“Did he call me that?” She looked amused. “I picked up Coyote outside the Crossroads Bar. I was driving back with a load of flats from Winslow, and I saw him hitchhiking. Julie was with me. He hopped in and asked me to drive him down here.”
Naomi slowed the truck at the narrow dirt turnoff. Gravel shored up the entrance to the road to keep it from being washed out, but beyond that, the ruts and holes in the hard earth were already full of water.
“Don’t drive down there,” I advised. “You’ll get stuck.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Walk.”
Naomi pulled the truck off the highway and set the brake. “I’m coming with you.”
“No need.”
She gave me a stubborn look. “Janet, I know I don’t have any magic, but I might be able to spot something with my regular human eyes. Besides, there’s been one murder out here, and damned if I’ll let you be a second victim.”
That settled it. Naomi was nice, but not a pushover. She was coming with me.
The scene of the murder was less gruesome now that the coroner had removed the corpse and rain was washing away the blood. A lone turkey buzzard wandered around the scene checking in case the ME’s team had left something behind.
The body might be gone, but the miasma of death lingered. I’d grown up in a household that held to traditional ways—when someone died in a hogan, the body was pushed out through the north wall, the way to the ancestors, and often the hogan was abandoned. Non-Diné didn’t always understand why, but I’d seen firsthand how much damage a spirit in unrest could do to the living.
I smelled the stench of power that hovered over the spot and, again, sensed the victim’s surprise. Whoever the person had been hadn’t realized how close to death he or she was. That was comforting—he or she had died too quickly to be afraid—but then again, it meant that I was dealing with something that could strike swiftly, mercilessly, and efficiently. I gazed at the empty land around me, feeling an itch between my shoulder blades.
“This is horrible,” Naomi said.
Naomi had no magic, so she saw only the rain-drenched grasses and red earth turning to mud, the lowering gray sky, the buzzard, and the leftover blood. I saw all that plus the foul darkness that coated the spot like tar, the stink of decay and hard magic.
The headache I’d finally managed to get rid of throbbed anew. Storm power tingled through my body, and I felt the Beneath magic stir in response. The Beneath magic urged me to find out who’d done this and destroy them, to kill as they had killed, except slowly, so they could experience every nuance of the unknown person’s death.
All I had to do, the magic whispered to me, was send my storm power through every house in Magellan, seeking evil and destroying it. Even if I had to kill every single person, I’d be sure to get it, wouldn’t I?
I closed my eyes, trying to shut off the voice, but that let me view the crime scene’s aura without obstruction—dense black and shot through with red, crimson like thick blood. I popped my eyes open again, preferring the gray rain streaming into my face. Water was life. The rain would wash away the blood, cleanse the air, give life back to the earth.
But you could kill every person in this town,
the magic of Beneath told me.
You know how. And no one could stop you.
I heard a rush of wings. A big black crow sailed in to land not far from the buzzard and gave the larger bird a disapproving eye. The crow turned its head and regarded me with similar disapproval.
“I’m not going to do it,” I told her. I clenched my fists against another wave of Beneath magic that showed me how to turn the crow into a little pile of feathers. “I promise.”
The crow kept her beady eye on me, the steady, watchful gaze that had been on me since babyhood. “Cross my heart.” I’d said that as a child when my grandmother suspected I was up to no good. She’d usually been right. “They’re my friends. I won’t hurt them.”
The crow either didn’t believe me, or she was just a crow wondering why a human was talking to it.
Naomi watched me worriedly. “You all right, Janet?”
I turned my back and started for the road. “I’m finished here. I need to go.”
Naomi fell into step beside me. “A terrible thing happened here,” she said. “I’m sorry you had to see it.”
She
was sorry for
me,
the Stormwalker who specialized in solving magical crimes? Naomi was too sweet to be believed. “The vortexes draw the terrible. Any place magical does.”
“I grew up in Magellan and never noticed.” Naomi gave me a faint smile. “I thought all the vortex stuff was just a story to attract tourism. But I’ve seen some bad things since I stopped being an Unbeliever. I’ve watched a skinwalker nearly kill Jamison. Jamison had to burn the skinwalker alive to destroy it, and Jamison nearly died himself. Things like that make me wish I were an Unbeliever again.”
“Trust me, Naomi, you haven’t seen anything as bad as me.”
“You’re not evil, Janet. Not like that skinwalker.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“Nash Jones thinks Coyote did this,” Naomi said, staring off into the distance. “He questioned me pretty hard about what time I’d picked up Coyote and when I dropped him off. He also wanted to know everything Coyote said to me. He even wants to interview Julie. But Coyote couldn’t have done something like
this
. I know he wouldn’t.”
“He’s a god, Naomi. If he felt justified, he would.”
Naomi gave me a stubborn look. “I don’t believe it for a second. You see how he is with Julie. Coyote has a lot of kindness in him, and he’s saved Jamison’s life—and mine—more than once.”
I didn’t argue. It was true that Coyote could exhibit amazing compassion, but he was dangerous, despite his affable persona. I could imagine him laughing while he killed whoever he thought he needed to kill.
We slogged through mud to Naomi’s truck, which sat untouched on the side of the highway. I felt like shit, but I told Naomi I wanted to ride the bike home. I needed the wind and rain in my face to clear my brain.
She lifted the tarp from the motorcycle. I don’t know why she’d felt it necessary to cover it up—I’d ridden my Harley through plenty of snow and rain and hail.
As soon as the tarp came off, the mirror on the bike cried, “Oh my God, sugar, you need to get home!”
What now?
“Why?” I asked irritably.
Naomi threw me another anxious look. That’s it; I’d convinced her that I was thoroughly nuts.
“Seriously, girlfriend, we are in deep doo-doo.”
