Trail of Lightning

Chapter 35

“Ma’ii.”

“That is my name.”

“And why am I not surprised you’re here,” I say, stalking forward. He’s wearing another Western suit, but this one is done in shades of blacks and grays, a froth of creamy ruffles at his neck, a single blood red rose in his lapel. A black cowboy hat sits atop his head.

“Because where else in Dinétah would I be?”

“Where is he?” I ask, scanning the roof for Neizghání. But we’re alone, the trickster and me. “I know you were in this together.”

He frowns. “You think I would collaborate with that oaf? Surely you jest.”

“You need to go.”

“No, Magdalena,” he says, an edge to his voice. “I think I’ll stay.”

I curse, irritated. I was sure Neizghání would be here. He’d admired the vantage point before, said it would be a fine place from which to view the land below. And the lightning. But maybe I’d misread him. Maybe he was down in the field even now. I feel Coyote’s eyes on me. “Look, I don’t care what your part in this was. I’ll deal with you later. Right now I—”

We both hear it at the same time. The scream of a dozen motorbikes accelerating at once, the charge of a hundred bloodthirsty creatures. He tilts his head, listening. “Ah . . . there it is. The clarion call. And we are away!”

I rush to join him at the edge of the roof. A mass of pale bodies moves eastward, pouring up over the lip of the canyon. Like a wave of larvae, they come. Dozens, as far as I can see, converging on the break in the chamisa line.

I see the Thirsty Boys on their bikes, rushing to meet them. Flamethrowers strapped across their backs. The truck is parked in the distance, and a lone figure that can only be Kai stands in the bed of the truck, facing the oncoming monsters.

In unison the Boys veer out, stretching wide to flank the monsters. The Boys’ weapons ignite, and they coat the tsé naayéé’ in a blazing blanket of flame. The monsters’ shrieks echo across the mesa as they burn.

“Clever,” Ma’ii observes.

“Wait. They’re not done.”

Kai climbs up on the roof of the truck. He plants his feet and thrusts out his hands. I can almost hear his singing. I see Clive nearby blast a gust of fire into the sky.

And the wind comes. Just like at Rock Springs, the fire takes flight. Becomes a twisting inferno and eats through the ranks of the creatures like a hungry beast.

“Fascinating,” Ma’ii says, eyes on Kai, his tone one of begrudging respect. “And unexpectedly swift.” He pulls the pocket watch from his vest and checks the time.

From my vantage point I can see we’ve decimated their ranks. There’s only a dozen monsters left. Clive and Rissa join the Thirsty Boys and together they ride them down, removing heads from bodies or dousing them in flames. I grin, breathe a sigh of relief. Our plan worked.

And then something to the south catches my eye. Rounding a curve and coming over the hillside.

“Ah,” Coyote says, sounding thoroughly entertained. “The cavalry!”

I watch in horror as more monsters pour onto the mesa, coming up fast behind the truck. Kai turns toward them, hands raised. I hold my breath as he stumbles. I know he’s exhausted, tapped from healing me and then being forced to use powers so soon after. I scream uselessly for Hastiin or Clive or somebody to come back and help Kai, but they can’t hear me, and the monsters are closing in. They won’t make it to him in time.

Lightning strikes the field.

Blinding bright, and by the time I blink away the afterglow and can see again, he’s there. Fifteen feet in front of Kai, standing between him and the monsters. He’s magnificent, black hair flowing down his back in a curtain of shadow. Armor bright. He carries his lightning sword in his hand.

And everywhere he points it, destruction.

“Punctual!” Coyote snaps his pocket watch shut. “Now the fun begins.”

I gape, mouth hanging open, as Neizghání clears the field. Monsters fall everywhere. They burst into flame, as if at his command, or simply shatter into pieces. He swings his arm and shears heads from necks in one blow. Running, spinning from their hungry mouths, he is violence incarnate. He is beautiful.

“I’ve got to get down there,” I whisper as I watch him lay waste to the army.

Coyote runs a clawed hand through the snowy ruffles of his shirt. “Tarry a moment, Magdalena. And I shall first tell you a story.”

“What?” I say, distracted as I watch Neizghání run a huge tsé naayéé’ through. He’s a force of nature, but there are so many of them and only one of him. And they seem to keep coming. Hundreds of them.

“About a lonely coyote, wrongly accused, and a young girl in a fine position to help him get his revenge.”

That gets my attention. “What are you talking about, Ma’ii?”

“Did you not notice me? There on the mountain with you after you killed the first monster?”

A scream draws my attention back to the battlefield in time to catch a Thirsty Boy go down under a swarm of white bodies. Even with Neizghání’s help, Hastiin’s Boys are dying.

“Stop this, Ma’ii. I know the tsé naayéé’ are yours. Why are you doing this?”

Coyote cocks his head. Blinks. “The tsé naayéé’?”

