Nightwalker (23 page)

When we reached a point where Mick thought we’d be safe, he told me to stay with Ansel while he walked off from us into the darkness.

I heard a rush and a roar, then the downdraft of Mick’s wings engulfed Ansel and me like a hot summer wind. He skimmed by us, silent as darkness, then he soared straight upward, a giant dragon shape black against the stars. I craned my head to watch him as he wheeled back and forth for the pure joy of it.

Mick loved being a dragon. Having to hide his true nature most of the time must be hell on him.

Mick swooped by again. I was so engrossed in watching him that I didn’t notice until too late that Ansel had sidled away from me. By the time I spotted him, he was sprinting off into the darkness.

“Ansel!”

He didn’t respond. I guess he’d decided at the last minute not to participate in our little experiment.

No one could outrun a Nightwalker. I started after him, but I knew there’d be no way I could catch him.

Correction—no one could outrun a Nightwalker but a dragon. Mick swept downward, plucked the fleeing Ansel up out of the desert, and flew back to me.

By the time Mick deposited Ansel at my feet, Ansel’s Nightwalker had taken over.

“Delivering me straight to a snack?” Ansel said. “I take it back, Mick, old friend. I like this scheme.” His voice had become smooth, charming, entirely unlike the soft-spoken Ansel who’d introduced me to
Kind Hearts and Coronets.

Ansel took a step toward me, and Mick’s large front foot landed in front of him. Ansel laughed, but Mick remained crouching next to us, a giant mass of watchfulness.

“So,” I said to Ansel. “Tell us about the night you met Laura in Gallup.”

“That night. Ah, that night.” Ansel smiled at me, showing his elongated teeth. Nightwalkers didn’t have sexy little fangs like they did in fiction—Ansel had the mouth of a monster. “It was a special night. Mmm. Laura and I had sex for the first time.”

Wind blew across the desert, bringing some coolness but also dust. I coughed. “Are you sure? I didn’t know Nightwalkers could . . .”

“I assure you, love, we’re fully functional. If your pet dragon wasn’t here, I’d show you.”

“No, please don’t.” I waved my hand at his Nightwalker body. “Tell me you went to her as Ansel, not . . .”

“Ah yes, Ansel. Poor, timid chap, finally got his leg over. He’s in love. Can’t imagine what got into the fellow. Oh, yes, I do. That bloody pot.”

“With its magical properties.”

“Roused old Ansel out of his antiquities and stamp-collecting mania. I never thought anything could do that. But Laura smiled that cute little smile at him, and he was gone.”

“Then what happened?”

“What happened was, I thrust my little man into her sweet, tight—”

“I meant
after
that. Shit, Ansel.”

“
After
being at it like rabbits for two hours and more, we went out to dinner, and discussed what we should do with the pot. The whole time the magic of it was hammering at me, waking up my blood need. I wanted to eat everyone in the restaurant. The wimpy me told Laura we’d better get out of there, so we went out to Chaco Canyon so Laura could hide the pot. Somewhere between here and there, I managed to bury the part of me that’s Ansel and become what I truly am. Then the dragon came.”

“Colby.” I fit the pieces together. “Drake sent Colby out to snatch the pot from Laura, and she ran off while you fought him.” Something still wasn’t right. “But when I saw the auras, I saw Laura struggling with a Nightwalker, sensed that she’d been abducted. I now know that Colby didn’t snatch her. So it must have been you.”

“No, I was fighting that fucking dragon. I knew I wasn’t going to win that fight, but I slowed him down enough to give her time to get away. The Nightwalker you sensed trying to grab her must have been the other Nightwalker.”

Mick came alert, shoving his face closer to us. I saw in his eyes the same amazement and rage I felt.

“
What
other Nightwalker?” I shouted.

Ansel looked annoyed. “The one chasing Laura. I got him away from her before the dragon swooped in, and he ran off. He must have been the one who killed the slayer on the freeway, because I certainly didn’t. I wouldn’t be so hungry now if I had. I’d have drained him.”

Perfect. This was just effing perfect.

“Do you know the Nightwalker? Who is he?”

“I don’t know every Nightwalker in the universe. But I think this one is working for Laura’s sister.”

