Trail of Lightning (The Sixth World #1)(60)

“Who is it?” Grace asks.

“Says his name is Ma’ii.”



Ma’ii’s on the porch, rocking lazily in one of Grace’s chairs. He’s wearing a variation of the Western gentleman’s suit he favors, but this one is a mix of light blues and orange with his customary camel coat over his shoulders. He twirls his walking stick idly in one hand, letting it thump against the planks of the porch, the only sign of his irritation. He’s minus his hat, pale skin exposed to the setting sun and hair rustling lightly in an invisible breeze.

I lean against a post, just behind his shoulder, arms crossed. “What are you doing here?”

He surveys the yard casually, taking in the All-American, the razor-wire fencing, the long bank of garages, and says, “This doesn’t look a thing like Canyon de Chelly.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Oh yes. I know. All too well.” He tsks at me, long tongue flicking over sharp teeth. Twists his body around to stare at me with glittering golden eyes. “I’m beginning to think you aren’t taking our friendship seriously.”

I uncross my arms and take a seat in the rocking chair next to him. “Some bad things happened yesterday.” I leave out the details. I can’t see anything positive about telling Ma’ii about Tah.

“Ah yes, the medicine man,” he says, voice theatrically melancholy.

“How do you know about Tah?”

“I am Coyote. I know—”

“Yeah, whatever. But what does that have to do with you? If you’re just here to complain about me not getting to your job—”

He lifts a hand to hold me off. “I did not just come to this . . . where are we exactly?”

“Grace’s All-American. It’s a bar.”

He sniffs. “Are you sure? No mind. I was saying that I did not just come to check on your progress in completing my quest. I came because I have learned something of the monsters you seek.” He pauses dramatically. “I believe you would call it a clue.”

“The tsé naayéé’?” Kai’s voice calls from behind us. I hadn’t realized he was there, but now he steps forward to face Ma’ii. “What is it?”

“Ah, Kai Arviso!” Ma’ii’s face lights up. “How splendid to see you again.” His sly eyes roll toward me. “Have you and Magdalena become lovers yet?”

I exhale loudly. “Can you focus, Ma’ii?”

“In time, then,” he says before he turns back to me. “A fire drill.”

“A what?”

“A drill.” He waves a clawed hand. “A tool used by Haashch’ééshzhiní to set the stars ablaze.”

Kai and I exchange a look. The same god from the Crownpoint recordings. The thing I called a firestarter.

“And that’s related to the monsters, how?”

“I have told you all I know. But there’s an associate of mine who trades in such things. She knows more, may even have this drill in her possession. You seek her out, you learn what she knows, and you may have the source that animates your monsters.”

“Are you saying this fire drill is used to bring the tsé naayéé’ to life?”

“That could be it, Maggie,” Kai says. “Could be the same thing from the CDs.”

“What’s in this for you, Ma’ii? Why are you helping us? Why should we trust you?”

His face droops and he gives me what could only be called puppy dog eyes. “You wound me. Did we not bargain? Make a deal and share a meal as friends? I vowed to tell you what I know of the monsters, and you, in return, owe me a trip to Canyon de Chelly.”

He’s shrewd. I’ll give him that. And it’s the first real clue we’ve gotten in a while, and it fits in with everything else. “Okay then.”

He leans in. “?‘Okay then’ what?”

“Thank you.”

Ma’ii gives me a little seated bow. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“So where do we find this friend of yours with the fire drill?”

“A place I understand young Kai Arviso has frequented before. Why, just three nights ago he had a conversation with a dead man there.”

“What’s he talking about?” I look at Kai. He flinches before giving a little derisive shake of his head. He obviously knows where Coyote means.

“What’s he talking about?” I repeat. “Where did you meet a dead man?”

Kai looks at Coyote, lips pursed in thought, like he’s reconsidering every nice thing he might have thought about Ma’ii. He finally looks over at me. “The dead man is Longarm, isn’t it? So he’s talking about Tse Bonito, a place in Tse Bonito. He’s talking about the Shalimar.”





Chapter 27


“Are you sure this is necessary?”

An hour later and I’m stuffed in the bathroom of Grace’s trailer with Clive as he fusses over my hair. For a muscle-bound gun nut, he’s got some remarkable styling skills. “A bundle of contradictions,” he warned me with a wink before we started, and I laughed, not expecting much. But now he’s making me eat my words.

He’s coaxed the front of my hair down into a long sweeping bang on one side of my face. It looks cool, but it’s impractical and annoying, much like everything else he’s conceived for me tonight. He’s rimmed my eyes in black liner, and my lips he’s painted a deep scarlet red. I haven’t worn cosmetics since high school, didn’t know they were still around until Clive produced a stash that would satisfy a drag queen. Which, it turns out, is pretty much the truth.