Black Dog (10 page)

“Something?” Miguel, curious about anything new, wanted details.

Natividad shrugged. “Something to stop it being blooded.” She looked at Alejandro, lifting her shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “I think Mamá said something about this, but I don't remember. I'll have to think about it, ‘Jandro.”

“Yes,” said Alejandro. “It's fine. It doesn't matter. I think Miguel was right – we wouldn't have wanted to mess with their silver anyway.” He waited for her to sink back down on the cot and then tucked her in, ending by draping his jacket over her feet again in case she was still cold.

“Well, what
I
say,” Natividad declared in a very different tone as she settled back again, “is tomorrow can take care of itself. I don't even
care
, as long as we don't have to hike miles and miles through the snow. It's just really
disappointing
to find out how hard it is to walk through. Why would anybody live here?” She waved a hand in theatrical disgust before either of her brothers could answer. “I know, I know, because Dimilioc's always been here and black dogs like space and territory. Even so. No wonder Papá came to Mexico. He ought to have been glad to come south.” She made a face and tucked one of the extra blankets around herself. “Cold, huh.
Who
thought coming here was a good idea?”

Alejandro grinned despite himself.

“I'm going to sleep,” Natividad announced. “You can talk if you want, you won't keep me awake. Wake me at…Wait! On second thought,
don't
wake me.” She stretched out ostentatiously and shut her eyes. She was showing off how calm she was, Alejandro knew that, but she was also still worn to the bone. Her breathing smoothed out again almost at once.

“And you – you're really alright?” Alejandro said to Miguel once he was certain their sister was truly asleep once more. “
De verdad
?”
He held out a hand, inviting his brother to sit next to him.

Miguel nodded. He came over and sat down on the floor beside Alejandro. After a moment, he said, “And you… the silver…”

“No importa
.”

“Right,” said Miguel. He added eventually, in a different tone, “It was not as bad as I feared – and also, in a different way, worse than I feared. You understand?”

“Oh, yes.” Alejandro touched his brother on the shoulder. It was hard for a black dog to touch anyone gently, but he made the effort, and Miguel leaned against him for a moment, a closeness they rarely shared. Then, aware that this kind of contact strained Alejandro's control, Miguel straightened and rested against the cot instead.

“
No está bien tartar así a la gente–
” Alejandro began.

“Of
course it's not right to treat people so roughly, but if you wanted to find out about someone, human or black dog or whatever, about his control and strength, how else would you do it? You're angry because your black dog is angry and also because you're…” Miguel hesitated, then shrugged. “Because you're embarrassed. So am I. It's harder because Ezekiel is our age, nearly, isn't it? But what else should they do but what they did? It was nothing personal, what Ezekiel did.”

“Hah,” said Alejandro, and grinned at last, leaning back against the edge of the cot in a deliberate echo of his brother. “I don't have to like it. You're far too sensible, Miguel.” Sometimes he wondered what that would be like, to be that way – to be calm and rational, the way an ordinary human could be. Not to be pulled always toward violence and anger by the black dog shadow. Miguel had so much more choice over what he did, or at least over what he felt; a kind of control a black dog achieved only through constant struggle.

Miguel's mouth crooked. “No such thing as
too
sensible. Which we can hope Grayson thinks as well.”

Alejandro nodded. “You understand people. What will they do? Miguel, you did not tell them
you
argued us into coming here?”

“
Estas bromeando
? You'd kill me yourself if I told them.”

“I might.” Alejandro gave his younger brother a long look, trying to decide whether he was lying. But Miguel met his hard stare with evident sincerity.

“So,” Alejandro said at last. “What I think is, maybe they will send me away and keep you. I don't think they will kill me. They want Natividad, and if they are wise they will want you. It must be useful for Dimilioc to have some ordinary humans and I don't think they do right now. I think they will say to one another, ‘That young one, he is only a boy, he shows promise and he can be brought up to be Dimilioc in his heart, and anyway he is not a black dog so he is no threat.' I think they will say, ‘That black pup, though, he does not have such good control of his shadow, and at his age he will challenge everyone and never rest from violence.' If they say things like that, Miguel, then it is important that you let them blame me for our trespass. It will not matter to me, and maybe it will help you.”

Miguel nodded, but this was not exactly agreement.

Alejandro said, a little more forcefully,
“Harás lo que yo te diga
. If they keep Natividad, and they will, it is important she have a brother near her. You understand?”

“Yes. Yes! I understand. You don't need to keep on about it!” Miguel got to his feet, taking an impatient step away.

“If you understand and agree, then I don't,” Alejandro said grimly. “If you tell them and then they don't kill us both, I really
will
kill you myself.”

“Papá suggested we come here,” Miguel said. “And you decided we would. Natividad and me, we never make decisions, we're just along for the ride.”

“Good.”

“But if they send you away, they're fools, and if they kill you, I won't forgive it.”

Alejandro nodded. “So, what will they do? Do
you
think I worry for nothing?”

Miguel shrugged, glancing up to meet his brother's eyes and then down again, uncomfortably. “Nothing about this is obvious. I don't know the Dimilioc wolves well enough to guess. I don't know.” He looked at Alejandro earnestly. “I
really
don't. But Grayson's smart and he doesn't care a lot about tradition. I mean, once so many vampires got killed that there weren't enough to keep their miasma going and people began to see vampires and blood kin and then black dogs? No one expected that, right? But Grayson figured out he could use that by just sending the right information to the right people so the humans themselves would attack the blood kin where Dimilioc couldn't reach them. That was really clever, and usually a black dog wouldn't think of things like that. So, I get that Dimilioc didn't used to let anybody just walk up and join, but Grayson's different – and Papá
was
a Toland.”

