

  My turn to put on a perky face. “I hope so. Last night at dinner I thought I saw someone I knew from my college days at UA. He was a foreign student from the Middle East. I know it’s probably my imagination, but if it was Chael, I’d love to say hello. It would be such a happy coincidence is we ran into each other here after all those years. Is it possible for you to check and see if he’s registered?”

  “Of course. What was the name?”

  “Chael. I’m sorry but I don’t remember if that was his first or last name. It’s spelled C-h-a-e-l.”

  “No problem. The computer can check both.”

  Her fingers fly over the keyboard with practiced aplomb. After a few moments, she shakes her head. “I’m sorry. No one on file with that first or last name. Could he be registered with someone else?”

  Of course he could. “Try Judith Williams from San Diego. I remember they were great friends.”

  The fingers do their tap dance once again. This time I’m rewarded with a smile. “Yes, Ms. Williams is registered.” She picks up a desk phone. “Would you like me to ring the room?”

  “That would ruin the surprise,” I reply. “I’ll just hang out in the lobby for a while and watch for them.” I dig in my pocket for some cash and hand her a five. “Thanks so much for your help.”

  She accepts the bill. “You are very welcome. If I can do anything else—”

  I make my smiling escape, hitting the gift shop first to pick up the Arizona Highways magazine before retreating to a strategic spot where I can keep an eye on both the stairs and the elevator. This damn rain may mean they keep to their room. No need to come to the dining room when you don’t eat like a human.

  Two hours of boredom produce nothing but a sore butt. I relinquish my spot on the couch and pace up and down, stretching leg muscles unused to sitting for such a long period. Reminds me of hours of surveillance with David and that we haven’t had to do it in quite some time. Mainly because our new partner has connections to both police departments and bail bondsmen in the Southern California area. Thanks to Tracey, these days jobs find us.

  I wonder if I should check in. I’ve only been gone two days. If David needed me, I’m sure he’d have called. And with Judith Williams here, he’s most likely staying out of trouble.

  I’m circling back to resume my perch on the couch when a group of four urban-chic bikers arrive in the lobby and make their way to the elevator. They’re dressed in form-fitting leathers, talk quietly as if conscious not to attract too much attention, and all have scarves tied loosely around their necks. When one of them, a young woman with long blond hair, slips out of her jacket, her scarf falls to the floor.

  She bends to retrieve it.

  There are faint bruises just below her right ear, bite marks not quite healed.

  I smile as she scrambles to cover them up, looking around to see if anyone noticed.

  Oh yeah, chickie.

  I noticed.

  Chael and Judith sent for takeout.

  I toss the magazine onto the stack in the middle of the coffee table and watch them into the elevator. There are only two floors in the lodge. I’m at the stairs and up to the second level before the elevator doors slide open.

  The group makes their way down the long hallway. I hang back and watch. They knock at a door near the end. When they’ve been let inside, I walk down myself and check it out.

  Room 230.

  It’s quiet in the hallway, but too public to risk getting caught with my ear to the door. I move down a few doors and aim vampire hearing into the room. But Chael and Judith are being careful. Nothing comes through. All I get are the soft murmurs of their hosts’ voices and the vigorous creak of bedsprings as the people next door in 232 engage in energetic sex.

  Well. At least I know where to find Chael. Bursting in now would accomplish nothing except to jeopardize the lives of the hosts.

  I glance at my watch. I’ve been here almost four hours. Would it be safe to return to Sarah’s? How long would the burial ceremony last? I should have thought to ask Kayani. I dig my cell phone out of my jacket. I’ll call Frey. If he’s still with Sarah’s parents, I’m sure it will go straight to voice mail.

  It does. He’s turned it off. I leave a very brief “call me when you can” message and end the call.

  A whiff of coppery scent drifts up from beneath the door to 230. Faint but potent as a memory and easily distinguishable to a vampire.

  Blood.

  It produces a restless surge of adrenaline.

  Chael and Judith have started to dine.

  CHAPTER 29

  THE BLOOD PULL IS TOO STRONG. I MAKE FOR THE stairway and retreat downstairs to the lobby. I’ll wait for the hosts to leave before confronting Chael and Judith.

  My place on the couch is occupied by a family waiting for the rain to stop before venturing out. I get a cup of coffee from the coffee bar and find another seat—one with a partially obstructed view of the elevators but one that will have to do.

  What will I say to Chael? There is no defense he can offer that would justify his senseless killing of Sarah and her sister. Especially if it was done just to keep me here.

  I don’t know what will happen in the next few days. I suppose it will depend on what Frey decides is best for his son. He may even choose to stay on the reservation with John-John. After all, this is the only home the boy has ever known. The only thing I’m sure of is that he needs to be with John-John now.

  A conclusion I’m sure he’s come to himself.

  So where does that leave me?

  A sense of weariness and despair darkens my thoughts. If I go back to San Diego alone, I go minus one of the constants in my life. Daniel Frey has been with me since the beginning. Besides Culebra, he is the only supernatural I consider a friend.

  Worse, the trip will have been for nothing. I would have been the cause of two deaths without being given the opportunity to have my questions answered. Perhaps that’s my punishment for coming here with a selfish agenda. I didn’t want merely to ask for mortality back, I wanted the shaman to assure me it was the right decision. To answer the how and why of being chosen.

  As if life ever grants assurances.

  Coffee cup drained, I toss it in the nearest waste receptacle.

  I hate this
feeling of hopelessness. It’s not my nature. I’m much more comfortable with anger. Anger leads to action. Did I always feel that way? I was human much longer than I’ve been vampire, but the memories of how I felt as a human grow dimmer every day.

  Is that a good thing?

  The elevator pings open and the four urban-chic bikers step into the lobby. They’re a little paler, walk a little slower, leaving a scent of blood and sex in their wake. But they have satisfied smiles on their faces.

  I glance at my watch. Two hours. A lot of sex. A lot of blood.

  Still they’re luckier than many of Judith Williams’ hosts. She has a tendency to drain her hosts dry, leaving a disposal problem. Chael must have cautioned her to exercise restraint.

  Or threatened to kill her if she didn’t.

  I wait until they’ve left the lobby to retrace their steps to Room 230. There is a maid at the door, a housekeeping cart parked to the side. The maid knocks, announces herself, uses her passkey to let herself in when there’s no answer.

  Curious, I wander down to stand beside the door. The maid is stripping the bed.

  “Excuse me?” I point to the bed. “Where is the couple who occupied this room?”

  The maid eyes me suspiciously. “Why do you want to know?”

  “We had a lunch date. They didn’t show. I was concerned something might be wrong.”

  “Can’t help you,” she replies, approaching the door with an armful of sheets. “All I know is that a few minutes ago, I got a message that the occupants of this room have checked out.”

  She dumps the sheets into the hamper and pushes the cart into the room, shutting the door behind her with a decisive click. I’m left in the hall staring at a stupid door and wondering how the hell Chael and Williams managed to get by me.

  And where they’d go from here.

  I can’t believe while I was feeling sorry for myself, Chael managed to slip past me. Had he seen me in the lodge? Maybe when I was having coffee with Kayani? Did he watch me leave with him? Think he was safe to take his time with the hosts?