Crossroads

by Jeanne C. Stein

  His words raise gooseflesh on my arms. Partly because they’re said with so much sincerity, partly because the lowered eyes are a tell. He’s spouting crap. One thing I know about Frey, he’s a fighter. His pretty speech would have been pitch-perfect had he not added the part about trusting me with the life of his son. It sounded like a codicil to his will.

  He’s up to something.

  But I haven’t the time to challenge him. I wave him off. “Okay, get going. I’ll get back to Sarah’s as soon as I can.”

  He gets back into the Jeep, cranks it over, and heads in the direction of Sarah’s house, all without another word or backward glance.

  Oh yeah. He’s definitely up to something.

  CHAPTER 37

  THE POLICE HAVE HERDED EVERYONE INTO THE lobby. They’re taking the witnesses at their word that a crime has been committed. They begin going down the list of guests, checking each name as it is read off and the guest is identified and separated from the rest.

  I know this because I’ve scurried like a lizard up the back wall and can see down through windows too high to cause anyone to look up. Chael is not among the mingling masses.

  Nor is he emitting any telepathic trail for me to follow.

  Which means, I have to find him the hard way.

  I slip onto a third-floor balcony and start peering into windows. I figure Chael would be staying in one of the best rooms and since the rooms on this floor have big windows with magnificent views, this is where he’s likely to be.

  I find him on the fifth try. He’s on his cell phone, talking softly, a slightly hysterical tone to his voice. He’s desperate to get out of the hotel before his name is called and the police come looking for him. He’s dressed, as always, like a dandy—pleated slacks, tailored shirt, leather loafers. He has a cream-colored sweater thrown over his shoulders, sleeves knotted over his chest.

  I watch for a moment—deciding. Should I kill him now? It’s what I told Frey to do.

  And yet.

  There is someone helping him here on the reservation. Has to be. Is it George? Whoever it is could be another threat to Frey and his son even with Chael gone. Better to find out.

  Vampire growls in frustration. She looks forward to the kill.

  Patience.

  The slider is unlocked and I slip inside. Seems appropriate somehow since it’s the way he intruded on me.

  He’s not aware of my presence until I pick up a lamp from a table and let it fall with a clatter to the carpet. He drops the cell phone and whirls around with a flash of teeth and fist. The human Anna is obviously the last person he expected to see.

  Anna? What are you doing here?

  He’s emitting more fear than threat.

  I learned not too long ago that Chael is like a lot of old-soul vampires who have lost the edge that makes them truly dangerous. For centuries, they have relied on others to do their fighting and when cornered, resort to threats and promises to tide them over before they can call their minions. Then they stand back and watch the carnage, taking full credit, of course.

  I make it a point to look around the room, ignoring his question and countering with one of my own. Where is your whore? I ask innocently.

  His mouth droops into a frown. Someone killed her. Right here in the hotel. Shot her with an arrow. It wasn’t you?

  No. All I offered was encouragement. I feign shock. How did you find out about it? Were you there, too?

  Chael acts like he’s going to ignore the question, but then he says with an angry sweep of his hand, Stupid, stupid woman. I told her indulging herself was too risky. But just feeding was not satisfying enough for her. She needed the kill. The host got away. Came up here. Told me some man made her run away from Judith, that he was going to kill her. When I heard the commotion in the lobby, saw the ash, I knew it was true.

  What happened to the host?

  I don’t know. I don’t care. I told her if I saw her again, I’d kill her. She’s gone.

  His eyes narrow. How did you know I was here?

  I pause the length of a heartbeat. I came to the hotel to meet my friend and his son. I got here right after—it happened. Suspected it was Judith when I heard a witness describe the victim and that somebody had her at arrow point. Now it’s my turn. What are you doing here? Did you follow me?

  There’s a moment’s hesitation while he processes what I said. He knew I was at the lodge because he saw me. He can’t be sure though, that I saw him. He lets go of uncertainty and launches into his story. I was concerned about you. I heard there were skinwalkers on the reservation at war with the vampire. I came to warn you.

