Black Dog (35 page)

Natividad stared urgently at his face, trying to be sure he meant this. “You're sure? The mandala
did
help you, didn't it? I didn't make it… wrong?”

“Oh, yes,” Pearson assured her wearily. “It held. Without it, we'd never have lasted long enough for Dimilioc to come.”

Natividad nodded. It did help, a little, despite knowing a Pure woman had probably died, to know that at least the darkness she'd let tangle into her mandala hadn't hurt the town. That the mandala had held as long as any protective circle could. She asked, “The church?”

“Burned.”

Natividad closed her eyes. “I'm sorry.”

“Most everybody got out.” The sheriff hesitated, then added, “Grayson didn't abandon us. I thought he would. That your doing?”

“No. I don't think so. A little, maybe.”

“Ah.” Sheriff Pearson glanced over his shoulder at the Dimilioc wolves. He was afraid of them, Natividad saw, but not nearly afraid enough. The shadows around the wolves were not merely dense but darker than they should have been. Deeper, like each shadow was really a crack in the world that led straight down to Hell. Natividad thought the sheriff did not see this. He said wearily, “Grayson's here, I know. I can't tell the rest of them…”

Natividad looked at the Dimilioc wolves, wincing from the absence of those she could not find. “Alejandro,” she said, nodding toward her brother, who was straightening slowly back into his human shape. “
Gracias a Jesús, Maria y José
,” she muttered, not really meaning for Sheriff Pearson to hear her, though she could see he did. She didn't explain that she was not only glad to see her brother alive, but also to see him reach for his human form. The darkness of his shadow was really scary.

“Your brother, of course,” said the sheriff.

“
Sí
. And there's Ethan, and that's Ezekiel, of course… That's Thaddeus Williams over there, and Amira and Keziah over on the other side of that bus. They're new wolves–”

“
New
wolves? New to Dimilioc?”

It was too complicated to explain. Natividad shrugged. Other townspeople were coming down from the bus, hesitating uncertainly in the snow. Lots of old people and women and kids. They hugged themselves against the cold, cast indecisive looks toward the house and frightened glances toward the Dimilioc wolves. Alejandro was all the way back to his human shape. His shadow must have carried away any injuries he'd taken: he stood with his shoulders slumped and moved with a dragging step when he walked to meet her, but there was no sign he'd been hurt. Only he looked really tired and angry and, she thought, maybe… maybe kind of heartsick.

The sheriff reached to touch her shoulder, then stopped, wary of the quick lift of Alejandro's head. But he asked, “Do you know what we should do, where we should go?” He hesitated. “My daughter?” But then he glanced over at Grayson, who was sitting on the high porch, staring out at the forest. The Master showed no signs of taking on human form. Pearson added reluctantly, “I should get these people inside, someplace… that is, maybe someplace…”

“Out of sight,” said Natividad. “Yes.”

Ezekiel, also still in black dog form, had disappeared into the house, trailed at a respectful distance by Ethan. Amira and Keziah had taken back their human shapes, but ignored the buses and the gathered townspeople as though they were all invisible. They walked slowly around the house, side by side but not touching one another, heading for a side door that would not risk any encounter with Ezekiel. Amira limped, but Keziah seemed almost untouched by the injuries or exhaustion of hard fighting – of course, no one important to her had died.

DeAnn had tucked herself against Thaddeus's left side, managing to look almost petite against her husband's bulk, not easy for a woman her size. Thaddeus had reclaimed his wholly human form. He'd swung his son up to perch on his shoulder, but he still held his silver blade. He held it casually, though, not as though he expected to use it again right away. His left arm was tight around his wife's waist, his head tilted down against hers as they, too, walked slowly back toward the house. Neither of them seemed at all concerned with the human townspeople or the Dimilioc wolves or anything.

Sheriff Pearson stared at this domestic little scene, distracted, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “
They're
Dimilioc?”

