Mick eased away from me, to my disappointment. “Coyote isn’t wrong, though. You can’t use the Beneath power anymore.”
I blew out my breath in exasperation. “I wish the two of you would get it. I don’t do it on purpose. I need to do something, and the magic just comes to me.”
“But what happens when you can’t stop it? When you need to fight something, and you end up destroying the entire town to do it?”
I folded my arms, suddenly cold. The magic had wanted me to destroy the entire town to prevent another person getting turned inside out. And now someone was resurrecting corpses. A being who could do that could also commit that awful murder.
“I’m trying to explain to you that I don’t know how I’m doing it. The magic comes, and then it just goes. Believe me, I haven’t done half the things it’s wanted me to do.”
His eyes narrowed. “It talks to you?”
“Something or someone does. It’s unnerving. I’ve resisted.”
“What happens when you can’t?”
“The hell if I know. That’s why I keep asking for
help
, damn it.”
Mick cupped my elbows, stepping against me again. “I know, baby. I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.”
“From Coyote? Who keeps me safe from you?”
He hesitated. We’d gone through this, his orders to kill me and his decision to not obey those orders. Hence the dragon council putting him on trial to declare him officially guilty.
But I knew in my heart that Mick didn’t think the dragons wrong for worrying about a dangerous thing like me. The dragons’ ancestors hadn’t come from Beneath, as mine and most of humanity’s had. Dragons had been born of this earth, in fiery volcanoes. They didn’t have an ounce of Beneath in them, and they liked it that way. Long ago, they’d helped Coyote trap some of the more evil gods Beneath, to keep them from emerging into this world, and it’s no exaggeration to say that those gods would do anything to take their revenge.
And here I was, the daughter of one of those evil goddesses, wandering the earth alive and well. Protected by Mick, one of the dragons’ own. No wonder the dragons wanted to put him to death.
But Mick wasn’t any happier with Beneath goddesses and their powers than his fellow dragons were. He’d happened to start liking me—lucky me—or he’d have fried me a long time ago. I was alive because Mick had decided he admired my courage.
“Can you answer me, Mick? What happens to me when you decide I’m too dangerous for this world?”
His grip tightened on my elbows, his hands strong enough to break my bones. “That’s why I want you to try, baby. So I don’t have to make that decision.”
“Don’t rush to reassure me or anything.”
Mick touched his forehead to mine, eyes troubled, breath warm on my face. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you alive, Janet. I swear to you.”
I knew he would. That was Mick, protecting me from everything and everyone, even from myself. But Mick was telling me that the moment he thought the world would be better off with me dead, he’d do the deed himself, much as he hated the thought.
I pressed him away from me. “I have work to do.”
Mick stepped back, and I slid out from under him and headed for the door. He was allowing me to go; I knew that. I hadn’t won anything here.
His voice sounded behind me, low and deep. “I won’t always let you walk away from me, Janet.”
In spite of myself, a shiver ran down my spine as I continued into the hotel and shut the door behind me.
Twelve
The Magellan Inn was a single-story motel tucked into a curve of the highway right in the center of town. Assistant Chief Salas’s brother, who owned and managed the motel, recognized me and was happy to let me know that my friend Colby had booked into room twenty.
I hadn’t bothered to tell Mick about this errand, and I’d borrowed Fremont Hansen’s truck so the magic mirror on my bike wouldn’t tattle on me. I knocked on the door of room twenty, which was wrenched open after a second by Colby. He was shirtless, his hair damp, as though he’d just come out of the shower. His chest and back were as covered with tattoos as his arms. I wondered if any inch of his body wasn’t.
The television blared some satellite channel, which Colby switched off with a click of the remote.
“So, did you come to your senses and leave that SOB?” he asked as I shut the door. “Course, you’d have to kill him if you have, or he’ll just drag you to his lair and keep you there.”
“I’m not a dragon.”
“I don’t think he gives a rat’s ass. Not that I blame him. I wouldn’t want to let you go either. Want a beer?” Colby opened the mini-fridge and took out a couple cans of Kirin, holding one out to me. I took it, and he snapped open the top of his.
“Are you a Japanese dragon?” I asked, rolling the chilled can between my hands.
“No, I’m a dragon dragon. We don’t have nationalities.”
“It’s just that you have full-body tattoos and drink Kirin beer.”
“So that makes me Japanese?” Colby chuckled. “With a name like Colby? Your name is Janet, not
Runs-With-Coyotes
or something. Not that Colby’s my real one; it’s just easier for humans to pronounce.” He sat down on the bed, taking a gulp of beer. “I was born in Japan, though. I still like it. Thought about doing some sumo wrestling, but I couldn’t put on the poundage. Flying around as a dragon keeps you lean.”
“I’ll bet.”
He gave me an affable grin, but it held wariness. “What do you want, Stormwalker? Come to scold me about how mean I talked to Micky?”
“No, I want to know exactly how you plan to help him. Plus I want to know
why
you’re willing to help him. You fed him your prepared story; now I want to know the truth.”
Colby sipped his beer. He didn’t reach to put on a shirt, but his body was so inked it was as though he wore living, painted fabric.
“Dragon trials are serious shit, little Stormwalker,” he said. “You should stay out of it, like Micky wants you to.”
“I’ll be dragged into it whether I like it or not. I’d rather walk in myself, on my own terms.”
Colby gave me a look of new respect. “You do have stones, girl. All right, here’s the deal. The dragons will allow a defense, not of the actual crime, but of the accused. Kind of like character witnesses, to state why they don’t think the accused should be executed for the crime.”
“In other words, the ‘trial’ is more like a hearing to decide Mick’s sentence?”