“Laura’s sister? The one sending slayers after you, because she says you killed Laura?”

Ansel’s grin widened. “Ironic, isn’t it? How do you think Paige knows about Nightwalkers? I got Laura’s blood on my clothes, because he’d cut her a bit when she tried to get away from him. When I fought him off, and Laura disappeared, the Nightwalker probably told Paige about me and assumed I’d killed or taken Laura. She sent the slayers after me, but to slayers, one dead Nightwalker is as good as any other. The slayer must have gone after that Nightwalker and got ripped open for his pains.”

Mick raised his dragon head and scanned the open desert. I was suddenly aware of all the empty space around us, and the shadows. “All this time I thought the only Nightwalker I had to worry about was you.”

Ansel spread his hands. “Sorry, sweetheart. I never remember what I do or who I meet in my blood frenzy. I wonder why Nightwalkers who can control the frenzy don’t remember? Maybe we think that if we remember the horrors, we’ll be so remorseful we’ll kill ourselves. Must be survival instinct.”

At the moment I didn’t care. “All right, so you fought off the Nightwalker, Colby let you go when Laura ran away, and you lost Laura. What did you do then?”

“Went after her. Poor little thing wasn’t going to last long on her own with dragons and Nightwalkers searching for her. Didn’t find her though. Sun was coming, and I went to ground. Literally. Had to hide out in a cave. The sleep finished the blood frenzy, and I woke up Ansel, baffled and bewildered as usual. He’s always been a twat.”

I didn’t know what a
twat
was, but I could guess. “I like Ansel,” I said.

“Of course you do. He’s weak, and you can control him. You’re fond of people you can control. Like him.” He jerked a thumb at Mick, whose neck cranked around as he scanned and sniffed the desert around us.

“I’m fond of people who aren’t trying to kill me every second.”

“Exactly.” Ansel’s eyes were red as he looked at me around Mick’s talon. “Speaking of that, I’m hungry. Give us a taste, sweetheart. I’ve told you this delicious information, so how about I have a little snack on you? From your groin, maybe? There’s a nice thick artery there.”

Ansel was fast. The words were barely out of his mouth before he was up and over Mick’s claw, mouth open to that terrifying animal maw, bone thin hands outstretched for my throat.

In the next second, Mick grabbed him, tore him off me, and slammed him on his back to the ground. Ansel’s head thumped against a small boulder protruding from the dirt, and he went limp.

“Thanks, Mick.” My words came out on my next exhale.

Mick backed away into the darkness, and with a crackle of bones and flesh became human. He walked to Ansel, crouched down, and flicked back one of Ansel’s eyelids. “He’ll be out for a while.”

I was still shaking, the fight-or-flight reaction of Ansel’s attack whirling inside me. My logical brain said that everything was okay; my primitive brain told me to run and keep going.

“We need to get him home. Blood . . .” I put my hands on my knees.

Mick touched me, and a tingle of healing magic trickled beneath my skin. “Thank you,” I said again.

I liked his fingers caressing my neck, but I straightened up and wiped the sweat from my face. “By the way, how did you get Ansel to go frenzied? He was fine when he ran off. You flew him back, and he was blood crazed.”

Mick chuckled. “Ansel’s afraid of heights. When we were a couple hundred feet up, I started to open my claw and scared the shit out of him.”

*** *** ***

We made it back to the hotel just as dawn began spreading its fingers to the east. Summer clouds streaked the sky, the sunrise staining the undersides a brilliant fuchsia.

Ansel had been out for the entire flight, and now Mick dressed again in the clothes I’d carried for him, took Ansel downstairs, and put him to bed. Ansel sank into his day sleep without regaining consciousness, which for now, was fine with me.

I had a million things to do and think about, but exhaustion from the long day and night caught up with me. I said good morning to Cassandra—or thought I did—then stumbled to my bedroom, spread my arms, and fell facedown across my bed. A pit of darkness opened up under me, and I didn’t fight sliding into it.

When I woke, I was alone—no Mick—disappointing. The best way to wake up was to find myself snuggled back into him. I always felt safe, warm, like nothing could ever harm me.

A side effect of the mate thing, maybe? I didn’t know. I enjoyed the illusion of safety whenever I lay with him, because it was the only feeling of safety I ever got. I’d take it, because I knew that as soon as we got out of bed every morning the danger would come. It always did.

