“Maybe?”
“A curmudgeonly older man, a little bumbling, likes to dance.”
“Lives on a houseboat,” I say, nodding. “Who is he?”
“He’s a god. A rain god, to be specific. One of the Diyin Dine’é. He gave you this?”
“To give to you. Said the Diné could use a good soaking. I didn’t get it at the time, but now I do. He thinks your plan is hilarious, by the way.”
Kai throws back his head and laughs. Leaps over the railing in one smooth movement and wraps his arms around me. Kisses me, impulsive and wild. “You’re a genius, Maggie!”
I grin back. I can’t help it. “Well, maybe not a genius, but I can carry a pot real good.”
A shotgun blast rattles across the canyon. I instinctively duck, pulling Kai down with me out of the line of fire. I look back over my shoulder, but I’m too far away and can’t see Ben anymore. Kai presses something into my hand. Binoculars. I scan back across the dam from the way I came. Find Ben, who’s waving frantically and motioning toward the southeast. I pivot and use the binoculars to search the sky, looking for whatever Ben saw. It doesn’t take me long to find it.
“We’ve got trouble,” I tell Kai, as a black cloud crosses in front of the rising sun, darkening the horizon. He stands next to me, hand braced above his eyes, trying to get a better view. Trying to comprehend the sudden eclipse. But there is no better view.
“What the hell is that?”
“Locusts.”
We watch as the swarm moves closer, an immense unstoppable force.
“It stretches for miles,” he murmurs.
I tighten my grip on Neizghání’s sword, letting the swirl of electricity be a comfort. We watch as the first edges of the swarm curve and descend, landing less than a hundred yards in front of us on the roadway.
“Shit,” Kai says.
I watch as the locusts form themselves into shapes, thousands of insects melding together into individual human-shaped figures like the one that attacked me at Grace’s house. Watch as their arms extend into swords, replicas of the one I hold, but forged from living insects. They move forward as one. Another line forms, and another, until there’s a dozen chittering warriors headed our way, and still the swarm keeps coming.
“I think Gideon knows you switched sides, Kai.”
“Shit,” he says again.
“Well,” I say lightly, “looks like you won’t be crushed by a giant wall of water after all.”
“Should we run?”
“To where?” I look around the dam pointedly. “There’s nowhere to go.”
“Gideon won’t kill us,” Kai says, eyes flickering to the locust army. “He still needs us.”
“So what are these for?”
“To subdue us. He controls the locusts best when they’re in human form. Otherwise they might just eat us.”
“Great. That makes me feel great.”
He glances down at his maps. “I can . . .” He climbs back over the railing and starts flipping through his notebook. “Can you hold them off, Maggie? Ten minutes. I need ten minutes to build up enough of a storm to take them out.”
The locust men have come closer, their high chittering song almost deafening. Ten minutes might as well be twenty. What can I do against a swarm of locusts?
Unless.
“Fish psychology,” I mutter. Because Gideon was right. The Diyin Dine’e do take sides. And Tó is on ours.
I sheathe Neizghání’s sword so I can draw my Glock. Hit the release to eject the magazine and dump the bullets into my hand. And then into my pocket. Do it again with the extra magazine before I trade the gun for the sword again.
I have two handfuls of tiny gunpowder bombs encased in lead shells. For this to work, I’ll need speed.
Speed I’ve got.
I roll my shoulders, breathe deep. Try not to remember the feel of millions of insects clawing through my hair, biting my skin, trying to crawl down my throat.
I take one last look back at Kai. He’s kneeling, eyes closed, singing softly in Navajo. Already in his own world. One hand is stretched out to the lake, the other over the water god’s pot.
“Ten minutes,” I repeat to myself. “Always with the ten minutes.”
I walk forward, letting the tip of the sword trail behind me, sparking fire against the concrete. Once I’m closer, I break into a jog. Honágháahnii wakes and catches, pure potential in my veins. I raise Neizghání’s sword. Lightning cracks and flashes in my hand.
And I run straight into the horde.
Chapter 42
I hit the locust men at full speed.
Duck under reaching arms. Slide on my knees, chopping legs apart as I pass.
The smell of burning locust flesh fills my nose. Blood sizzles. Guts coat the ground.
But it’s not enough. They simply re-form.
I rise in the center, hand digging into my pocket. I pull my hand out, fling it open. Bullets scatter, bouncing and flipping across the concrete.
I raise Neizghání’s sword. Think about calling lightning to me. Focus on feeling it. Ask it to come.
And lighting answers.
I feel it, hotter than Honágháahnii has ever been. Searing, blinding.
I scream, and my breath is flames. I swing the blade wildly, incinerating every bug within twenty feet.
No. Control it. I’ve got to control it. I remember what Tó said, to force the fire out. Away. So I do.
Lightning arcs from the obsidian tips, the same way it did for Neizghání before.
Each bullet is a tiny receptor, and as the lightning strikes, they explode. Fire flares in the sky, fifty feet above me. All around me. Rumbling into the earth itself. I stand in a circle of fire that transforms the locusts to less than ash.
The power shudders through me. Hot, electric, with the desire to do nothing but burn.
I think of Gideon. How he hates the world so much all he wants to do is see it destroyed. But his nihilism doesn’t tempt me. I’m trying desperately to stay alive.
But I don’t know if I can.
The lightning strikes from the sky again, recharging what was lost. Fire pours into my body, and I howl flames. Energy snakes through me, crackling across my skin, wreathing me in a deadly electric blue. I am not Neizghání, a child of the sun god. I am only a five-fingered, playing with too much power.
I drop to my knees, overcome. Somewhere far away I hear my name. Faint. Low.
But all I know is fire.
“Let go of the sword!”
Kai? No. Another voice. Ben.
“It’s burning you up, Maggie! Drop it!”
The sword. My fingers flex, and the pommel drops from my hand. The fires extinguish simultaneously, and I gasp air into my lungs. I collapse onto my back, heaving in air like a drowning man, feeling seared from the inside out.
“Are you okay?” Ben asks. I can see her now, kneeling beside me, her brow knit in concern.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.”
She freezes, hand hovering over me. “I don’t think you’re burning anymore.”
“Bugs?”
“You burned them all, but”—worried eyes dart skyward—“there could be more coming. Can you move?”
“I told you. To run.”
“You said if the dam broke to run. It’s not broken.” As in on cue, the ground rumbles beneath us. Low popping sounds echo across the canyon. The first of the explosives detonating. “But I really think we better move.”
I can’t move. I lick my lips, looking for moisture, but there’s none. The inside of my mouth is raw. My eyes ache as if I’ve been staring at the sun. I have a sudden absurd thought. “My hair?”
“What?”
“Do I still have hair?”