“Pretty much. If the defense happens to prove the accused’s innocence in the process, the dragon council can reverse its verdict.” He shrugged. “It’s happened. Once or twice in a couple thousand years.”
I opened my beer and took a casual sip. “I take it you don’t hold out hope for that.”
“It’s obvious that Mick’s guilty in this case. He agreed that he’d watch over you unless you went for the vortexes, and then he’d kill you. You did; he didn’t.”
“I can’t be too upset about that.”
“Plus he can’t solve the problem by simply killing you now.” Colby leaned back on his elbows on the bed, beer held negligently. “That won’t negate the fact that he should have done it the minute you tried to open the vortex. No, his only chance is to make them understand why he did it, and to prove you’re no longer a danger to the dragons.”
“And so you rushed out to try to reason with the dragon council on his behalf? Why? Obviously Mick thinks of you as an enemy. Tell me what happened between you two.”
Colby gave me another grin. “Now, for that, you’ll have to ask Micky. It’s old, old history, but dragons have long memories.”
“Then why should Mick trust you?”
“Because this time, I’m on his side. I rushed out to help him, because the dragon council was going to have a sham trial and execute him without defense. Already decided. I figured, what they do to him, they can do to me, so I petitioned for them to give him a real, legal trial, sticking to the letter of dragon law. The whole works.”
“And you don’t care whether he’s executed, only that he has a fair hearing.”
Colby raised his beer to me and took a sip. “That’s about the size of it.”
I set my beer can on the table beside the television, came to him, leaned down, and got in his face. “Let me tell you something, Colby. You’d better damn well care. You’d better pull out all the stops to save his butt, or I guarantee there won’t be anyone who can save yours.”
“Hey, I’m not afraid of you, Stormwalker. If you throw lightning at me, I’ll just lap it up. I’d love to, in fact. I’d lap anything off you, any day of the week.”
I couldn’t grab him by the shirt since he wasn’t wearing one, so I reached behind him for his long braid. His hair was warm and thick, like coarse silk. Mick’s was much the same. Nothing dragony about it.
“But I’m more than just a Stormwalker,” I said. “You know that. Plus, I have some very powerful friends.” I looked straight into his eyes. “Some of them are gods who don’t much like dragons.”
Uneasiness flickered in Colby’s gaze, but he didn’t drop his bravado. “You keep talking like that, and you’ll condemn Mick, no matter what I try to say to the council. My line of defense was going to be that you’re harmless, that Micky understood that the order to kill you was unnecessary, and besides, you helped seal up the vortexes and end the threat. Dragons hate waste, and they don’t like arbitrary murder, especially not of innocents.”
“How ethical of them.”
“So you see, sweetheart, in order to save Micky’s hide, we have to convince the dragons that you’re no threat. Not to them, not to anyone.”
“But I’m not a threat.” I smiled. “At least, not to dragons as a whole. Just to you.”
“No, darling, you are. You’re bubbling with power, and sooner or later, you’re going to blow. I was willing to give Micky the benefit of the doubt for not offing you, and then I met you.” His smile was gone, his eyes darkening like Mick’s did. “Now I think it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t kill you. I’m betting you wouldn’t let him.”
I remembered the night I’d met Mick, him and me in a seedy motel room he’d dragged me to after pulling me out of a big bar fight. Mick had dared me to try to hurt him, and I’d been angry enough and scared enough to hit him with lightning. I’d watched in shock while he absorbed my storm power like it was nothing, and then he’d laughed and taken me out to dinner.
Colby was wrong. All the decisions that night had been Mick’s, not mine. The night I’d opened the vortexes, Mick had stood with me in the rain, ready to break my neck. He’d have done it; I’d felt it in him, and he’d had the strength to do it. Colby was talking out of his ass.
I released Colby’s braid and straightened up. “If Mick wanted me dead, he could have killed me anytime since I met him.”
“Bullshit. I see in your eyes that you would never have let him. You’re a powerful being, Janet Begay, and you look down on the rest of us. I’ll lie my ass off and defend Micky, because I don’t want the dragon council getting too uppity. But you, girl, are another story. The dragons were right to put out a death order on you.”
“You told me that when the dragons first asked you to kill me, you refused.”
“Hell, yes. I’m not their puppet. Let them do their own dirty work. Plus,
then
, I didn’t really believe you were a threat. What could a Stormwalker do against the might of the dragons, even if you do have a bit of goddess in you?” He looked me up and down again. “Now that I’ve met you, I think you could do a lot of damage, no matter how small you are.”
“I don’t care about any of that. I have no intention of messing with the dragons; I only want to save Mick. I’m not letting him die because of me. Understand?”
“Oh, I understand. So, help me convince the dragons that you’re harmless. That’s all you have to do.”
I wanted to rage at him. Of course, I was harmless. Of course, I could convince them of that.
So why did I just stand there, doubts flying through my head? I had the awful feeling that if Mick’s fate depended on my being a sweet and good little Stormwalker, Mick was so screwed.
I left Colby putting up his feet and skimming through the satellite channels the motel provided. He’d given me a lot to think about, ideas that hadn’t occurred to me.
I’d
somehow prevented Mick from killing me? Couldn’t be. My Beneath magic had always been dormant until recently, and Mick was damn powerful, whatever Colby thought about him.
Assistant Chief Salas came out of the office as I prepared to climb into Fremont’s truck. “Hey, Janet. Luis told me you were here. Need to talk to you.”
I was impatient to go, but I liked Emilio Salas, so I waited for him.
“What’s up?” I asked. “I know this is Fremont’s truck, but he let me borrow it, honest.”
Salas smiled, eyes crinkling. He was good-looking, about thirty, with blue black hair and dark eyes, and did his job with quiet efficiency. “It’s not about the truck. It’s a personal question. You mind?”