Pure Magic (Black Dog Book 3) (33 page)

The injustice of this accusation took Natividad’s breath away. And then the justice of it hit her. Because hadn’t she done just what he said? Only she was sure she hadn’t meant to. Almost sure. She wanted to protest that it wasn’t
like
that, that she hadn’t meant to do anything like he’d said. But confusion made her stumble into silence.

Ezekiel looked away, his expression hard and closed.

“That’s not quite fair,” Justin said. His tone was mild, but stubborn, with an edge underneath. Natividad stared at him, mute and surprised. Ezekiel turned to look at him, too, with narrow-eyed intensity. Justin met his stare and shrugged. “Don’t you know her
whole idea
was to make Grayson send you after us? A plan she wasn’t in much of a hurry to share with me:
I
thought we were just going to see my grandmother. I should have known better, but how should I know anything?
You
definitely should know better. You can’t possibly think all that out there—” he jerked his head toward the window—” is a coincidence.”

There was a little pause. Ezekiel stared at Justin for a long tense moment. But then some of the stiffness eased out of his shoulders. He turned his attention, frowning, to Natividad. He said nothing.

“It seemed like a good idea at first,” Natividad explained humbly. “Grayson wasn’t going to send anybody to El Paso, not right away, but I knew he would if I made it look like I was putting myself in danger. Only I didn’t mean to . . . to let anything like this happen. I thought there was only one vampire, probably not even a master, and I thought it wouldn’t know any of us were here until you were ready to kill it. I knew you could kill a normal vampire and a lot of blood kin, even all by yourself, and I thought . . . I thought I could help. Only I made a mistake, and it turned out to be a master vampire after all, and it found out, and sent its servants, and it’s coming, too, right now. I don’t . . . I don’t know, only I thought maybe I could make something, an
aparato
, something that would work against even a master vampire . . .” she trailed off uncertainly, unable to read Ezekiel’s expression.

He said, his tone neutral, “Even the best plan, which hardly describes yours, doesn’t generally survive contact with the enemy.” He paused. Then he went on, “The sun will rise at approximately five thirty, which gives us three hours till dawn. I doubt we can hope the master vampire will delay so long that it’s at risk of being caught by the sun, however. I hope you have a clear idea what sort of magical weapon you can make.”

Natividad took a slow breath, trying hard to put her awareness of Ezekiel aside so she could think.

But she was so happy he was here.

“Maybe,” she said. She was proud of herself: her voice was almost steady. “I mean, I think so. I hope so.” She started to say something else, but then yelped and flinched as something like a whip scored suddenly across her back.

Ezekiel was at her side instantly, his hands gripping her arms, preventing her from falling. “What?” he asked her urgently. “Natividad, what? Is it the vampire?”

She didn’t even know at first. The pain and fear were too urgent, too immediate; she didn’t understand what she felt. Then the pain faded to an echo, and she understood at last, and was more afraid than ever, because now her own fear replaced the echo of fear that had scored across her mind and heart. She said helplessly, “Alejandro—”

Ezekiel stood very still, his eyes on hers. “I left your brother safe in Boston.”

“No,” said Natividad, and then, reluctantly, “He isn’t safe. Something’s wrong. He’s afraid and in pain. He has been for hours and hours. But just now something hurt him. Something else. I wasn’t—I didn’t—I don’t know.”

Ezekiel’s eyes shifted to pale gold, fire bleeding into the human blue until there was nothing human left in them.

“He’s still alive, though,” Natividad said quickly. “And I don’t think he’s so afraid anymore. And—and—I wish you hadn’t come, I
wish
you were there with Alejandro, but I’m glad, I’m so glad you’re here!” She put her hands over her eyes to stop the tears that threatened. She knew there was no time for tears.

“Natividad—” Ezekiel said. “I—”

“I know,” said Natividad. “I know. There’s nothing we can do, and anyway we have too much to deal with here anyway.”

