Firewalker (12 page)

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Authors: Allyson James

Tags: #Paranormal, #General, #Romance, #Paranormal Romance Stories, #Shapeshifting, #Fiction

BOOK: Firewalker
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“
I
couldn’t,” I said. “Not without a storm.”
Mick and Nash looked at me at the same time, and I knew they were recalling what I’d done to the demons in Death Valley. Both gave me hard stares, and I didn’t have to be psychic to know they thought me perfectly capable of this horrific deed.
“I don’t know how I called that magic,” I said irritably. “It just happened, probably because we were going to die. I can’t conjure it at will.”
Nash didn’t believe me, but then, Nash never believed me.
He directed us to give statements to Lopez, and then he turned away to take Salas and his deputies over the scene. Lopez’s lips quirked as I had to tell him exactly what time I left the diner, who I’d seen there, and why I’d decided to ride with Mick into the middle of the desert. Everyone in town would know by tomorrow that Mick and I had been engaged in sexual activity out there in the dark, because Lopez was almost as good a gossiper as Fremont Hansen. Finally, Lopez finished with us and told me and Mick to go.
Mick stopped by the diner on the way to the hotel, where I picked up my bike. Everyone had already heard about the corpse, of course, and townspeople in the parking lot tried to get out of us what we knew. Mick and I managed to evade questions and head home.
Mick had known me long enough to understand what I needed. He pulled down the blinds and undressed me himself, and then he carried me into the bathroom and set me under a warm shower. His clothes came off, and he stepped in with me, his large body enveloping mine.
We didn’t make love there as we sometimes did; we just soaked up the hot water. I closed my eyes to the feel of Mick’s big hands smoothing soap over my body, opening them when he rinsed me off and lifted me out. He wrapped me in a towel, carried me into the bedroom, and laid me on the bed.
Now he made love to me, slow and easy. By the time he was done, I was pleasantly drowsy, the horror of the crime scene fading a little. As had been Mick’s intention, I drifted off to sleep in his warm embrace.
Whenever I encountered Coyote in one of my dreams, I seemed to be naked. This time was no exception. We stood side by side, he in his animal form, looking down at the remains of the body, me human and naked. Turkey vultures moved in slow hops around the corpse, like hooded demons feasting on their victim. Coyotes, lured by the scent of blood, circled at a safe distance, their eyes shining in the darkness.
“Did you do this?” I asked Coyote. He sat on his haunches, a coyote as big as a wolf, except that he had the rail-thin legs and pointed nose of his species.
I am capable of such a thing.
“Don’t go all cryptic on me again,” I growled. “Were you really in the diner tonight?”
Were you?
“Of course I was. I was eating dinner.” I glanced at the corpse. “Kind of sorry I did, now.”
There is your answer.
“No one else could see you. Maya couldn’t. Did you pull a glam to get free food?”
His answering laugh was full of amusement.
I wanted to talk to you without anyone knowing about it.
“Why? You didn’t say much of anything.”
I didn’t have time. I knew Mick was coming for you. Be careful of Mick. He’s more dangerous than you know.
“You told me that before. I’ve seen how dangerous he is.”
You know only what you’ve witnessed. What goes on in his mind is unfathomable to you. If he makes the decision to kill you, he will without warning. He will be swift and merciless. You love him with your human emotions, but he is not human. He never has been. His emotions are . . . complicated.
“Like yours?”
No one is as complicated as me.
“No kidding.” I knew better than to ignore his warnings, but I had many immediate things to think about, like the dragons taking Mick to trial for
not
killing me and now a corpse at the edge of town. Worrying about what Mick might do in the future would have to wait.
You need to end your Beneath magic,
Coyote said.
Before it ends you.
“Easy for you to say.”
You were born with the magic, but it has been biding its time, unable to grow here in this world of earth magics. Now it has been triggered by your journey Beneath.
I felt cold, but I nodded. “I figured as much. I thought maybe you could help me get rid of it.”
No, Stormwalker. It is part of you. But you must control it, or it will consume you. And possibly everything else on earth.
“How could it do that? My mother is the monster, not me.”
Don’t worry. I’ll destroy you before you can do too much damage. I love you, Janet Begay, but that doesn’t mean I won’t put aside my feelings and kill you.
“It is always so comforting to talk to you.”
Coyote chuckled.
I could do more than comfort, if you’d let me. Sex with you would be wicked.
“Restrain yourself.” I glanced at the corpse. “Do you know who it is?”
I know. And yes, a god would make this kill if they thought it necessary.
“And you’d do that to me? If you thought it necessary?”
Yes.
I stared down at the pile of bones and gore in disquiet. The vultures moved about it unhurriedly, their wings spread for balance. The dream was mercifully free of smell, but I remembered the stench.
“Tell me one thing,” I said. “Those people who gave us a ride in Death Valley, the Shoshone. They weren’t what they seemed, were they? Did you send them to help us?”
Coyote’s tongue lolled from his mouth as he started to pant.
For that one, you’ll have to ask the lady Crow.
The crow. I hadn’t seen her in a while. “I’ll give her a call.”
She doesn’t like to talk on the phone.
“I know. I’ll ask her when I drive up again.”
Coyote winced.
She’s quite a woman, your grandmother. She doesn’t like coyotes, and she wields a mean broom.
I had the satisfaction of laughing. “If she went after you, I’m sure you deserved it.”
Coyote didn’t bother to answer that.
Time to wake up, Janet. But I have a little gift for you.
“Don’t give me anything. Really.” Gifts from gods, especially trickster gods, weren’t always what they seemed.
You’ll like it, Janet. Trust me.
Famous last words. I noticed as we talked that the corpse had disappeared, and so had the scavengers. Thunder rumbled in the distance, followed by a waft of rain-drenched air. I inhaled, my mind calming.
