Out of This World (18 page)

Out of nowhere I hear the theme to the last James Bond movie. Then I realize it's my phone.

“Dude, your pants are singing,” Donalita says.

“Better than having them on fire,” I tell her.

But then I answer my phone, and as I talk to Chaingang, all
my humour drains away. So much for hoping that Marina's out catching waves, and looks like Josh's mom is still in danger.

“Dogs attacked Theo's grandma?” Donalita asks when I've hung up.

Sometimes you forget how good a Wildling's hearing is.

I hold up a finger. “Just a sec.”

I call Agent Solana and tell him that Josh's mom might be attacked by dogs. He starts to ask more questions, but I just say I've got to go and hang up.

“But she's okay,” I tell Donalita. “His grandma, that is.”

“Good. I like her.”

“What did he mean about her standing them off with a shotgun?” Cory asks.

“No clue, dude, but sounds like she's cool. It's Marina and Josh's mom that I'm worried about.”

We get to the lane leading into the compound way sooner than I'd like. Eucalyptus and oaks line the narrow roadway, and you know what? It's actually kind of pretty till we get to the homemade wooden sign that reads: “Private—Keep the Hell Out!” in drippy red paint. Nice. Beyond the sign is a dusty lawn with a couple of chopped motorcycles parked in front of a long rambling ranch house.

At first there doesn't seem to be anybody there, but then we hear angry shouting around back. Cory picks up his pace, where I might have beat a quick retreat. I follow, craning my neck to see if there's some dude hiding with a shotgun, ready to take our heads off.

There are more bikes in back, not all of them in working order. Bike and car parts are strewn all around. A rusted panel truck and a couple of cars are also parked in that dusty yard.
There are a few more oaks back here, but beyond the open space, it's mostly just scrub and dead grass. We pass a small building on our right, which I think Josh described to me as Chaingang's personal crib, before the scrub opens up into a junkyard. Who knew they had all this crap back here?

But the shouting gets even louder and my attention locks on this big black dude who's towering over Auntie Min and yelling at her to get her ass out of here. Like that's going to happen. But on the plus side? He seems to be the only one of the Avers here at the moment.

I'm sort of looking forward to hearing Auntie Min tear a strip off him, except knowing her, she'll probably sweet-talk him into calming down. But now I start to notice the dead dogs scattered around in the dirt. Five or six of them, or what's left of them. Worse, there's a dead dude lying on the ground right beside Auntie Min and the Ocean Aver. The dogs and the dead guy are a mess, covered in blood. Pools of it are seeping into the dirt all around them. A heavy-duty battle went down over here. Flies are buzzing and crawling all over the open wounds.

Cory drops to his knees beside the nearest of the dogs. His shoulders sag as he lays a hand on the bloody fur. The dog was shot a couple of times and half its head is gone. There's not much brain matter left in there, and the wound in its abdomen has spilled bloody intestines onto the dirt.

I don't know why Cory's so upset. I mean, it's horrific all right, but dude. These are more of the dogs who wanted to kill us, aren't they?

But the longer I stand here, the more gross it all looks. It's nothing like it is in a movie. The colour of the blood isn't even
the same and the flies are starting to drive me a little crazy. In the end, I have to turn away. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Ocean Aver make a threatening move toward Auntie Min and suddenly she seems twice her size, now looming over the biker. The dude takes a quick step back.

“You should go,” she says in that calm voice of hers that also holds a touch of menace. Sure, Cory says she wouldn't actually hurt anybody, but I'm not sure I believe it. The biker doesn't seem to think she's kidding, either, but he's got his rep to think of and he doesn't back down.

“Like hell I will,” he tells her.

He reaches behind his back and starts to pull out a handgun from under his T-shirt. Before he can do anything with it, Donalita is over there and on him, gripping his wrist. She yanks it up behind his back with all her Wildling strength, forcing the big dude to yelp and drop to his knees. She snatches the gun away as he goes down, and throws it aside, out of reach. It lands with a thump in the dirt.

The guy struggles to get free, so she applies more pressure until he's lying flat on the ground.

