Crossroads (32 page)

Authors: Jeanne C. Stein

Tags: #Fantasy, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #General, #Horror

BOOK: Crossroads

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I back away, watch, sniff. The odor comes only from here. They have not yet polluted the rest of the house with the one substance my system cannot abide.

I need to get them to come outside.

I find a rock. Hurl it through the front window. Then another. I slide under the porch and wait for the front door to open.

George’s feet clump above my head. His angry words frighten a flock of birds into screeching flight. He yells in English and Navajo, not sure if the rocks were thrown by tourists who have wandered far from the public lands, or neighborhood boys looking to make trouble. Before the echo of his words bounce off the mesa, I’ve punched through the wooden decking and grabbed his ankle. One good pull, and he is tumbling down the steps, a startled cry punctuating his fall.

His wife comes to the door to see what has happened. What she sees is vampire, holding her husband by the neck, teeth bared and yellow eyes flashing.

She runs back inside, comes out with one of those foul wreaths clutched to her chest. “Let him go, devil.” She shakes the garlic at me. “You cannot hurt us.”

My answer is to nuzzle George’s neck, my teeth gently biting. The sound of his blood rushing with fear under that thin, fragile layer of skin makes my own heart pound with excitement.

George smells of panic. He feels my teeth at his neck, he is afraid to pull away. He says something in Navajo to his wife.

She takes a step closer. “No. She cannot hurt us. We are more powerful.”

She needs to be convinced that vampire is serious. I worry at his neck, not deep enough to reach the source, just deep enough to cause blood to leak from a small wound. And to cause pain. While he squirms and squeals, I lick at his blood with glee, savoring the texture, the unfamiliar taste of his blood. It is delicious. I taste earth and sun and history stretching back through time.

I want more.

George’s screams interrupt my pleasure.

His wife looks at me with more respect now. “What do you want from us?”

It is difficult to pull vampire back, to let the human Anna come forth to ask the questions that must be asked. I relinquish my awareness reluctantly but not my hold on George.

“Why John-John?” I ask in a guttural voice.

George and his woman exchange looks. I take another nip, lap another trickle of blood before it stains his shirt. He cries out. “Tell her.”

The woman breathes out the words. “We had nothing against the child. We meant only to frighten him. Get his father to take him away. We were afraid Mary might have told him our secret.”

“
Our
secret? You two and Mary?”

She nods.

“What secret?”

“The artifacts.” The words at first come hesitantly, then more quickly as the woman spins her tale. “It was Mary’s idea. Make them. Sell them on the black market. She had connections in the city.”

Even hearing it, vampire has trouble grasping that Mary would conceive of such an idea. “Why would she do it?”

The woman looks surprised I’d ask such a question. “For the money. Mary wanted money to get off the reservation. She had no intention of coming back after college the way her sister had.”

“Then why kill her?”

George finds his voice. “We didn’t plan to kill her. She found out what was to be discussed at the council meeting. She was afraid
we
would betray
her
, so she decided to betray us first. She had a meeting with the two men who were helping us. She didn’t know I was joining them. When I appeared, she acted like everything was fine. But I could tell. She was hiding something.”

George’s wife tosses the wreath of garlic behind her. A show of good faith, I suppose. Vampire is still leery. “When we found out that an investigation was about to be launched, we went to speak again to the men working with us. They told us they already knew. That Mary said we should stop until things quieted down. But we could tell they were holding back.”

She pauses, her expression tells me she’s gauging what she should say next. “We persuaded them to tell us the rest. Mary planned to turn George and I in as the smugglers. If we didn’t agree to take the blame, she’d reveal that we were skinwalkers. She had proof for both, the rock from the cave and some of our charms. After a time, she could start the operation up again, sell only overseas. Safer that way.”

“And where are the men who told you this?”

Another pause. “Gone.”

I’ll bet. Dead, more likely.

“How did you cause the accident?”

“I appeared as bear,” George says. “I could see that Sarah and Mary were arguing. Sarah tried to stop in time, but she was going too fast. When the car rolled, they both were thrown into the road.” A sharp intake of breath. “You have to believe me. I didn’t mean to kill Mary. Only scare her into keeping quiet.”

I think of Mary. College student. Her whole life ahead of her. “Did Sarah know what Mary was doing?”

George shakes his head, carefully, aware that my teeth are still within tearing range. “No. Maybe. It could be what they were arguing about in the truck. Mary may have said something to make Sarah suspicious. Or Sarah might have found the cash Mary kept hidden in her room and made the connection on her own after she heard what the elders were to discuss. Sarah had respect for our ways.”

“Who shot me with the bone charm?” I ask the question, part of me dreading the answer.

“Mary.” George is quick to distance himself from the act. “She didn’t want a stranger hanging around. She knew you were vampire, knew it would make you so sick, Frey was likely to take you away.”

“So Mary was a skinwalker, too?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I saw no one near when I was shot. She couldn’t have gotten away so quickly on foot or by car.”

“She would use the cave,” George said. “She knew them well.”

The cave. The one branch that came out close to the hogan. Mary would know it well.

