Clive frowns, no doubt remembering just how hard he had to work to get me into a full face of makeup before. But he doesn’t ask questions. Just shakes his head and goes inside, boots making a heavy clatter on the concrete step.
I lean back on my bike and strip off my leather gloves. Reach into my pocket and gingerly pull out my blue bandanna. Unfold it.
Ben slides off the bike to come over and look. “What is that?”
“Come see.”
“Does it have to do with girl talk?” she asks suspiciously.
“No,” I admit. I hold the bandanna out to her. “I want you to do your thing.”
She blanches, looks up at me. “Do what thing?”
“Born for Keha’atiinii, right?”
She nods, wary.
“I took this blood from the guardhouse. It’s either Kai’s or Caleb’s. And you said your power works with blood. I assume that means you track people by their blood.”
Her eyes are as big as fry breads.
I say, “Stop me if I’m wrong here.”
“Not wrong,” she whispers.
“Good. So here’s your blood sample. We’re in the last place we know Kai and Caleb were. So”—I wave a hand—“do your thing.”
She takes a step back from me, and another, her eyes fixed on the flakes of blood in the cloth.
I sigh. She seemed so proud of her clan power. I didn’t expect her to get stage fright. “Is there a problem?”
“No,” she says quickly. “It’s just . . .” Brown eyes look up at me. And I think I get it. I fold up the bandanna carefully. Hold it in my hand, which I fold in my lap.
“You want to know how I got my clan powers? My nalí and I were attacked by monsters. Monsters who murdered her in front of me. They were going to murder me, too. But something happened, and they didn’t. Because I murdered them all first.” I shift in my seat. “I killed them all, Ben. Violently. Brutally. And I loved it.”
“You did?” A whisper.
“Never felt better in my life.”
“How old were you?” she asks, her voice so soft it’s almost lost to the wind.
“Fifteen.”
She looks up, a little less scared.
“So, if there’s something not so pretty about your clan power . . .” I shrug. “It’s not going to faze me.”
She swallows. “Okay, but not here. It’s too public.” She walks away, disappearing around the corner of the building, where a narrow alley separates it from some sort of fueling station. I follow her. She’s waiting for me in the shadows.
“You sure I don’t need to threaten you or something?” I ask, feeling a little awkward. “Put you in danger?”
“No. Besides, I would have to believe it, Maggie. Even if you threatened me, I would know you didn’t mean it.”
“Oh, I can make you believe I mean it.”
She bites the edge of her lower lip, considering. “I can never tell if you’re serious,” she finally admits.
“I’m always serious.”
She stares at me a little longer before she sighs. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need it. So . . .” She holds out a hand, gesturing for the bandanna. Her face is eager now, almost hungry. I hand her the cloth, and she holds it up to her face. I expect her to sniff it, but she doesn’t. She licks it. Licks it again until she’s licked off all the blood. Smiles like it was sugar candy.
Unexpected, but I promised not to freak, so I press my lips together and keep my word.
Her slender form shudders, and something supernatural rolls across her like a wave of heat I can almost feel. Instinctively, I take a step back. Her eyes close, and she lets out a moan of what in other circumstances I might mistake for pleasure. She rolls her head ear to shoulder. Left and then right and then left again before she straightens. And inhales like she could suck down the whole world.
She opens eyes narrowed to pinpricks of dark ink in a sea of white.
Okay.
She spins slowly, like she’s looking for something. Something in the crowded streets that only she can see. She stops, points a steady hand. And exhales a pale red mist. It hangs in the air for a moment before it rolls thinly southwest.
“Damn,” I whisper, at a loss for anything more eloquent.
She shudders and blinks, and her irises expand back to normal, brown islands growing large. She looks a little unsteady, so I lead her over to a metal guardrail that doubles as a bench. She leans forward, arms braced against her knees and head down, looking tired. Clan powers exhaust.
“Now what?” I ask her after she’s had a few moments to recover.
“Now we follow the blood mist.”
“It’s gone.”
She shakes her head. “Not to me. That person, I know them now. Could find them anywhere. I don’t actually need to follow the mist. I can . . . feel them inside me.”
I sit next to her, thinking. “Do you want to tell me how you got your clan powers?”
She looks up. “Please don’t make me.”
“Never,” I reassure her, part of me already regretting prying and part of me relieved she doesn’t want to share. “But if you want to talk . . .” Please don’t want to talk.
She gives me a small smile. She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “My uncle was right, Maggie. You make a great auntie.”
We find Clive inside at the small café. The café is not much, just a collection of half a dozen square tables and mismatched chairs where a woman named Cat, if her name tag is anything to go by, has informed us of the day’s menu and brought Clive a plate of grease-soaked yeast bread. He’s happily stuffing the thick bread in his mouth like he hasn’t eaten for days. Around bites he says, “So how’d the girl talk go?”
“Great!” Ben chirps, and I think she means it.
I look up briefly as Cat brings another plate of bread, dripping with mutton grease. She also sets down a bowl of corn stew. All in front of Ben. There isn’t much meat in the stew, but the kernels of steamed corn are plentiful, and the broth looks rich. My stomach grumbles as I realize that I haven’t eaten today and didn’t eat anything but Tah’s broth yesterday. I wait for Cat to come back with more bread and another bowl.
“I’m not saying you’re wrong, Ben,” Clive is saying. “But shouldn’t we get some kind of outside confirmation? The only thing south of here is the Wall.”
I must have missed some part of the conversation. Ben must have told him what she’d done. Probably not the details, but enough.
“They were kidnapped, remember?” I say, my mind still on my potential meal. The woman, Cat, is back over behind the counter, not looking like she’s planning to bring me anything, and my hunger is quickly turning to irritation.
“Yes, but even if . . .” Clive continues, but I’m not really listening. I’m staring a hole in Cat’s head, willing her to look my way. She finally does, and I point to Ben’s food suggestively.
“I’m all out,” she says impassively before turning back to whatever it is she’s doing besides feeding me.
I lean back, tipping the front of my chair off the tile floor, and gaze back behind the counter to the two-burner she’s running. A hug metal pot bubbles gently under a low fire, smelling like steamed corn and fresh chilé. Clearly there’s more stew.
Clive finally notices I’m not listening and stops talking. His eyes flicker between Cat and me, picking up on the strange tension. Ben, however, keeps eating, making happy noises as she shovels another spoonful of corn stew into her mouth. I try not to take Ben’s teenage metabolism personally.
“Seems there’s more stew,” I say evenly, eyes on Cat.
She sniffs and folds her arms below her breasts. Gives me a look usually reserved for naughty children. “For them. For you? I’m all out.”
I can hear Clive sigh heavily. Ben finally looks up from her bowl. “What’s going on?” she asks, her mouth full.