Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

" W here is he?" I yelled at the hovering skulls. "Where did you take Mick?"

Pamela advanced, her eyes wolf gray, her fingertips changing to claws. "Show us Mick. Proof of life."

Nash started at her words—he couldn't hear the Phantomwalkers. Cassandra murmured under her breath, hopefully working a really useful spell.

"The egg," the voices said. They didn't speak in unison, which caused a weird echo effect. "Show us ."

I couldn't, because Gina was holding it as she rattled to Magellan in my dad's pickup. Their demand relieved me in one respect—they hadn't pinpointed the egg on the highway. Gabrielle must be shielding them, either consciously or automatically.

"Nope," I said in a hard voice. "Mick first."

A sliver of dragon face abruptly filled the mirror. Only that slice, because Mick must be peering through the piece of magic mirror he'd dropped and the Phantomwalkers had no doubt picked up. I saw Mick's fiery eye, full of rage, and a fragment of his dragon face which contained a glimpse of massive teeth.

Just eat them, Mick, I willed him.

It was very possible he couldn't. If his dragon fire didn't harm these phantoms, he probably couldn't chomp them either.

Mick didn't speak in words in his dragon form, but a spark jumped on my ring, and I heard his snarl in my head. Don't even think about doing what they want.

I quickly touched the ring. Where are you?

Mick only growled and disappeared, the Phantomwalkers replacing his image. Either Mick hadn't heard me, he couldn't tell me for some reason, or he didn't know.

I lifted my chin. "Where do I bring the egg?"

Nash put himself next to me. He couldn't hear the Phantomwalkers or see Mick, but he was canny enough to figure out what was going on. "No, Janet. You never negotiate with kidnappers."

I had no intention of negotiating with them or of giving them Junior, but I needed somewhere to start.

"Come to the place you call Canyon Diablo," they said.

Canyon Diablo was one of many crevices that crisscrossed the land between here and Flagstaff, through which water ran down from the mountains during torrential rains. It had once held a notoriously violent town while a railroad bridge had been constructed—the town was gone but the railroad bridge was still in use.

It was also in the middle of nowhere in a precarious desert and had the reputation for being haunted.

I thought rapidly, wanting to name a place I could control. Several ideas came and went, but then one occurred to me that they wouldn't expect .

"I will take the egg to the bowling alley on Route 66 in Flagstaff," I announced. "You have Mick there, in human form, before I arrive. I'll leave the egg, and Mick walks out with me. It will take me a couple hours to get there. Mirror—break the connection."

Instantly the glass went dark. The reflection of the saloon, distorted from the cracks radiating from the center of the mirror, returned.

"How did you shut them down like that?" Pamela asked. Her face had elongated into wolf form, but not so much that she couldn't speak. She looked bizarre but also ferocious.

"The mirror is compelled to obey me," I said. "Mick understands why I shut it off."

No one exclaimed something like, Janet, you can't take that poor helpless baby dragon to them! They knew I never would—at least Cassandra and Nash did. Pamela believed the worst of me, but she also understood I'd try something underhanded.

"Nash, will you come with me?" I asked.

Nash scowled. "If you'll tell me exactly what happened."

I filled him in—and Cassandra and Pamela—on the attack at the basketball game and Mick's disappearance. Nash gave me a grim nod when I finished.

"You should bring more people than me," Nash said. "I saw Colby here."

"He'd be in more danger than we will," I said. "Gabrielle is already on protection duty, so it will be you and me. Cassandra, were you doing a locator spell? Any luck?" I hadn't yet had the chance to ask her to help me pinpoint Mick, but she would have done her best to determine where the Phantomwalkers were contacting us from.

Cassandra shook her neatly coiffed head. "I couldn't find them. Fissures in the earth, was all I got."

"Volcanic?" I pictured geysers or mud vents like those in Wyoming or Iceland.

Cassandra considered. "Possibly. Nothing active, though."

Well, that was a bonus. I could fight better if I wasn't breathing sulfur or being boiled in lava.

"What are those things?" Pamela demanded. Her face had eased back into its human form, but her eyes still held the yellow glint of wolf. "Why do they want Mick, or this egg?"

I briefly explained what Coyote and the dragon council had told me about the Phantomwalkers. "I don't know if either of you can fight them," I said to Cassandra and Pamela. "I'd rather have you here as defenders anyway."

"Won't they be suspicious if you don't bring more muscle?" Pamela asked.

"Nash is the best muscle I can think of," I said. Nash looked annoyed at being called muscle, but he nodded his agreement. "Oh, Cassandra, do you know if anyone here has a spare bowling bag?"

I'd told the Phantomwalkers I needed a few hours, even though the bowling alley was only about fifty minutes away. I wanted to wait for my family to show up before we went.