  How noble. You weren’t afraid those same skinwalkers would hunt you?

  My expression must reflect the skepticism churning the acid in my stomach because he ignores the question and follows with, Then when I got here I heard about the terrible accident that took the life of Frey’s wife and sister-in-law. I thought you had enough on your mind. I’d wait until a better time to tell you. It must have been a skinwalker that got Judith. I told her she was foolish to venture out of the room. It must have been a skinwalker.

  Must have been. I’ve never seen Chael project insecurity before—anxious, rambling, filling his thoughts with empty words in a desperate attempt to persuade or distract me.

  Until?

  Someone must be on the way to help him.

  Time to move things along before he thinks to ask again why I’m here or worse, how I found him.

  Well, we’d better get you out of here. The police are taking roll downstairs and you are going to be missed. You and the late Judith Williams. I have a place for you to hide until we can decide what to do.

  He backs away. No. I feel safer here. I have a contact on the Navajo police. I’ve been trying to reach him but all I get is his voice mail.

  That’s probably because he’s downstairs with the rest. And as long as there are others present, he’s not going to be able to help you. Come on. I know a way we can climb down over the wall in back and sneak away.

  His face draws up. His thoughts are cloaked, but I can feel the intensity of the battle he’s waging. He doesn’t trust me, but he’s alone and so am I. In his arrogance, he is sure he can handle anything I throw at him.

  All right. I’ll go with you.

  I turn my back and start toward the slider at the same time there’s a knock on the guestroom door.

  “Police, Mr. Sidhu. Open up.”

  Chael pushes against me in an effort to propel us forward faster. The grin that lights my face is hidden by the fact that I’m out the slider and headed for the corner of the building so fast, all Chael sees is the blur of my back.

  He’s as dexterous as I am and we shimmy down the building like two reptiles fleeing the talons of a raptor. Once on the ground, we move too quickly to be noticed by the police officers posted at the back door to the lodge. Then we’re off across the desert floor, headed for the mesa a mile away.

  Chael is fast, almost faster than I. At one point, he slows and sends a message. Where are we going?

  It’s not far now, I reply. I have a vehicle hidden in the mouth of a cave.

  The answer satisfies him. He was not looking forward to a long trek on foot. Even vampires have their limits.

  I have to scan the area Frey mentioned before I find the opening about twelve feet up a dirt and loose rock pathway. I point. There.

  Chael shields his eyes with a hand. I don’t see a vehicle.

  It’s back inside. Come on. We’d better take cover before we’re spotted.

  He’s looking up at the rock strewn path with distaste. Why don’t you get the car? I’ll wait for you here.

  Afraid to scuff your loafers? I let the sarcasm drip. Get over it. It’s too soon to be trekking across the desert leaving a plume of dust anyone can follow. We’ll hole up for a while, until it’s clear.

  He doesn’t like the idea, but the reasoning is sound so he gives in with a shrug. He follows close behind me, slipping on r
ock and gravel his smooth-soled loafers were never meant to travel. The legs of his dark trousers are powdered with dust. I’m sure the idea that he’d be trekking through the desert with me was the last thing on his mind when he got dressed this morning.

  When we reach the mouth of the cave, he peers inside. This cave is far different from the one I explored yesterday. The floor is littered with guano dust and animal scat. The smell of rotting vegetation and stale air gusts out at us.

  Chael wrinkles his elegant nose. How far back is the car?

  A ways.

  He lets the barrier slip from his thoughts. His eyes turn hard. What are you playing at, Anna Strong?

  We’re facing each other, the pretense of civility falling away like shattered glass.

  Oh, I’m not playing at anything, Chael. I brought you here to answer for Sarah and Mary. You took innocent lives to what purpose? To keep me here? I want to know one thing before I kill you. Who is the skinwalker helping you?

