Pure Magic (Black Dog Book 3) (20 page)

And he didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t about the monsters anyway. Not really. That it was about
him
, about cowardice and strength and being the kind of person who would let himself be kept on a leash, or wouldn’t.

That was all too complicated. He only demanded, “Am I a prisoner? Or not? Come on, Natividad!”

The girl visibly bit back her first response. She said, “If you leave Dimilioc, knowing as little as you know now . . . I don’t know how far you’ll get, Justin, and that’s the truth.”

“I
never
saw a single werewolf in my whole life before I left home, and I know more now than I did then! I’ll just go back . . .” but he fell silent, running again into the familiar grief: he couldn’t go back, he couldn’t stay here. He said at last, “My grandmother. Grandmama Leushin. She lives in Roswell. It’s a hell of a long way, but . . .” he let his voice trail off. The moment he thought of going to her, he knew he wanted to. He said, knowing even as he said it that it was only an excuse, “Maybe she knows something about my mother. Or my father. I don’t know, she might know something! Wouldn’t that be worth asking about?” And that long, long drive would give him time to
think
. He wanted that, right now, more than he wanted anything.

Natividad hesitated.

“Anyway,” he said, hunting for justifications that would persuade her, “I need to talk to my grandmother. I just walked away. I didn’t . . . I should go see her. I could explain . . .” though he didn’t know what he could explain, actually. Nothing seemed very explicable, anymore. But he did want, suddenly and unexpectedly, to see his grandmother. When he’d told Natividad that, it had almost been an excuse. But now it was true. He wanted to see Grandmama Leushin. To hear her voice. He wanted to know she was still there, that she hadn’t changed, that one part of his world was still the same as it always had been.

“Justin . . .”

He shook his head, vehemently, refusing to listen, and said honestly, “Anyway, I can’t
think
about things here. It’s too . . .” he didn’t know how to express what he felt and shook his head again, frustrated.

But Natividad nodded as though she understood. “My mother died, too, you know,” she said. “My mamá and my papá, they both died. Don’t . . . don’t try to put everything on your
grandmamá
. Because sometimes . . . sometimes you can’t go back. Sometimes there’s no way back at all.”

Justin felt a rush of sympathy for the girl. She looked . . . too little and too young, to have endured as much loss as he had. But she had. He had almost forgotten that. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” She stood for a moment, her hands resting on the hood of the car, but no longer like she meant to bodily stop him from leaving. She looked sort of crumpled, unhappiness in the line of her neck and her bowed shoulders.

“I don’t
have
to leave,” Justin said tentatively, but even to him this sounded a bit hollow. He knew he couldn’t stay.

“No,” said Natividad, looking up to meet his eyes. “Of course you have to leave. So you can come back. I mean,
para que puedas decidir regresar
. So you can choose to come back. Of course you must see your
grandmamá
, if you left her worrying about you. But you can’t go
alone
, you know. Grayson would be so angry if you got killed.” She went around the car and tapped the passenger-side door, which was locked.

Justin reached across the seat and unlocked the door, regarding her with real astonishment. “I don’t expect he’d be happy with
you
getting killed, either. Besides, are you, I don’t know, I mean, you were just about in a coma yesterday—”

“I’m fine.” Natividad sounded insulted. “Anyway, I can protect myself. Against ordinary black dogs, anyway; and I can teach you to protect yourself.
Someone
needs to, right away, before you get into trouble with strays again. And, you know, if we drive away, Grayson will have to send someone after us.”

“And . . . this is a good thing?”

“If we go the right way, I think it might be,” said Natividad. “I think Roswell sounds perfect. That’s in New Mexico, isn’t that right? I think we could go there.” Her voice had fallen almost to a whisper. “And Grayson can send someone after us. He can send Ezekiel. That would be perfect, as long we get far enough before he catches up with us.” She glanced sidelong at Justin, looking somehow guilty and pleased at once. “So maybe you should hurry up and drive?”

Natividad was unhappy.

She’d thought it might be nice to be away from Dimilioc, which usually felt safe but sometimes pretty claustrophobic. Away from the constant tension of a crowd of young black dogs who hadn’t quite sorted out all their issues; away not only from Grayson Lanning’s smothering protectiveness, but from the way he depended on her, the way they all depended on her to keep Dimilioc from shattering along those lines of tension.

Grayson wanted to protect her. She knew that. But Dimilioc didn’t need her so
very
much, not anymore, not with DeAnn, and now the new little girl, the
paloma
.

Natividad really thought the little
paloma
must have had had a black dog sister. And lost her. How terrible, to have both your mamá and your
hermana
murdered by black dogs. Natividad tried hard not to imagine it. At least she had Amira now. And at least Amira had made it plain she didn’t think the child was a burden. Amira was afraid of other black dogs and maybe even afraid of herself, Natividad had guessed that long ago, but Amira didn’t have to be afraid of the Pure—or of herself, when the Pure were close to her. She seemed truly to love having a little Pure girl who would cling to her and never let go. Though that might turn into a problem itself.

Natividad would have to talk to DeAnn about that. And Grayson. When she saw them again. After Grayson was finished yelling at her.

