Trail of Lightning (The Sixth World #1)(72)

His voice is soft and distant when he finally speaks. “Who fed you such a total crock of shit?”

I jerk away. “What?”

He turns to me. His voice is calm, but his eyes are like tempests brewing below the surface of the sea. I shiver, trying to focus, but his sudden intensity has completely thrown me off. “Who convinced you that all you are is a killer?” His voice is louder now. “That Living Arrow is some sort of curse? That your past makes you some kind of monster?”

“I . . . I . . .” I scramble to defend myself. “Evil is like a disease,” I start.

“So you think you’re evil?”

“No. But if it gets on you . . .”

“?‘Gets on you’? Maggie, listen to yourself. Whatever happened to you may have been evil, but you aren’t evil. And out of that evil deed came a blessing, not a curse.”

“I don’t believe—”

“But you did once, didn’t you?”

I remember herding sheep for my grandmother, pink pajamas with hearts on the back. Watching Westerns and laughing. But then I remember other things too. “Not for a very long time.”

“You know Tah thought that you hung the moon. Used to brag about you to me, try to convince me you would save our people. He believed you were a hero.”

“Tah was always—”

“Was it Longarm who makes you think this way? I remember what he said to you. Did you swallow the poisoned Kool-Aid that prick was selling?”

“Of course not.”

“Then who? Neizghání? That teacher you clam up about every time his name comes up? Did he tell you that you were poisoned, some kind of natural-born killer? Did he convince you that you couldn’t have friends? Couldn’t be loved?”

“Kai, stop! It’s not like that. You don’t understand.”

There’s a loud roar from the pit, signaling that the fight is over. We both turn and lean forward to try to catch a glimpse of the winner. And the loser.

“Then make me understand,” he whispers as he turns back to face me, his voice urgent. “I’ll listen. Make me understand.”

What do I say? It’s the only life I know? It’s the only thing I’m good at? Killing is the only thing I have that makes me worth anything to Neizghání? And Neizghání was the only thing I had that makes me worth anything at all?

“I . . . I can’t,” I stutter. “You don’t know what it’s been like for me. You have friends. People love you. You saw how people react to me.”

“People like to kick my face in,” he says, his voice wry. “Uriostes, Law Dogs. Is that what you mean?”

I laugh, despite myself. “Oh God, that’s true, isn’t it?”

He sighs. Nods, then takes a deep breath and looks at me, his face serious. “One of the first lessons Grandpa taught me. Clan powers are a gift, not a curse. We may not understand them, why they only come to some of us, what their full potential is, but he was sure they were an instrument against dark times, against the coming of monsters. And like any instrument, they can be used for good or evil. A good man can use a hammer to build a house. A bad man can use it to kill his neighbor. The hammer is the same.”

“I’m more gun than hammer. I’m a weapon. Specifically meant for killing.”

“A gun, then, Maggie. But one that can be used to protect just as much as destroy. Or neither. Melt down a gun to its essence and all you have is metal that can be shaped into anything you want. Nothing says you can’t do the same.”

“I know what you’re saying, but you don’t know me. Not really. You don’t know the things that I’ve been through. Or the things that I’ve done.” Gray eyes going dim as I slide my blade across a throat. Wiping my knife on a dead man’s coat. Longarm, a face like hamburger meat. And a little girl, her head rolling down the side of a mountain.

And more. Countless more.

“I don’t need to know,” Kai says. “Everything you’ve done, your past, it’s all just a story you tell yourself. Some of it is true, but some of it is lies.” He brushes my cheek with the back of his fingers.

I frown and pull away. “You think I’m lying?”

His voice is almost unbearably kind. “Only to yourself.”

The same words Ma’ii used, but I don’t have time to contemplate the coincidence. The far gate slams open. We both turn to look. It’s one of the Bear clan guards. We stand up as he enters and watch as he marches through the cell to open the chain-link gate with a key. Kai grabs my hand, holds it tight. I let him. Maybe even squeeze back a little.

“Two minutes,” the guard growls, handing me a knife. It takes me a moment to realize it’s my B?ker. Seven inches of edged steel, slightly curved, heavier on top to weight a downward strike. They opened the lockbox.

The guard grins. “Be grateful you’re getting it at all. But Mósí figured you’d fight better with your own weapons and she wants a good fight.”

I slide the knife into the empty sheath on my belt.

“They’ll call your name. You come out. A little showmanship never hurts. Runs the bets up. You’re a girl, so they’re already betting hard against you, and, well . . .” He chuckles, low and mean.