Black Dog (40 page)

“Well, but what if Vonhausel attacks Brighton? Or even Newport? At least, that's what I'd do,” said Miguel. “It's an obvious tactic, isn't it? He'll have a huge numerical advantage over us no matter what, if he's been making zombie black dogs. If he makes enough of them, he won't need the shifters, will he? And that'll free him from the moon. He can attack one town after another and wait for you to come after him, and you'll have to, won't you? Because otherwise he'll get a new war, a war between black dogs and humans, and in a hurry, too, because now everybody knows black dogs exist. And the humans, they'll find out a whole lot more about black dogs
real
fast if they decide they need to, won't they? I mean, now the blood kin aren't messing with people's minds to stop them perceiving supernatural stuff, there's nothing to stop them coming after us just as hard as they went after the last of the vampires. That's obvious, right? It won't be Dimilioc that wins
that
war, will it?”

Ezekiel tilted his head, gazing curiously at Miguel. “And yet, he hasn't done anything of the sort.”

“Well,” said Miguel, as though this, too, was obvious, “I'm sure he still wants to kill Natividad, or at least take her away from Dimilioc, so there's that. He's probably resting in Lewis tonight, making zombies. But I don't think he'll come here tomorrow. I bet he'll take his black dogs and his
esclavos
and go hunting and wait for you to come after him, and he'll make sure the ground is of his choosing and not yours. He'll have the advantage, not you. He'll kill you all. Then he can come after Natividad at his leisure.” The boy looked from one of them to the next, ending with the Master. “Don't you see? That's exactly what he'll do.”

“I hardly think that likely,” said Keziah, sounding faintly amused. “Of course a human boy will not understand. But no black dog ambitious to rule and to be free of the constraints of law would ever turn aside from the personal destruction of Dimilioc. Malvern Vonhausel will come here. I expect he would be here now, except he cannot drive his black dogs so hard. So, we see his control of his… minions… is not so complete, whether he finds or makes or compels them. He will come here, and here we shall destroy him at last, as,” she finished with a definite edge of irony, “he so clearly deserves.”

Miguel began to protest. Grayson lifted a hand, checking the boy. “Ezekiel?”

Ezekiel gave Miguel a thoughtful look. “Miguel's suggestion is interesting. But I believe Keziah is correct. I can't imagine Malvern Vonhausel will turn away from Dimilioc now, no matter how easy the hunting would be in a human town. He
needs
to be in on the kill himself. Any black dog would need that.”

Miguel shook his head, shrugging in angry disgust, but he didn't argue. All of the black dogs agreed with Grayson, Natividad saw. All of them. It was a black dog thing
,
then,
a bone-deep certainty that came from instinct and not from argument or logic or anything rational. Miguel was the most rational person she knew, so he wouldn't get that. But he could obviously see as well as she could that arguing was hopeless.

“We will all rest,” Grayson ordered. “No one will leave the house without my explicit permission.” He stood up, somehow looming almost as impressively as Thaddeus even though he was nothing like as big. He said, “We will be up no later than 5, if you please. I would like everyone to be ready for an attack at sunrise or a little before. That will be at approximately 7.30. You may all go. Not you,” he added to Alejandro, who still knelt on the floor as Grayson had ordered him.

“Master…” Miguel began.

“No,” Grayson said flatly. He looked deliberately from Miguel to Natividad and back again. “Before dawn tomorrow, I wish to hear from you regarding your possible contribution to the approaching battle. Go.”

Natividad started to protest, not knowing what she should say, but Ezekiel gave her an ironic look and she stopped, confused but somehow also reassured.

Ezekiel left the Master's side. He took Miguel by the arm, gave Natividad a significant look, and herded them both out into the hallway. They were the last to leave. He shut the door behind them and leaned against it, his eyes on Natividad's face. She didn't look away. Meeting Ezekiel's gaze should have seemed dangerous, but didn't. His pale eyes were completely human. He was not smiling. Without that mocking smile, he looked younger and unwontedly serious. He said, “You and Miguel have things to talk about. Go talk about them. Don't worry about your brother. Grayson won't hurt him.”