Damn it. I started up my bike, put on my helmet. “Go home, Naomi. Keep Julie there, and don’t go anywhere without Jamison. Anywhere, all right?”
“That bad?”
“I don’t know.” Frustration and fear made me impatient.
“Assume the worst. Ask Jamison if he’s noticed anything weird around here lately—anything at all—and tell him to call me.”
Naomi nodded. She’d do what I asked, being smart.
I rode back through town, the mirror urging me to hurry all the way, but I didn’t dare break the speed limit. Salas or one of the uniform cops stopping me to cheerfully hand me a ticket would just slow me down.
The rain was coming down harder as I reached the Crossroads, parked the bike, and strode into the hotel. Cassandra wasn’t behind the desk, but everything looked quiet. Pulling off my helmet, I headed to the saloon.
The saloon was deserted except for a large man with a hard face and long black braid who sat at one of the tables, sipping from a bottle of beer. His denim biker vest and sleeveless shirt showed that his muscular arms and neck were covered with interlocked tattoos. As I walked in, unnoticed, he moved the beer bottle from his lips and glared at the mirror.
“Hey, magic mirror,” he said. “Shut the fuck up.”
“You just come over here and make me, you big bully,” the mirror said.
The man held up his hand, flame dancing in his palm. “Shut up, or I melt you.”
The mirror made a noise like
ewp,
but I felt the thing sense me and relax. Mom was home.
“Let me guess.” I put my hands on the table and leaned to study my visitor, who returned the look with eyes of chilly light blue. “Dragon?”
Ten
The dragon-man looked me up and down, then fixed a blatant gaze to my cleavage. “I get why Micky wants to keep you alive, girl. You’re one fine-looking lady.”
“The saloon isn’t open yet,” I said coldly.
“It’s open for me, darling. By the end of the day, you’ll open for me all the way.”
In his dreams. “I own this hotel. Get out of it.”
The man hooked a booted foot around a chair leg, slid out the chair, and planted both feet on it. “Not until I’m done.”
I held up my hand, drawing on the lightning outside until sparks crackled and danced on my fingertips. “You’re done now.”
The lick of flame sprang back into his palm. “You want to play, little Stormwalker?”
I wasn’t certain I could hurt him, but I’d never tell him that. The night I’d met Mick, I’d slammed him with about nine thousand volts of lightning, and he’d just laughed and sucked it in. My power, unless I was in the heart of a storm, made dragons stronger.
But Beneath magic,
the little voice whispered,
is the antithesis of all things dragon.
Before I could figure out what the hell that meant, something moved past me with incredible speed. The chair the dragon-man sat on was scraped back and dragged around to face a furious Mick.
“Out,” Mick said. “Now.”
The stranger grinned, showing white, slightly pointed teeth. “Aw, come on, Micky, I came to help you. Screwing your woman will be just a bonus.”
I’d seen Mick angry, but never like this. “Get away from my mate and the fuck out of my territory before I kill you.”
The dragon-man lifted his hands, now free of fire. “Hey, I’m not here to cop your place. If that was my intention, it would be burned all to hell already, and you know it.”
“Not through my wards it wouldn’t be.”
“True, you’ve got some good magic here. And a magic mirror. Mouthy little shit.”
I broke in. “Mick, who is this guy?”
The man grinned at me. “The name’s Colby. Mick’s a friend in need.” His grin widened. “And I’m a friend, indeed.”
“Colby the dragon?” I asked in a dubious voice. “Nice name.”
“It’s the one humans can pronounce,” Colby said. “But, hey, sweetheart,
he’s
the bad guy. When the dragon council was handing out the assignment of tracking you down and offing you, I refused. Cold-blooded murder’s not my thing. But Micky here volunteered. Jumped at the chance. Said he couldn’t wait to break the storm bitch’s sweet little neck. The storm bitch would be you, by the way.”
Of course Colby would say something like that. He’d walked in here right through our wards, scared my mirror, and challenged me and Mick. I wasn’t about to whirl around and scream,
Mick, is this true?
That’s what he wanted. Divide and conquer.
“Janet, go run your hotel,” Mick said. Even the eyes of his dragon tattoos glittered with rage. “I need to talk to Colby.”
“Forget it.” I folded my arms. “I want to know who he is and what he’s doing here. And I don’t want to see any fire. Too many flammable things in here, and I already had to restore the place once.”
“I heard about that,” Colby said. “Good fight. I’m sorry I missed it.”
“Talk or get out.”
“She’s a feisty one.” Just to piss me off, Colby shot a flame skyward, but it was a small one and dissipated before it reached the tin ceiling. “She this feisty in bed?”
I let electricity dance on my fingers once again. “Have you ever seen a Stormwalker’s power enhanced by a magic mirror?” I hadn’t, but it might be fun to find out what would happen.
“All right, all right.” Colby lifted his hands in surrender. “I really am here to help you, Micky. The dragons want to burn you to a crisp, and while I wouldn’t mind seeing that, they’re determined not to let you have all the rights that go with a trial, and I don’t like the precedent that sets. No way do I want us all to be little slaves to the dragon council. So I’m here to take your side.”
“What do you mean, not all the rights that go with a trial?” I asked in alarm.
Colby’s eyes narrowed, but his anger wasn’t directed at me. “The council consists of three sticks-up-their-asses dragons who have been alive since the beginning of time and think they own us. They want to control everything every dragon does. They need to learn that the times, they are a-changing.”
“So, what, you came here to gang up with Mick and fight them?”
“She’s precious, Micky. No, I’m going to be his defense attorney, sort of. Find precedents and stuff the rules down the elders’ throats. I may need your help, honey, though you might not do well in front of the council. You’re way too smart-ass.”