Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

T he bag under my arm jumped. I tried to soothe it, but the dragon inside wasn't stupid.

Something was coming, something bad, with a rush and a roar.

"Get back inside," I yelled at Carl.

"You have a shotgun?" he demanded.

"No, and it wouldn't help. Inside!"

Carl glared at the light that fanned across the sky like a weird white sunrise. Finally, he shrugged and trotted back in. I followed, locking the door behind us. It was a wood-framed glass door, pretty to look at, but no defense at all.

I herded Carl to the lobby. Nash and Cassandra had flashlights out, and Cassandra was at the window nearest the front door, whispering words to strengthen the magics already inside the walls.

I could never find a flashlight whenever the electricity went out—which it did regularly during monsoon season storms—and conjured a small ball of firelight. Mick had taught me this earth magic, but I'd had to practice for years to summon up a small light without destroying anything.

"What is it?" I asked Cassandra.

"I don't know," Cassandra answered. "I've never seen this before."

Didn't sound good. Nash strode past her and opened the door. He didn't exit but remained on the threshold, staring out.

I knew Nash had worried that the door wouldn't open at all. One day a while back, a demon mage had locked him into this hotel with me, Cassandra, Mick, Ansel, and more, and had messed with our powers. We'd nearly died before we'd finally won free. I didn't want to relive that any more than Nash did.

Different problem this time. We were free to go, but did we want to?

Spidery lightning flared to the west side of the hotel, then the east, then the south, surrounding us. Gravel popped where tendrils of light touched down. The flickering snakes wove together and started to close, like a net, over the hotel.

"Ideas?" I asked frantically.

Cassandra continued whispering. The wards should keep out whatever it was, I told myself. Anything magical had to get through the spells of a Stormwalker, a dragon, and a powerful Wiccan.

Dust in the parking lot burned in blue-hot fire where the mesh touched it then melted like glass. If whatever that was got inside, would it do the same to us?

Nash said nothing. He squared his shoulders and walked out the front door .

"What the hell is he doing?" Carl demanded.

He tried to rush out after Nash, but I caught him by one arm, yanking him back inside. The older man topped me by almost a foot and a half, but I was determined and held on tight.

"Let him," I said, cradling the bag closer to my body.

"Let him?" The belligerence deserted Carl's voice, and now I heard only fear and concern for his grandson. "He'll get himself killed."

I knew Nash planned to negate whatever this was with the void inside him that cancelled out all magic. I'd watched him suck enormous power into his body and tamp it into neutrality, then wipe a few beads of sweat from his forehead and ask for coffee. Logically, I knew there must be a limit to what he could endure, but so far, he hadn't reached it.

"Get your ass back in here," Carl commanded him. "This isn't something you can bully into submission."

"Oh, he'll try it," I said assuredly. "But give him a chance."

Nash took another step forward. The crackling white mesh of electricity touched the ground about six feet from the front door, enclosing the hotel in its dome. Nash took two more steps and reached a hand toward it.

"Stop, you idiot!" Carl jerked out of my grip and raced forward to tackle Nash at the very moment he pressed his fingers into the web.

I quickly set down the bag and leapt for Carl, grabbing him in the same instant he connected with Nash.

A massive shock went through me. My hair flared out, and my skin heated like I'd walked into a kiln. I heard a scream from my throat, then the sensations died as fast as they'd struck.

My first worry was that the lightning had gotten past me to connect with the egg . I swiftly retrieved the bag and opened it, wilting with relief when I saw the oval snuggly whole in its foam-rubber holder. It wiggled again, but it seemed to be well.

My second thought was for Carl. It couldn't have been good for him to have that much power pumping through him.

"Woo!" Carl let go of Nash and threw both fists in the air. "What a rush. Let's do it again!"

So, he was all right then.

I realized Nash's magic void had sucked in the worst of the jolt, saving Carl's life, mine, and the egg's. The mesh around the hotel, however, was still in place. Whatever this spell was, it was serious. Nash lowered his hand in frustration.

The wall of lightning might be an entity itself. Not long ago, I'd helped Gabrielle battle an earth elemental—maybe this was a fire one? Nothing I wanted to face, and especially not when I was protecting a dragon egg.

Did it want the baby dragon? Or was this Bancroft sending something after it?

"Back off!" I shouted at the web. "If you fry my hotel, I'll take you apart so fast you won't know what hit you."

The curtain of lightning quivered. I watched in incredulity as it blurred, wavered, and then dissipated like mist under a warming sun. The lights flickered once, then came back on all over the hotel.

I stared in bewilderment, but in the next moment, I realized the lightning hadn't dispersed because of my threat.

A man stood in front of the hotel. He was Native American, though of what tribe, I couldn't say. His long hair that stirred in the wind was an exact mixture of gray and black, as though someone had painted every other strand of it white. He wasn't wearing anything, but for some reason that didn't seem weird. His strong body was male perfection, muscles brushed with gentle moonlight.

He held his hands, palm-outward, in front of his chest. He slowly brought them down and gazed calmly back at us as we gaped at him.

"Who the hell are you?" Nash demanded, always cutting to the heart of the matter.

