Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

" C an I come?" Gabrielle asked immediately.

"No," Grandmother and I said at the same time.

"Aw, Janet gets to have all the fun." Gabrielle feigned sulking, but I could tell she wasn't truly upset.

"You have a team to coach," Grandmother reminded her. "You don't get to rush off on your responsibilities because something more interesting comes along."

Gabrielle's petulance abruptly vanished. "There's nothing more interesting than my girls. I'd never desert them, don't worry. Besides, flying to a remote island to poke around a cave isn't my idea of a good time. No yummy restaurants."

"You should not take the egg." Grandmother switched her commanding tone to me. "It will not be safe in the deceased Firewalker's lair. Leave it with me."

I widened my eyes. "Will it be safe here ?" I glanced at the windows that could be broken in a high wind. The entire house always rocked in a storm. Though Mick and I had warded the walls, and Grandmother had woven her ancient magic into them, they'd never withstand a dragon attack. And I still didn't know whether to trust Nitis.

"As safe as anywhere," Grandmother said. "Your hotel would be less safe without you in it."

I hesitated. Mick was ready to go—when he thought of something, he acted on it. No stepping back and waiting for him.

"Can I speak with you outside, Grandmother?" I asked.

Nitis, who knew I wanted to talk about him, sent me a smile.

Grandmother, mouth in a sour pinch, stalked out the front door. Mick followed, but he went to my motorcycle, checking it over, leaving me alone with Grandmother. I wasn't certain which mode of transport Mick would ultimately use to reach Cesnia's lair, but we'd have to be away from our neighbors' prying eyes before he went dragon.

I led Grandmother off the porch and a little way from the house. She exaggerated her limp as she came after me, exuding annoyance, her cane thumping.

"What do you want to talk about?" Grandmother asked when I finally halted. "This is hard on my old bones." She'd been complaining about her old bones since my birth, and very likely before that.

"I can't leave the egg with you when I don't know anything about Nitis," I said. "Is it safe from him ?"

Grandmother made another of her humphs . "Nitis. Is that what he told you his name was? I call him Old Crow. Because he is one."

"I've seen him behind my hotel. With you."

Grandmother shrugged. "I can't help it if he follows me about. "

I knew she could prevent him, if she wanted to. No one approached Ruby Begay with anything but the utmost respect, and sometimes fear. Nitis wouldn't have stayed if she hadn't accepted him.

It occurred to me that Grandmother hadn't driven away Nitis because she was lonely. My grandfather had died before I'd been born, and Grandmother had never remarried. She'd never, since I'd known her, given the slightest hint that she wanted another relationship. My grandfather, from all accounts, had been an amazing man, a hard act to best.

But now my father had moved to Gina's house in Farmington. Grandmother's daughters were grown with families of their own, and I was busy with Mick and my hotel. Maybe she simply wanted someone to be with.

I liked the idea of Grandmother having a significant other, but Nitis wasn't a sheep rancher from Chinle. He was a magical being and might be anything from a crow-shaped demon to a god.

"What do you know about him?" I persisted. "Had you met him before, or did he just show up out of the blue?"

Grandmother lifted her cane and tapped me on the chest with its wooden handle. "The young are so certain they have the answers to life, bright, snappy ones. They think we old women are too slow to understand. But remember that the old have seen everything. Trends come and trends go, and the answers to life change, sometimes so much that no one knows the questions anymore. When I was young, people were trying to erase our language, our culture, our very names. But we endured, and here we are, with all this knowledge inside us. The young know nothing about that. "

"Yes, Grandmother," I said obediently. "You're right. And I know you always lecture me like this when you want to evade a question."

Grandmother scowled and lowered her cane. "I am trying to say that you should take my word that the Old Crow in there is harmless. At least to me, you, Mick, and the dragon egg."

"Why won't you tell me who he is? Is it because you don't know?"

Grandmother stuck out her lower lip. "I know exactly who and what he is. It is his business, not yours."

Without waiting for my reaction, she turned on her thick heel and stamped back to the house. Her limp seemed to have disappeared.

While I did trust Grandmother, who was able to dominate everyone around her, including Gabrielle, I still wasn't easy about Nitis. He'd told me the lightning he'd brushed away hadn't really existed, and that it had, at the same time. He knew much about me, Mick, and dragons. Nitis had said that "winged kind" communicated, but this was the first I'd heard about it.

I approached Mick, my body heating as always when he turned his amazing smile on me.

"Coyote has your motorcycle," I said. "I think. The mirror showed me he picked up Carl, anyway."

"I know." Mick nodded. "I saw. Coyote won't let anything happen to it." Mostly because Coyote had discovered the wisdom of not pissing Mick off.

"What do you think about Nitis?" I asked. "And leaving the egg here?"

Mick smoothed back a lock of my hair and gave me a lingering kiss. I wished for a moment that Drake had never sought me out, so I could hole up with Mick in oblivion and let the world go on without us.

Mick scanned the horizon, always alert for danger. "Ruby is right that it will not be safe if we take the egg to Cesnia's lair. An enemy might have set a trap there, in case someone brings it back. We could be ambushed or maybe distracted by an attack while an associate steals it away."