She didn’t let herself think, much, about how worried Grayson would be about her. Or about what Ezekiel would think, when he found out she’d left Dimilioc. At least Alejandro would be able to tell them she was fine. She knew he was: a constant little reassuring murmur in the back of her mind, or somewhere.

Still, Ezekiel would come after her. She knew that. She counted on it, this time.

“Black dogs are always all weird about status and dominance and things,” she explained to Justin. She was trying to make him understand all about Dimilioc’s current residents and dependents, partly to distract herself from worrying about things she couldn’t help and partly because he would need to know, since eventually he would have to live with them all. But it seemed complicated, when you tried to explain it all at once.

She said, “Nobody would be crazy enough to challenge Grayson or Ezekiel, but none of the new black wolves have got things sorted out, yet. James Mallory, he’s not strong enough to hold the house, and everybody knows it. Especially since . . . his brother was killed, you know. So he doesn’t have a close ally to support him anymore. I bet in a few years, even
Ethan
will be able to take a higher place in the house, never mind Alejandro or Keziah or Thaddeus.”

“I think you need to draw me a picture of all this,” Justin said, his tone distracted. He passed one truck, then another.

There were a lot of trucks on American highways. Natividad hadn’t noticed that so much, when they’d come north by bus. Buses were big enough you didn’t have to notice trucks. The
Norteamericanos
were so rich. It made all the difference, how Dimilioc had always kept down their strays, had forced even the
Norteamericano
vampires to stay
discreto
. In Mexico, for a long time, blood kin had ruled many towns, made them into hunting grounds for vampires, and black dogs had hunted almost openly in other towns and out in the countryside. It was too bad a strong black dog house had never established itself in Mexico. How different her own life might be, if Mamá had belonged to a strong house and Papá had married into that house, instead of being forced to try to protect his family all by himself.

That wasn’t something she wanted to think about, either.

“There’s a pen in the glove compartment,” Justin said. “I found it earlier when I wrote that check.”

“
Sí
, I will draw it so you can see,” Natividad agreed, glad of the interruption. That was a good idea, anyway. There were old papers, envelopes mostly, in the back seat. Though those were mostly buried under bags, because they had stopped earlier to shop, getting some of the things they ought to have taken with them if they’d had a chance to pack. Underwear and tee-shirts and another pair of jeans, toothbrushes and combs, bags to put things in. Justin had needed more things anyway, since he had come to Dimilioc with nothing. Justin had insisted on paying for everything, partly because most of the purchases were for him and partly because they’d both feared Grayson might be able to track any use Natividad made of her card, which drew on a Dimilioc account.

Natividad heaved various bags aside until she found paper. Justin was right; it was a lot to remember, and besides, drawing Dimilioc’s family tree would give her something to do besides look at trucks. She opened the glove compartment and began to poke around, looking for the pen.

Justin passed one more truck and slid the car back into the right lane. They had come a long way south already. Natividad thought she ought to recognize the country they drove through, but . . . all she really remembered from the journey north was cold and snow, endless flat fields all neatly outlined with wire fences. And then endless mountains. It was all blurred behind a memory of grief and fear. She was uneasy to find that mostly the deep, smothering grief had faded to something else. Memory, maybe. Something lighter, anyway. Something through which she could see the brilliant sunlight that flooded all this country today.

She wondered whether Justin, too, was finding a less heavy burden of grief than he’d expected, now that they had left Dimilioc’s safety to drive south. Maybe not. His mamá had died so recently. Probably he was still enveloped in that first smothering fog. She studied him, but he only watched the road.

Then he glanced over at her, and she saw he had been paying attention after all. “Didn’t someone say something about you and your brothers recently joining Dimilioc? I’m sure Grayson said something about that. So . . . you’re all strays, too? Is that right?” He paused just slightly and then added, “And Keziah, too, I suppose?”

“It’s different for us,” Natividad explained. She looked for more paper, wondering if she could draw a kind of family tree showing how the Dimilioc bloodlines all joined and re-joined over the generations. She said absently, trying to figure out how to fit everything on the back of a single envelope, “Our Papá was Edward Toland. Toland is a Dimilioc bloodline,” she added, realizing Justin might not realize this, and then went on, “And Keziah, even though she won’t give her right name, everybody knows she and Amira must carry one of the old Saudi bloodlines. Probably the main bloodline of the royal house, that’s what I think.”

“So she really is a princess,” said Justin, in a very casual tone.

Natividad looked at him closely. He was blushing a little. His tan was not dark enough to hide it. She tried not to smile. “
Sí
, yes, probably. Those Saudi black dogs, the royal house, they were terrible, but everyone knows they trained their children to have control, even if they—” she hesitated, and then finished reluctantly, “They used to kill the Pure, you know, because they thought being vicious was part of being strong. We think they’re all gone, now, though. It turned out that not having Pure women—people, I mean—to help them, they were much more vulnerable to vampires than Dimilioc or Lumondiere. And when all the human people realized what they were, of course they rose against the ones that were left.” She didn’t bother to hide her satisfaction at this example of cosmic justice.

“Um.”

