“You look good too,” he whispers, perfectly sincere.
“Not like you.” I gesture to his party clothes.
“Your hair got longer,” he says.
“So did yours.”
He smokes some more, and I wonder when he started smoking outside of ceremony so much. His hands are shaking slightly, and he unconsciously twists a ring around his finger with his thumb.
“When I woke up,” he says, voice unsteady. “When I woke up from being . . . gone, I was pretty messed up. I couldn’t remember what had happened. Where I was. Just darkness. And pain.”
I don’t want to hear this, but I know I have to. I know this is my burden too.
“For the longest time I’d wake up every morning thinking that I was back in the Burque. It was like no new memories would stick.” He laughs self-consciously. “That was a shit show. But Clive was there, and I remembered him. I did a lot of ranting. And the nightmares,” he says quietly, scraping at his throat, as if he were still screaming. Clouds pass overhead, temporarily blocking the stars.
I have to ask. “Did you remember . . . ?”
“That you shot me?” He says it lightly, but I can almost taste the undercurrent of bitterness. “Yes,” he says, lowering his eyes, “but I remember that I let you.”
I smile, thin and pained. “It was the only way. Neizghání would have never—”
“I know,” he says gently. “I remember it all now.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “There’s no reason to be sorry. We agreed. I agreed.”
“I need to say it. I need you to know.” I need it so badly that it feels like a physical thing, a rip in my belly that won’t stop bleeding, a fist crushing my heart into dust.
He looks at me, asking me something. But what? We hold, neither of us saying anything.
“I know, because I also remember the look on your face,” he finally says. “When you pulled the trigger. Right before I died.”
I close my eyes, and something inside me drops like a ten-ton weight. “Clive didn’t tell me any of this.”
“No. I told him not to.”
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Is that why you didn’t come to me when you woke up? You . . . hate me?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, Maggie.” He takes a step toward me. “The opposite. It’s the opposite. I was a wreck. I couldn’t come to you like that. I would have been a burden, like I was to Alvaro after the Uriostes. Like I was to my father after my mom died. I wasn’t going to do that again, be that person again. I had to get myself together first. And then Gideon showed up, and he had a lot of answers. A lot of smart things to say. I felt like maybe, maybe, if I could learn from him, then I could start to heal. Get better. If I saw you again, I wanted it to be when I was whole.”
“If?”
“I needed to heal.”
“How did you even meet Gideon?”
“The All-American. He came to the bar one night. We talked over a few beers. He said he could see that I was suffering. That I was . . .” He blows out a breath. “Everyone else had been tiptoeing around it. Clive would listen, but he always had this look on his face.”
“He pitied you. The medicine man who couldn’t heal himself.”
He looks away.
“And Gideon didn’t,” I say.
“He understood. He’d been there too. A death experience, and he had been reborn. With purpose.”
“What is his purpose?”
“He’s gathering people to him. People who believe that things could be better in the Sixth World. That the corruption and greed that led to the Big Water was a rot in the human heart, but that it can be cured.”
“I’ve seen his flyers, Kai. That’s not about healing. That’s about punishment. Fear.”
He takes a drag from his cigarette, watches me through the smoke. “He’s a good man.”
I roll my head on my neck, left, then right, trying to understand what’s going on. What Kai sees that I don’t. “He’s a cult leader.”
“He’s not.”
“He calls you ‘son.’ ”
He pauses, clearly taken off guard. “How did you know that?”
“Who’s the woman with the wings?”
He blinks at my change of subject. “The woman? Oh, Jen? The blonde? No one.”
“She didn’t look like no one.”
“It’s a party,” he says, as if that’s explanation enough. “She’s been drinking. I didn’t encourage her. She wants to get close to Gideon as much as she wants to get close to me.”
“She didn’t kiss Gideon.”
My accusation hangs in the air until he clears his throat. “If you saw Clive, I assume that means Caleb made it back to the All-American?”
“So I guess we’re not talking about Jen.”
We both hear the door slide open behind him. He curses, hurries back around the corner where I can’t see. I hear him whisper furiously to someone, and a female voice answers in concern. Jen. And then his tone shifts, a low, persuasive murmur. I know what he’s doing. I can almost see his eyes flash silver. Bit’ąą’nii Dine’e.
After a moment the door closes, and he comes back. This time he walks around to sit near me on a patio chair, one of those long chaise chairs from Hollywood movies. He taps the space next to him, wanting me to join him. So I do. Because even now I want to be close to him, God help me.
He takes my hand, rests it on his thigh, and covers it with his own. “Jen is one of Gideon’s favorites. It’s important that she like me, that she trusts me. And if that means . . .”
“If that means what?” I ask, tone sharper than I mean it be. But I remember that Kai was willing to sleep with me if it meant I would help him fight Neizghání.
“Not that,” he says, looking taken aback. “Maggie, I meant what I said at Grace’s.”
“But you left.”
“Because I had to. Because maybe Gideon has some answers. Because being here, having a purpose, drove the darkness back a little.”
“And I don’t drive the darkness back,” I say, knowing the truth when I hear it. “I just bring the darkness closer.”
“You are who you are. I’m not asking you to change. But Maggie, there’s so much death on me,” he says. voice barely above a whisper. “It’s like I can’t think sometimes.”
I know that feeling, am intimate with that feeling. “You need a ceremony. You don’t want to end up like me, Kai.”
He nods. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. You were right, and I didn’t know.”
“You were right too. People can change.” I take a deep breath.
“There’s something else. Caleb didn’t come back to the All-American,” I say abruptly. “We found him nailed to the Wall in Lupton.”
He blinks, caught by surprise. “Caleb Goodacre? No. Gideon sent him back to the All-American. I helped heal the wounds from the graft, but it wasn’t going well. Even with my clan powers, he wasn’t healing like he should have. His blood wouldn’t clot. We argued about it, but Gideon agreed to send Caleb home. He left him with Ziona in Lupton until he was well enough to travel.”
“No, Kai. Caleb was nailed over the gate in the southern Wall at Lupton, pointing us out to the Malpais clear as a ransom note. Did you really not know?”
And from the look on his face, I can tell he really didn’t.
“But Gideon promised,” he says, sounding defensive. He rubs at the bridge of his nose. “I . . . I made the deal to help Gideon with his work so Caleb could go home, and Gideon promised. I would have never, Maggie. If I’d known, I would have never.”
“I know.” At least I think I know. I know the old Kai would have never, so I have to believe this Kai wouldn’t either.
“Is he . . . ?”
“He was with Clive, headed back to Tah when I last saw him.”
Kai stiffens. A shudder rocks his body, and he bends at the waist, head between his knees like he’s going to be sick. His cigarette drops forgotten from shaking fingers.