Crossroads (Anna Strong Chronicles #7)

Crossroads (Anna Strong Chronicles #7) Page 27

GOULDING'S LODGE IS LOCATED ABOUT TWENTY miles from U.S. 163. Not built exactly the way I would have imagined-nothing rustic here though its modern sand-colored stucco and red-tile roof do blend in against the backdrop of steep red cliffs. It's only eight and already the parking lot is full of cars, RVs and campers. Now that I'm here, I wonder how I'll find Chael. I doubt he's registered under his name.

There is one way.

A light mist is still falling, but it doesn't seem to be discouraging visitors from flocking to the lodge. I make my way past a motel, museum and gift shop to follow the crowd to the lobby. I find an out of the way corner and close my eyes.

I cloak my own thoughts while opening the conduit that will permit me to pick up on the unguarded thoughts of other supernaturals.

At first, I don't sense anything. The drone of mortal voices makes it hard to concentrate. I try harder, filtering out ambient noise and the high-pitched wail of an unhappy baby. Then I get a psychic hit.

A voice from the far corner of the lobby. Then another. I make my way over, stand a few feet away and watch.

But it's not Chael. It's a family of shape-shifters. Two adults and a petulant teenage daughter. From Minnesota. They're arguing because the girl wants to call her boyfriend and her mother tells her there isn't time before the tour.

You're just saying that because you don't like Jack, the girl whines.

You're right, her mother snaps back. I don't. He's a werewolf and can't be trusted.

Shit. I tune out. Retreat back a few steps and try again. Chael has to be here. There aren't that many places to stay on the reservation. He would want to be close enough to enjoy the havoc he's created, to taste the pain.

"Anna Strong? What are you doing?"

The voice makes me jump-not only because it comes right at my elbow but because I was concentrating so hard on picking things out of the air, I didn't sense the physical approach of this very real human.

"Officer Kayani. You startled me."

He narrows his eyes. "What were you doing?"

How do I explain? "Just-people watching."

"With your eyes closed?"

Now would be a good time to change the subject. "You're in civilian clothes. Off duty?"

"Just. Stopped by for a cup of coffee before heading home. Care to join me?"

I nod and he motions me toward glass doors at the back of the lobby. I let him lead the way, still keeping the vampire radar on alert for a ping of recognition. All I get though is another nasal round of squabbling from the shape-shifters.

I give up with a sigh and turn my attention to Kayani. He's changed into tan chinos and a long-sleeved black shirt, untucked, and on his feet he's wearing leather sandals. He asks what I'd like. I order coffee, black, and when he's been handed the cups, he leads the way once again to a long deck spanning the length of the lodge.

It's not very crowded; the rain keeps most of the tourists inside. But the view from the deck is astounding. It's a panorama of ragged rock formations stretching unbroken for miles. Once again I feel the tug of immortality, a sense that I belong here. I cross the deck to stand by the railing, drawn by a force I don't understand.

Kayani joins me. "Wouldn't you rather sit in the back? Out of the rain."

Reluctantly, I nod and pull myself away. There is a sheltered area with a dozen cafe tables and chairs and Kayani picks one. We sit, but my eyes keep drifting back to the view.

"First time here?"

"Is it that obvious?"

Kayani smiles. "There is no place like this on earth. It has been inhabited by indigenous people since the beginning of time. A holy place. At least until silver was discovered in the 1800s. Then we Navajo were rounded up and driven out. It wasn't until the mid-1800s that we were allowed to return and 1884 before it was declared officially the Navajo's. This is our land by right, and we will never be driven out again."

He speaks as if I might be planning to make an attempt at it. "Those days are over."

He gives me a look that might be put into the "are you really that naive?" classification-brows lowered, lips drawn back into a frown.

Is he this touchy with all the tourists? Or is it because of my connection to Frey.

Regardless, I don't jump to the bait. Instead I sip coffee and let my gaze linger on the countryside, all the while deciding how best to broach the subject I intended to when I set out this morning. I don't know any way to do it but to speak directly. He'll respond one way or the other-be receptive and stay or get angry and leave.

I place the cup on the table, lace my hands together and lean in toward him. "I'm sorry for your loss. I know you and Sarah were close."

No response. No tightening of the shoulders or jaws. No sharp intake of breath. Is this stone face because he's Navajo or because he's a cop?