Mick thought like a military man—tactics, contingencies. Though he would take off at a moment's notice to check something out, these kinds of thoughts continuously ran through his head.

"Even so, I don't need dragons or whoever to bombard this house with Dad and Gina in it," I said.

"Nitis is powerful. No, I don't know what or who he is, but I can see that much. I wouldn't fight him without knowing what I was getting into. Plus, Gabrielle is staying here a few days, isn't she?"

"She has another game tomorrow night." Gabrielle and the team had told me so at lunch.

Mick chuckled. "We're going to have to trust someone with our offspring someday. Think of this as practice for choosing a babysitter."

I grimaced. "Not making me feel better."

Mick patted the motorcycle seat. "Drive or ride?"

Driving meant compensating for Mick's weight behind me, but while I loved riding behind him, he could be wild, especially when he was in a hurry to get somewhere. Mick could heal himself, and me, if we wiped out, but I'd rather skip the pain.

Mick lifted his hand from the seat and rested on the handlebar. "You drive. Be in control. "

I shot him a dark look. "Right, because you'd let anyone control you."

Mick caught me as I moved to the bike and pulled me close. "Only those who are the most special to me."

Though everyone in the family must be watching out the front window, Mick slid his hands beneath my hair and drew me up for a spectacular kiss.

I staggered when he released me, catching my balance with the bike. I quickly swung onto the seat, grabbed my helmet and jammed it over my head as though my heartbeat wasn't rocketing.

Mick waved at those in the house and settled himself behind me. He was too large for my bike, but I suspected we wouldn't be riding far.

I warmed as he slid his arms around me. I started up and leaned into the turn to take us down the drive back to the highway.

Mick directed me north, toward the Utah border. The Navajo Nation flows past state lines, its large swath encompassing New Mexico, Utah, Arizona, and Colorado. Though Arizona as a state never changes to Daylight Saving Time, the Navajo Nation, to have a consistency within its borders, does. That meant from March to November, my hotel was an hour behind my family at Many Farms, a point Grandmother was certain indicated my bad choice of a place to live.

We rode along the 191, the desert around us vast, empty, and dry. After a time, Mick indicated I should turn west on the 160, heading toward Kayenta and Monument Valley. Before the monolith buttes came into sight, he directed me onto a small dirt road that led into the folds of Chinle Wash.

Mick showed me where I could park my bike well out of sight of the road. Though I'd ridden this area with Dad all my life, I marveled that Mick knew how to find hidden places better than I did. How he planned to go dragon and fly off into the wide-open spaces with no one seeing him, I didn't know, but Mick could pull off amazing feats.

I wondered, as I helped him conceal the bike behind thick brush near the wash's edge, if he'd been flying this land for centuries. He'd have seen my ancestors living without restrictions, then the coming of European conquerors and the vast changes they'd wrought. Had Mick helped my people survive? Or had he simply observed, as dragons liked to do? I'd have to ask him one day and hope he gave me a straight answer.

"This way," Mick said as he led me along the wash.

A line of water about a foot wide flowed through the bottom of the arroyo. Rains in January and early spring brought relief to this dry land, though it would be arid again soon. Trees adhered to the steep sides of the cut, and grasses and plants burst with brilliant green, a sharp contrast to the red-brown desert above.

Mick moved around a bend to a deep crevice in the little canyon, which was shielded by an overhang, the shadows cool.

Though the land seemed empty, people lived here. Small houses clung to the top of the wash, near the water to utilize it, yet far enough from it not to be swept away by flash floods. It was a guarantee that most of those who dwelled here would know my grandmother, hence Mick's need to stay out of sight.

I didn't comment when he reached into a niche in some rocks and drew out a backpack. Without inhibition, he stripped off his clothes, neatly folding each garment to tuck them into the pack. His motorcycle boots went on top of it all then he zipped up the bag and handed it to me.

I watched him undress with pleasure. Mick was a beautiful man, his movements a joy to observe. He had another tatt across the small of his back, flames that could sometimes glow red hot.

Mick's eyes glittered as he lifted his gaze, enjoying my scrutiny. He shot me a grin then turned and sprinted down the wash, his feet splashing into the water before a shroud of darkness enclosed him.

From that darkness sprang a dragon. Black as night, streaked through with iridescent red, he whirled along the canyon wall and zipped back toward me.

Mick was flying low and fast, keeping below the desert floor, which was a hundred feet above us. How he flattened himself so well, I didn't know, but he arrowed to me, one talon reaching out.

I groaned, clutching the backpack. "Oh, I hate this part."

The dragon's claw wrapped around me and, surprisingly gently, lifted me off my feet. I closed my eyes as we rose, my stomach lurching.

I made the mistake of peeking when Mick launched himself from the canyon and climbed into the empty sky. The ground rushed away faster than I really wanted it to, and I squished my eyes closed again .

Just before I did, I saw a flash of light below, as though someone had bounced a beam through a mirror. It glanced past Mick's wing and faded into the blue.