Black Dog(79)

“That is an unexpected bonus,” Grayson agreed, his deep, gritty voice growling through the winter quiet. “And his existence is instructive.” He added to Thaddeus, “Up. Up, dog. Let us have a look at you.”

Thaddeus pushed himself up to kneeling, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunching. But he obviously intended no challenge. He kept his head down, glancing covertly up at Grayson the way a weaker black dog would look at a stronger… though one on one, Alejandro was not absolutely certain Grayson would actually prove stronger. But of course that did not matter.

“You’ll kill me,” Thaddeus said, speaking straight to Grayson, ignoring all the other Dimilioc wolves. His voice was as deep as the Master’s, maybe deeper, rough with black dog anger. “That’s alright. That doesn’t matter. But don’t kill my son. He’s DeAnn’s son. She’s sensible – she’s smart. Let the boy alone and she’ll do what you want, anything you want. I swear she will.”

He still didn’t look at his wife, even when he said this. Alejandro did. He couldn’t help it. Natividad hated it when Alejandro spoke for her that way – she usually insisted on speaking for herself. But Thaddeus’ wife didn’t even change expression. She looked up, though; she looked into Grayson’s face, met his eyes. But then, maybe because she still held her black dog son in her arms, she lowered her gaze again immediately.

“Tell me you’ll let him live,” Thaddeus said. He looked directly into Grayson’s eyes just for an instant. “Just tell me that. Please. Before you kill me, tell me you’ll let him alone–” He stopped, with an abruptness that suggested he didn’t trust the steadiness of his voice.

Grayson studied him for a long moment. “Unusual, for a black dog to care so much.”

Thaddeus’ hands, set on his thighs, closed hard into fists. He said harshly, “What difference does it make to you? But if you want DeAnn for Dimilioc–”

Grayson held up a hand, and Thaddeus halted. The Master said calmly, “I’ve no intention of harming your son. A black dog’s life is hardly secure, but he will come to no harm here from any Dimilioc wolf. Not while he is still a child.” He paused and then asked, his deep voice making the question seem almost a threat, “Do you believe me?”

Thaddeus sat back on his heels. He stared at Grayson for a moment, then looked down again. He started to rub one big hand across his bald head, flinched from the silver band around his wrist and dropped his hand instead to rest again on his thigh. Clearly he did not know whether he believed Grayson or not – and did not know whether he should say that, or not.

“Well?” said the Dimilioc Master.

“I hope it’s true,” Thaddeus said. He glanced up. “I don’t know why you’d lie. Maybe it’s true. If you’re lying, I hope you kill me before you do him.”

“Take the silver off him,” Grayson said to Ezekiel. “Let’s take a look at him.”

That clearly surprised Thaddeus, who nevertheless held out his hands one after the other so that the Dimilioc verdugo could remove the silver bands. He took a deep, shuddering breath when they were gone, some of the tension easing out of his back and shoulders. But then his muscles visibly tightened again as his shadow suddenly expanded, filling out the space around him, so dense it almost seemed it might take on physical form without him.

Alejandro half expected the huge black dog to explode into violence, but Thaddeus only took another breath, shut his eyes, and locked his shadow down tight with pure willpower. He did not otherwise move except to rub each wrist in turn, hard, as though trying to scrub away even the memory of the silver. His wrists showed marks, char-black against the dark brown of his skin, where the metal had burned him even through the leather backing.

DeAnn had given Grayson a sharp look when he’d ordered her husband freed from the silver. She said nothing, but she swung her black pup son down to stand on his feet beside her, though she kept hold of his hand. But the boy tugged, tugged again, black dog instinct driving him down. At last DeAnn let her son kneel, crouching so that she could keep an arm around his shoulders.

“Well?” Grayson said to Thaddeus.

The black dog flicked a glance up, then fixed his gaze firmly on the ground. “You expect a fight? I won’t fight.” He glanced up again, not quite as briefly. “You think I want black dog violence here? Now?”

“He’s had good control right through,” Ezekiel said casually to Grayson. “Once he got his shadow battened down in the first place. Which was, however, a little difficult. Alejandro was helpful there. It seems he’s picked up your special trick.”