I didn't expect the Phantomwalkers to actually release Mick, and they'd tumble to the fact that I'd duped them pretty quickly. Whether they expected me to or not, I wasn't certain. How perceptive were they about human wiliness?

Regardless, I'd use the encounter as a starting place. From there, I'd either follow the Phantomwalkers or bully them into revealing where they held Mick. There were plenty of former volcanoes around Flagstaff, one a tall cinder cone.

New Mexico had old volcanoes as well, and then there were dragon lairs like Cesnia's all over the world. The Phantomwalkers might be holding Mick in his own lair in the Pacific. He'd certainly been pissed off, wherever they were keeping him.

If they killed Mick, I'd take them apart, molecule by molecule.

About twenty minutes later, I was happy to see my father's pickup make its slow way in from the road and roll past the Crossroads Bar, which was hopping. My dad was safe, along with Gina, my grandmother, and Gabrielle. Nitis rolled up behind them with my motorcycle.

"Nice ride," he said to me as he dismounted. I was too worried to warm at the compliment.

As the family moved to the hotel, Grandmother regarding the noise inside in disapproval, I noticed Nitis hadn't followed them. I scanned the lot, but he'd disappeared.

"I don't keep account of him," Grandmother said sourly when I asked her where Nitis had gone. "The Old Crow comes and goes as he pleases."

Of course, he'd vanish just when I needed someone who could destroy Phantomwalkers. "Ask him to join us at the bowling alley," I said, after I'd explained the situation. "Any help he can give will be welcome."

"I can try," Grandmother said doubtfully. "Your plan, it sounds risky."

I couldn't argue with her.

"We will keep this little one safe," Gina promised, cradling the bag. "You go get Mick."

When I'd first met Gina, I'd tried not to like her. After all, she'd come to take my dad away from me. I'd realized within five minutes of speaking to her, that it would be impossible not to respect and love this woman. I was very glad she'd joined our family.

I gave her a nod of gratitude, and Gina sent me a slow nod in return.

Gabrielle joined us, the desert wind stirring her long hair. "Anyone gets near this egg, they're toast," she promised. "But why don't they just come and take it from you? Why kidnap Mick and do a whole cliche exchange thing?"

Exactly what I'd wondered. Were the Phantomwalkers trying to draw me away from the Crossroads, or did they really believe I'd bring the egg to them? Maybe Mick, who had a canny dragon mind, had convinced them I would.

"The hotel has a lot more defenses," Nash said. "Not that they prevented one old man from stealing a bike to go joyriding." He glared at me.

Gabrielle laughed. "I heard about your grandfather. I have got to meet him." She sailed into the hotel to be swallowed by the thumping music.

I took Dad and Gina in through the party and unlocked the door to my private suite .

"I'll make sure Gabrielle and Cassandra are two steps away," I told them, handing Gina the keys. "Colby too, though I think he'll need as much protecting as the egg."

"We will be fine here," Gina assured me. "You go fetch Mick home."

I reached into the bag and patted the egg, hoping it understood we'd take care of it. Junior jumped against my hand in enthusiasm, as though happy to see me.

Once he was hatched, he'd be able to fly all over the place. Keeping track of him would be fun then, I imagined. I patted the egg again, enjoying the smooth jade against my hand, and reluctantly departed the suite.

Colby was not happy that I wanted to leave him behind, but I persuaded him he was needed to look after my dad and Gina, the egg, and Gabrielle. He knew I was bullshitting him—I wanted him here with Gabrielle's magic to keep him safe—but he agreed.

In the lobby, Gabrielle danced enthusiastically with Carl, her hips and hair swinging. Colby joined them after I spoke to him, already having made friends with Nash's grandfather.

Grandmother humphed at the goings-on and stalked into the kitchen to seek Elena, who was cooking for the crowd.

My request for a bowling bag—and ball—was fulfilled by Fremont. He had a custom-made ball in his truck, which he used for his league games. Magellan didn't actually have a bowling alley, but there was a nice one in Flat Mesa, ten miles away.

Not that I ever went there. Me and bowling did not mix. I tended to land a lot of gutter balls, even using those lane bumpers meant for little kids—my balls would go right over them.

Once, when Maya had convinced me to go bowling with her, I'd tried a little magic to keep from humiliating myself. I'd ended up exploding the pins and frying the end of the lane. I was asked not to come back to the Flat Mesa alley.

"I'll buy it from you," I told Fremont when he handed me the bag with the fifteen-pound ball inside. "I'll have to leave it, with no guarantee I can get it back."

Fremont shrugged. "That's okay. I have a couple. Besides, I don't mind the sacrifice to save Mick. Sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"No," I said quickly. Fremont had some magic in him, but nothing that could counter the dangerous beings I'd face. "I need you here to help guard."

Unlike Colby, who'd scowled as I'd placated him, Fremont brightened. "I'm your man. And Flora is your gal. Our magics are seriously compatible, if you know what I mean." He winked.

