Black Dog(140)

“Last night we all discovered the limits of our control. This morning we shall discover whether we have redrawn those limits. Your presence may be an asset – or, for Ezekiel, perhaps otherwise. We shall determine that.” Grayson paused. Then he said, as gently as his deep voice could manage, “But nothing of this is your fault, Natividad. Nor anything of what will happen now.”

Natividad knew that wasn’t true. The Pure helped black dogs stay civilized, they helped black dogs keep the peace. If she couldn’t do that, which was the most basic and important responsibility of the Pure… She would do it, though. She didn’t say so. But she knew she couldn’t bear it if Grayson let Ezekiel out of the cage and there was another fight. She was more and more nervous. She wanted to run down the stairs, see for herself how Ezekiel was this morning… but Grayson offered her his arm, so she had to take it and match his measured steps.

To her surprise, Alejandro was already downstairs. Grayson had said, “No black dog is to approach him,” but Alejandro had anyway. A tray of bacon and sweet pastries on the table by the cage provided an excuse. Kind of a thin one. She knew very well the real reason her brother had come down those stairs was that he, too, had thought maybe there might be another fight when Grayson opened the cage door. He lowered his gaze and backed away as Grayson led her down, trying hard to look unobtrusive and obedient and like he wasn’t really there and certainly hadn’t disobeyed Grayson’s order, but he didn’t make any move to leave. Grayson gave him a long, steady look, but to Natividad’s relief said nothing.

Ezekiel looked… alright. He looked like he had been awake for a while. He was seated in the cage’s one chair, one elbow propped on its plastic arm, his legs stretched out and his feet resting on the cot, which had been made with a care for precise corners and a wrinkle-free blanket. He managed to look not merely rested, but cool, neat, and assured. Natividad didn’t believe that pose for a minute.

After one quick glance at Natividad, Ezekiel paid attention only to Grayson. And Grayson, after that one glowering stare at Alejandro, looked only at Ezekiel. The Master showed no expression, but Natividad felt the hard tension of his arm under her hand. He did not speak.

Ezekiel’s mouth twisted with bitter amusement. After a moment that stretched out uncomfortably, he rose, took one step forward toward the bars, and dropped to one knee. He turned his head to offer Grayson his throat. “Master.”

“Well?” said Grayson, his voice hard.

“I forgot myself,” said Ezekiel, which was something that, Natividad knew, he meant literally: he had forgotten his human self and his shadow had broken his control. He went on, speaking slowly, “I thought I could endure anything.” He glanced up at Natividad. “I forgot that you’re too young and that spring has not yet come.”

Natividad had no idea what she should say, or if she should say anything. Her throat ached. It was all hard and too much of it was her fault.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ezekiel said to her, quietly, without a trace of mockery in his cool voice. He looked Grayson in the face, then bowed his head. “All the fault was mine. I know that. I pretended so hard that I have no limits, I didn’t realize I had gone beyond them. I beg your pardon.”

There was a little silence. Then Grayson said, a little less harshly, “You turned away from your kill. I am not mistaken in this.”

Ezekiel glanced at Natividad once more, fleetingly. Then he again lowered his head. “That’s so. So did you. I admit that surprised me.” His mouth twisted again. “Not the only time recently I’ve been surprised.”

Grayson didn’t answer.

Ezekiel said, “You have warned me once or twice that arrogance is my besetting sin. I don’t argue it. I beg your pardon, Master.”

“Dimilioc needs your strength and your skill.”

Ezekiel bent his head a degree lower, acknowledging this.

“But that isn’t why I held back from the kill,” Grayson added. His heavy, deliberate voice added emphasis to the words. He stopped, regarding Ezekiel in silence.

But at this Ezekiel finally brought his head up to meet the Master’s eyes. They stared at one another for a long moment, their gazes locked. It wasn’t a dispute, though. It wasn’t defiance. It wasn’t a black dog sort of look at all.

Eventually, Ezekiel bowed his head again and said, his voice low, “Alright.”

Grayson did not nod or smile. If he had won anything by Ezekiel’s concession, Natividad did not know what it was. If that had been a concession. She sort of thought there hadn’t actually been a contest.