Black Dog(62)

He knew something about black dogs. Enough to lower his eyes when Grayson Lanning stared at him. Enough to wait, despite the tension in his slim hands and the set of his shoulders, for Grayson to speak first. He carried a gun, but he kept his hands away from it, though she could tell from Grayson’s manner that his gun couldn’t be loaded with silver.

She thought of the black dogs that had attacked Dimilioc. The sheriff should have silver bullets. She wondered whether Grayson would think so, or think to warn him, or allow Miguel to make some for him; whether she should suggest it. Not now, though; not with the Master glowering like that.

“Well?” growled Grayson, his posture stiff and aggressive.

Sheriff Pearson took this rough query for permission to look up, which it wasn’t. He also leaned forward slightly, which Natividad could tell was from tension and urgency, but which a black dog might take as challenge. She edged forward, not exactly between the two men, but finding a place to lean against the wall of the entryway about an equal distance from each.

“We had someone bitten last night,” the sheriff said without preamble. His voice was sharp and precise; he spoke as though each word was an edged weapon. Natividad wanted to put a hand on his arm, urge him to calm down as though he was a black dog, but she was afraid that if she tried he would only get angrier. “I don’t suppose that was one of your wolves, Grayson,” the sheriff continued icily, “but your warning was neither timely nor adequately specific. We trusted you to keep us clear of your black dog violence, at least–”

Grayson said, grimly, “I regret this. It was unexpected. I doubt that Dimilioc’s new enemy is interested in you or yours, but stray black dogs are rabble, difficult to control. We are taking steps to deal with the problem. This man who was bitten. I gather you have brought him to me?”

“It was a girl. Yes, I brought her to you.” The sheriff leaned forward, speaking rapidly and with gathering intensity, either unaware of the challenge he seemed to be making or else indifferent to the danger. Natividad pushed away from the wall in alarm, but Grayson didn’t move, and the sheriff continued, his voice rising, “You kill people who’ve been bitten. Of course you do. But I don’t want this girl killed. You have other ways of controlling–”

“Caging is merely a temporary measure,” said Grayson. “We seldom find moon-bound shifters worth the trouble.” His shadow, dense and misshapen, had gathered up around him in defiance of the light in the hallway. But the black dog anger barely showed in his voice. Even now, he did not threaten the man. Natividad didn’t think this was due to her presence. The Master just had that much control.

“My daughter,” said Sheriff Pearson tightly. “It’s my daughter, and I assure you, I didn’t bring her here for you to kill her. You have other ways of controlling bitten people, and you will use those other methods, Grayson–”

Grayson said, his deep voice coming down heavily across Pearson’s fury, “This moon will come upon her too swiftly for her to learn even a vestige of control before the change takes her. It is almost upon her now. Later, after the nights and days of the full moon, there are methods she may be able to use. Ways you can help her. We will teach these to her and to you.” He paused. The two men stared at one another. Then Grayson added, his gravelly voice almost gentle, “I am sorry for the harm that has come to your daughter, Sheriff Pearson. Dimilioc will not add to that harm.”

“Alright,” said the sheriff, more calmly. “Alright.” He took a breath. “Thank you. I’ll bring her…” He began to turn back toward the door.

“No,” said Grayson, stopping him. “Clearly she has not yet changed. But tonight the moon will rise full. Possibly you would still be safe to approach her today, but we will not take that chance. I will send Harrison for her.”

Sheriff Pearson looked at him.

“We will not harm her,” Grayson promised him.

The sheriff shook his head, then nodded wordlessly, opening and closing his hands. “She’ll be alright,” he said at last. He stared at Grayson. “You’ll be kind to her. You’ll tell me if she… if I…” he stopped, not seeming to know how to finish this plea.

“We will do all we can for her,” Grayson promised him.

“Yes,” the sheriff whispered. “Alright. Thank you.” He looked down at last, letting out his breath. Then he suddenly turned his head to stare at Natividad. “You’re Pure, aren’t you?” He turned back to the Master. “Grayson, I need to borrow this young lady. We can’t have anyone else bitten. These are enemies of yours, you said; you owe us some help, here. A Pure girl might help Father McClanahan set up something better than–”