“And what if it is?” I ask carefully. “Why do you care?”
“He would make a fine mate, now that you want nothing more from Neizghání.”
“And that doesn’t bother you? I know you are close to Neizghání’s mother.”
She lifts a shoulder, coyly touching it to her cheek. “Time will tell all, Battle Child. For you and the silver-eyed boy and the Monsterslayer himself. Your paths are far from decided. There are still many trials. Most you will fail because failure is your nature. But others . . .” She shrugs.
And just like that I’m reminded how much I dislike Mósí.
“What do you want for the map?” I say, already tired of talking to her.
She smiles, showing dainty fangs. And I know it’s going to be something I have absolutely no desire to give.
“I want to come with you, of course.”
“To the Malpais? Can your kind even leave Dinétah?”
She raises an eyebrow. “My ‘kind’?”
“You know. The Bik’e’áyéeii.”
“Do you think we don’t exist outside the borders of Dinétah? That we aren’t real in our own right? That we endure only at the whim of the five-fingereds, and if you do not believe, then nothing?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
“I will go to the Malpais with you.” Her tone is decisive, expecting to be obeyed.
“We’re not exactly going on a pleasure cruise,” I say. “They call it the Malpais for a reason. And we’re not giving you any special treatment. You’re going to have to pull your weight just like everyone else. And I expect you to be part of the team.”
I say that all with a serious face, and I’m pretty sure part of me means it. But the rest of me knows I’m full of shit. When did I become part of a team? Hell, when did I become its leader?
Clive’s looking at me like he can’t believe those words came out of my mouth either. I give him a face that means keep it to yourself. Whatever it takes to keep the Cat in line, right?
Mósí leans back against the display case, bracing herself with her hands and crossing her ankles prettily. Her black bob falls forward to brush her shoulder as she tilts her head. Her pose is somehow both demure and alluring, a challenge and an invitation. “Do you know what happened to my establishment after your visit?” she asks softly.
I glance at Clive. He’s the one who told me.
“It was struck by lightning,” he says.
“Struck by lightning,” she agrees. “And destroyed. Everything that was mine. Gone. And did anyone worry about what would happen to me? How I, a poor cat, could ever repair the damage that the fire has done to my home, my business? Did you, Battle Child, ever even spare a thought for me?”
“No,” I answer her honestly.
“No,” she repeats, her voice vibrating with emotion. “Of course you did not. And that is why I am here, at this terrible place. Forced to collect the treasures of others, live in the daylight when one such as I prefers the night. Cook food for five-fingereds! It is a travesty. And it is your fault.” She looks directly at me.
She has got to be kidding me. “How it is my fault? You set up the fight. You got in bed with Ma’ii—” Her eyes widen theatrically, obviously offended at my word choice, but I’m pissed now, her pity-party routine grating across my already worn nerves. “You made that damn deal with Ma’ii. If anything, you owe me.”
Her eyes narrow to tiny yellow slits. “And what would I owe you, exactly?”
“You can start with an apology.”
I hear Clive sigh.
“Am I wrong?” I ask him, voice raised. “I’m not wrong.”
“Maybe we can call it even,” he says diplomatically. “I mean, we did destroy the Shalimar.”
“ ‘We’? That was Ma’ii. Or Neizghání. One of them. I didn’t destroy anything.”
“Just hear her out, Maggie.”
“Why should I?”
“Just . . .” He shakes his head, like I’m the unreasonable one. “What is it you want, Mósí? To go to the Malpais with us? What else?”
“Not because I owe you,” I say hotly. “But as trade. For your map, for your help, which you will give us. For supplies.” I wave my hand to encompass the shelves of goods in the store.
Her eyes narrow. “Very well,” she says. “I will give you this map, my aid, and any knowledge I may have of the Malpais in exchange for your protection on the Mother Road to a destination of my choosing.”
“No. We’re on a timeline here. The longer it takes to find Kai and Caleb, the more likely . . .” Well, the more likely Caleb will be dead, at least. But I don’t say that. No need to remind Clive of the facts.
“It’s a fair deal, Maggie,” Clive says. “This map is old. Before the Big Water. Who knows what it’s like out there now? It might be good to have someone like her with us.”
“She’s probably more trouble than she’s worth.”
“Only one way to find out.”
“Fine.” I motion toward the Cat. “Name it. Where do you want to go?”
“I will let you know my final destination once we arrive,” Mósí says primly. “Until then, it is my secret to keep. Now, are we ready? I thought time was of the essence to . . . your kind. And yet here we are, dillydallying.”
“This is not going to end well,” I mutter to Clive as we bring the last of our new supplies out to the bikes.
“She is kind of right that we owe her,” he says. “I mean, we did destroy her home.”
I stop, balancing a six-pack of Spam against my hip so I can wipe the sweat from my face. “I don’t know who this ‘we’ that you keep referring to is. As I recall, I was tricked into a fight to the death and at that moment was probably bleeding out on the floor. I don’t owe that cat anything.”
“I still think it’s a good omen that she wants to come,” Clive says, glancing over his shoulder. It turns out Mósí has a sidecar that attaches to Clive’s bike, and she’s settled herself in the small seat, donned a pair of black sunglasses, and tied a flower-patterned scarf over her hair. She’s waiting demurely while we do the work. “She probably has powers that we don’t even know about.”
“Her only power is self-preservation. I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her.”
“We don’t have to trust her. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship as long as we’re going in the same direction. If self-preservation is her power, then maybe that will work in our favor.”
“And maybe it will get us killed.”
He snorts, sounding dubious.
“You don’t know them like I do, Clive. They’re all tricksters, ready to stab you in the back as soon as it’s convenient.”
“And maybe you can’t see this clearly, Maggie.”
“What does that mean?”
“Not everyone is a Coyote or Neizghání,” he says. “Or even a Kai.”
“Fuck you, Clive.” I pick my crate of Spam up and stomp over to the bikes.
“Maggie—” Clive starts behind me, but I wave him away. I don’t want to hear it. Mósí sits silently, facing forward, humming her road song. I don’t even bother to look in her direction.
Clive joins me. He looks up at the setting sun. “Rissa should be here soon. Wonder what’s taking her so long?”
“Hey, you guys?” Ben says from the back of my bike, where she’s patiently waiting. Her voice is high and scared.