“Just very recently,” explained Natividad, distracted. She reached out to take her brother's hands, and Alejandro took hers in a hard grip and sighed, like he might stand there just like that for a few hours before he found the energy to move.

The sheriff hesitated, looking at Alejandro, who ignored him. At last he asked, putting off any questions he might have had, “My people… It's cold… and all the babies… We should go in. But…”

“What, you want to know about rooms and baths and supper and how to keep anybody from eating the children?” Natividad asked. She'd thought she was joking, but then realized, almost before she got to the facetious comment about children, that she wasn't exactly sure. She glanced quickly at Alejandro, but he didn't seem to be listening. Whatever he was thinking about, she doubted it had anything to do with ordinary human concerns. She touched her brother's arm and he jerked back, then steadied and drew a breath. Some of the tight-wound tension slowly relaxed out of his muscles.

“Zachariah?” she asked reluctantly. She was afraid she had already guessed the answer. “Harrison? Benedict?”

“Lost,” Alejandro told her wearily. “Gone into the fell dark.”

He wasn't looking at her. He wasn't looking at Grayson, either, but Natividad knew his attention was tightly focused on the Dimilioc Master. She tried not to look at the Master, either, but her heart turned over in sharp sympathy for him. And, a little bit, in fear.

Both Zachariah and Harrison. And Benedict, too, which was bad, but
both
Zachariah and Harrison! And after losing his black dog wife last year! Natividad swallowed against a suddenly tight throat. She had to swallow again before she could tell Sheriff Pearson, “There's room, I guess, if you don't mind sharing. And there's lots and lots of food – not much fresh, we're out of eggs and stuff, but there's a huge pantry and a whole row of big chest freezers, I'll show you.”

“Water?” asked the sheriff.

“There's plenty, I guess… “

“You're worried about a siege, of course,” Miguel said to the sheriff, coming to join them. He had slung his rifle over his shoulder and nodded casually to the sheriff as though he'd expected all the time that the man might show up with a hundred townspeople in desperate need of shelter.

Natividad hadn't even known her twin had left the balcony, but he must have decided there was no need to stay on guard at the moment. “This is my other brother, Miguel,” she explained, and wondered whether she should add, “
He always knows everything
.” She didn't know how it would sound. Lots of grown men resented a kid Miguel's age who knew anything, much less everything.

Miguel didn't seem worried about it, though. He said to Sheriff Pearson, “The house sits right on top of its own well, so that's fine, and there are three separate generators, so that's OK, and you should
see
the storage cellars. Well, you really should, I guess: I'll show you. This place is great for a siege, but I expect there won't be one. At least, not one that goes on and on until you start wondering when somebody really will start eating people.”

Pearson tilted his head. “You think not?”

“Well, if we don't win soon, we'll lose soon,” Miguel said matter-of-factly. “That's obvious.” To Natividad he added, “The east wing is sort of separate from the rest of the house. I think that's where as many as possible of the human people should go. Maybe some of the older people can take rooms in the main wing with us, but not the kids – at least, not the little bratty kids who'll get on anybody's nerves.” He didn't have to say, “
Dimilioc wolf nerves
.” He told the sheriff instead, “It's important for all your people to avoid the wolves, especially Ezekiel. Well, especially all of them. Actually, Thaddeus – the big black guy? He doesn't look it, but he's probably the safest, because he has a Pure wife. But even so – do all your people know how to behave around Dimilioc wolves?”

Alejandro made a soft, wordless
hsst!
of warning before Sheriff Pearson could answer, and everyone stopped.

Grayson had gotten to his feet. He was still in black dog form. His thick black pelt seemed to drift off into smoke around the edges, and blue-edged flames flickered here and there along his body as he shifted position. When he turned his head toward them, Natividad could have sworn that his crimson eyes contained the reflection of violent flames.

Everyone looked down – Alejandro first, then Miguel. Natividad had to kick Sheriff Pearson to get him to drop his gaze and for an instant was sure she'd been too slow.