The man contemplated Nash and Carl in silence then flicked his gaze to me. "You are safe now, Janet Begay," he said in the Diné language.

"Thank you," I answered in the same language. It was courteous to show gratitude to someone who'd just saved your ass. "What was it?"

The man lifted his shoulders in a smooth shrug. "There are many gods and lesser gods permeating the world. This could have been any of them."

A flowery way of saying, I have no idea.

"You know my name." I left the statement at that. Nash's demand hadn't produced the man's identity, and I figured asking directly wouldn't do any better.

A smile flickered over his face. "I do. Please greet your grandmother for me."

My brows shot up. "Grandmother …"

The man turned and walked north, toward the empty desert. His hair floated in the darkness, and that darkness quickly obscured him. Between one step and the next, he was gone, but I swore I heard a flutter of wings in the night.

After zipping up the bowling bag again, I settled the strap over my shoulder and marched into the saloon. The humans were huddled in the middle of the floor, wondering if it was safe to return to their meals. The Wiccan couple had remained seated, staring out the windows in worry.

"Is everyone all right?" I asked.

"None of us is hurt," the Wiccan man answered. He had a square-cut beard and close-cropped hair, with the triple moon symbol of the Goddess tattooed on the insides of his arms. "We didn't have time to help. I'm so sorry."

He was genuinely apologetic, feeling bad he hadn't jumped up and smacked whatever it was back to wherever it had come from. It would have killed him instantly, if what I'd felt had been anything to go by, but it was nice of him to offer.

His partner, a middle-aged woman with a pleasant face and graying red hair, nodded in agreement.

"That's all right," I told them. "It would have happily destroyed you along with the rest of us. This is supposed to be a place of refuge, and I'm sorry that it wasn't."

"We will waive the room fee for tonight," Cassandra said to everyone present.

I hid a wince—we needed the money—but better that than the guests fleeing to write horrible reviews about threats from lightning entities. One star. Could have died. Good food, though .

The human couples relaxed and drifted back to their seats, appeased by Cassandra's offer. After all, bad storms sometimes happened in the desert.

The Wiccan man nodded in gratitude, but I saw he was ashamed that he and his wife had sat still in panic. I could have told him this was a normal state of things in the Crossroads Hotel.

Carl moved to the bar and hopped up on a stool, patting the countertop. "Give me a whiskey, one of your best," he told my bartender, who'd straightened after hiding himself behind the bar. "My grandson will pay for it."

Carlos glanced at me, and I nodded. I knew Nash would honor the bill and refuse to let me put it on the house.

Nash himself had remained out front to look for traces of whatever had attacked us. I watched him walking back and forth in the parking lot, his flashlight trained on the ground. I doubted he'd find anything. The entity, or whatever it was, had gone. I felt its absence in the night.

Across the lot, Barry's bar was surrounded by motorcycles, some of whose riders had chased Carl here hours earlier. Music thumped inside, and voices poured out the open doorway. No one there seemed to have noticed the lightning.

The mirror above the bar was silent. I'd ask it about the attack, but later, where we wouldn't be overheard.

The bartender, shaken but used to the weirdness here, brought out a bottle of Glenlivet and poured Carl two fingers.

Carl grinned and downed the whiskey in one shot. "Keep 'em coming, son. "

I left Carl to enjoy himself and slid into the kitchen to see how Elena had weathered the blackout.

Cassandra was already there, trying to answer questions Elena was barking at her.

"You need to warn me when we're about to be attacked," Elena insisted. "I could have ruined the rest of the dinner." Steam rose from pots on the stove, and everything was as neat and organized as ever. "Who was the man outside? Cassandra says he was Navajo."

"He spoke Navajo," I answered. "I didn't get a chance to find out who he was. He disappeared."

"Hmph. You should have brought him to me."

Cassandra broke in. "Nothing for you to worry about, Ms. Williams. We can take care of this." No one called Elena Ms. Williams but Cassandra.

"No, you cannot," Elena stated. "You are good with European-style witch magic, but this is my area. Ruby would be even better. Let me call her."

"No!" The last thing I needed was my grandmother stomping in here to tell me what I'd done wrong tonight. I was sure she'd find a way to blame me. "I mean, we shouldn't disturb her. My dad's home, and she's probably busy."

Elena's look told me I didn't fool her.

As I contemplated what to do, I brushed my thumb over Mick's turquoise and onyx ring. The notes of his true name chimed softly in my head before I could stop them.

No one had noticed, but the egg at my side gave a little jump.

Not that Cassandra or Elena—or the little dragon—should be able to hear or sense Mick's name. It was entwined in my psyche, not "heard" at all. However, I didn't need whatever had attacked us tonight dragging it out of my brain.

Magic of any kind was so dangerous.

"Janet."

I jerked my fingers from the ring and snapped my gaze to Elena, who was glaring at me once more.

"Yes?" I asked.

"You haven't eaten anything tonight—how are you supposed to keep up your strength? Go out to the saloon and have a big helping of carnitas."

At her words, I realized how hungry I was. Probably her intent. Elena had plenty of magic herself.

