Unbinding (14 page)

T
HE
first time Nathan had referred to “Little Brother,” Kai had laughed. Fortunately, considering the circumstances, Nathan thought sex and laughter were a natural combination—sex being, he liked to say, proof that God loved them. And that She had a sense of humor.

She’d asked him why so many men named their Tab B when she didn’t know any woman who’d named her Slot A. To which he’d replied: “Have you ever taken a Great Dane for a walk on a leash?” Which hadn’t seemed to answer her question, so he’d added, “Though that’s an imperfect metaphor. Great Danes can be trained.”

Meaning that Little Brother had a mind of his own, so why not a nickname? She’d laughed again, of course, and that led to tickling, and on to what they’d been doing to begin with.

In a sense, however, Nathan had trained his Great Dane. He could control his body in ways a Tibetan monk would envy, and that included shutting down desire. He’d done that routinely for a long time before he decided to trust Kai. To let her in. Because, he’d told her, sex was too lonely if you weren’t with a friend.

Maybe that was why he took such delight in it now. Or maybe the mix of passion with play was just plain Nathan.

First he suggested a large oak tree on the west side of the deck as an appropriate spot—“being as we haven’t tried that since we were in Adelsfrai.” Ants, she reminded him, in case he’d forgotten what else had been in that tree. He insisted as they ambled toward the house that ants were not active at night, which she was pretty sure wasn’t true, but if she was going to be picky, how about the roof? Private as could be except for that one guard, and no doubt he’d be tactful enough to stay on the other side of roof’s peak.

She looked at him with raised brows. Privacy aside—and Nathan knew very well she wasn’t going to put it aside that far—Isen’s home was roofed in Spanish tiles. Talk about a bumpy ride. “You’re in the mood to be on the bottom?”

They’d reached the lower deck, which was shadowed by the roof. “Speaking of bottoms,” he murmured.

“Speaking of guards—”

“None nearby,” he told her, and kissed her thoroughly, putting his hands where he’d indicated he wanted to. She found something to do with her hands, too, as heat washed through her the way it did every time he touched her, every time . . . and sometimes when he just looked at her, too. Friction, she thought, could be a most powerful force, just as he’d said, when it was the friction created by rubbing a bit of Nathan against a bit of Kai . . . “I want a bed,” she told him firmly. “Just for novelty’s sake.” Which wasn’t entirely accurate. Sure, they’d made love without one often enough on their travels, but they hadn’t missed a chance to explore the possibilities beds offered, either.

The house was dark and quiet. Everyone had either departed or gone to their own beds. Even Dell was gone . . . heading back to the node, a quick check told Kai. The air held a spicy tang from the enchiladas they’d had for supper. And wasn’t it lovely to eat enchiladas again? She’d missed Mexican food almost as much as coffee. Kai’s heart beat strongly, desire hummed its sweet song, and Nathan was warm and solid at her side, adding thrumming bass notes to the rising tempo.

He continued to offer low-voiced suggestions—that first couch? No? What about this chair? It was roomy enough, he promised her even as they passed it by, heading into the hall. It was darker there, bumping-into-the-wall dark for her, and she let him do the steering and open the door to their room.

The drapes were open. Moonlight cast the room into shades of charcoal and pearl and reflected from the liquid surfaces of his eyes when she stopped, turned, and seized his head in both hands so she could pull his mouth to hers.

Nathan was wonderfully oral. He loved kissing, licking, pretty much anything he could do with his mouth . . . and he did know some lovely things to do with his mouth. For now they enjoyed little sips of each other, lips brushing and teasing rather than clinging. The damp touch of his tongue sent flicks of pleasure zinging up her spine. She nipped at his lower lip. He made a rumbling noise deep in his chest that meant
yes, yes, do that some more
. So she did.

When his hands went to the hem of his shirt, she brushed them aside and met his gaze as she replaced his hands with her own. Asking permission. Could she do this for him tonight?

Undressing each other held meaning for Nathan in a way that simple nudity did not. Usually they stripped with haste or humor or teasing touches, but once he’d told her—with a single whisper, with his actions, and in the unspoken colors of his thoughts—that he needed something else. Something more. He’d made a ceremony of it, a ritualistic baring that clearly mattered to him greatly. Afterward, she’d asked if that was a sidhe rite. “No,” he’d whispered. “That was for me. Just for me.”

She hadn’t asked again, sensing that explaining would diminish it for him. Tonight she wanted to give that meaning to him again.