“I will do everything in my power to make this right,” Ezekiel told her, very quietly.

“I know. I know you will. I know we have to—to deal with this, first. But—”

Keziah broke the moment. She came in, stepping fastidiously wide around the contaminated knife. She had stopped in the kitchen to wash, Natividad saw: she was still carrying a damp kitchen towel in one hand. She tossed this over the arm of a chair and gave Ezekiel a challenging look, chin up and shoulders straight.

Ezekiel took a deep breath and let go of Natividad. He stepped back and turned, his eyes once more human blue. “You could have taken the lot of them all by yourself, of course,” he said to Keziah.

“Of course!” Keziah said. “They were all running like frightened little bunnies.”

Ezekiel relaxed. Natividad had not even been aware he was tense, until she saw the difference. “You did very well,” he said. “That vampire was mostly dead when I finished it, and I believe I counted
seven
blood kin down before I came in.”

A slow flush spread up Keziah’s throat and face. She didn’t look at Ezekiel. “I think only six.”

“The seventh would have bled out,” Ezekiel said easily. He didn’t say what they all knew: that if he had not entered the fight, Keziah would not have survived long enough to see that one die.

“You’re . . . not hurt?” Justin said to Keziah. He had taken one step toward her, and now looked her up and down, worried, his gaze lingering on the narrow red line that showed along the side of her neck, and then going to her side, where he knew she’d been torn up.

“My shadow took the injury,” Keziah said. “Did you not know?” Her words were impatient, but her tone was not actually unkind.

“A black dog has to have time to shift, though, and then shift back again,” Natividad explained, trying to focus on the moment, on their own peril. It helped that Alejandro’s pain had eased, that his fear no longer pressed on her. She knew he was alive, but thought he might be asleep or something. She was terrified for him—what if he was unconscious, what then?—but it was much better not to have his fear dragging at her attention. She tried to focus on the present moment and told Justin, “That’s why control is so important, more important even than just strength. Or if you cut their spines or tear off their heads or something, that will kill them.”

“Ah,” said Justin. He was plainly envisioning one of the blood kin tearing off Keziah’s head. Plainly he didn’t like the image at all.

“I am perfectly well,” Keziah assured him.

“And a good thing, too,” said Ezekiel. He looked out the window again and then fixed Natividad with a disapproving gaze that she thought he had deliberately copied from Grayson. “As you have followed your customary habit of getting in over your head, I trust you have a plan for getting out again. But am I going to like this plan?”

“Oh, I added you
right
in as soon as I saw you,” Natividad assured him. She didn’t say,
Madre de Dios
,
I’m so glad you’re here
, though she wanted to. She was trying not to be clingy and annoying, because of course he would need to think mostly about the coming battle. She shouldn’t have told him about Alejandro at all, she knew that now, only she had been so shocked by her brother’s sudden pain. He was still alive, though. Still alive. And Alejandro must know how scared
she
was, too. He must know that everything was wrong
here
, too. But even now she couldn’t be sorry for the link between them.

She tried to focus just on this moment, this danger, and put any other fears aside. She said to Ezekiel, “But you know, it’s not like the other time. I don’t—I don’t think I can get the vampire to—to—I don’t think I can get it to kind of do it to itself, like I did for Vonhausel. Even if I can make an
aparato
that will work.” She looked at the knife and swallowed. She had never wanted to touch anything less.

Ezekiel was frowning at her. “Natividad—”

“Oh, but I
can
make it,” Natividad promised. She rubbed her hands on her arms, shuddering. “I can do it. I can, and it will work, and you know you can’t fight a master vampire by yourself, not even you and Keziah together, and anyway—” she looked at him and finished more softly, “I don’t want you to try. I don’t want to stay safe in here and watch you die.”

Ezekiel’s gaze on hers become more intense.

“Anyway!” Natividad said hastily. “Think what would happen if you and Keziah get heroically killed but the vampire is still alive! Those mandalas won’t stop a real master vampire forever.”