The dream dissolved, and I woke up in my bed. It was early morning, the sky gray, and rain poured down outside the window. Mick was gone, but he’d left me cocooned in a nice warm bed that smelled of him.
I lifted my hand as lightning struck a few miles away and let sparks dance between my fingers. A gift indeed.
I realized as I rolled out of bed and stepped out my back door to enjoy the storm that Coyote had never answered me directly about either the identity of the victim or whether he himself had done the murder.
Nine
The storm was an autumn storm, not as wild as the monsoons that swept through during spring and summer, but one that brought steady rain and languid rumbles of thunder. I threw back my head and inhaled the clean air.
Magellan sits on a plateau that slopes slowly from the Mogollon Rim and the ten-thousand-foot White Mountains to the vistas of the Painted Desert. Wide, deep washes and gorges like Chevelon Canyon crisscross the desert floor on the east side of the old railroad bed, fissures cut by eons of flowing water. Most of the time, these washes were dry, but they’d start filling if this kept up. A shallow one ran right through Magellan, the highway curving alongside it. A few of the side streets had bridges over Magellan Wash, but many were simply cut off when it flooded. Most towns in the desert have a wash or two or three to worry about, but bridges are expensive, and mostly we just put up with it.
The storm enhanced my healing spells, and I felt much better. My bathroom mirror showed me that the wound on my head had dwindled to a yellow green bruise, and the skin on my burned arm was healthy and brown again.
I wanted to go back to the scene of the crime now that the body would be gone, to see if I could read anything, especially with my storm powers to help me. The killing had been cruel and nasty, and I needed to know what kind of being had done this and where to hunt it down.
Cassandra volunteered the information that she’d seen Mick ride away north on his bike, so I’d have to go on my own. I passed through the saloon on the way out, where my guests were whispering about the death. I wanted to reassure them that if they stayed in my heavily warded hotel, they’d be fine, but not all of them were believers.
I passed the little breakfast bar Cassandra set up every morning with the fresh breads and muffins from Magellan’s bakery and took up one of the big sugar-crusted blueberry muffins. In my youth I’d listened to a university professor explain that indigenous peoples had difficulty eating simple carbohydrates, because until very recently our diet had consisted mostly of whole grains, beans, squash, nuts, and lean protein. There’d been no double cheeseburgers, milk shakes, or beer in the times of my Diné ancestors. Our metabolism hadn’t evolved to tolerate processed flour, sweets, and, even more problematic, alcohol, she’d explained, which was why Native Americans had a higher risk for diabetes. The more isolated the tribe, the higher the incidence.
Therefore, I knew I shouldn’t down the blueberry muffin slathered with butter and chase it with lemon poppy seed pound cake, but they were so damn good. Besides, a long road trip, nearly dying of a head wound and heatstroke, and viewing a nasty murder scene made me hungry.
Rain pelted me as I rode my motorcycle into town. The speed limit was thirty-five on the main highway through Magellan, and they weren’t kidding. Magellan always needed money, and speeding tickets were lucrative. I rode slowly and pulled in at the town’s one gas station.
My storm magic, too long silent, jumped along my nerves, making me wish I’d had the sense to fill up while the weather was still good. I didn’t need to be sparking lightning at the gas pump.
Naomi Kee was there in her big red pickup. Naomi owned the town’s plant nursery, Hansen’s Garden Center, so her truck was often loaded with bags of dirt, flats of bedding plants, or whole trees as she made deliveries, but today the truck bed was empty.
“You’re soaked, Janet,” she greeted me. “Can I drive you somewhere?”
“Thanks, but I don’t mind.” I slid my credit card into the gas pump slot and started filling my small tank.
“I mind. I’m shivering just looking at you.”
The rain was coming down harder. I made myself carefully finish gassing up and put the nozzle back. My powers wanted to grab the distant lightning and all this rain and play with it, but I restrained myself around the gas fumes. My Stormwalker ancestors never had to worry about gas pumps, I thought grumpily, just as they hadn’t had to worry about simple carbohydrates.
“I’m heading to look at the crime scene again,” I told Naomi.
“In the pouring rain?”
“Before everything gets completely washed away, yes. I didn’t have time to go over it last night.”
Naomi’s blue green eyes narrowed. “That’s it. I’m driving you. I don’t want you going out there alone.”
I started to argue, but lightning forked about a mile to the east, and I barely stopped myself from reaching for it. I needed to close my eyes and concentrate to keep myself under control. But I also wanted to get to the crime scene, so I took Naomi up on her offer.
Naomi used the hydraulic lift on the back of her truck to load my bike, and she covered the Sportster with a tarp. She pulled out onto the main road, also carefully driving the speed limit. Chief McGuire’s boys had us trained.
Naomi asked me whether the body had been identified, and I had to say I didn’t know. I doubted Nash would rush the information to me, but I suspected that he didn’t know either. In the gossip mill of Hopi County, someone would have leaked a name the minute the corpse was ID’d. I wondered if it was my missing guest, Jim Mohan, but until Nash got the dental records, I had no way of knowing. I also wondered whether Jim, who’d scared the mirror so much, had done the killing. And why.
“Have you seen Coyote lately?” I asked. Naomi and her daughter Julie were friends with Coyote, as much as he could be said to have friends. Coyote had a soft spot for Julie, who’d been born with total hearing loss.
Naomi threw me a startled look. “I gave him a ride to the south edge of town last night. Dropped him off at the end of that service road where body was found.”
“So
you
are Nash’s reliable witness?” Well, I couldn’t argue with Naomi’s reliability.

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