Pure Magic (Black Dog Book 3) (16 page)

And she’d thought she could teach Justin magic. She was not at all sure she would dare teach him anything. What if she taught him all wrong and messed him up somehow? DeAnn was older anyway. Justin might like an older woman better as a teacher. Natividad tried not to think,
But I know more than DeAnn
, though she knew this was true. Mamá had known so much about magic, about how it worked, and why . . . and then Malvern Vonhausel had tracked her down because of that, and killed her and Papá, and if Natividad thought too much about that, she would only get upset, and that was no use to anybody.

And the water was starting to get cooler, anyway.

But she did feel better. More grounded. More like she was solidly in her body.

Still starving, though.

“I checked with Grayson, and he says, if you really feel up to it, you can have your second supper in the kitchen,” Miguel told her, once she was dressed and ready and back out in her bedroom. “
If
you let me help you on the stairs, and
if
you promise to tell me immediately if you feel, you know, weird.”

Like you’re going to faint
, Natividad interpreted this. She had to admit this seemed fair enough.

“But you’re to be in bed at nine, no later, he says. Don’t look at
me
. He’s the one who said it; I’m just telling you. Nine sharp and you better believe it. I bet he comes to tuck you in
personally
.”

That made Natividad laugh, which was probably the point.

“Great, then. Forward!” said Miguel, and opened the door with a flourish.

Miguel had developed a taste for American biscuits. He had learned to cut in the butter just right so they were very rich and flaky. He made pizza, too, and was trying to learn to hand-throw the dough, though then he turned right around and claimed tortillas were too much trouble, which was ridiculous, at least if you had a proper tortilla press. They alternated in the kitchen, Miguel making mostly American food and Natividad mostly Mexican. So she knew he’d made the beans and rice especially for her, because he thought she needed the comfort of Mexican cooking. Sometimes her twin was pretty clever.

Miguel plainly wanted to do
something
, and didn’t want to look like he was hovering. So he made biscuits.

Justin was in the kitchen, too. His eyes no longer had that stunned, bruised look, Natividad was glad to see. He looked, if not at home, at least more comfortable than he had yesterday. No. Two days ago. That was so strange, having days just vanish like that.

But the kitchen was soothing. She felt better now that she was here, watching Miguel make biscuits.

Justin was perched on a high kitchen stool, one elbow propped on the granite counter, his feet hooked around the rungs of the stool. He swept unruly bangs out of his eyes and gave Natividad a shy look. He, too, had been worried about her, which was sweet of him, since after all he didn’t even know her yet. Really, he was very nice. She could surely do a lot worse than to forget about Ezekiel and see if she could catch Justin’s eye.
Justin
would never pretend to like her, really like her, when really he just wanted her for her magic. He wouldn’t try to take over her life, either.

Even so, Natividad was uneasily aware that she really didn’t want Justin to think about her like that.

“Biscuits will be up in ten minutes,” Miguel announced, sliding the tray into the hot oven. “Butter’s in the fridge. Honey’s over there.” He pointed with his elbow, since his hands were full, and Justin slid off his stool to get it, quickly, before Natividad could even think of moving.

“I could get used to this,” Natividad told him, shaking off her unease. “Minions to cook for me and fetch and carry . . .”

Justin smiled, but plainly wasn’t sure he knew her well enough to tease her back. But Miguel warned her, “You are
so
not going to get used to this,” even as he dished beans and rice onto a plate for her and put the plate in the microwave. American kitchens really were filled with handy devices, Natividad had to admit, even if they lacked character.

The beans were good. Natividad would have put in more cumin, but they were good. Justin seemed to think so, too. At least, he ate his share and didn’t complain or say he wanted a burger. Natividad ate three biscuits dripping with melted butter and warm honey, and worried about magic, and Grayson. And about Alejandro and Ezekiel and even Ethan, off in Boston, all of them depending on
aparatos
she’d made when she didn’t even know herself exactly how she’d made them or what they would do.

Grayson was going to want to know all about those
aparatos
. Natividad’s heart sank, contemplating the deeply caustic attitude he was likely to take, now that she was properly awake to be scolded. Grayson could take
caustic
to stratospheric heights. She was not supposed to work dangerous magic she didn’t fully understand. She was emphatically not supposed to do that without getting his approval first. She hoped Ezekiel hadn’t gotten in trouble over letting her do that. It had all seemed to make sense at the time, and things had been moving so fast, somehow. And she hadn’t exactly known what she was going to do until she did it . . .

Miguel was eyeing her thoughtfully, but he only said, “Thaddeus and DeAnn and that team ought to be back tonight or tomorrow, which will be a relief to us all, but mostly to me, since I doubt Amira’s going to keep herself on babysitter duty forever. And then you and DeAnn can teach Justin
all
about magic.”

Natividad slanted a questioning look toward Justin, who had twitched slightly at that last, and she didn’t blame him. “People don’t usually collapse for days after working magic, you know! We’ll teach you simple, easy things.”

“Miguel’s been explaining Pure magic to me,” Justin said quietly.

“He always paid attention to the theory,” Natividad agreed, just a little tartly because she still wasn’t sure her twin had told her about all the things Mamá had taught him and not her. She’d never known, when she was growing up, that Mamá was explaining the theory of magic to her human brother at the same time she was teaching Natividad the practical application. She knew it was childish to resent Miguel for that, she knew it didn’t mean Mamá had loved her any less or anything ridiculous like that, she knew Mamá had thought Natividad needed to
feel
the magic instead of think about it. But . . . sometimes she still didn’t like to think about Mamá talking to Miguel about the magic she’d believed only they shared.

She bit fiercely into a biscuit and thought about Justin instead, because that seemed safer and more comfortable than thinking about Ezekiel.

