Bitter Night (18 page)

“What about the pook gai?” Akemi asked, her eyes flat as a snake’s.

Clearly she didn’t welcome Alexander in the fold. “Put clothes on him and feed him. We may need him.”

The smaller woman curled her lip silently. “He has no loyalty.”

“Would you rather he had let them kill me?”

Akemi’s mouth tightened and her eyes widened. She gave an adamant shake of her head. Then, as if the words were dragged out of her: “He was their Prime. You would never turn on us.”

Her total faith in Max made her knees sag. “You don’t know that. Besides, it’s survival. He doesn’t have much choice.”

“I do know and he does.”

There was no arguing with such a black-and-white view of things. Max drew a breath and let it go, envying Akemi’s certainty of right and wrong and good and bad. She wished she could be so sure. But her world was gray on gray. “Regardless, Giselle claimed him. He’s ours.” I don’t leave any of mine behind. She’d meant it. “Now I’m going to shower,” she said. She felt sticky and itchy and she reeked of the antiseptic they’d used to clean her up.

She ignored Lise’s casual salute and opened the door. They were parked in the back of the truck stop not far from the freeway. She could hear the passing engines of the freeway growing louder, then fading behind her. All around her trucks idled while inside their drivers slept in air-conditioned comfort. The smell of diesel exhaust and fry grease smothered the night, along with stale urine, old coffee, and the grime of the parking lot.

Giselle’s RV was parked next to the hospital truck, and beyond it was the Garbage Pit and the sleeper RV. Max strode down and hoisted herself up inside. She could feel the stiffness in her body starting to relax and iron out. She went to her bunk and stripped off her borrowed scrubs. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. They’d probably had to cut it off. She fished in her dresser for fresh clothes and grabbed her shower bag and towel from her closet.

She used all the hot water for her shower and finished with an icy spray. She dried and dressed quickly, her stomach growling insistently. Back in her bunk, she noticed her backpack on her bed with her cell phone lying on top. Someone had cleaned the blood off it and charged it. Her keys were there, too. Max tucked them both in her front pocket. She’d have to look for a new car to replace the Tahoe. She was going to miss the equipment and weapons from under the backseat. She doubted there had been time to rescue them.

She slid on her black nylon shoulder holster and pulled her .45 out of the backpack. It had also been cleaned, oiled, and loaded. She checked to make sure a bullet was chambered, then slid it into the holster. There were four more clips tucked inside the two mag pouches along the right shoulder strap. She slid her knife sheaths onto her forearms and over them a black sweat jacket, zipping it up enough to cover the harness. She grabbed a black Montana Griz baseball cap and yanked it down over her swiftly drying hair.

Around her right ankle she fastened her .380 and shoved a spare combat knife into her rear waistband, then drew on her socks and boots, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. The shower had washed away a great deal of her fatigue. She felt pretty good, considering she’d been half a breath away from dead twelve hours ago.

Last of all, she took the hailstone from its hiding place. It chilled her hand as she cupped it in her palm. She still didn’t know what to do with it. Finally she reached for the leather medicine pouch that hung on a hook in the back of her closet. A shaman friend had given it to her several years before. Opening it would likely break its spells, but it was a good way to carry the hailstone. Max pried open the top and slipped the stone inside before tightening the strings and sliding it around her neck. The cold of the stone radiated through the leather, cooling a spot between her breasts.

She grabbed her wallet and slipped it into her back pocket and settled her sunglasses on her nose. She paused outside to scan the parked lines of trucks. A man peed on a tire three trucks down, and two women argued somewhere out of sight. Several dogs yapped, and a couple of trucks pulled out while three more pulled in. Max squatted, scanning beneath the bellies of the rigs, looking for odd-shaped shadows or furtive movements. There was nothing. She straightened, dusting her hand off on her pants.

She found Niko prowling behind Giselle’s RV.

“You look like roadkill,” he said, glancing at her and then away, his eyes moving ceaselessly as he scanned for trouble.

“Where is Alexander?”

“In the Garbage Pit with Tyler. Akemi is on patrol. She ate first,” he assured before Max could ask.

“All right. I’m going to see Giselle, then eat.”

“You need food more,” he said with a scowl.