“Don’t deny it. I know you have the fire drill. I know you made them.”

“Oh, I don’t deny it. But you misunderstand. I didn’t just make the tsé naayéé’. I made them all. They are all my monsters, Magdalena. From the very beginning.”

“Yes, I know. Lukachukai, and Crownpoint, and Rock—”

He tsks sharply, disapproving. “No, no, no. From an isolated pine ridge,” he croons as he strokes claws through the ruffles of his shirt, “up above Fort Defiance.”

My blood runs cold.

“So simple, really,” he says softly. “I knew Neizghání was already hunting that witch and his creatures. All I needed to do was ensure a rendezvous. A desperate girl. An inevitable rescue. A bleeding-hearted hero. How could he not take you in?” He shudders theatrically. “Nasty business with your nalí, though. Cannibals. Such a horror.”

I can’t breathe. I’m not hearing this. I can’t. This can’t be true.

“Regrettable. Truly. A parent can never control his children. But then look at my latest creation.” He sweeps his arm across the battlefield below. “I knew I needed something sufficiently monstrous to pull you from your little sulk, and what better than what lured Neizghání to you in the first place? A little girl, beset by flesh-eating monsters. Although,” he says, his voice thoughtful, “if I am honest, and I am always honest, these creatures have been a bit of a disappointment. A little too single-minded, you understand. And such disappointing conversationalists. Did you know they cannot speak? Grunts. Moans. But not a clever turn of phrase among them. I assume that’s why they keep trying to devour human vocal cords, but who can say? Unfortunately, they cannot.” He chuckles at his joke, drifting into a melancholy sigh. “It turns out the fire drill can create the spark of life, but it can’t bestow a soul.”

I finally manage to open my own mouth. “What have you done?”

Ma’ii beams. “Well, only make you great, of course!”

“What?” I croak, my voice shredding in disbelief.

“I don’t expect you to be grateful now, but in time.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth.

I stare, horrified.

“Clan powers, of course,” he says, irritated like I’m purposefully not following him. “How else to awaken them? And then to have you trained by the greatest warrior the Diné have ever known.” He leans forward, eyes bright and intense. “I needed you wounded, Magdalena. I needed you angry, and I needed that anger focused on one man.”

“So my whole life is some game you’ve been playing with Neizghání?”

“This is no game, I assure you. Or it is the most delicious game of all. I cannot say.” He straightens cuffs that don’t need straightening. “You are glorious, Magdalena. A weapon finer than any other. I don’t think you appreciate it. And that one”—he glances toward the battle below—“appreciates it more than he cares to admit. There was always the risk that he’d kill you once he realized your potential. How much better you were than him. But I was reasonably sure he’d let you live. Because here’s the intriguing part, Magdalena. He loves you. Well, as much as someone like him can love someone,” he adds hastily.

My knees start to shake. “But you said . . .”

“What I needed you to believe. I needed your hate. Not your mercy. And I did encourage you to take Kai Arviso to your bed,” he says with a sniff. “Someone to console you after Neizghání is dead. I’ve never wanted you to suffer. I’m not a monster after all.”

A strangled sob escapes my lips.

“And you do plan to kill him, don’t you?” he asks eagerly. “How could you not? After he has humiliated you so thoroughly. It is nothing more than what he deserves.”

“You shouldn’t have done it, Ma’ii,” I say, low and quiet. I draw the gun from the holster at my hip. “You shouldn’t have done that to me. To my nalí.” My voice cracks. “To Tah.” Because now I know that the fire that burned down his hogan came from Ma’ii’s lightning strike. Whether to alienate me further or push Kai and me together or for some other twisted reason. At this point, it doesn’t really matter.

He sighs. “Aren’t you being a little melodramatic?”

“You can’t fuck with people like that. You can’t fuck with me.”

I raise the gun. Point it at Ma’ii’s head.

“I can see you are unappreciative of my genius,” he murmurs. His eyes watch me, watch the gun, but he doesn’t move. “But I also know that today will see Neizghání dead by his apprentice’s hand. You want it. Kai Arviso wants it. It is a cold revenge I do not regret.”

I don’t say anything. Just keep the gun steady.

A flick of a lupine ear as his illusion starts to fracture. “Oh really, Magdalena. Is violence always the ans—?”

One shot to the forehead.

He pitches backward, crashing into the dirt. I walk over to his body. Stare for a moment at the still eyes, the gaping mouth. I bend over him and run my knife across his throat. A curtain of red opens across his pale skin. I work the knife until his head comes free in my hand. I hurl it over the edge of the platform. K’aahanáanii howls, wild and feral.

I watch for a while as the blood runs in rivulets down into the cracks of the parched rooftop. Until the cracks fill and the blood spreads in pools around his headless body. Soaking through the sleeves of his fine Western suit.