“You're sure?” Miguel asked sharply. “Because he mustn't punish Alejandro – it's my fault…”

“It certainly is. Yes, I'm sure. If Grayson was going to punish him, I'd be in there.”

“Oh,” said Miguel.

Oh
,
echoed Natividad, voicelessly.

She didn't know what she looked like, but Ezekiel put out a hand to touch hers, very gently. “It'll probably happen someday, if your brother doesn't learn to trust Grayson's restraint. But it won't happen tonight. Go to your suite. Your brother will join you shortly, I expect. I,” he said, his tone once again edged and sardonic, “am going to bed. If anyone wakes me up, I will tear out his throat.” He lifted an eyebrow at Natividad. “Unless it's you.
You're
quite safe to walk into my bedroom. Anytime.”

Natividad blushed.

“Dawn tomorrow,” Ezekiel said, still sardonic. He jerked his head at them:
go
,
but despite what he had said about bed, he stayed by the door, guarding the Master's privacy and incidentally preventing Natividad or Miguel from trying to go back in.

Trusting Ezekiel – that he was right about Grayson, that he would even protect Alejandro if necessary – was surprisingly easy. Natividad touched Miguel's arm and headed for the stairs.

 

13

 

Alejandro knelt on the floor, head down, gaze fixed on the floor, waiting. He was intensely grateful the Master hadn't required Miguel to stay. He felt satisfied that he'd got the Master to focus on him instead of his brother. Yet was afraid of what Grayson would do, and ashamed to have earned the Master's displeasure. He had expected the satisfaction and the fear, but the shame took him by surprise. He had not realized until this moment that he cared whether Grayson approved or disapproved of him, not for practical reasons, but in itself.

He heard the door close, and knew he was alone with the Dimilioc Master. He knew when the Master came to stand over him, not because he looked up or because he heard him move, but just from the sense of the Master's dense shadow falling over him. He tucked himself down low, palms flat against the floor, forehead touching the rug.

“Your defense of your brother is admirable.” Grayson's deep voice was surprisingly quiet, with only the faintest gravelly snarl of anger. “Your defiance of me, less so.”

Alejandro pressed his face against the rug.

“Up,” Grayson said.

Surprised, he rose to kneeling, cautiously lifting his gaze to look at the Master.

“Did you notice how Williams reacted to your defiance?”

Alejandro stared at him in surprise for a moment, then flinched away from the Master's hard stare and looked down. He said, glad to hear that his voice was steady, “No, sir.”

“You have courage, but that is not rare. You have good control when you fight; you are able to think and cooperate with others. That is less common, and highly desirable. But when you are frightened, you focus too tightly. You must learn to watch everything that happens around you, even when you are frightened.”

This was exactly the sort of reprimand Papá might have delivered when disappointed in his son. That tone, utterly unexpected, intensified Alejandro's sense of shame. He lowered his head.

Grayson said, “Williams was pleased to see you defend your brother. He thinks now he might like you better than he expected. He thought I would punish you harshly – he still thinks I may do that. He will judge his safety here, and his son's, by what I do with you. Then he will either be easier in his mind or more fearful. You have put me in a position where I cannot punish you as you deserve without frightening Williams, which I do not wish to do.”

Though he did not look up, Alejandro nodded to show he understood.

“Now, Keziah. Whether or not she approves of your defying me for your brother's sake, she will think I am weak if I do not punish you. She, like you, is of an age where she wishes to press the limits of my authority, and she is naturally very dominant. You have put me in a position where, if I do not punish you as you deserve, Keziah will think that I will also tolerate
her
defiance. Which I do not wish to do.”

This was all immediately obvious, once the Master pointed it out. Alejandro nodded again.