The carnitas, which Elena had slow cooked all day, were the best in the Southwest. I returned to the saloon and the buffet table, scooped a helping from the warming tray onto a plate with a tortilla. Then I perched on a chair, the bowling bag at my feet, as I enjoyed the savory pork.

Carl was still at the bar, regaling the bartender with tales of his youth. The mirror above them remained quiet, which bothered me. It was usually full of opinions and dire predictions.

Nash was still outside when I decided to walk off the carnitas and think, bag at my side. He'd ceased flashing his light around and stood gazing at the moonlit horizon, hands on hips.

"Any trace of the guy who saved us?" I asked him.

"No." Nash's gray eyes glinted as he turned to me. "I mean no trace at all. No footprints, nothing."

I'd heard wings as the man had vanished. I'd wondered briefly if the tall man had been a kachina—a Hopi god—but rejected the idea. A while back, kachinas had followed me around, making sure I didn't turn into the demon goddess who'd, in a roundabout way, given birth to me. I thought I'd proved myself to them, but they still watched me.

But while those gods had plenty of feathers, they were different from the man who'd dispersed the lightning. Kachinas were more ethereal, more benevolent, and yet more frightening at the same time. This man had gazed at me as though I should know him, and his hint of a smile when he'd mentioned Grandmother had been very human.

I had a pretty good idea of who he was, but I needed to check a few things before I drew my conclusions.

"Nothing to say what that lightning was?" I continued.

"Nope."

Man of few words, Nash. "What did you feel when you touched it? I got the worst shock of my life."

Nash shrugged. "Nothing. A little spark, that was all. Is my grandfather all right?"

"He seems to be." I set the bowling bag at my feet and glanced through the wide windows to where Carl rattled on to an appreciative Carlos.

Nash sighed heavily, his usual curtness deserting him. "We don't know what to do with him, Janet. He doesn't need constant care, but he can't live by himself anymore. He fell a few months ago and cut his head halfway open. He lay on the kitchen floor of his apartment for two days before my cousin Ada happened to check on him. She has a demanding job and tiny apartment, and no way to take care of him. Any decent place we can find is fucking expensive. Same with hiring someone to stay with him." He let out an exasperated growl.

"Where did you end up sending him?"

Nash couldn't hide his unhappiness. "To an assisted care facility in Flag that his insurance would pay for. It's a dump."

"I think I know the place you mean." I'd been in college when I'd lived in Flagstaff, too young and worried about my own problems to notice those at the other end of their lives. I remembered the featureless building near the medical center where people pushed the elderly about in wheelchairs.

I couldn't stop my shudder. Carlos did not belong there.

"We didn't want to use that facility, but after his fall, the doctors told us he needed to be watched twenty-four seven. It was the only choice. Now he's screwed even that up—they won't let him back there, I'm sure."

"Him living here with you is out?" I asked.

Nash made an exasperated noise. "I guess he'll have to. But I'm not home all day, and we're back to paying a home health care service exorbitant fees to look after him. Maya has a heart of gold, but she can't give up her job to stay home with him."

I liked that Nash wasn't the kind of guy who believed his girlfriend or wife should relinquish her career for him and his family. Not that Maya would give him the choice. She was a talented electrician, always in demand.

"Well, he can stay here for now," I said, wanting to help. "There's always someone around."

"Again, expensive," Nash said, though his frown softened somewhat. "I can't expect you to give him your best suite, gratis."

I shrugged. "We'll come to some arrangement. It will be cheaper than a nursing home, and a hell of a lot more pleasant."

Nash looked straight at me, no barriers between him and his profound love for his grandfather. "Thank you, Janet."

I assumed a modest stance, pretending the simple words didn't touch me. "No problem."

I shut up before I could say anything more sentimental. Nash didn't do mushy stuff. Then again, he'd just told me that Maya had a heart of gold, which was over-the-top emotion for Nash. She'd had a quieting effect on him, believe it or not.

Nash studied the sky again. "I have to get back to Flat Mesa." His reluctance was obvious.

"Carl will be safe here. I promise."

Nash returned to his usual skepticism. "Bullshit. This place is dangerous. But my best option at the moment."

I'd be offended by Nash's lack of confidence if I didn't agree with him. Even with all our wards and protections, this hotel had been bashed, burned, cursed, and invaded by degenerative magic.

"We'll keep an eye on him, no matter what," I said. "Be careful driving back. There are clouds coming in. It's going to be a dark night."

As though they'd been waiting for the weird lightning to vanish, clouds now drifted down from the mountains to obscure the moon and stars.

"I'm not afraid of the dark," Nash assured me.

It was true that Nash wasn't afraid of anything but his own dreams. "It's not the darkness that's the problem. Night can be quiet and restful. It's what's in the dark we have to watch out for."

Nash huffed. "No. They have to watch out for me ."

With that he strode away to his truck, got in, started it up, and glided through the lot, pale dust in his wake. His taillights flashed, and he turned onto the paved road, going the hell home—or possibly back to the sheriff's department. Nash was one for working late.

No sooner had he driven off than I sensed a fiery aura that smelled of cinders and wood smoke. Before I could move, a pair of very strong arms slid around me from behind and held me fast.