Dreamwalker (Stormwalker #5) - Allyson James Page 0,28

newcomers were human, no hint of supernatural in them. I’d thought the same about Monica and John, of course.

I pondered our encounter with them. Why had the demons appeared here at the bar, and why had Monica and John led us to the ambush at the motel? They’d invited us there, then seemed unconcerned when we didn’t want to go. How could they be certain we’d follow them later? Had Mick and I truly been the target, or had we showed up to get in the way of something else?

And where were Monica and John now? According to Mick they’d disappeared after the demons had been driven back. If they were demon slaves, they might have taken off, free once their masters were dead. Or headed out to find new masters—those enslaved by demons sometimes gave themselves by choice in return for power, protection, wealth, whatever the demon promised.

Or did they work for Emmett, tasked by him to get Mick and me to Flat Mesa to be finished off? Then again, Ansel had said all had been quiet, an unusual state of affairs at my hotel.

I wasn’t surprised the demons hadn’t returned to the bar. I smelled the clean tang of protective magic, which meant Mick and Cassandra had come over here to set wards. I lingered in the area where the demons had been, but sensed nothing of them. Cassandra and Mick had done a good job cleaning the place.

I didn’t like demons hanging around my territory, though. Those demons had been earth born, not from the netherworld of Beneath. Beneath was a different place, older than earth, with magics from before humans walked on this world. Mick was earth born, as was my Grandmother’s shaman ancestors.

The bar seemed to be secure. I departed, saying my good-byes to Barry. He’d become stone-faced again but gave me a cordial enough farewell.

I emerged into the parking lot at the same time a pickup swung in from the highway. Instead of heading up the new paved drive to the front door, where guests unloaded their bags, the truck drove around to the back, dust rising behind it into the twilight.

I’d recognized the pickup as it pulled past the bar. I stifled a groan as I quickened my pace across the dirt lot.

My fast walk became a jog as the truck halted and people began to pile out. First was the lithe form of Gabrielle, who leapt over the side of the pickup’s bed and raced toward me, her arms open.

“Janet! I was so worried about you!”

From the passenger side of the cab came the unmistakable form of my grandmother, her walking stick planted on the ground, her long skirts swirling. I should have known she wouldn’t buy Mick’s claim that all was well.

The greatest shock came when my father, Pete Begay, climbed from the driver’s side of the cab and then walked around to help his fiancée, Gina, descend.

Chapter Ten

My father leaving the Dinetah was an event. When I’d been growing up, a drive with him to Chinle—about fifteen miles from Many Farms—had been an important outing. I knew that now my father and Gina often went to Farmington, where her family lived, but my dad rarely, rarely left the lands of his home.

Now he waited quietly while I approached. He wore his hair in its usual long braid, a denim button-down shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. The only time Dad dressed up was for powwows when he’d wear his velvet shirt and silver rings and turquoise belt buckle. In the winter he wore heavier flannel shirts and coats, but the rest of the year it was denim on top and bottom.

Gina Tsotsie was a large woman, elegant in a blouse and skirt, turquoise on her fingers and in her ears. Her family were jewelry artisans that sold through museum stores and high-end shops in Santa Fe.

Gabrielle blocked my view of them as she wrapped me in her strong arms and lifted me from my feet in an enthusiastic hug. She swung me around, much as Colby had, her smile wide, before she thumped me down again.

“You’re okay!” she yelled though she stood a foot away from me. “I made Mick tell me what really happened to you. He finally confessed this afternoon—now that you’re awake and all right. Your dad wanted to come see you.”

“This trip was Dad’s idea?” I asked in amazement. I had assumed it my grandmother’s.

“He wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Gina stood with him. Your