Or was the gift for herself?

He went still, searching her face. She looked at him steadily.

He nodded.

She pulled his shirt off over his head. He moved only enough to make it possible, his gaze fixed on her . . . and there was nothing playful in his thoughts now. They rose around him in billows of red-smeared gold sparked with amethyst flames. She wanted to touch the smooth skin of his chest, glide her hand down to his stomach, but didn’t. That wasn’t part of the ritual. Yet his muscles quivered once, sharply, as if she had touched him there. Slowly, as if performing one of her asanas, she reached for the button on his jeans. Then the zipper.

Still moving deliberately, she knelt in front of him and pulled off his shoes, one at a time. His socks. All the time she felt him watching. She rose again and began tugging down his jeans and underwear. She didn’t touch Little Brother, though she smiled at that part of his body as it bobbed happily into view. Again, Nathan moved only enough to let her get his jeans off.

Then it was her turn.

With great care, he pulled off her shirt. He unfastened her bra and let it fall away. He touched her no more than he had to—a brush of fingers, a whisper of heat—and it was unbearably erotic. He unfastened her braid next and ran his fingers through her hair, spreading it out over her shoulders. It tickled her bare skin and she shivered. When he knelt to remove her shoes, she rested a hand on his shoulder. Nathan could stand on one foot forever without wobbling, but her balance wasn’t so perfect.

When they were both naked, they stood silently in the moon-drenched room, looking into each other’s eyes. Then, as he once had for her, she held out her hand. He took it.

When they came together this time, skin to skin, she felt naked from the inside out. That skin wasn’t so much a barrier now as a carrier, the staging place for a thousand nerve endings to sing with need and delight. She felt him with every inch of her body, even where he wasn’t touching her, as if the air itself was part of him, whispering wishes along the skin of her back and bottom and thighs. And all along her front was the tactile joy of his skin, the play of his muscles as he smoothed back her hair . . . then the damp warmth of his breath along her neck as he nuzzled her. And the quick jab of need when his hand slid between her thighs.

She jolted. And snaked her foot around behind his calf, pressing up against his touch with a low moan. And tripped him.

Good thing the bed was so close.

He let out a shout of laughter as he fell over backward onto it, and she dived in after him.

*   *   *

N
ATHAN
lay in the close and quiet darkness with Kai’s head on his shoulder, listening to the faint stir of her breathing and breathing her in. She smelled so good . . . all the time, really, but especially right after sex. Humans, he knew, weren’t fond of the way bodies smelled. They particularly disliked the rich scents given off by genitals. It was very odd.

He didn’t feel guilty at all. Should he? Or was that simply another difference between him and humans?

Kai had been right, of course. You could speak truth all day and still deceive. Nathan had learned how to do that from those who’d mastered the art—yet another thing Kai disliked about elves, their skill at deception. Earlier, Kai had tumbled to one omission on his part. She hadn’t noticed that beneath it lay another, larger one.

He wasn’t setting himself up as bait. That was true enough, but the hidden truth was that he didn’t have to. The god would likely try to snatch him without any need for encouragement. The thing was, Dyffaya apparently needed to insert something into the blood to do his snatching. Something that didn’t work immediately. There’d been quite a delay between the butterflies’ attack and the disappearance of the toddler and the woman, hadn’t there? Something that Dell had been able to remove from Kai’s blood.

Which meant there was a physical component. If Dell could remove that component, so could Nathan. He’d have to use healing magic, not body magic, but he didn’t doubt he could do it. There were things he couldn’t heal, but those tended to be sudden and extremely thorough, such as chopping off his head. Anything Dell could fix, he could . . . if he let it happen.

That was the trick, the omission, the point where he deceived Kai with silence. Nathan could control his healing to a large degree. He couldn’t shut it off, but he could slow it, even delay it entirely for a time. Judging by how long it had taken Dyffaya to snatch the toddler and the woman named Britta, he’d need to refrain from healing for thirty minutes to an hour. That was well within his abilities. Then the god would grab him and take him right where he needed to be.

How else was he to get to Dyffaya, unless the god himself brought him there?

Of course, getting there was only part of the problem.

Lily Yu had been where Dyffaya lived. In the godhead. He needed to call her, ask about that. But she hadn’t gone there physically, and that surely made a difference. He had no way of knowing if her experience had been a subjective projection onto some immaterial ground, or if the godhead possessed fixed referents. He might not perceive what she had.

