Black Dog(98)
Sheriff Pearson stared at this domestic little scene, distracted, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “They’re Dimilioc?”
“Just very recently,” explained Natividad, distracted. She reached out to take her brother’s hands, and Alejandro took hers in a hard grip and sighed, like he might stand there just like that for a few hours before he found the energy to move.
The sheriff hesitated, looking at Alejandro, who ignored him. At last he asked, putting off any questions he might have had, “My people… It’s cold… and all the babies… We should go in. But…”
“What, you want to know about rooms and baths and supper and how to keep anybody from eating the children?” Natividad asked. She’d thought she was joking, but then realized, almost before she got to the facetious comment about children, that she wasn’t exactly sure. She glanced quickly at Alejandro, but he didn’t seem to be listening. Whatever he was thinking about, she doubted it had anything to do with ordinary human concerns. She touched her brother’s arm and he jerked back, then steadied and drew a breath. Some of the tight-wound tension slowly relaxed out of his muscles.
“Zachariah?” she asked reluctantly. She was afraid she had already guessed the answer. “Harrison? Benedict?”
“Lost,” Alejandro told her wearily. “Gone into the fell dark.”
He wasn’t looking at her. He wasn’t looking at Grayson, either, but Natividad knew his attention was tightly focused on the Dimilioc Master. She tried not to look at the Master, either, but her heart turned over in sharp sympathy for him. And, a little bit, in fear.
Both Zachariah and Harrison. And Benedict, too, which was bad, but both Zachariah and Harrison! And after losing his black dog wife last year! Natividad swallowed against a suddenly tight throat. She had to swallow again before she could tell Sheriff Pearson, “There’s room, I guess, if you don’t mind sharing. And there’s lots and lots of food – not much fresh, we’re out of eggs and stuff, but there’s a huge pantry and a whole row of big chest freezers, I’ll show you.”
“Water?” asked the sheriff.
“There’s plenty, I guess… “
“You’re worried about a siege, of course,” Miguel said to the sheriff, coming to join them. He had slung his rifle over his shoulder and nodded casually to the sheriff as though he’d expected all the time that the man might show up with a hundred townspeople in desperate need of shelter.
Natividad hadn’t even known her twin had left the balcony, but he must have decided there was no need to stay on guard at the moment. “This is my other brother, Miguel,” she explained, and wondered whether she should add, “He always knows everything.” She didn’t know how it would sound. Lots of grown men resented a kid Miguel’s age who knew anything, much less everything.
Miguel didn’t seem worried about it, though. He said to Sheriff Pearson, “The house sits right on top of its own well, so that’s fine, and there are three separate generators, so that’s OK, and you should see the storage cellars. Well, you really should, I guess: I’ll show you. This place is great for a siege, but I expect there won’t be one. At least, not one that goes on and on until you start wondering when somebody really will start eating people.”
Pearson tilted his head. “You think not?”
“Well, if we don’t win soon, we’ll lose soon,” Miguel said matter-of-factly. “That’s obvious.” To Natividad he added, “The east wing is sort of separate from the rest of the house. I think that’s where as many as possible of the human people should go. Maybe some of the older people can take rooms in the main wing with us, but not the kids – at least, not the little bratty kids who’ll get on anybody’s nerves.” He didn’t have to say, “Dimilioc wolf nerves.” He told the sheriff instead, “It’s important for all your people to avoid the wolves, especially Ezekiel. Well, especially all of them. Actually, Thaddeus – the big black guy? He doesn’t look it, but he’s probably the safest, because he has a Pure wife. But even so – do all your people know how to behave around Dimilioc wolves?”
Alejandro made a soft, wordless hsst! of warning before Sheriff Pearson could answer, and everyone stopped.
Grayson had gotten to his feet. He was still in black dog form. His thick black pelt seemed to drift off into smoke around the edges, and blue-edged flames flickered here and there along his body as he shifted position. When he turned his head toward them, Natividad could have sworn that his crimson eyes contained the reflection of violent flames.