"The way you and John-John greeted each other made me suspect. And George confirmed it. I want you to know Frey was no threat to you and Sarah. He came here to see his son. That's all."

Kayani is watching me more closely now. Still, he lets nothing of his own feeling show. I wis could penetrate his thoughts, figure out the best way to proceed. I can't. So I fumble onward.

"There was a second reason we came. Had nothing to do with Frey and everything to do with me. Sarah was speaking on my behalf before the council. You may already know it."

Finally, a response, a tiny nod of the head. I take that to mean "go on."

Now we tred on dangerous ground. Do I tell Kayani what I am? Will he react like George? Maybe I won't have to admit the whole truth right now. I gather my thoughts, continue slowly.

"Frey is a Keeper of the Secrets. I assume you know that. He is a friend of mine who has helped me through some trying times. I asked him about Sani. He told me where I could find him. Here."

Kayani's eyes flicker. "How do you know about Sani? The shaman's identity is a well-kept secret among the Dine'e."

"I respect that. That he was here and what he can do was passed on to me by someone else. I don't know how this person came to know of him."

He isn't pleased with the answer. A scowl darkens his face. "Who else knew that you were looking for Sani?"

"George, no one else." Chael, too, but I can't open that can of worms until I'm ready to admit what I am.

"And he didn't try to talk Sarah out of making the request ?"

Knowing how George feels about me, I can imagine he probably did. But since I don't know for sure, I shake my head. "I'm not sure. We didn't discuss it."

"Why would you seek Sani?"

The question I've been dreading. I stall a moment by drawing in a breath and letting it out slowly. The act does nothing to make framing a response easier. "I have a personal reason to seek his council." Ambiguous.

Unsuccessful.

Kayani shifts irritably. "Did you lose someone close to you?"

I should have known he would not accept such a vague response. I know I sure as hell wouldn't. But before I can reply, Kayani adds, "Because if that's the reason you came, you could have saved yourself a trip. Sani does not use his magic to reverse death on a whim. If he did-"

He lets his voice drop and for the first time, a spark of emotion flares through. It's easy to finish his sentence. If Sani reversed death just because he was asked to, Kayani would have already petitioned for Sarah's life to be restored. Wanting something, no matter how badly, is not enough.

It strikes me that Kayani really has no idea that I'm vampire. He's never touched me, even to shake hands, so he's not experienced the marble coldness of my skin. Outwardly, unless I show my vampire face, I look human. A little thin, perhaps, with an unlined face that may make me look younger than my thirty years, but human.

"Have you spoken to George at all?"

Kayani draws himself up, his stoic mask back in place. "No. I expect I'll talk to him later today."

Now I have to decide. I have no doubt George will tell Kayani about me. Would it be better to do it myself now and take my chances?

Kayani drains his cup. "I have to go."

"You can't stay a little longer? I have something to ll with you about."

"No." He rises and crushes the cup in his hand. "I need to prepare. We are burying Sarah this afternoon."

"This afternoon? I thought burial was to be in four days."

"Sarah's parents fear there is black magic at work. They want to bury their daughters today before a curse can be laid." He frowns down at me. "I thought that's why you were here. Frey sent you away until it was over."

Kayani's words stab at me. The man I passed on the way here. Sarah's father come to tell Frey of their plans.

I rise, too, trying to control the uneasiness overwhelming me. If Kayani is right in his assumption, I have to get back to Frey. Because in my gut I know. I remember the expression on the old man's face as he passed me.

Frey is facing Sarah's hostile parent. Alone.

What did Frey say? In their eyes, he deserted Sarah and her son. He'll need support. I should be there.

Kayani and I walk out together, though I'm barely able to restrain the instinct to break and run to the Jeep. I manage to keep the alarm out of my voice long enough to ask, "Will John-John take part in his mother's burial?"

He shakes his head. "No. He will stay with George at the house. It will be a traditional burial. Only Frey, Sarah's parents and I will tend to Sarah and her sister. After, we will come back to the house."

Kayani is parked in a space marked "Police Use." He's still driving the SUV I saw this morning. Rain is coming down harder now. It soaks our clothes and beads in our hair. He glances toward the sky. "Would you like a ride to your vehicle?"

"No. Thank you. I'm not far."

His eyes are still on the sky. "It is a sad day. Even the heavens weep."