Cory's hand is still on the dead dog. “I knew him,” he says, a dazed look on his face. “His name was Hector. This wasn't something he'd do. Hector would never try to hurt anyone.”

“Look at his shoulder,” Auntie Min says softly.

I look down and see a mark there—the same one that was on the dogs that treed Donalita and me. It looks like a brand, the kind you'd see on horses or cattle in a cowboy movie.

Cory nods. “I saw the same brand on the others. When one of them shifted into his human shape, it became a tattoo on his shoulder.”

“It's not a brand or a tattoo,” Auntie Min tells him. “It's a binding.”

Cory gives a slow nod. “I figured as much. Clever to target
los perros
.”

“Anybody want to tell me what you're talking about?” I ask.

Cory touches the brand on the dead dog's shoulder. “These symbols on their skin bind their will to someone. Whatever he or she tells them to do, they must obey. And our foe is clever to use the barrio and rez dogs because there are so many of them. Tío Coyote never could keep it in his pants.”

“Who's he?”

“My uncle. Old Man Mischief. Over the years he's fathered hundreds of these dogs.”

I have to ask. “Dude. Are you talking about the Coyote from all the stories?”

Cory just shrugs. I look from him to Auntie Min. She doesn't answer, either.

“Okay,” I say, “so if this binding makes them do stuff that's totally out of character, why would they let anybody burn a brand onto them? I mean, that's got to hurt like hell, right?”

“That's an excellent question,” Cory says.

The Ocean Aver that Donalita's got in lockdown picks that moment to try to break free again. Donalita puts more pressure on him without any real effort on her part. The guy strains, veins popping in his neck and arms, but he might as well be trying to lift a truck off himself. He gives up with a grunt of pain.

“Señora,” Donalita says to Auntie Min. “When do I get to break his arm?”

Auntie Min smiles at her without any humour. “Patience, little coati. Maybe, later.”

“You hear that?” Donalita tells the Ocean Aver pinned under her.

As she gives his arm a little jerk, Auntie Min turns her attention back to me.

“I don't know what
los perros
hoped to gain from this alliance, but I think they trusted and respected whoever did this to them. I think they were chosen because of their loyalty.”

“And then,” Cory says with a bitter tone in his voice, “Chaingang had them butchered.”

“Dude, if they were attacking him …”

Cory stands up, but his shoulders are hunched as though he's in pain. He wipes the blood from his hands onto his jeans.

“It doesn't matter,” he says. “Chaingang still needs to answer for this.”

I don't think I want to see a knock-down between those two, but it looks like I'll have no choice. Above the sound of the surf comes the roar of motorcycles pulling off the highway and racing up the narrow lane to the Avers' clubhouse. A moment later the gang pulls into the junkyard, tires spitting dirt as they bring their bikes to a sudden stop. I recognize Chaingang and a couple of others from seeing them around town, where I always make sure to give them a wide berth. But the guy straddled on the chopper beside Chaingang I know from pictures in the paper. That's J-Dog, Chaingang's brother and the leader of the gang. He's also supposed to be completely batshit crazy.

He puts his bike on its kickstand and jumps off it to glare at us. It's weird. The dude's not as big as Chaingang—not by a long shot—but he seems taller, like he takes up more space. He's like one of those tough guys in a rap video—all tats and muscles and a thousand-yard stare that tells you he'd just as soon shoot you
as to have to look at your face. And here we are, on his personal territory.

“You people know who I am?” he yells. “You know where you are?”

Chaingang puts a hand on his arm. “Jason,” he says. “This is not a fight you can win.”

J-Dog shrugs him off. “Have a little faith, bro. This is our turf. These dipshits need to find out why I'm the one says what's what here.”

Those crazy eyes fix on us again, tracking us one by one until they settle on where Donalita still has the other guy pressed face down in the dirt.

“—The fuck?” J-Dog says. “What the hell's the matter with you, Coltrane? You have any idea how little the girl holding you down is?”

