“What do you see?” I ask, curious. I know her eyesight is better than mine. Her hearing, too. I’ve reconsidered my initial reluctance to have her along, admitting—to myself at least—my prejudice. I know full well that Caleb might still be hanging from that wall if it weren’t for her.
“What do I see, child?” she says, her voice soft with wonder. “I see darkness. And monsters moving in the darkness.” She twists her body to face me. “A great force came through here to remove these people. When you come face-to-face with it—and you will—do not underestimate it.”
“Was it Kai?” I ask, remembering the metal pole littering the road.
“No,” she says, “but don’t underestimate him, either. Chaos trails him like death trails you. But no, what happened here was not his doing. The people of Lupton left here willingly.”
“Kai could convince them.”
“With Bit’ąą’nii? No. They would be no threat to him, and the effects of Bit’ąą’nii . . . It cannot make you a slave. It cannot convince you to do something you don’t already want to do.”
“I don’t know much about it,” I admit, interested. “He never explained.”
“You mean before you killed him?”
Damn cat. “Yes.”
She smiles in a way that makes me decidedly uncomfortable. “Bit’ąą’nii is like a lover’s whisper. It persuades, but it does not destroy the will. It is a subtle power. This”—she looks around the empty town—“was not subtle. They abandoned their home for something they wanted more than a home.”
“I don’t understand that. A home is all I’ve ever wanted.”
She tilts her head. “You know much of want, Battle Child. Careful it is not your undoing.”
I step forward to stare into what feels like a solid wall of black beyond the Dinétah border. “Why is it so dark out there? The sun is still up for a few more hours. Is there no daylight on the other side of the Wall?”
“There are many places the sun does not reach, and darkness can be a balm to those who belong to the night.”
“But there is daylight out there?”
“What is illuminated does not always—”
“Just answer the question. No riddles.”
Her whole body flickers with annoyance. “There is daylight.”
“Good.” I shake off a shiver and rub my arms to try to get warm. The afternoon sunlight on this side of the Wall suddenly doesn’t feel like enough. “So, you’re still coming with us, right? You haven’t changed your mind?”
She blinks, surprised. “Oh, no. Not at all. Why would I when I have a monsterslayer as my bodyguard who wields the sword of a great warrior?” She glances back at Neizghání’s sword still strapped to my back.
“About that.” I take a steadying breath, ready to admit the truth. “I’m more of a sword escort.”
Her small face wrinkles in concern. “Can you not wield the sword? Did he never teach you how?”
“I was more the guns and knives side of the duo.”
“You cannot wield the lightning sword,” she says flatly. Her face falls in disappointment.
“I just need some time to practice,” I protest. “Figure out a few things.” Like how the hell it works.
“You promised to keep me safe.”
“And I will. Just not with the sword. I still have all my guns.”
She smooths her hands across her lap. “I suppose I do not care how you do it, as long as we are agreed. To break a promise of safe passage is an offense to the Diyin Dine’é. Plus, it is very rude.” She looks over her shoulder. “Someone is coming. One of the red ones.”
I hear it too. Heavy footsteps and the quiet slap of an automatic rifle against padding. I turn to see Clive, a lone figure coming toward us up the road.
“How is he?” I ask as he gets into earshot.
His face is set in a grim mask, lips thinned to nothing, hazel eyes dark and haunted. “He’s awake. And talking. And he’s asking for you.”
Chapter 20
Clive, Mósí, and I walk back to the infirmary in silence. Whatever Caleb says is going to decide what the Goodacres do next, and from Clive’s grim face, it seems like it might not be anything I want to hear.
Clive opens the door and I walk through first. Caleb is propped up on a cot, white sheets and a rough wool blanket tucked around his thin frame. His freckles are stark against his light brown skin, and his deep auburn curls are slicked back from a gaunt face. He looks up at me, smiles. I smile back. And then his eyes widen in warning just as I see movement to my right. Disbelief slows my response time, and I forget to move as Rissa’s fist comes flying toward my face.
I take the hit directly on the cheek. Stumble back a few steps, shocked. But then my clan powers flare, and I’ve got a knife in my hand faster than I can think. I lunge forward, instinct driving me. I have a blade at her neck in seconds.
My hands are trembling. K’aahanáanii is singing so loudly in my head to do it, to kill her, to spill her blood for her transgression, that I can’t even hear my own stuttered breath. The only thing keeping her alive right now is that her hands are empty. Her chin is raised in stubborn defiance, head thrown back like a dare. But she’s not trying to fight me, and even I know, through the haze of clan power blood lust, that killing her for punching me in the face is excessive. But I’m still raging.
“What the fuck?!” I scream at her from inches away, my knife still raised between us. “I could have killed you!”
Clive hustles in behind me, shouting at his sister. He pushes her away from me with a rough shove. “What are you doing, Clarissa?”
“She deserved it!” Rissa screams. “She brought him to us. If Kai hadn’t come, none of this would have happened! Caleb wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”
I’m still panting, fighting to get my clan powers under control. K’aahanáanii is still demanding that I kill Rissa, that she’s a threat, but I take a few deep breaths to tamp down the adrenaline. Remind myself that I’m trying not to kill people these days.
I run my tongue around my mouth, feeling for a loose tooth. I bit the shit out of my cheek, but no teeth feel out of place. I turn my head and spit a mouthful of blood on the dirt floor, making a note that Rissa packs a hell of a right hook.
“Are you okay?” Clive asks me, hand still braced against his sister’s shoulder. Although I don’t think he’s holding her back as much as he’s keeping her away from me. Like he’s more worried about what I might do to her than what she could do to me.
“Do you really want to do this right now, Rissa?” My Böker is still bare in my hand, my voice tinged with some kind of awful anticipation. “You’ve been promising to kill me since Black Mesa. Maybe it’s time we step out and settle this.”
Her eyes narrow to slits of green and her fists clench. I grin, show teeth still stained red. And let K’aahanáanii croon a little song, something written in Rissa’s blood. It flows from my lips as a tuneless melody, a promise of violence. And, God, it feels good.
“Stop it!” It’s Caleb, his voice a hoarse shout that slices through the tension like a cleaver. “Just stop it!”
Rissa blanches, turns worried eyes to her brother in bed. “I’m sorry, Caleb,” she says, sounding abashed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” She throws Clive’s hands off and rushes over to sit next to her little brother. She takes his hand in hers, squeezing his fingers in reassurance.
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to Maggie.”
She shoots me a glance that says, Not in a million years, before turning back to her brother. Whatever. I’m fully aware that even if Rissa managed to mouth an apology my way, she wouldn’t mean it.
“Are you okay?” she asks him, running a hand over his forehead. “Do you need more water? Another blanket? Clive, bring Caleb a blanket.”