But Miguel had been right: black dogs were too territorial, too mistrustful of outsiders, too aggressive. Grayson wouldn’t think of Thaddeus Williams as an asset to Dimilioc, the same as Alejandro hadn’t thought of it, por supuesto que no. Not now, not yet. Not until Natividad or Keziah made him think of it. And then, yes, Miguel was right, Grayson would try to batter Thaddeus into submission through sheer force of will and that wouldn’t work, not now, there wasn’t time. They needed Thaddeus himself to want to belong to Dimilioc to head off all those conflicts of strength and rank and loyalty.
So, he only nodded and led the way out toward the stairs.
The things that had been brought down to the cage to make Natividad more comfortable – the extra blankets, the cord to hang them on, the chairs –were still there. The sheets on the cot had even been changed, which Alejandro wouldn’t have noticed except the new sheets were rose-pink. None of these small luxuries made the silver-wrapped steel bars look any less a cage.
DeAnn was sitting on the cot, her legs drawn up. She had one arm around her son’s small shoulders. The boy was leaning against her, his face pressed close, and for a moment Alejandro heard Miguel pause behind him and knew that his brother had been surprised by a surge of angry, jealous grief for their own lost mother. Or at least grief: maybe the anger and jealousy was a black dog reaction and Alejandro only guessed at those emotions in his brother because he felt them himself, because the boundaries between himself and his black dog had become blurred, because he was no longer absolutely sure he could draw out those boundaries, not when it really mattered, not when he most needed to. He touched his brother’s shoulder, trying for a light, comforting touch, trying not to show anything of what he felt himself.
The sounds of the opening door and descending footsteps had brought Thaddeus to his feet. He stood between his family and the cage’s door, his broad shoulders squared aggressively, the dim yellow light turning the skin of his bald head and thick arms and big hands to a gold-tinged ebony. Even caged, Thaddeus looked enormous and más peligroso – dangerous. Alejandro wondered whether the black dog did that deliberately, and how, and whether it was something anybody could learn. Then he wondered if he should want to learn it. Then he wondered whether it was he who wished to learn that, or the black dog. He shut his eyes for a moment, shuddering, reminding himself fiercely that the present moment held enough danger, that he needed to focus and stay in the present and not borrow trouble. He wished, desperately, that Papá was here with them – or Mamá, that would be even better…
“Lunch,” Miguel said cheerfully, holding up the plate. “Or breakfast, or both, I guess. You must all be starving.” He stepped casually around Alejandro, oblivious to his brother’s struggle against his shadow’s influence, and set the plate down on the table outside the bars, where DeAnn could reach it.
Thaddeus, glaring at Alejandro, did not speak or move. DeAnn sighed, patted her son’s hair, got to her feet, and reached through the silver-laced bars for sandwiches for herself and the boy. She put another one aside for her husband, if he decided to take it, said, “Thanks,” to Miguel, and bit into her sandwich with enthusiasm.
“DeAnn…” Thaddeus began.
“Don’t say anything yet,” suggested Miguel. “Let me tell you something important first: Grayson didn’t send for you to punish you for taking a Pure woman.”
Thaddeus stared at Miguel – straight at him. Then he laughed, bitter and contemptuous. “Human, are you, kid? Come to tell me what it is?”
Miguel gazed back at the black dog with a bland, ingenuous expression. “Well…” he began.
“Miguel!” snapped Alejandro. He knew his tone was too harsh, but his awareness of Thaddeus’ strength set him on edge, made him expect a fight despite the cage, made him expect blood and fire and remorseless battle – and here was Miguel, utterly disregarding everything he knew about black dogs. At least the fury and danger in the room made it much easier to focus tightly on this one single moment and not think about the past or the future…
“Oh, right,” said Miguel, in a tone that implied he was only just resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s alright, ‘Jandro, you can see he’s got real good control.” But he looked politely at the floor. He said to Thaddeus, “Yep, that’s me, human as they come. But it’s still true, what I said.”
Thaddeus laughed, a sharp crack of sound. “Of course. He’s the forgiving sort, is Grayson Lanning, we all know that! All sweetness and light and pink sugar unicorns! That’s why he sent his damned executioner to bring me in, cause it’s just fine with him…”