I have only one more question. “Why did you lie to me about what was discussed at council?”

I address the question to George, but it is his wife who replies. “To get rid of you.” The woman holds out her hand in supplication. “We wanted you and Frey and John-John to leave us in peace. We have committed many wrongs, but we are ready to atone for them now.”

Vampire takes a firmer hold on George. “So,” my human voice says, “you are willing to come with me to Kayani. Tell him all you’ve told me.”

The woman nods solemnly. But the flash of disdain in her eyes belies her intention. Her hand dips into the pocket of her skirt, pulls something small and shiny that she points at us.

No magic here. A little revolver.

George’s body goes rigid under my hands. He snaps out something in Navajo.

She answers in English. “Solving problems,” she says. “First one.”

The bullet hits George in the throat. He sags against me.

“Then the other.”

Vampire is not afraid of the old woman with the little gun. She prepares to toss the man aside, even though his blood is enticingly close.

But vampire is surprised by a blur of motion that springs from the earth and knocks the woman backward with a force that sends her sprawling.

The woman’s eyes widen as panther crouches, circles, growls until she shrieks with fear.

It is the last sound she makes.

CHAPTER 46

W
E LEAVE THE BODIES. PANTHER AND VAMPIRE run back into the desert, the sun turning sand and rock golden.

It reminds me of other times, other deserts, and I am happy to be with my friend.

When we reach the house, panther bounds through John-John’s window, heads for Sarah’s bedroom. I follow. Quickly, vampire fades and the human Anna, the human me, is back. I glance down at my clothes to make sure there is no blood staining them, and for a minute, vampire reasserts herself, jealous that panther fed and she had only a taste.

But reason chases petty consideration away, and I go out to find Kayani and John-John.

They are down at the corral, brushing the horses with big, flat brushes. John-John stands on a wooden crate to reach his horse’s back. He and Kayani are talking softly in Navajo. The expressions on their faces are identical—serious, intent. I marvel at how mature John-John is—four going on forty.

Kayani spies me first. He raises an eyebrow. “Daniel?”

“He’ll be down in a minute.”

I place a foot on the lowest rail of the corral and boost myself up. “How are you two doing?”

John-John is grinning. “Want to help? We haven’t brushed Geronimo yet.”

He points with the brush to the big buckskin, watching in the corner while his two compatriots practically swoon with delight as the brushes scratch and tickle their hides. Geronimo looks a little resentful to me.

“Maybe another time. I’ll just watch.”

John-John giggles. He knew I’d say that. His laugh says “silly city girl.”

Frey joins us then, freshly showered, his skin smelling of soap. “Kayani, can I speak to you a minute?”

I release a breath. “You go ahead. I guess I can help John-John brush the horses.”

Kayani ducks through the fence and hands me the tool—it’s not really a
brush
. It has teeth.

“Currycomb,” Kayani says in response to my puzzled inspection. “Always brush in the direction of the hair.” He demonstrates with a sweep of his hand. “And by all means, avoid those back hooves. Good way to get kicked.”

Great.

John-John is giggling again behind his hand.

“Thanks a lot for the tip,” I call out to Kayani’s retreating back. He waves a hand and keeps walking.

John-John is watching so I gather my courage and step over the fence. John-John shows me how to guide the currycomb over the horse’s back. I expect the animal to shy away and bare his teeth at me.

To my surprise, he rolls his eyes once, dances a little against his tether, then settles down to let me go to work.

I grin at John-John. “Not bad, huh?”

John-John grins back. “Not bad at all.”

WHEN WE FINISH WITH THE HORSES, I SMELL OF sweat and horse shit. The look on John-John’s face, though, is worth the olfactory assault. He thinks I did a good job. We hose our faces and hands and head back to the house.

Frey is on the porch. Alone.

“Kayani?”

“Gone to take care of some business.”

John-John plops himself down beside his father. “Why didn’t you join us at the corral?”

Frey slips an arm around his son’s shoulders. “You and Anna looked like you were having so much fun, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

He leans his head against his father’s chest. “What is going to happen now? Will you be going away?”

Much as I want to know the answer myself, I take that as a hint to leave the two alone. “I’ll be inside. Showering.”

On the way to the bathroom, I stop in Mary’s bedroom to pick up fresh clothes and underwear. Her laptop is gone from the desk.

Kayani took it, I’m sure. Maybe there’s something on it to confirm George’s story. Maybe there’s nothing and Mary was never working with them at all.

But there is one other thing.

I look around. What is it that George said? Mary kept cash hidden in her room. Where would she have hidden it? Sarah didn’t strike me as the suspicious type. Mary’s “hiding place” is most likely in plain sight.

I start with the drawers—desk and wardrobe. Pull each one out and look top and bottom. Nothing.

The closet? Clothes hung in no particular order. Nothing on the shelves.

I get down on my knees and look under the bed. A small suitcase. I pull it out and open it.

Three stacks of one-hundred-dollar bills held together with rubber bands. I fan one but don’t bother to count it. A small envelope holds a bone charm and a piece of rock. A note: