Trail of Lightning (The Sixth World #1)(10)

He lets it go. “Maybe something happened to Neizghání.”

“To the legendary Monsterslayer? I don’t think so.”

“But did he say why—?”

“We’ve been over this before.” No way I’m telling Tah about the warning Neizghání gave me on Black Mesa. Tah still sees the good in me, even if my mentor didn’t in the end, and that kind of faith is precious.

“Yes, but—”

“Drop it.”

“Maggie.”

“Tah.” We usually don’t bicker like this, but I feel edgy. Exhausted, restless, after the kill. I’m obviously terrible company despite Tah’s hospitality, and I’m starting to think coming was a bad idea. Especially if he’s set on talking about Neizghání.

He’s quiet for a minute before he says, “You must remember that Neizghání isn’t human. He doesn’t think like we do.”

I snort. That’s a serious understatement.

Tah’s voice is gentle when he says, “Are you ever going to tell me what happened on Black Mesa?”

The coffee mug’s rattling between my hands before I clamp a hand over the top to stop it. The sugar lingering on my tongue has soured. I sit back from the table and give a sharp jerk of my head. This conversation is over.

Tah watches me, obviously curious. But he doesn’t ask again. “So many secrets,” he complains. “And no family, no friends, and now you’re not even talking to Neizghání? You got nobody, Maggie.”

It’s not that I don’t want friends, don’t want family. I do. I want them as much as everyone else. It’s just . . . complicated. Neizghání was different. An immortal. Around him, I didn’t worry. But with other people? Flesh and blood and human? I don’t think I want the responsibility.

“I’m fine,” I manage to say. “I’ve got you, and I’ve got my dogs.”

“Just an old man to talk to, and I won’t live much longer. Then what will you do? It is no good how you live. Alone, not connected. Diné way is to find the connections—between yourself and your relatives, yourself and the world. Diné way of life is k’é, kinship, like this”—he weaves his fingers in and out, bringing his hands together, and then splays his palms open while keeping his fingers intertwined—“but you, your life is all separate.” He pulls his hands apart, setting the fingers free to wiggle. “It’s no way to live.” He pauses, gives me a look. “Even with dogs.”

This is a familiar conversation between us, but on zero sleep, my shitty mood, and the unfamiliar caffeine, I’m not up for it today. “You going to help me with the thing I brought you or gossip about Neizghání?” It comes out harsher than I mean it to, and I try to smile to soften the words, but it feels like a rictus grin.

He stares at me. I wait him out, keep that stupid smile pasted on my face. He finally sighs and drops his shoulders. “You better show me what you brought me.”



“Where did you get this?”

We are standing across from each other at the kitchen table, a refreshed cup of coffee in hand, looking at the head. He’s covered the table with an old plastic tablecloth and I’ve dumped the head out where he wanted it. It’s the first time I’ve seen it properly in the light. The monster’s features are blunt and unrefined, matching slashes for eyes and another slash for a mouth, like his face is made of clay and his features are cut out by a child with a stick. His nose is almost completely flat, like someone put his face up against a granite cliff and pushed hard, and the skin that sags from the skull is almost translucent, veined and pulpy. He has a wide oversize forehead and a thick squared-off jaw that makes him look as brutal as he really was in life. I whistle low in appreciation. That is ugly.

“East of Lukachukai, up in the mountains,” I explain. “He’d taken a little girl. I caught him at a makeshift camp about an hour up the mountain, chewing on the kid like she was for dinner.”

He looks up from his ministrations, eyes intelligent and sharp as an eagle’s. “Chewing?”

“Yeah. Digging out her throat, actually. With his teeth.”

Tah uses his stick to pry the mouth apart. It comes open with surprising ease.

“That’s strange,” I say. “No rigor mortis. Shouldn’t his jaw be stiff?”

“Look at this, Maggie.” He motions me closer, pointing the stick at the monster’s teeth. I lean in. They’re all uniformly straight and blunt, like old wooden dentures. “No incisors, no canines. It’s like a mouth full of molars.”

“Weird. Since he was obviously a carnivore. Shouldn’t he have pointy teeth?” It certainly explains why he was simply gnawing on the girl and making slow progress. And why he didn’t break through my leather jacket.

“No tooth decay, either.”

“Why does that matter?”

“An adult animal with no tooth decay?” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t happen.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Nothing yet.” He lets the mouth fall closed and turns to a shelf behind him. He retrieves a handsaw and a pair of long pliers. “Let’s see what’s inside.”