They all knew it was true. Over the last years of the war, everyone had learned how a master vampire could break through a ward: by throwing its blood kin at it, letting them burn up, each one weakening the circle a little more until at last it broke. That wasn’t the only way to break a protective mandala, but it was one way and it would work and there would be nothing Natividad could do about it. She said softly, because it was almost her worst nightmare, “When the master vampire gets here, I don’t want to wait here and watch it make more blood kin, and more, until it finally manages to burn its way through every mandala Justin or I can make.” She stopped, swallowing, trying not to imagine the vampire making blood kin out of anyone it could catch. “I couldn’t stand to watch it do that, Ezekiel.”

Ezekiel let his breath out. He looked faintly disgusted, but he didn’t say what Natividad knew was the truth, that he would be perfectly happy to sacrifice the whole town full of ordinary human people if it meant
she
was safe. To a black dog, the world divided so neatly up between your own family and house, and everybody else.

It wasn’t like that for the Pure. And Ezekiel knew it.

“Thus your plan,” he said finally. He jerked his head toward the contaminated silver knife. “That?”

“It will work,” Natividad insisted. “Only once I make that knife into a proper
aparato
, you and Keziah will need to use it against the vampire.”

“This is a good plan,” Keziah said smoothly. “It is very much better than the old plan, which called for me alone to use the Pure weapon against the vampire.”

“It’s a sucky plan,” muttered Justin. And added out loud, “Just how much worse is a master vampire, compared to that one we—you—already killed?”

Keziah shrugged, which was probably meant to look dismissive but
which actually made Natividad remember that she wasn’t actually very experienced at fighting vampires.

Ezekiel, of course, was extremely experienced with fighting everything. He said mildly, “I wouldn’t want to face one alone. Fortunately, I won’t be alone.” He gave Keziah a little nod, again reminding Natividad strongly of Grayson. Keziah gave him a sarcastic look, but Natividad thought she was pleased.

“I imagine—” Ezekiel began, and then cut that off, his attention caught by something outside in the night. He said, in a different, light, brittle tone, “I imagine we all rather hoped dawn would catch our enemy short, but alas.”

Natividad both wanted to go look out the window and retreat to cower in the closet. Instead of doing either, she took a deep breath and looked at the knife on the coffee table. “
Todo está bien
.
Va a ver tiempo,
” she said, and realized she was speaking in Spanish. She repeated it in English, “It is just fine. There is time. There will be time. And we—we knew it was coming. We can do this—”

“No,” Ezekiel said.

Natividad stopped. But Ezekiel was not speaking to her. He was speaking to himself, or to the night itself: a grim, flat denial of fate. He was still standing by the window, staring out. He had lost all his pose of amused ease. His shoulders had gone rigid, and the painted wood of the windowsill cracked where he gripped it, raw wood showing through. He took a sharp breath and shook his head, and said harshly, “Natividad,
which vampire is this?”

Natividad had no idea what he meant, but his tone made her skin prickle with horror. She stepped forward, hardly aware of Justin on one side and Keziah on the other, to look out the window, following Ezekiel’s gaze.

Keziah saw them first, though. She said, “Ah,” in a flat tone that was worse than a curse. Natividad thought she herself understood too, right then, just from that flat
Ah
. She thought that was why she recognized them instantly when she saw them, why she did not for an instant mistake them for black dogs.

“What?” Justin was asking them all urgently.
“What?”

“Those aren’t black dogs,” Ezekiel said grimly.

There were four of them. The vampire itself drew the eye first, but then when Natividad flinched from looking at it, the black dogs caught her attention immediately. But they weren’t black dogs, not really. They were so much more horrible. They looked like black dogs, they moved with the same powerful grace as real black dogs, but they were different. They lacked the essential humanity that always lay at the core of a black dog, even when he let his shadow rise. For those monsters with the vampire, the shadow was all they were.