Trail of Lightning (The Sixth World #1)(45)

I stumble out into one of the narrow dirt streets of Tse Bonito. I’m a little unsteady on my feet, but I can breathe again and there’s some space here. The street I’ve ended up on is deserted. Dark trailer windows and plywood stands stretch a hundred yards in front of me, but, thankfully, no people. The stew stand I pointed out earlier is to my right. Three half-walled sides and a long rectangular kitchen in the back. It’s the kind of thing families build to sell food on busy market days or for the annual fair days. I brace a foot against the plywood siding and, grabbing a pole for support, pull myself over. I hunker down low behind the waist-high wall, lean my back against the solid, and pull my knees up. Close my eyes and count to ten. Then to ten again. Until the feelings of panic pass.

I know I can’t stay here. I have to move. But which way? To where?

I’ve got to get back to Kai. His ten minutes is up by now, and either he’s found out what happened to Tah or he’s talking his way into a jail cell. I take a deep breath and haul myself back over the side of the stall. I can’t do the crowd again. I’ve got to find another way around, so I decide to cut through town. It will bring me within sight of Tah’s hogan, and then I can circle back around on the far side of the barricade and see if Kai’s still there.

I keep my shoulders hunched and cap securely down as I cut between the buildings, weaving silently through the smoke and emptied-out town toward Tah’s hogan. The fire is louder here, a living thing. The smoke gathers around me like fog. I push through, chin tucked in my shirt, breathing in shallow gasps to keep from inhaling the poison. My eyes water and I squint into the distance, anxious to find Kai.

I finally spot him, an unmistakable bright purple and teal smudge in the smoky air. But he’s not alone. He’s walking with Longarm, the Law Dog’s arm slung across Kai’s shoulder in a friendly one-armed hug.

I was right. Kai did make a deal.

My vision blackens with rage. My hands clench. I remember the feel of his throat under my blade this morning, the pulse of his heartbeat beneath my hand. How easy it would have been to simply press until crimson flowed from his throat. Until he gurgled and drowned in his own blood and looked at me with dead eyes, like he did in my dream. K’aahanáanii croons a prelude.

I’m moving before I can think, already gripping the Glock still tucked in my pocket. I watch Kai stumble and Longarm’s hug tighten to hold him upright. Something silver flashes bright in the smoky air and I stop. There it is again. Something Kai’s holding in his hand. No, not in his hand. Around his wrist. He’s in handcuffs, and Longarm’s dragging Kai along beside him, barely conscious.

I curse myself for an idiot. So ready to see betrayal at every turn, just like Kai said. When nothing could be less true.

I watch as they turn down a narrow alley between food stalls and hurry to follow. I catch sight of them again as they walk down the middle of a street paved with sifting ash. I see Kai sway dangerously close to Longarm, stumble again before Longarm heaves him back onto his feet. I lose sight of them as they take a sharp right and disappear around the back of a tin-sided shack. I hesitate. If I cross the road to follow them, I’ll be exposed for the time it takes me to get over there. But if I wait too long, they might disappear, and the next time I see Kai, it could be from the other side of a jail cell. Or worse.

For a moment I am tempted to let them disappear into the haze. Let Kai deal with whatever the Law Dog has in store for him without me. I remind myself that Kai Arviso is not my problem and that I barely know him. But then I remember Tah’s face when he called his grandson “Big Medicine” and how he bragged about how he could heal Dinétah. And even if Tah’s wrong, he entrusted Kai’s safety to me. And damn it all, Kai wanted to be my friend.

So I keep my head low, eyes constantly searching to make sure I’m not seen, and I cross the road.

I turn the corner past the shack.

And freeze.

I watch in horror as twenty yards in front of me, Longarm draws back a massive fist and aims for the back of Kai’s head. Kai never even sees it coming.

The impact snaps his neck forward, his chin cutting into his sternum. He stumbles, tries to lift his arms up, but they’re cuffed behind his back. Longarm doesn’t wait for him to recover. He circles around and grabs Kai’s head between his hands. Brings his knee up hard into his face, driving his head back with so much force that for a moment, Kai’s spine seems to bend backward. Then his feet come out from under him and he slams into the dirt. His head strikes the dusty ground so hard it bounces.

Longarm draws back a metal-toed booted foot. He kicks once, twice, a half dozen times, one after the other, striking Kai’s ribs and kidneys. Kai’s body flops and shudders like a rag doll.

I stare stupidly, stunned by the sudden violence.

The only thing my brain is able to process is that Kai hasn’t made a sound. A brutal beating from a man twice his size and he hasn’t cried out once.

And then I see the blood. A lake of red. Spreading around his head.

A flash of memory sears my mind like wildfire. The taste of terror and helplessness flares on my tongue. A flash of the evil born on a cold February night. My vision blurs, then sharpens to something preternatural. Time slows. And expands. K’aahanáanii, Living Arrow. Bloodlust, white hot, flows through my veins, catching fire and spreading.

Longarm’s bent over, the big man breathing hard from his awful labor. He rests his hands on his knees, surveys his work. With a grunt he pushes himself up straight. Takes a few steps back and I watch as his hand goes to his hip and he releases the gun from the holster at his side. Slowly, slowly, his arm swings around. To point the gun at Kai.