Not that it mattered greatly, he supposed. The real question was whether he could live long enough, trapped in a godhead, to kill the being who held it . . . and what would happen to him when he did. Death wasn’t the only possibility there. Just the most likely.

Kai’s breathing changed as she shifted slightly without waking.

She hadn’t asked him what had set him on this Hunt. Probably she assumed he didn’t know, but he did. The moment he’d realized who the god was after, his instincts had awakened. Dyffaya wanted Kai. He meant to hurt her, kill her, in order to hurt Nathan. That couldn’t be allowed. No matter what it took.

True connection, deep connection, is as rare as it is precious,
Winter had told him one long-ago night.
When it happens, hold nothing back.

And, as she’d also noted, that was a bit of wisdom he’d already understood, though he took no credit for it. That was the only way he knew to be. It would be hard, very hard, to leave Kai, knowing she was still Dyffaya’s target, but if he stayed with her as instinct urged, sooner or later Dyffaya would succeed.

He would not allow that. No matter what. Nathan lay quietly in the darkness on this night so far removed from that one and breathed in Kai’s scent. And smiled.

“M
ORE
eggs?” Isen said politely.

Kai eyed the bowl wistfully. Isen’s houseman, Carl, made incredible scrambled eggs. She couldn’t figure out why they were so good. She’d watched him cook, and he didn’t seem to do anything special aside from adding milk. Though he did often stir in bits of whatever he had on hand. This morning he’d added chopped up roasted red peppers and scallions, and accompanied the eggs with freshly baked biscuits and a platter of thin-cut pork chops.

That platter was empty. So were both plates of biscuits. Of the six people at the table, three were lupi, and lupi ate a lot. “I don’t think I can stuff in another bite.”

“I can,” Nathan said, and emptied the last of it onto his plate. His phone chimed. “Whoops. That’ll be Lily.”

Isen’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re psychic now?”

Nathan managed to get one big bite of eggs in his mouth and swallowed. “I texted when I first got up and asked her to call me. Good morning,” he said, speaking into the phone now. “Though it’s afternoon there, isn’t it?”

“If you’re finished,” Nettie said, “I’d like to get started.”

Kai frowned. She wanted to hear what Lily told Nathan about the godhead. But what Nettie planned was going to take a while, so yes, they’d better get started. Kai pushed her chair back and stood. “Isen, I thank you—and Carl—for another delicious meal. Nettie, you said we’d have a bit of a hike. Where are we going?”

The “us” she referred to included her, Benedict, and the third lupus at the table—a small, compact man who looked about sixty, which meant he might be a hundred or more. Abe Keetso resembled his lupus father more than his Navajo mother, but he’d been raised in his mother’s spiritual tradition. As had Benedict. As had Kai, for that matter.

When Kai got up this morning, Nettie was already here, drinking coffee with Isen and Carl. She’d asked for Kai’s help with a protection ceremony, saying that the participants needed to be of the Diné spiritually as well as genetically. Kai had agreed, of course. Abe Weaver had joined them shortly after that.

“You and I will head for the node on Little Sister,” Nettie said. “Cynna’s already there with Cullen.”

“What about Benedict and Abe?”

“They’ll be needed at the node out back.”

“You’ll keep an eye on Nettie,” Benedict told Kai. “She insists she’s up to this, and God knows I haven’t been able to talk her out of it. But I don’t think hiking up a mountain when she’s only halfway healed is a good idea.”

Nettie snorted. “Halfway?”

“Maybe that’s the wrong percentage, but you’re not healed.”

“I’m weaker than I like, but I can walk.”

“Hiking up a mountain is not going for a walk.”

“Azhé’é
.
”
Nettie went to Benedict and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I will be well, and this is not your decision.”

Their eyes held briefly, then Benedict nodded unhappily. “At least drive as far as you can.”

Nettie didn’t roll her eyes, but she looked like she wanted to. “All right.”

“We can take my car, if you like,” Kai said. Though it was a rental, not really hers. Neither she nor Nathan owned a car at the moment.

Nettie nodded. Kai bent and dropped a kiss on top of Nathan’s head—he’d stayed seated, still talking to Lily—and he looked up, smiling with his eyes. “Not sure how long this will take,” she told him, “so I’ll see you when I see you. My phone will be off.”

He nodded to let her know he’d heard and asked Lily something about trees. Nettie slung a large, bulky tote on her shoulder and started for the front door. Kai followed. Nettie didn’t say a word until they reached the rented Hyundai parked on a patch of scruffy grass across from the house. When she did, she sounded as testy as her colors looked. “You know where the path up Little Sister is?”

