Jeanne Stein - Crossroads

Your request was not turned down. Sarah never got the chance make her plea to the council.

He watches me, enjoying the flashes of emotion that flicker through my thoughts. Anger that he lies so blatantly, fury that he thinks I’l fal for it. . curiosity because I don’t know why he’d throw out such an outlandish lie. George told me I’d been turned down. Insinuated that Sarah’s death was my fault because she was kil ed coming back from the council meeting where she pled my case.

George lied. Chael’s shoulders drop, as if he knows he’s hooked me and he can release some of the tension gripping his body. Sarah was never allowed to speak at council.

None of the tension has drained from my body, however. I lower my head and growl at him. How do you know this?

I know a member of the council. He had been well paid to see that your request was considered. He came to me after, to tell me what had transpired. A problem had been brought by the elders to the council’s attention and it occupied the entire meeting. Sarah was told to come back next week.

I turn away from Chael — not completely. I would never be so foolish as to turn my back to him. I step close to the rock wal of the cave so I can gather my thoughts. Privately. I al ow nothing to come through that he might pick up.

If Chael is tel ing the truth, George purposely led me to believe Sarah had spoken to the council. There was no misunderstanding. He told me my request had been turned down. I remember how he looked sitting at the kitchen table, the way he swept an arm and said, All this was for nothing .

I recal every word Sani said. He never told me how he knew I was seeking his council, did he?

But why should I believe Chael? How can I know?

I can do but one thing. Chael offers his thoughts in response to my own. Take you to the elder who is on my payroll. He will verify that what I say is true.

An elder on your payroll? I can trust someone whose loyalty is for sale? You must offer me something more than testimony that’s been bought and paid for.

Chael retreats into his own thoughts a moment. Then his eyes spark with an answer. The man I saw with you at the lodge yesterday? He is a policeman, is he not?

Yes.

Then ask him. By now he will have been apprised of the problem.He hadn’t been as of yesterday.

Oh, but he will be now. This is something that threatens the economy of the entire Navajo nation.

And what is this problem?

Chael spreads his hands. Someone is flooding the market with fake artifacts from the sacred caves. They are wonderful fakes, hewn from the original rock, but fakes nonetheless. The originals are sacred to the Navajo. Only a few are ever sold and then they must be displayed in the proper way in Native American museums. Tracking down the counterfeiters has become top priority for the locals.

They are sure the thieves are working from the reservation.

Here.

I close my eyes, picturing the beautiful drawings in the cave.

Do you know something? Chael asks, jumping at my hesitation. If you do, you will certainly make the elders look more favorably on your request for an audience with Sani.

My thoughts are scattered. I know nothing of counterfeiters.

But if Chael’s story is true, was it just a horrific accident that kil ed Sarah and Mary?

Did I urge Frey to kil Judith Wiliams for nothing?

I slump back against the wal of the cave, ignoring the dampness seeping from the rock, pressing fingers against my eyes. Final y, I raise my eyes to Chael. Why have you stayed on? Did you intend to wait the week and see what transpired?

I told you. I heard about the skinwalkers.

I let a snicker rumble from the back of my throat. And you were going to warn me? When? Hate to break it to you, but you’re too late. I already had a taste of curse magic. I figured it was someone on your payroll, too.

He shakes his head. No. Skinwalkers are tricky bastards.

There’s no loyalty in them to anyone but those initiated with them into the witchery way.

But I’m sure you wouldn’t have minded if I’d met my end at the hands of one.

Chael’s expression shifts to irritation. I told you. I don’t want you dead. I want you removed from the position of the Chosen One.

And you want it done in a way that cannot be traced back to you.

That is preferable, yes.

At least that’s something I can believe. Dying at the hand of a skinwalker would certainly meet the criteria.

What do I do now?

I was so sure it had been Chael behind Sarah’s death, I never considered the possibility that the car accident had been just that — an accident.

My stomach knots with indecision. Chael is stil an enemy.

I could kil him here in this place and dispose of his body so that it would never be found.

Vampire thinks that is a good idea. Chael is no match for my anger and strength.

The human Anna is not so sure. I watched Judith Wiliams dissolve into ash and felt nothing. She was not a friend, but now I find she may not have been the enemy I imagined. Oh, she would have proved herself worthy of death eventual y.

Her lack of restraint would have been her undoing.

Realistical y, kil ing her saved the lives of unsuspecting hosts.

So easy to rationalize. What was it that Chael said to me at the cottage — when the time comes, Id d kil her for him.

And I did.

Chael stirs beside me, anxiety beginning to bloom in his thoughts. Does he suspect the decision I’m wrestling with?

Let me go, Anna, and you will have a powerful friend.

I should not hesitate this minute to tear out Chael’s throat.

Sani’s words echo again in my head. Would kil ing Chael assure the safety of mankind? Would it guarantee my return to mortality could be achieved with no disastrous consequences?

I peer at Chael. He is nervous, an insect squirming on a pin. He is but one of a growing legion who are tired of vampires being kept in the shadows. Kil ing him might spur his fol owers on to escalate the violence against those they see as their subjugators.

Friend? Never. But making him a martyr would not be smart, either. And there’s stil that nagging question of why I don’t feel the evil in Chael. Why I don’t feel the powerful need to kil him. It is a riddle to be solved.

I open my thoughts. Go. We will never be friends. But today, we are not enemies.

His relief is palpable, he draws himself up, squares his shoulders. You will not regret this.

Make sure I don’t. Leave the valley. I will check your story. If you have been lying, I will find you.

He reaches into a pocket. I look down at what he holds out to me.

A business card. Like we are two traveling salesman exchanging numbers. He’s holding out a fucking business card.

This number will reach me no matter where I am.

I’m too dumbstruck by the sheer idiocy of the scenario to do more than take it and stare.

He makes his exit head held high, aloof as departing royalty. The only thing that mars his departure is the very ungraceful fal he takes as his feet slip on loose rock. He lands on his ass, recovers quickly, and glances back to see if I noticed.

I let him know that I did.

AS SOON AS CHAEL IS OUT OF SIGHT, FLEEING BACK

toward the hotel, I turn and trek farther back into the cave.

“Okay, Frey,” I cal out. “You can come out now.”

At first there is no sound — just water dripping from somewhere out of sight. Then shuffling. Frey’s scent, soap and shampoo, tickles my nose before his form materializes from the gloom. He’s rigid with anger.