She liked his voice, she decided. It was a very human voice: sort of warm. A little husky, but in a good way. He looked warm, too: honey-warm skin toasted by the sun and hair the color of
dolce con leche
and those beautiful eyes, brown with a little gold. He looked very human and very American.
And
he had that weird math thing, so he could make instant mandalas. That was really cool.

“Not just magic,” said Miguel, taking a stool on the other side of Natividad and filching a biscuit off the platter. “I’ve been explaining manners, because, you know, black dogs.” He rolled his eyes. “And about black dogs and moon-bound
cambiadors
and why they’re completely different, you know. History. The hidden kind of history, right?”

Natividad made a face, adding a squeeze of lime to her beans and rice. “Poor Justin. Like being in school.”

Justin shrugged. “It’s interesting, actually. All this stuff no one ever knew about, vampires clouding men’s minds like The Shadow, black dogs taking over towns or even whole countries in secret.” He made a face. “I guess it explains a lot, half the Middle East being ruled by families of sociopathic demon werewolves. And it explains why Lebanon and Tunisia and some of those other countries weren’t like that, since Miguel says the black dogs there were more like Dimilioc. I mean, protecting the Pure and like that. But Keziah’s from Saudi Arabia?”

“Yeah, not a nice place,” Miguel said in a judicious tone. “The Saudis were pretty upset when the miasma faded and they found out all their princes were black dogs. I’m sure Keziah’s from the royal bloodline. She doesn’t talk about it, but she’s sure not any untrained stray.”

“So she’s, like, a princess or something.”

Justin seemed taken with that idea. Natividad could see why. It was all very romantic. Or it seemed that way, if you didn’t know much about how women were treated in uncivilized black dog houses. She said warningly, “I wouldn’t say anything like that to
her
. A
girl
black dog didn’t used to be a good thing to be, in Saudi Arabia.”

“I expect she took advantage of the war to get herself and Amira out,” agreed Miguel. “Probably the very first chance they had. Through Lebanon, probably, since Keziah had to find one of the Pure to work the
Aplacando
for them, and I expect Israel’s too hard for a stray black dog to get in and out of. Nurullah in Lebanon used to be a powerful, civilized house. She probably found one of their Pure women.”

“But she didn’t stay there. She brought her sister here.”

“Well, black dogs are pretty territorial, usually. Grayson’s unusual, bringing in new blood. Besides, you know, we’re about as far away from Saudi Arabia as you can get, here. I doubt Keziah wants to bump into anybody from home. Or at least,” Miguel added drily, “She might really
enjoy
running into someone from home, if she had them outnumbered.”

Justin shrugged, a little uneasily. “I have to admit, it sounds to me like China and India got lucky in the magic-entity lottery.”

“Yeah, dragons and
qirin
to keep away vampires and black dogs.” Miguel sounded a little wistful. “Though I’m not a hundred percent sure I’d want to have dragons in the Río Bravo or Chapala Lake, or up at the tops of God knows how many mountains. That might cause almost as much trouble as vampires, I guess. Or
more
trouble, even, maybe.”

“Not the same kind of trouble,” Natividad commented.

“Storms, rain, droughts, floods. No dams. A lot fewer bridges. No roads across the Rockies? Or else I guess everyone would have to learn to be very polite when they wanted to build anything like that.” Miguel sounded like he might find a country with more dragons interesting after all. He took a biscuit off the platter and juggled it gently in from hand to hand until it was cool enough to break open and drizzle with honey.

“Dragons really do all that?” asked Justin.

“Yes, but they’re a lot less scary than vampires,” Natividad pointed out. “A dragon might cause a flood or storm or something, but it wouldn’t do things with so much, I don’t know.
Malicia
. Malice. I mean, at least dragons aren’t demonic.”

Miguel shrugged agreement. “The Chinese don’t really talk about it, but if you look at their history and what they do and don’t do with tech today, you get—” he sketched a vague shape in the air with his biscuit. “Kind of the shape of dragon influence. Qirin influence is harder to pin down. And don’t ask me what’s going on in Africa. Everything south of the Sahara is just spooky, different kinds of spooky depending on where you are. Dimilioc’s got these notes about witches with demonic shadows. Not black dogs, but not vampires, either. Those witches got their claws into west Africa way back, that’s what we think. They were right there when the Ashanti Empire was conquering all their neighbors. Seriously not nice. Not just the thing with turning slavery into an institution, they were into human sacrifice, you ever hear about that in school?” He bit into his biscuit at last, dripping honey on the counter.

Justin was eyeing Miguel. “Yeah, no, not that I remember. You read this stuff in your free time, do you?”

“It’s interesting,” Miguel said easily. “East Africa’s got something else, not even Dimilioc’s got a clue what, something that kept the witches out, lucky for them.”

“Huh. But mostly everybody got demons except the Far East,” said Justin. “How nice for us, getting such nice, friendly black dogs.”

He said this last in a dry tone that made Natividad look at him sharply. She asked, “So, you’ve met Keziah?”

“Not today,” Miguel said smoothly, by which Natividad gathered that Justin had indeed met Keziah and wasn’t supposed to meet her again.

“Miguel’s done a great job protecting me from all the beautiful demonic girl werewolves,” Justin agreed, his tone very dry. He slid off his stool. “Don’t bother,” he said to Miguel, when Natividad’s twin jumped to his feet. “I can find my way just fine.”

“Right,” said Miguel, a beat too slowly.

“Seriously,
don’t
trouble yourself,” Justin snapped, and walked out.

“
Es un poco se disgustado
,” Miguel said to Natividad apologetically. “I don’t think—that is, I guess he won’t actually do anything stupid . . .”

“All the car keys are in Grayson’s office, right?”

“Yeah . . .”