“By that pair of oaks on the other side of the day care center.” Kai slid behind the steering wheel. “I’ve walked up it with Dell a few times.”

Nettie got in on the other side. “So you know that the node isn’t that far up. I may have to go more slowly than usual, but I’ll be fine.” She fixed Kai with a stern look. “And if I weren’t, I’d know it before you did.”

“You wouldn’t be much of a healer if you didn’t,” Kai said agreeably as she put the car in gear. “And I suppose Benedict wouldn’t be much of a father if he didn’t worry anyway.”

Nettie grimaced. “Everyone says doctors make terrible patients. I’ve lived up to that cliché, I suppose, but let me tell you—he’s worse. The only one who can make him behave at all when he’s hurt is Isen, and that’s because he has to obey his Rho. And,” she added on a sigh, “I sound as if I’m thirteen and bitching because he told me not to stay out late. I wish I’d quit doing that.”

Kai grinned. It had been weird at first, seeing the fifty-something Nettie with her father. Benedict looked at least ten years younger than his daughter—but that was on the outside. Kai couldn’t describe the difference age made in thought patterns; it varied greatly from one person to the next. But there was a difference, and Benedict’s thoughts looked older than his face. That had helped her adjust her expectations. Once she did, the relationship was obvious.

She felt a nudge at the back of her mind. “Oh. Dell wants to come with us.” Though it was more that she intended to go with them than as if she were asking permission. You might say that the chameleon was of the “ask forgiveness, not permission” school of thought, except that Dell wasn’t much for asking for forgiveness, either.

Nettie looked around, but obviously didn’t see the chameleon. Kai did, but she knew where to look. “I suppose that’s all right. She can’t participate, but she’s female, so her presence shouldn’t disrupt the rite.”

“If this is a women-only party, why is Cullen waiting at the node?”

“I didn’t explain much, did I?”

“You said we’d be doing a protective ceremony.”

“Not at all, in other words. Sorry. You know that Dyffaya sent dworg through the node on Little Sister to attack us, right? That was before you arrived.”

“I was told about it.”

“We don’t want that to happen again,” Nettie said grimly. “Not with dworg or anything else. The node by the house is tied to the clan in a way that makes it unavailable to Dyffaya, but the one on Little Sister isn’t—or hasn’t been. Cynna’s trying to change that.”

“Cynna’s doing node work?” Kai’s eyebrows flew up in mingled surprise and alarm. Cynna was a capable spellcaster, but Kai had been taught that no one short of a mage should work with node energy. If someone had to, though, Kai would pick the guy who could at least see the volatile stuff he was messing with. “Why not Cullen?”

“Cullen is assisting, but she has to do the work herself. It’s a Rhej thing.”

“Would the answer to ‘why’ be a clan secret?”

“It would.”

Kai wasn’t entirely reassured, but at least Cullen was monitoring the node. “What’s our part?”

“Cynna’s working on the magical end of things, but magic isn’t all that Dyffaya has available. We need to close it off spiritually as well.”

“That sounds tricky.” Actually, it sounded impossible, but Kai was no shaman.

“It is. We have to obtain Little Sister’s permission and assistance.”

Kai’s eyebrows shot up. “Little Sister has a guardian spirit? But it’s, uh . . .” She shut up before she offended the spirit they were supposed to contact.

“Not much of a mountain?” Nettie smiled. “It is on the small side, but yes, it has a guardian. A female guardian.”

That explained why this was a females-only rite. “I take it Cullen will leave after we arrive. Why are Benedict and Abe at the other node?”

“Because that node will only respond to lupi.”

Who were always male, so it made sense for them to handle that end. Except that it didn’t explain why someone was needed there at all. Unless—“Tell me you’re not trying to tie the nodes together.”

“Good God. Is that even possible?”

“Only if you want to blow things up,” Kai said dryly. “Though if you’ve been an adept for a millennia or two, you might pull it off.”

“Then it’s as well we won’t be doing that. We need the second node because—well, I can’t explain in detail, but we’ll use talking drums at both nodes to create a path that lets me show Little Sister what we want.”

“Glad to hear it.” They’d reached the nearest spot on the road to the path, so Kai pulled over onto the verge and got out. Nettie did, too, after retrieving her tote from the back seat. “May I carry your bag for you?” Kai asked.