But then the Dimilioc Master rose up, his body dwindling and straightening as he folded himself deliberately back into his human form. He must have let his shadow carry away his injuries earlier, but now he also dismissed the smoke and smoldering ichor and violent aura of battle that had clung to his black dog shape, emerging from the change as a civilized, self-possessed man. Even his clothing was ordinary: black slacks and a crisp white shirt that had never been stained by ash or blood or ichor.

But anger still clung to him like smoke, and informed his gaze when he raked a stare across them, across the empty buses and the confused crowd. Everyone felt it – the ordinary people fell back and looked away, and a couple of them made little frightened noises, which was not helpful. Grayson did not appear to hear them, though. He turned and stalked into the house, leaving behind charred spots on the wood of the porch and an echo of poised disaster that had not quite happened.

“You'll need to go after him,” Miguel said to Natividad.

Natividad wasn't at all sure she wanted to do anything of the kind. “Um…”

“Not
now
,” Alejandro said, shouldering forward with that aggression that infused every black dog's attitude and was especially strong right now. “Do you want to get her killed? Let him settle – let the anger fade a little…”

Miguel raised his eyebrows. “How long do you want to wait? He's lost Zachariah and Harrison. His anger's not going to fade. How can it? There's no time for him to deal with this by himself, isn't that obvious?”

Alejandro didn't move, but the look he gave Miguel was like a blow. He did not have Grayson's control:
he
still showed the rage and bloodlust of the recent battle in his face, and in the tension in his shoulders, and in the ash that streaked his hands and arms. The daylight that lay across his face was dimmed by his clinging shadow; the scent of burning followed him. He said, “
Deal
with this? With enemies that outnumber us by far more than they should, and with half the Dimilioc black wolves a step away from
callejeros
, and with a hundred human townspeople he never wanted to bring here,
and
with a wounded
verdugo
, and now with the loss of his closest allies? How is he supposed to
deal
with that?”

Miguel had looked aside, but this didn't mean he was conceding anything. He answered Alejandro's anger with his mildest, most stubborn tone. “I don't know. That's why Natividad needs to go to him.
You
shouldn't, I get that. You could tell me about the battle – about the enemies that outnumbered you more than they should, and about Thaddeus and Amira and Keziah, and just everything.”

Alejandro glared at him.

“I need to know,” Miguel said, even more softly. He added to the sheriff, still not looking directly at Alejandro, “You can tell us what you saw, too, while we get things organized for your people. Do you mind?”

“I need to see Cassie,” said the sheriff. “My daughter. But after that… if you wish…”

“Better you wait for that,” Miguel told him. “She's fine; I checked on her myself just a little while ago.” He didn't say that no one who loved her should see her as she was now, but Natividad guessed this from his slightly too-brisk tone.

The sheriff didn't look convinced, but Natividad knew that her twin would get everybody to do things his way in the end. She thought Miguel was probably right about Sheriff Pearson staying away from his daughter and also about Grayson – about the problems he now faced as Master of Dimilioc, and about his need for her. And if there was anything at all she wanted less than to go find the Dimilioc Master right at this moment… well, maybe she could imagine a
few
things she wanted less, but only because she had a good imagination. She sighed.

 

Grayson had gone to the room with the fireplace and the view, the room where Natividad had drawn her pentagrams on the windows and called for peace. That might be kind of a compliment, because out of all the places in the house he could have gone for refuge, he had come to this room where she had drawn her pentagrams.
Por otra parte
, maybe he just didn't want to go back to the suite he had once shared with his wife… Natividad stood in the hall, studying the fine grain that ran through the wood of the closed door and trying to believe she really could draw confidence from Grayson's choice of retreats.

There was not so much comfort to be found in anything, right now. What Natividad
wanted
to do was turn around and walk away, go up the stairs to her own room, lock herself in and pretend she was still grounded. She really wanted to do that.