Alejandro thought that Miguel might be partly right, but that unpredictability was not the most reassuring quality the Dimilioc Master might possess. But he said only, “Maybe you are right. So. Rest, then. You rest, and I will also, and as Natividad said, we will let the morning take care of itself.”

 

But the morning came, and nothing happened.

The windowless basement room offered no sign of the brightening dawn and the soundproofing was too good to allow any sound from the house above to filter down to the cell, but Alejandro felt the sun anyway, a pressure against his shadow. No one brought more food. There was still some bread left, and some of the berry preserves. Alejandro left the food for the twins, who woke stiff and bleary. Miguel did not complain. Natividad complained about the lack of a toothbrush, and the lack of a hot shower, and the lack of clean clothing: their belongings,
escaso
– scant – as they were, had not come down to the cell with them. But she did not complain about the silence from the house above, or admit that she was afraid of what this silence might portend.

Alejandro could not touch the silver-wrapped bars of the cage, but Miguel stood on a chair to string cord across the width of the cell and then hung blankets across the cord. There were even clothespins to make the job easier – Alejandro would not have expected Ezekiel to think of such a detail, or to bother finding a handful of pins even if he did. He almost thought well of the
verdugo
for a moment, until he caught himself.

After the blankets were hung, Natividad managed something of a bath in the sink – “
Cold
water!” she declared, splashing. “I thought water this cold was ice!” But she looked refreshed and even cheerful when she pulled the blankets aside and rejoined them. “No television, no books, not even a deck of cards,” she said, looking around at the blank cell. “Not very good service! I don't know if this is a hotel I'd care to patronize next time we're wandering through the wilds of Northern Gringolandia.”

“Half-civilized barbarians,” Miguel said solemnly. “Be glad they have running water.” Natividad grinned. Papá had had a great deal to say about the lack of running water at home in Potosi, and, when the twins were six, had at last put in a pipe from the spring. “I think–” Miguel went on, but stopped as the door at the head of the stairs opened at last. For one moment, he looked as frightened as any ordinary fifteen year-old boy. Then he hid the fear behind the calm mask he had learned through living with a black dog father and brother.

Alejandro found his own anger and fear almost impossible to hide. If the Dimilioc
lobos
decided to kill him, kill Miguel, keep Natividad as their prisoner – if they decided to do that, he would not be able to stop them. The vivid awareness of his own helplessness was almost unendurable. How had
this
seemed the best among all possible risks?

It was Ezekiel who came down the stairs. Ezekiel alone. Should they find this reassuring? Or was the presence of the Dimilioc executioner alone a bad sign?

Ezekiel gave Alejandro a cool stare, forcing him to lower his eyes; he did not trouble to make any such show of authority with Miguel. Was that a good sign? He gave Natividad an unsmiling little nod as he unlocked the cell door – she met his gaze, and he didn't seem to mind. That was surely good? Then the
verdugo
gave them all an economical little jerk of his head:
Come on out
.

Alejandro kept himself between Ezekiel and his brother and sister as they went up the stairs. He knew this could not possibly make any difference; he even knew that he might better put Natividad nearest Ezekiel, forcing the
verdugo
to get around her before he could attack either Miguel or himself. The extra seconds this might buy them could be invaluable if Ezekiel
did
attack. But he could not help himself. He could not possibly put his sister so close to the Dimilioc
verdugo
. And Ezekiel knew it, and laughed. Not out loud. But Alejandro knew he was laughing inside.

He took them to the same big room Alejandro had seen the previous night. The view was even more spectacular in the clear morning light. The forest looked… wild. Dangerous. It might have stretched on forever. The naked trees ought to have looked dead, ugly. Instead, the black branches drew lines across the white snow and the brilliant sky in a stark, unexpected beauty. Alejandro longed, suddenly and fiercely, to be outside this house, free in that winter forest, far away from any other black dog who might threaten or challenge him. From Miguel's wistful glance at the window, he likely felt some human version of the same longing. But Natividad's attention, hopeful and hesitant, was all for Grayson Lanning.

The Dimilioc Master occupied his customary chair. This time all the other black wolves were seated, their chairs drawn into a semicircle. Only Ezekiel stayed on his feet, leaning his hip on the arm of a chair as he had done the previous evening. Alejandro and his brother and sister stood before the Dimilioc wolves like prisoners brought into a court, only a court where everyone besides themselves was a judge.

Grayson Lanning let his glance pass over Miguel and Natividad, but met Alejandro's eyes. Alejandro immediately dropped his gaze to the floor. He could still make out the marks of his claws in the wool of the rug. He did not know what to say, and so said nothing. Even Natividad was silent, amazingly enough.

Grayson said without preliminary, “Dimilioc has seven wolves, not five. Two are away just now on an errand for me.”

Alejandro understood what Grayson was saying:
we are not as weak as you supposed
. He said nothing.

“I will tell you,” Grayson continued after a moment, “I am astonished at what Edward Toland accomplished. I am astonished that Edward found a Pure woman, that he lived with her for something like two decades, that he raised a human son without killing him and a black dog son without losing him to bloodlust. I do not expect black dogs outside one of the civilized Houses to do such things – or to wish to do them. Even a Toland raised in Dimilioc. Those who are cast out do not find it an easy matter to retain such civilized behavior. Even with the
Beschwichtigend
to help them.” He paused.

Alejandro thought the Dimilioc Master was going to say,
But
…
– and then go on to order his death, and maybe Miguel's. He tried to steady himself against fear and anger, tried to think what he might do or say to persuade Grayson to spare at least Miguel.

Then the Master went on, instead, “You might say, seven wolves is still weak. This is true. You assure me that you and your human brother and Pure sister are capable of loyalty, that you are worthy of some degree of trust, that you will all, in the long term, be an asset. I am inclined to take you at your word – at least so far as to try you.”