“I suspect Keziah has never been accorded respect by any male black dog. I will give her the opportunity to earn mine. That may suffice. If it does not, I may eventually be required to kill her. I am not pleased that you have contributed to this difficult situation.” Grayson paused.

“I understand,” Alejandro whispered.

“You're a fool – and unnecessarily. Do you think I would punish a human boy as though he were a defiant black pup?”

Alejandro swallowed. He shook his head.

“You had better learn to trust my restraint,” said Grayson. It was a warning, and an order. “Do you understand?”

“I understand, Master.”

Reaching down, Grayson closed a powerful hand around the back of Alejandro's neck – a threat, but a gentle one. He shook him, still gently. “You could be an asset to Dimilioc. Learn to think of that.” Releasing him, he ordered curtly, “Go.”

Alejandro crept backward on his hands and knees, got cautiously to his feet, and, not looking up, made his escape into the deserted hallway. He was shaking – he was very grateful to have a chance to collect himself without an audience.

“
You had better learn to trust my restraint… You could be an asset to Dimilioc
.” It had never occurred to Alejandro that he might actually
trust
any black dog except Papá. Nor had he ever really thought of making himself into an asset for Dimilioc. From the first, they had all thought only of Dimilioc being an asset for
them
. Only… Grayson had been right. Right both times. “
Pendejo
,” he muttered out loud, meaning himself. He
was
an idiot.

Nothing about that difficult interview just past had gone the way he'd expected. Alejandro did not know what he felt, now. Except anger. But he was almost sure he was not angry with Grayson Lanning. No. He was angry with himself, because Papá had told him plainly, “
If you ever meet them, Dimilioc wolves may think
you
are a
callejero
. You must remember who you are and show them otherwise
.” He knew he had probably not yet shown Grayson otherwise, yet.

 

Alejandro hated it when he was angry with Miguel, and hated it worse on those rare occasions when Miguel was angry with him. He didn't care about the disagreement. He just hated the way any argument made him want to hit his brother,
force
him to submit.

He didn't do it. He never did. He wouldn't. But he hated that he wanted to. He was proud that Miguel didn't know he wanted to. At least, he was almost sure his brother didn't know.

Miguel certainly showed no fear of Alejandro. At the moment, he did not even show any caution. He was angry, not with irrational black dog fury, but with the colder anger of a frustrated human. He was still arguing. An angry black dog could not argue like that: thought and language became too difficult when black dog temper rose.

“He doesn't
understand
,” Miguel said furiously, pacing fast across the length of Natividad's room and back again. His quick movements made Alejandro's shadow want to lunge after him. Instead, Alejandro stayed exactly where he was, leaning his hip against the windowsill, his arms crossed over his chest, and Miguel kept pacing. The boy turned fast, glaring at Natividad but ending with an especially dark glower for his brother. “He doesn't understand that Vonhausel isn't an ordinary black dog.
You
don't understand.
None
of you black dogs understands Vonhausel, and it's going to get us all killed!”

Alejandro nodded – not in agreement, but in acknowledgement of his brother's anger.

Miguel glared at him. “You think I'm wrong!”

“
Sí
,” Alejandro agreed.
“Estás seguroque estas correcto
?”

The glare intensified. Miguel snapped, “Yes, I'm sure! And if everyone else thinks I'm wrong, maybe it is because you're all black dogs and don't know how to think!” He whirled to his twin and demanded,
“Y túy qué piensas
?”

Natividad held up both hands palm out, shaking her head. “Oh, no, no.
I
don't think
anything
. Don't look at me!”

Miguel whirled on Alejandro again. “
Think
on everything Vonhausel's done so far and tell me he's a normal black dog!”

“He's strong and clever and he may be using undead magic,” Alejandro conceded. “But he's still a black dog. That's what he
is
.
Grayson's right, Ezekiel's right, Keziah's right, and for once you're wrong.”

Miguel shook his head. “Let's entertain the idea, just for a moment, that you've got it backwards. That I'm right and all you black dogs are wrong. What would that
mean
?”