My clock told me it was a little after eleven. If I were a normal person, I’d spend the day going over details of the hotel with Cassandra and Elena, talking to my dad and Gina about their wedding, and conferring with the contractors, and Fremont and Maya about how the saloon rebuilding was going.

Instead I grabbed a giant muffin from the breakfast buffet in the lobby, climbed onto my bike, and rode into Magellan to Heather Hansen’s woo-woo store to ask her more about Paige. Heather looked up from helping tourists purchasing a map to the vortexes and waved to me.

“Hey, Janet.
Ya-at-eeh.
Janet is Navajo,” she explained to the interested ladies in hiking clothes. “She was here for our very successful séance the other night. We contacted the spirit of a woman’s sister. It was amazing. Wasn’t it, Janet?”

“Yes,” I said carefully. “It was pretty amazing.”

The women looked at me as though surprised I could speak English, but Heather’s enthusiasm impressed them.

While I waited for Heather to finish at the register, I became aware of another presence in the store. I walked quietly across the creaking floor to the book section, where I found Bear perusing a book on Hopi pottery.

“It is a ritual we have been performing for centuries,” Bear said without looking up from the book. “When we first met, I would not let him into my hogan until he proved his worth to me.”

I leaned my arm on the shelf next to a book called
Tantric Rituals Throughout the Year.
“A tough way to prove himself.”

“We are gods. It is not the same.” She closed the book, her bracelets clinking as she placed it back on the shelf. “Humans give each other gifts or exchange tokens. Gods show they are willing to sacrifice themselves, or what they love, for the other. When Coyote first tried to force his way into my life, he loved nothing better than himself.”

“And now?” I asked. The Coyote I knew cared for people—Julie, Mick, the residents of Magellan, and even me.

Bear smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Now we enjoy the game.”

“Rough game.”

“Coyote is so difficult to hurt that he gets cocky. Our game reminds him how to be humble.”

“Humble? Coyote?”

Bear’s smile grew. “As I have heard young humans say, humble-
ish
.”

I shrugged. “You two do what you want. I’ll stay out of it.”

Her wise eyes told me she didn’t believe my indifference. “I know it was very hard for you to see. I am sorry about that. But Coyote and I will have our little courtship, and then I will leave again.”

“Oh,” I said, suddenly unhappy. “No, don’t. Stay a while.”

Bear watched me a moment, then she gave me a grave nod. “I will think on it. Did you come here today, like me, to puzzle out what happened at the séance?”

“I’m trying to find out where Paige is living, but sure, I’m interested in that séance. What have you found out?”

Bear glanced to the front of the store, but Heather was still talking with her customers. Bear led me down the short hall in the back, opened the door of the séance room, and led me around the table to where Laura had been sitting. She lowered her large body to a crouch, her skirts spreading, and she pointed under the table.

I got down on my hands and knees beside her. The wood on one of the struts of the table had been slightly gouged and splintered, and a sticky piece of duct tape clung to it.

“A small device was taped there,” Bear said. “Something that could make us hear Laura’s voice?”

“A digital recorder, sure.” They could be tiny but loud, with good-quality sound. “All you need is a recording of her voice and voice software—you cut out the sound waves of each word and paste them back in a line to make a sentence. Play the file back on a digital player, having it say whatever you want it to say.” One of my nieces had showed me that. “Add a little muffling effect so it sounds like she’s whispering from the spirit world, which might also cover up any inconsistencies in her speech pattern. And as I remember, Paige asked Laura all the questions, and her voice faded before Heather could say anything.”

Bear leveraged herself up from the floor and went to the window that had blown open. “I think Paige has not had the time to come and retrieve her props. She was able to tear away the recorder before she left, but she did not have a chance to get this.”

Bear pointed out the window. I saw a heavy spring and what looked like a small gearbox, plugged into an outside outlet. “What is that?”

“I believe it is used to open garage doors. She had a remote control in her pocket or perhaps also taped under the table, and pushed it to make the window open. There was wind last night, so she only needed to open it a little before the wind took over.”

“What about the cold breeze? It’s pretty easy to open a window, but make the summer wind feel like winter?”