“Next you’ll be telling me to eat my veggies and cut my meat small,” Max retorted. “I’ve got to see my witch. Compulsion spells, you know?”

“Never bothered you much before.”

“True. Maybe it’s a sign of how depleted I am,” she suggested mockingly. “Or maybe I’ve been born-again, eager to serve and to please.”

Niko snorted. “Right.”

“You didn’t used to get so mouthy,” Max said, her glance narrowing on him.

“You didn’t used to come that close to dying.”

“You’d be surprised,” she murmured, thinking of the times she’d lain on Giselle’s altar. But if she was honest, she’d never come quite this close to never waking up. “You’re getting soft.”

He spat on the ground. “Hurry up before you waste away to nothing.”

“Careful. I may have to knock that chip off your shoulder.”

“Whenever you want to try.”

Max smiled started to walk away.

“Oh, tell Kamikani I’m sorry about his El Camino. Tell him I’ll help him fix it.”

She looked over her shoulder, brows raised in a question.

He shrugged. “There’s a hole in his dash that looks like a fist. And a bunch of blood on the passenger seat.”

Max nodded. “I’ll tell him.”

She headed again for Giselle’s RV. As usual, she didn’t knock, but opened the door and climbed inside without any ceremony. Inside Kamikani leaned on the edge of the table, facing the door. As the door had opened, he’d leveled his gun. When he saw Max, he lowered it, flicking a look behind him at Derek, another Sunspear, who stood in the hallway leading to Giselle’s bedroom. He, too, lowered his gun.

“How is she?” Max asked softly, closing the door behind her.

“Still asleep,” Derek said. “I’m supposed to wake her when you show up.”

“Better do it then.”

He turned and disappeared into the back. Max eyed Kamikani. “I hear there’s some damage to your baby.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, though whether it was anger or humor, Max couldn’t tell. The rest of his expression remained impassive as stone. “Yeah.”

“Niko says he’ll make it right.”

“It’s righteous. I’d have done the same if it was me.”

“Has anyone heard from Oz?” Max asked.

“He called from just south of Salt Lake a few hours ago.”

“They’re hauling ass,” Max said, unsurprised. None of them took chances with speeding unless it was an emergency. They didn’t want to call attention to themselves or risk getting hauled off to jail. It was too easy to get caught out in the light or the dark and die. But with Old Home not answering calls, speed was of the essence.

“He figured they’d make Horngate before dawn, and Old Home by midafternoon.”

“Good. I’ll check in with him later.”

Max shifted to face the hallway as Giselle slouched into the small living room. She looked skeletal, her skin pasty, her eyes bruised. Her hands shook and her hair looked dull. Her gaze fastened on Max, running from head to toe. At last she jerked her head in a satisfied nod.

“Out,” she ordered, her glance flicking to the two Sunspears. “Wait outside.”

Max stepped out of the way as they wordlessly obeyed, fastening the door behind them. The RV was spelled to prevent any sound from escaping.

Giselle eased into one of her lounge chairs, dragging her fingers through her hair. She made no effort at small talk.

“Selange will be coming for us. We have to get on the road as soon as possible.”

It was a bad idea. With Giselle so depleted, Max understrength, and a handful of Sunspears and Shadowblades, they were extremely vulnerable. It would be much better to wait until tomorrow night when Max was up at full strength. But a moving target was harder to hit than a sitting duck. “I need to eat first.”

Giselle nodded. “How are you?”

“About eighty percent. With food and no battles, I’ll be a hundred percent by morning.”

Giselle’s eyes closed and she took a ragged breath, letting it out. “Thank the Spirits for small favors. I thought you were dead. You wouldn’t come back for me. If not for Akemi, Niko, and Tyler’” She broke off, staring at Max accusingly. “Don’t do that again.”

Max gave a sardonic smile. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you want. Your wish is my command.”

“I mean it. I told you we can’t lose you. You should have listened to me. You should have left Alexander like I told you to.”

“I don’t leave mine behind,” Max said quietly, folding her arms and leaning her hip against the counter.

“Dammit, he’s not yours. You can’t trust him.”

“He’s mine because you made him so. I know I can’t trust him, but he did fight off his own Shadowblades for me, and once we were across the veil, he could have just taken off running. He had a decent chance of getting away from both you and Selange.”

