Alejandro could not touch the silver-wrapped bars of the cage, but Miguel stood on a chair to string cord across the width of the cell and then hung blankets across the cord. There were even clothespins to make the job easier – Alejandro would not have expected Ezekiel to think of such a detail, or to bother finding a handful of pins even if he did. He almost thought well of the verdugo for a moment, until he caught himself.
After the blankets were hung, Natividad managed something of a bath in the sink – “Cold water!” she declared, splashing. “I thought water this cold was ice!” But she looked refreshed and even cheerful when she pulled the blankets aside and rejoined them. “No television, no books, not even a deck of cards,” she said, looking around at the blank cell. “Not very good service! I don’t know if this is a hotel I’d care to patronize next time we’re wandering through the wilds of Northern Gringolandia.”
“Half-civilized barbarians,” Miguel said solemnly. “Be glad they have running water.” Natividad grinned. Papá had had a great deal to say about the lack of running water at home in Potosi, and, when the twins were six, had at last put in a pipe from the spring. “I think–” Miguel went on, but stopped as the door at the head of the stairs opened at last. For one moment, he looked as frightened as any ordinary fifteen year-old boy. Then he hid the fear behind the calm mask he had learned through living with a black dog father and brother.
Alejandro found his own anger and fear almost impossible to hide. If the Dimilioc lobos decided to kill him, kill Miguel, keep Natividad as their prisoner – if they decided to do that, he would not be able to stop them. The vivid awareness of his own helplessness was almost unendurable. How had this seemed the best among all possible risks?
It was Ezekiel who came down the stairs. Ezekiel alone. Should they find this reassuring? Or was the presence of the Dimilioc executioner alone a bad sign?
Ezekiel gave Alejandro a cool stare, forcing him to lower his eyes; he did not trouble to make any such show of authority with Miguel. Was that a good sign? He gave Natividad an unsmiling little nod as he unlocked the cell door – she met his gaze, and he didn’t seem to mind. That was surely good? Then the verdugo gave them all an economical little jerk of his head: Come on out.
Alejandro kept himself between Ezekiel and his brother and sister as they went up the stairs. He knew this could not possibly make any difference; he even knew that he might better put Natividad nearest Ezekiel, forcing the verdugo to get around her before he could attack either Miguel or himself. The extra seconds this might buy them could be invaluable if Ezekiel did attack. But he could not help himself. He could not possibly put his sister so close to the Dimilioc verdugo. And Ezekiel knew it, and laughed. Not out loud. But Alejandro knew he was laughing inside.
He took them to the same big room Alejandro had seen the previous night. The view was even more spectacular in the clear morning light. The forest looked… wild. Dangerous. It might have stretched on forever. The naked trees ought to have looked dead, ugly. Instead, the black branches drew lines across the white snow and the brilliant sky in a stark, unexpected beauty. Alejandro longed, suddenly and fiercely, to be outside this house, free in that winter forest, far away from any other black dog who might threaten or challenge him. From Miguel’s wistful glance at the window, he likely felt some human version of the same longing. But Natividad’s attention, hopeful and hesitant, was all for Grayson Lanning.
The Dimilioc Master occupied his customary chair. This time all the other black wolves were seated, their chairs drawn into a semicircle. Only Ezekiel stayed on his feet, leaning his hip on the arm of a chair as he had done the previous evening. Alejandro and his brother and sister stood before the Dimilioc wolves like prisoners brought into a court, only a court where everyone besides themselves was a judge.
Grayson Lanning let his glance pass over Miguel and Natividad, but met Alejandro’s eyes. Alejandro immediately dropped his gaze to the floor. He could still make out the marks of his claws in the wool of the rug. He did not know what to say, and so said nothing. Even Natividad was silent, amazingly enough.
Grayson said without preliminary, “Dimilioc has seven wolves, not five. Two are away just now on an errand for me.”
Alejandro understood what Grayson was saying: we are not as weak as you supposed. He said nothing.
“I will tell you,” Grayson continued after a moment, “I am astonished at what Edward Toland accomplished. I am astonished that Edward found a Pure woman, that he lived with her for something like two decades, that he raised a human son without killing him and a black dog son without losing him to bloodlust. I do not expect black dogs outside one of the civilized Houses to do such things – or to wish to do them. Even a Toland raised in Dimilioc. Those who are cast out do not find it an easy matter to retain such civilized behavior. Even with the Beschwichtigend to help them.” He paused.