  He draws himself up, a flicker of anger tenses muscles, fists clench and unclench at his side. Again, you show your arrogance, your ignorance. What do you think will happen if you kill me? Do you think my death will go unavenged? I am a leader of one of the Thirteen Tribes. I have followers who are even now on their way to help me. They will hunt you down and everyone close to you and no one will be spared. You will have sparked a war that will destroy the very things you argued so eloquently to protect at council.

  Pretty words, Chael. I take a step closer, baring teeth that ache to tear out his throat. Perhaps you should have thought of that before you sent me on this fool’s errand. I was turned down by the council. You knew I’d not be allowed to see the shaman. Was the plan to let skinwalker curse magic destroy me?

  That I saw Sani anyway I keep buried.

  A smile draws the corners of his mouth into a humorless grin. Turned down by the council? You really don’t have a clue, do you? He pauses, as if savoring what will come next.

  Your request was not turned down. Sarah never got the chance make her plea to the council.

  He watches me, enjoying the flashes of emotion that flicker through my thoughts. Anger that he lies so blatantly, fury that he thinks I’ll fall for it … curiosity because I don’t know why he’d throw out such an outlandish lie. George told me I’d been turned down. Insinuated that Sarah’s death was my fault because she was killed coming back from the council meeting where she pled my case.

  George lied. Chael’s shoulders drop, as if he knows he’s hooked me and he can release some of the tension gripping his body. Sarah was never allowed to speak at council.

  None of the tension has drained from my body, however. I lower my head and growl at him. How do you know this?

  I know a member of the council. He had been well paid to see that your request was considered. He came to me after, to tell me what had transpired. A problem had been brought by the elders to the council’s attention and it occupied the entire meeting. Sarah was told to come back next week.

  I turn away from Chael—not completely. I would never be so foolish as to turn my back to him. I step close to the rock wall of the cave so I can gather my thoughts. Privately. I allow nothing to come through that he might pick up.

  If Chael is telling the truth, George purposely led me to believe Sarah had spoken to the council. There was no misunderstanding. He told me my request had been turned down. I remember how he looked sitting at the kitchen table, the way he swept an arm and said, All this was for nothing.

  I recall every word Sani said. He never told me how he knew I was seeking his council, did he?

  But why should I believe Chael? How can I know?

  I can do but one thing. Chael offers his thoughts in response to my own. Take you to the elder who is on my payroll. He will verify that what I say is true.

  An elder on your payroll? I can trust someone whose loyalty is for sale? You must offer me something more than testimony that’s been bought and paid for.

  Chael retreats into his own thoughts a moment. Then his eyes spark with an answer. The man I saw with you at the lodge yesterday? He is a policeman, is he not?

  Yes.

  Then ask him. By now he will have been apprised of the problem.

  He hadn’t been as of yesterday.

  Oh, but he will be now. This is something that threatens the economy of the entire Navajo nation.

  And what is this problem?

  Chael spreads his hands. Someone is flooding the market with fake artifacts from the sacred caves. They are wonderful fakes, hewn from the original rock, but fakes nonetheless. The originals are sacred to the Navajo. Only a few are ever sold and then they must be displayed in the proper way in Native American museums. Tracking down the counterfeiters has become top priority for the locals. They are sure the thieves are working from the reservation. Here.

  I close my eyes, picturing the beautiful drawings in the cave.

  Do you know something? Chael asks, jumping at my hesitation. If you do, you will certainly make the elders look more favorably on your request for an audience with Sani.

  My thoughts are scattered. I know nothing of counterfeiters. But if Chael’s story is true, was it just a horrific accident that killed Sarah and Mary?

  Did I urge Frey to kill Judith Williams for nothing?

  I slump back against the wall of the cave, ignoring the dampness seeping from the rock, pressing fingers against my eyes. Finally, I raise my eyes to Chael. Why have you stayed on? Did you intend to wait the week and see what transpired?

  I told you. I heard about the skinwalkers.

  I let a snicker rumble from the back of my throat. And you were going to warn me? When? Hate to break it to you, but you’re too late. I already had a taste of curse magic. I figured it was someone on your payroll, too.