“No, he didn’t. He could hardly stand. Don’t think you owe him,” Giselle said coldly. “He’s not like you. He’s only looking out for himself.”

“And I’m not?”

Giselle laughed harshly. “You don’t even know how. Last night is proof enough of that.” Before Max could answer, Giselle raised her hands. “Enough. What do you plan to do with him? I can’t bind him, not here, and even if I could, I can’t afford to waste my strength on him.”

“Then we take him with us. I’ll keep an eye on him. Now, if that’s all, I need food and we need to hit the road.”

“Fine. But if you let him hurt you, I’ll make you regret it.”

“Whatever.”

Giselle’s fingers curled like claws on the arms of her chair. After a moment she grimaced. “There’s no talking to you.”

With that the witch stood and did her best to storm down the hall. Max ignored her, opening the door and motioning the two Sunspears back in. They looked a little gray from exposure. She glanced at the windows and windshield, noting that the blackout shades were down. They’d do well enough in the RV for now.

“I’ll send food,” she said, then closed the door behind her.

For a moment she stood in the darkness, her face tipped to the sky. The moon had not yet risen, and the power of the dark flowed into her like water over parched earth. She shivered with the hot surge of it, then started for the Garbage Pit, smelling garlic and beef and a myriad of other mouthwatering scents.

The steps in back were lowered, the door above firmly latched. Max climbed up and pushed inside. Alexander and Tyler sat opposite each other, with Tyler facing the door. Food was piled on the table between them. Or rather, stacks of empty plates. Alexander had turned to look at her and now wiped his mouth with a napkin, his gaze running over her assessingly. Max felt herself flush, her gaze settling on his mouth. Holy mother of crap, she needed to get laid.

“Go help Akemi and Niko,” she said to Tyler, motioning with her head. “We’re going to take off soon.”

He stood with a dancer’s grace and headed for the door. He paused beside her, bending close so that his breath brushed the nape of her neck. “Do take care of my Prime. Anything happens to you again, I’ll take it personally.” A moment later he left.

Max shook her head and went to take his seat across from Alexander. Last night had given her Shadowblades ideas about her that she wasn’t sure she liked at all. Before she sat, she grabbed up some empty plates and carried them to the back. Magpie eyed her over the counter, but said nothing, her hands moving steadily as she chopped walnuts. Max stopped, remembering the other woman’s warning before they left the warehouse: No safety there, not for anyone. Not until you return. Only you can make it safe. Max’s stomach clenched. I warn you’the things that I say are true. Ignore it and you’ll probably regret it. Horngate was in danger. The problem was, she had no idea what Magpie’s warning meant.

Her fingers tightened and the plates in her hand cracked loudly in the quiet of the trailer. It was too quiet. Max couldn’t remember the last time there hadn’t been music playing. She clenched her jaw and set the broken dishes down with a bit of a clatter and went back to scoop up more.

This time Magpie glared at her. “Sit down before you break them all,” she ordered in a voice as sharp as barbed wire.

Max had sense enough not to argue. She returned to the table and sat down opposite Alexander.

“You all right?”

She just nodded. He was sitting back in his chair, his hands clasped in his lap, watching her. His brow was crimped, as if she presented a difficult puzzle for him to solve. He was wearing a faded blue-denim shirt over a white, V-necked undershirt and a pair of Levi’s. They belonged to Oz and didn’t look like they were Alexander’s style at all. Which was probably good because if he looked any better, she’d start tearing off his clothes and’She slammed the doors on that thought.

She didn’t ask him how he was feeling. She was sick to death of hearing the question aimed at her.

Magpie set a jug of milk and a glass on the table with a thunk, then scooped the remaining dirty dishes into a bus tub and marched away. A moment later she returned with a big dish of bread pudding drizzled in bourbon sauce and piled with whipped cream. Max stared at it a moment, then began resignedly to eat. Despite her growling stomach, she wasn’t hungry. She ate because she needed the calories and because Magpie would fillet her if she didn’t.

Suddenly Alexander stood. He sniffed the air and then went to the door and opened it. Max set her fork aside, every instinct on alert. She stood, reaching for her gun at the same time.

“Do you smell it?” he asked.