“It’s not heavy, and it has my drum. I prefer to keep it close.”

“Okay, but let me know if you change your mind.” Kai headed for the path. “Can you tell me anything about the ceremony we’ll be performing?”

“You told me that your grandfather introduced you to Doko’oosliid.”

Kai nodded. Joseph Tallman was the mortal guardian for the western sacred mountain of the Navajo. Doko’oosliid—Abalone Shell Mountain—had spoken to him before he’d ever thought of being a shaman, saying he’d been chosen and would someday return to stay. Joseph had gone home, apprenticed himself to a shaman, married, and raised a daughter. After Kai’s grandmother died, he’d fulfilled the rest of the mountain’s prediction. He lived at its foot and took young Navajo partway up for their vision quests. Once in a while the mountain had a message for the Diné; more often, Grandfather needed to warn intruders away or rescue any who hadn’t listened. Doko’oosliid was not friendly to outsiders.

“The first part of today’s rite is similar to the rite of introduction.” Nettie cocked her head and smiled. “Did I tell you the role your grandfather played in my becoming a shaman?”

“He did? How?” The path grew a bit more steep along here. Kai kept a surreptitious eye on Nettie’s colors, but so far the older woman seemed to be doing okay.

“You may have noticed that the People don’t usually have female shamans,” Nettie said dryly as she started up the path. The slope was an easy incline here. “Yet that’s what I was. Shamans are chosen on the other side, and that’s what happened on my vision quest. But the stubborn old farts on this side didn’t believe me.”

Kai snorted. “Now I know you’re talking about Grandfather.” Who was no more stubborn than the mountain he served.

“Not exactly. Everyone knows Joseph Tallman will take no apprentice. Everyone also knows he values his privacy. So when I set up camp thirty feet from his front door, I didn’t speak to him. For two and a half days he didn’t speak to me, either. On the third morning, he came to my camp. I offered him coffee and fry bread. He accepted. After we ate and drank he asked why I was there. I told him I’d been sent to him by Coyote, who spoke to me in a dream. He grimaced when I mentioned Coyote,” Nettie added, “but didn’t argue.”

“Coyote is not Grandfather’s favorite Power.”

“So I gathered. Anyway, I explained that I’d been chosen for a shaman, but none of the shamans would take me as apprentice because I was female. He said he would take no apprentices, male or female. I agreed that everyone knew that to be true, and he went back to his cabin. Those were the only words we spoke for the next twenty days.”

“Twenty?” Kai waved a hand. “Sorry. Go on.”

Nettie smiled. “Twenty days later, I was running low on supplies and beginning to worry about that, the weather, and my life in general. It was nearly September and school was about to start—I was sixteen, did I mention that?—and there I was, camped out on a mountain. I was also pretty damn bored. But I wasn’t leaving.

“The next morning, your grandfather came to my camp again. Again I offered him coffee and fry bread and he accepted. After we ate he told me that I was Ahiga Brown’s apprentice. I expressed surprise—Ahiga Brown was the oldest of the
hataali
back then, and very traditional. He’d turned me down flat. Joseph Tallman smiled. ‘My friend Ahiga does not know this yet,’ he said. ‘I will explain it to him. You will remain here until I return.’

“He was gone a week and a day. When he came back I was completely out of coffee and almost out of everything else, but Ahiga Brown was with him, and he agreed to take me on as apprentice. I didn’t find out until later what your grandfather’s explanation consisted of.” Nettie chuckled the way one does at an old joke that has never lost its savor. “He set up camp thirty feet from Ahiga’s house and waited. Ahiga came almost immediately to offer hospitality to his fellow
hataali
. Your grandfather refused politely and offered him fry bread and coffee. Although impatient to find out what Joseph Tallman was up to, Ahiga had to accept. After they’d eaten, your grandfather said that Coyote had sent him to ask Ahiga why he kept refusing the apprentice he’d been sent by the Powers. Ahiga tried to be courteous, but he always had a quick temper. It was none of Joseph Tallman’s business, and who ever heard of a female shaman, anyway? Everyone would think he was crazy or a dirty old man if he took a young girl as apprentice. Coyote was just stirring up trouble. Coyote loved trouble. Ahiga didn’t.

“Your grandfather didn’t argue. Didn’t speak at all. He also didn’t leave. Nor would he accept anyone’s hospitality, though everyone in the village tried to house him or at least feed him. Six days later, Ahiga agreed that I was his apprentice.”