Trail of Lightning (The Sixth World #1)(12)

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he says brightly. “I know someone who would make a great partner.”





Chapter 5


“Your grandson?” I try to keep the incredulity out of my voice.

Tah nods big. “He’s been staying with me since the end of the summer. Learning the Medicine Way. He’s pretty good with the prayer songs, remembers them real good. Protection prayers too. Healing.”

Summer? And it’s already November. Has it been that long since I visited Tah? And what does that say about me that I didn’t even notice? “Has your grandson ever hunted a monster?”

He shakes his head no. “But his prayers are strong, his memory’s good. And he’s smart. Real smart.”

“And he’s from the Burque?”

“The Burque,” he confirms.

“And why is he here in Dinétah now?”

“Learning, I told you.” He leans forward, like he has a secret. I lean in too. “He’s going to bring back the old ways. The Weather Ways. Help us. Help the Diné. Maybe help all people.”

“The Weather Ways?”

“To call the rain. Break this drought. Maybe heal the land from the Big Water.”

That’s a tall order. And the great joke of the Big Water. The rest of the world may have drowned, but Dinétah withers under a record-breaking drought.

“And you think your grandson can do that?”

I’ve never heard of such a thing beyond the stereotype of the Indian rain dance. But Tah’s not talking about some show put on for tourists way back when, he’s talking about manipulating real power. Creating and sustaining life. Controlling the forces of nature. A shiver dances across my scalp and I scratch at my head reflexively.

“That’s great, Tah, but what does this have to do with helping me hunt down this monster?”

“He’s your age. A good young man.”

“A good man,” I echo . . . and things come together. His little speech earlier about me being alone, his questions about Neizghání. “Are you trying to set me up?” I thought the old man was talking about finding me a partner to help me track the monsters, but this sounds like he’s more interested in playing matchmaker.

He’s not even embarrassed. “You would be good for each other.”

I laugh, louder than I mean to, but the thought is ludicrous. I’m talking about battling the monsters, and Tah is worried about my love life.

Tah scowls at me. He thinks I’m laughing at him, but it’s not that at all. I try another tactic. “You’re telling me that he’s a healer, right?”

“A good one. Big Medicine.”

“Right, big medicine. Well, then you don’t want him around me. All I can teach him is death.”

He grunts. “You go up against that witch, no gun is going to help you. You need strong medicine, and my grandson has it.”

Okay, so maybe he’s not only talking about my love life. And he’s got a point. I don’t relish fighting a witch powerful enough to create monsters without medicine of my own. “Maybe I shouldn’t be going after this witch at all.”

“Just meet him, Maggie.”

“Fine.” I raise my hands in surrender. “I’ll meet him. Where is he?”

We both look over at the empty couch, unslept in. I spread my hands to make a point. “I’m not waiting for him.”

“Waiting for who?” comes a voice from behind us. A figure, outlined by the morning sun, stands in the open doorway.

The stranger leans against the doorjamb, hands casually tucked in his pants pockets. Mirrored blue sunglasses hide his eyes, and shadows keep me from getting a good look at his face. He’s slim, medium tall. An inch or two shorter than my almost six feet. Probably my age, give or take a year either way.

“Who are you?” I ask, hand automatically dropping to the B?ker at my waist as I squint through the light.

Tah stands up. “This is my grandson,” he exclaims. “Big Medicine!”





Chapter 6


Turns out Tah’s grandson’s name is Kai, not “Big Medicine,” and it’s pretty clear, pretty quick, that Kai and I are not going to be the match made in heaven Tah was hoping for.

Maybe it’s his clothes. A dark purple button-up shirt tucked into teal pants, the creases still sharp, and a silver striped tie. Silver-colored dress shoes, as improbable on the rez as a glass slipper, and shined spotless despite the impossible red dust that gets on everything. And those blue-mirrored aviators that probably cost as much as my truck when both the truck and those shades were brand-new.

Maybe it’s his face. Handsome. No, more than just handsome. Movie-star boy-band handsome, if movie stars and boy bands still existed. Perfect hair, styled in an artful mess, thick and black enough to have a bluish sheen to match the designer sunglasses and the fashion model clothes. Flawless brown skin that makes me self-conscious about the smattering of acne scars on my own cheeks.

Or maybe it’s not so much the pretty-boy looks or the fancy suit, but the fact that he rolled up at Tah’s at a quarter before eight in the morning, clearly back from a night out that had only recently ended. And while he doesn’t look like he’s been partying—his hands are perfectly steady as he pours sheep’s milk into his coffee—he smells faintly of smoke and booze and sweat. Not unpleasant, but I’d bet dollars to donuts that while I was hunting down monsters, Kai spent the previous night partying with his friends and trying to snag some local girl.