Black Dog(112)

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.”