Natividad walked meekly the way Harrison pushed her, but she also turned her head to meet the sheriff’s eyes. He was gathering himself to his feet at last, moving as though it hurt, but he paused questioningly as she caught his gaze.
She winked. Harrison might have said, “Don’t call on Dimilioc,” but in that wink, Natividad hoped she communicated a different message. If that mandala doesn’t work, she meant to convey, or if it’s not enough, call on me.
Pearson nodded back, and if the movement looked like it hurt, it nevertheless carried reassuring determination.
Natividad waited to speak again until they had found the car. The bulky, broad-shouldered Harrison looked exactly like the kind of man who ought to drive such a big vehicle. He had to put the seat back several notches and even then he had to slouch down so that he could keep an eye on the rearview mirror.
Natividad did not object to anything. She pulled herself slowly into the passenger seat, the effort showing her how stiff she was. As soon as Harrison started the car, she turned the heater all the way up. She hadn’t realized exactly how tired and cold and frightened she had been until she was in this nice car with its wonderful roomy seats and excellent heater. Though she wished the car could also do something about the fear. She wished they were already back at Dimilioc, safe in the house. If that was safe. Well, it would be safer than this car…
“You’re tired,” Harrison said to her, his rough tone almost a growl on the words. Yet, he did not seem angry any longer. Not very angry. He looked at her closely, his attention probably caught by her slow movements. “But you are not hurt.”
“I don’t think so,” Natividad said. Though she was very tired. She didn’t want to make the black wolf angry, not again, not now when he seemed so much calmer. But she said tentatively, “My mandala… I should explain… Vonhausel…”
“You can explain to Grayson,” Harrison growled. “But Vonhausel will not challenge any Dimilioc wolf again until he can bring overwhelming force to bear. So, not today nor tonight.” Then he ruined the certainty of this statement by adding, “Or I think not.”
Natividad did not want to think about what might happen if he was wrong. If overwhelming force came against them on the road, when she and Harrison were alone… She wished, suddenly and intensely, that Ezekiel was already back from Chicago. And Alejandro. She wanted to be safe in her room at Dimilioc, she and Miguel and Alejandro, all safe.
No, that wasn’t what she wanted at all. What she really wanted was a cup of hot chocolate, very strong and dark, the way her mother had made it. She wanted a hot bath and a soft bed and some silly light romance to read… She wanted, fiercely and suddenly, to go home. Tears prickled at the backs of her eyes.
“Though it’s true you will have a great deal of time to rest once we are home,” Harrison added, in counterpoint to Natividad’s sudden melancolia. “You’re grounded.”
“Grounded?” He’d said he would consider her punishment, but this was so unexpected that Natividad found herself shocked out of her homesickness and grief and the remnants of her fear, and actually struggling not to laugh. She hadn’t known that Harrison had a sense of humor at all, and then he came out with something like that!
The black wolf gave her a look that was not exactly a scowl. Or if it was a scowl, it wasn’t exactly bad temper behind it. He said, his tone still harsh but no longer angry, “Grayson cannot order his executioner to beat you. Ezekiel would not obey. Besides, you aren’t a young black dog, to be beaten into submission. You’re too thin to be refused supper. So. You are grounded. I believe girls your age consider this a significant punishment. You will stay in your room until I release you.”
“I’m not a baby–”
“You are very young,” Harrison growled, in a tone of finality.
Natividad looked at him uncertainly. “Grayson…”
Harrison turned his head to glower at her, heavy brows drawn down over dark eyes. “What? Will you go to my brother asking for a lighter punishment?”
This wasn’t what Natividad had meant. She said, “No, alright,” in her meekest tone.
For some time, Harrison drove in silence. He glanced at her now and then, sideways glances that she could not read. He tapped his fingers on the gear shift. He adjusted and readjusted the angle of the steering wheel. And at last he said, “Grayson told me about the pentagrams you put on the living room windows. For him, you did that.”
Natividad, still mostly thinking about the strange mandala she had made, wondered why this was a problem. “Yes?”