I held up my hand. "TMI, Fremont. TMI."

Fremont chuckled. "I didn't mean it like that. She's moved in with me, you know."

I'd heard that from several sources of town gossip. I was happy for Fremont, whose luck with relationships up until now had bordered on disastrous. Flora was nothing like the vibrant and evil beauties into whose clutches Fremont usually fell, thankfully. She was kindhearted, wise, and had a lovely voice I enjoyed listening to.

"I'm glad," I said sincerely. I wished I hadn't been so distracted with saving Mick, protecting Cesnia's egg, and defeating evil beings, because I'd take them both to dinner .

Fremont grinned and patted me on the shoulder. "Go get 'em, Janet."

"Thanks." I wasn't sure if I was about to kick the bad guys' asses or run headlong into their trap.

Didn't matter. I'd spring the trap, kick ass anyway, and bring Mick home.

I rode my motorcycle behind Nash's truck as we headed for Flagstaff. He'd tried to insist I go with him in his shiny F250, but I wanted the magic mirror that had been ground into my sideview to reinforce the shard wrapped in my pocket.

Maya admonished me before we left not to get Nash killed. She told me, in detail, exactly what she'd do to me if I did. I hugged her, startling her—neither of us were huggers—and promised to keep him safe.

Nash carried Drake's bowling bag in his truck. I'd switched out the egg for Fremont's ball, gently settling the egg into Fremont's newer, more sturdy bag, designed for several balls and accessories. Junior got an upgrade.

I'd exchanged them in case any of the Phantomwalkers had noted the color and shape of the bag Drake had brought to me. I needed them to believe, if only for a few minutes, that I was doing what they asked.

Normally, I loved riding in the cool darkness on the I-40. The weather was great, the stars brilliant, the traffic calm. It was a beautiful night for a ride, but I hardly noticed in my anxious state.

I kept Nash's taillights in view as we gained elevation, the outline of the large peaks on the night sky drawing ever nearer. Nash drove the exact speed limit, which meant it took us longer to reach Flagstaff than Mick and I usually did.

After what seemed like forever, we passed the Walnut Canyon turnoff and then the cluster of hotels at Country Club Drive, where we left the freeway for the historic Route 66 that snaked through town.

The bowling alley was located East Flagstaff, not far from our turnoff. I'd chosen a place here because the downtown area could be cramped and crowded. From the bowling alley we could zip off for a quick getaway and endanger fewer people. I didn't intend to have a showdown in the bowling lanes but planned to lead the Phantomwalkers out of town to empty wilderness, or up into the mountains, whichever proved more expedient.

Mount Elden loomed large on the north side of the road, its nine-thousand-foot height a shield of darkness. Behind it were the higher peaks of Agassiz and Humphreys—at least those were the white names for them. The Native American ones were more musical. They were sacred mountains, and once upon a time, I'd been trapped under them by gods who'd been annoyed with me.

The parking lot at the lanes was full, as leagues often bowled on Friday night, plus the club next door had a live band playing. Mick and I had gone to that club several times, both when we'd first dated and more recently. Set back from the road, the club had a log facade and a wide parking lot full of cars and people.

Nash took his time parking—he didn't want to be too close to any other vehicles in case they dinged his precious truck. I put my bike with others nearer the bowling alley's front door.

Carefully lifting the bag from his truck, Nash carried it to the building, appearing as any other bowler out to find a lane on a Friday night.

I'd brought Nash because he'd been able to suck down the lightning that had enclosed the hotel and not feel a thing. I was convinced now that the attack had been the Phantomwalkers after the egg, though I think at that point they'd been testing my defenses. I hoped Grandmother found Nitis and gave him the message to meet us here, because we'd need him too.

I heard a few harsh caws in the trees behind the lot, but that was not unusual in Flagstaff, even this late at night. I'd had a pair of ravens nesting above me when I'd lived in an apartment here as a student. Others thought I should chase them off, but I figured they needed somewhere to live, and they were good company.

Crows were rarer, not liking people as much, but they were still around. I glanced in the direction of the noise, wondering if one of the cawers was Nitis, but I couldn't see much beyond the glare of the parking lot's lights.

Nash and I walked into the bowling alley together. People stared as we went by, but I doubt their attention was caught because I was Navajo. Plenty of Native Americans lived in and around Flagstaff, which lay on the edge of two Indian nations. They stared because Nash bore down on them with a determined stride, while I, still a mess from my previous fight, struggled to keep up with him.

Bowlers parted to let Nash through. I darted quickly in his wake before the sea of bodies could close again.

As I'd suspected, a few leagues were here tonight, clustered around lanes on the far end of the alley. Nearer the entrance were groups of friends or parents and kids, out for a night of fun.

Nash ignored them all. He planted himself in the middle of the long building and scanned the crowd.

"Mick isn't here," he announced.