  He shakes his head. No. Skinwalkers are tricky bastards. There’s no loyalty in them to anyone but those initiated with them into the witchery way.

  But I’m sure you wouldn’t have minded if I’d met my end at the hands of one.

  Chael’s expression shifts to irritation. I told you. I don’t want you dead. I want you removed from the position of the Chosen One.

  And you want it done in a way that cannot be traced back to you.

  That is preferable, yes.

  At least that’s something I can believe. Dying at the hand of a skinwalker would certainly meet the criteria.

  What do I do now?

  I was so sure it had been Chael behind Sarah’s death, I never considered the possibility that the car accident had been just that—an accident.

  My stomach knots with indecision. Chael is still an enemy. I could kill him here in this place and dispose of his body so that it would never be found.

  Vampire thinks that is a good idea. Chael is no match for my anger and strength.

  The human Anna is not so sure. I watched Judith Williams dissolve into ash and felt nothing. She was not a friend, but now I find she may not have been the enemy I imagined. Oh, she would have proved herself worthy of death eventually. Her lack of restraint would have been her undoing. Realistically, killing her saved the lives of unsuspecting hosts.

  So easy to rationalize. What was it that Chael said to me at the cottage—when the time comes, I’d kill her for him.

  And I did.

  Chael stirs beside me, anxiety beginning to bloom in his thoughts. Does he suspect the decision I’m wrestling with?

  Let me go, Anna, and you will have a powerful friend.

  I should not hesitate this minute to tear out Chael’s throat. Sani’s words echo again in my head. Would killing Chael assure the safety of mankind? Would it guarantee my return to mortality could be achieved with no disastrous consequences?

  I peer at Chael. He is nervous, an insect squirming on a pin. He is but one of a growing legion who are tired of vampires being kept in the shadows. Killing him might spur his followers on to escalate the violence against those they see as their subjugators.

  Frien
d? Never. But making him a martyr would not be smart, either. And there’s still that nagging question of why I don’t feel the evil in Chael. Why I don’t feel the powerful need to kill him. It is a riddle to be solved.

  I open my thoughts. Go. We will never be friends. But today, we are not enemies.

  His relief is palpable, he draws himself up, squares his shoulders. You will not regret this.

  Make sure I don’t. Leave the valley. I will check your story. If you have been lying, I will find you.

  He reaches into a pocket. I look down at what he holds out to me.

  A business card. Like we are two traveling salesman exchanging numbers. He’s holding out a fucking business card.

  This number will reach me no matter where I am.

  I’m too dumbstruck by the sheer idiocy of the scenario to do more than take it and stare.

  He makes his exit head held high, aloof as departing royalty. The only thing that mars his departure is the very ungraceful fall he takes as his feet slip on loose rock. He lands on his ass, recovers quickly, and glances back to see if I noticed.

  I let him know that I did.

  CHAPTER 38

  AS SOON AS CHAEL IS OUT OF SIGHT, FLEEING BACK toward the hotel, I turn and trek farther back into the cave.

  “Okay, Frey,” I call out. “You can come out now.”

  At first there is no sound—just water dripping from somewhere out of sight. Then shuffling. Frey’s scent, soap and shampoo, tickles my nose before his form materializes from the gloom. He’s rigid with anger.

  “You let him go. You didn’t kill him.”

  We retrace our steps to the mouth of the cave.

  I hunker down, squatting on my heels. Frey joins me. I know he couldn’t pick up my thoughts, but he would have been able to pick up Chael’s. “You heard that Sarah didn’t address the council?”

  He nods stiffly. “That will be easy enough to check. What about the other things? Do you really believe he had nothing to do with the skinwalker attack on you?”

  “Yes. I think it’s time we looked at this from another angle. George lied to me. He lied to you, too. He made it clear he would like to see me dead. I think he knows more than he is letting on. You must, too, or panther would have made quick work of Chael.”