“Miguel told me Keziah scared you, but she wouldn’t actually have hurt you, you know. She knows Grayson would kill her.”

Justin gave her an odd look, like he wasn’t quite sure whether she meant that literally or not and wasn’t sure he should ask. He said after a moment, “She doesn’t scare me. No more than the rest of those monsters.”

“They’re not—”

“How would you know? You’ve always lived around them. It’s like you grew up one of those fish, you know, a remora or whatever. Of course you don’t think sharks are a problem.”

Natividad laughed at this, then frowned. “At least I know I’m in the ocean.”

Justin glanced at her again. “And you’re trying to teach me to swim, is that right? Thanks so much. Look, it’s honestly not Keziah’s fault I stole this car. Is Grayson likely to blame her?”

Natividad was definitely getting the impression the black dog girl hadn’t scared him as much as they’d all thought she would. “I’m pretty sure Grayson will be a lot more mad at me than at you or Keziah,” she told him “And I think you’re right about Keziah. She’s not so bad. Sometimes she’s even nice. She cares for her sister. A black dog who knows how to love is not so bad.”

And if Keziah didn’t scare Justin, maybe he would really be willing to go back on his own, after they visited his Grandmamá.

He would visit, and see his Grandmamá, and start to think about black dogs finding her because of him, and about what that might mean. He would probably start to think about that even without Natividad pointing out the possibilities, though she would certainly point them out if she had to.

Then Ezekiel would find them, right through the Pure magic Natividad would show Justin how to layer over and around his Grandmamá’s house. Ezekiel finding them would make Natividad’s point in another way.

And then, since they would be so close to El Paso anyway, obviously it would only make since for Ezekiel to let her help him take care of that problem before they went back to Dimilioc.

She had better not discuss any of that with Justin, though. She hadn’t yet exactly explained why she’d wanted to take this exact route and not some other. It was a little
difícil
to think how to explain about the El Paso thing to Justin. He probably would not be happy to know about the young Dimilioc black dogs there, far less about the vampire.

Justin gave her a sidelong look. “Something else I’ve been wondering about. What about ordinary people? I kind of get the idea that at Dimilioc, ordinary people get to be servants. Must be nice for them, if they don’t mind working for werewolves. Do benefits come with that? Health insurance, maybe?”

Natividad blinked, surprised. “Well,
sí
, ordinary people work for Dimilioc, but you know, they are all Dimilioc connections.” But she saw he didn’t understand. “Distant cousins,” she explained. “Everyone in Lewis is related to Dimilioc
somehow
. No one would harm them, even if he were angry. Black dogs don’t hurt their own human kin. I mean, Dimilioc black wolves don’t. Besides,” she added, to be honest, “if they were all frightened away, who would do the dusting? We all had to, until everything calmed down and we hired them, and even now the house is really too big for them to keep up with everything. And you don’t need to say
servants
like that, either. Dimilioc pays them a lot. More than the allowance I get—you’d get an allowance too, if you were part of Dimilioc.”

Justin made a noncommittal sound.

“Anyway, I like Brit. She was going to go to Champlain College last year. That’s not so far from Dimilioc, just west, in a city called Burlington. It’s a really nice city, so big! Grayson let me go there once to shop and things. Brit really wanted to go to school there. But then, you know, the war. Her
papá
got killed, and now she needs to help her
mamá
—” She stopped. She should be used to thinking about the war. She should be used to the world it had left them. Somehow she never seemed to be. It was a way to get Justin interested in learning things about black dogs. That was important. But she hadn’t expected to feel this immediate knife-edged grief just from the bare mention of the war. Not just after she’d been thinking how much lighter her grief had become. It had only changed from an encompassing fog to this cutting blade.

It all felt too close. Too raw. Like a burn that had only begun to heal, so that the merest touch still hurt. She didn’t know if, after all, she was going to be able to explain things to Justin, all cheerful and casual, like it didn’t even
matter
.

Justin glanced at her, then turned his attention back to the road. But there was sympathy and understanding in his expression now, not the wary resentment that colored his tone when he thought about Dimilioc. He’d seen something of how she felt, she could tell. And of course that grief was something they shared. For a little while, neither of them said anything.

“So you used to fight the vampires?” Justin asked at last. “You Pure, I mean, not just the black dogs?”

Natividad was grateful for the change of subject, even though she really didn’t want to think about vampires too much right now. She said, “We were always enemies with the vampires. You don’t even know. They thought of ordinary people just as prey, right? So they hated us because they couldn’t hide what they were from us. Our magic works—worked—best of all against vampire influence, you know. Not even the strongest master vampire could ever confuse the Pure. They couldn’t make us see anything or think anything or do anything, not ever, not even right up close. Of course they hated us. Black dogs were their rivals, but the vampires especially hated any black dog houses that protected the Pure, because we weren’t rivals—
we
were enemies. Those were the sides in the war: the vampires on one side and the civilized black dog houses on the other. Especially Dimilioc, of course, but also a couple of houses in Europe, Lumondiere and some others, and a couple more in Israel and Lebanon. Ammar in Tunisia, Baqi in Morocco, I don’t remember. Miguel would know all of them.”