Then J-Dog pulls the biggest, shiniest gun I've ever seen from behind his back and points it in Donalita's direction. She smiles back at J-Dog and grinds this Coltrane dude more into the dirt.

“Don't worry,” Cory says softly to me. “We can take them. Except for Chaingang, they're only human.”

“Dude,” I tell him. “So am I.”

“This ends—now,” Auntie Min says.

She's doing that whole I'm-bigger-than-you-think deal, but all it does is focus J-Dog's attention her way and now the gun's pointing at her.

“Shouldn't have done that,” Cory mutters.

He moves so fast it's like he's invisible. One moment he's standing beside me, the next he's plucked J-Dog's gun out of his hand and kicked the gang leader's legs out from under him. By
the time Cory stops moving, J-Dog's lying on the ground and the gun's now in Cory's hand, the muzzle on J-Dog's temple.

It takes a moment before what happened even registers on the other bikers. When it does, their hands fill with guns. But we all know J-Dog will be dead before they can pull a trigger.

“Don't do anything stupid,” Chaingang tells Cory. “These people are my brothers.”

“What about
my
brothers?” Cory says, yanking J-Dog to his feet while keeping the gun on his temple. “It's okay to kill them?”

Chaingang's eyes go dark and his whole body tenses. I realize that I've never seen him seriously pissed off before.

“
You
sent those dogs?” he growls.

Cory meets that dark gaze with his own anger. “Don't be any more stupid than you've already been. These boys you killed were being forced to do what they did, but I wasn't the one who put the order on them.”

Chaingang shakes his head. “Doesn't change anything. They were coming after us. They went for my grandma. And Marina.”

“You're wrong. It changes
everything
,” Cory tells him. “Do you blame the weapon, or the hand holding it?”

“You better shoot me right now, boy,” J-Dog says before Chaingang can respond, “or first chance I get I'm going to cut a new asshole for you in the middle of your face.”

Cory looks at his captive like he's only just remembering J-Dog is there with the muzzle of a gun pressed up against his head.

“Here's what we do with tough guys in my world,” he says.

And then they both disappear.

Chaingang's eyes narrow. Behind him, the rest of the gang
starts shouting. Chaingang raises a hand and they shut up—just like that. He points a finger at Auntie Min.

“Bring. Him. Back,” he says.

She shakes her head. “This is between you and Cory.”

“Then take me to him so I can finish this, and then you're going to help me find Marina.”

She shakes her head again. “I will not interfere.”

“Bullshit. You've done nothing but interfere since the first day I became a Wildling.”

She regards him steadily for a long moment before she says, “Tell your men to put away their weapons.”

“Yeah, not going to happen.”

Did you ever hear the sound of a hundred or so pairs of wings? Let me tell you, dude. Shades of Hitchcock and seriously creepy. I don't know where they came from, but suddenly the sky is full of crows, not making a sound other than the beating of their wings. They settle in the raggedy trees. More still perch on the junked cars.

Chaingang's gaze leaves Auntie Min's to take in the birds. He shakes his head and looks back at her. “Maybe from where you're standing, we don't seem so important,” he says, “but you don't want us to be your enemy.”

“You're right,” she tells him. “I've always considered us allies.”

“Then what's with the army?” he asks, waving his arm to take in all the crows.

She shrugs. “They are here of their own accord. Most likely, they think you are threatening me.”

“Chaingang,” one of the bikers calls out. “Just say the word. We'll take out the birds just like we did the dogs.”

“They aren't birds,” Chaingang replies without turning. “And I need her,” he says, still looking at Auntie Min.

Man, I so hope this is like a team-up in the comics and we get done with the fighting and yelling at each other. Maybe Chaingang is thinking the same thing.

“Everybody,” he says. “Put down your guns.”

Another of the bikers shakes his head. “No way—” he starts.

“Don't make me have to come and do it for you,” Chaingang says, still not turning around. Then he focuses his attention back to Auntie Min. “What do you want from us?” he asks her.

“Nothing more than I ever have. For you to stand by us, as we stand by you.”

“You've got my man Coltrane on the ground and you've taken my brother. In my book, that's not standing by me.”