Dreamwalker (Stormwalker #5) - Allyson James Page 0,86

done?”

My father lifted the infant against his chest and gave his mother a belligerent glare over the blanket. “She’s hungry.”

Grandmother fixed him with a hard stare. “You can’t keep her, Pete. She will bring danger and darkness upon us all. She should be taken to a shaman who will drive the evil out of her and raise her where she won’t hurt anyone.”

“Mom’s right,” Aunt Nat said, though she’d hung back, as though fearful of approaching them. “There’s something wrong with her. I feel it.”

“Best thing to make a clean break now,” Grandmother said firmly. “Give it to me. I’ll take it to the shaman right now, and you never have to see it again.”

My father swung away, holding me close. “She’s not an it.” His voice was hard, harsh, a tone I’d never heard in him. “Stay away from her!”

“Peter.” Grandmother tried to gentle her tone. “This is not your fault. She’s demon born, isn’t she? You were duped, I imagine. The babe might not even be yours.”

My father took another two steps back, the rage of angels in his eyes. “She is not a demon. She is mine.” He raised me high, tiny Janet bawling in terror. “This is my daughter,” he announced to the sky.

My younger grandmother’s mouth hung open. I saw clearly the indecision in her, the terrible worry about the evil lurking in this child warring with her love for her son. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she wanted to shield him, and she didn’t know what to do.

Pete brought the baby down and cradled her against his shoulder. “There now,” he said. His voice shook—he had no clue how to take care of a baby. He began crooning a song in Diné, one I remembered him singing to me all my young life.

The baby quieted. She sniffled, snuggling into her father’s arms as though realizing that here was her protector.

“I am keeping her,” Pete said, looking straight at my grandmother. “I will raise her and teach her. If you do not want her living here, I will go away.”

He stood in place like the mountain behind him, a single monolith glowing softly under the rising sun. Strong, immovable, unchanging.

I think I loved him at that moment more than I’d ever loved him before.

My grandmother heaved a long sigh. “Best come inside. It’s cold. I’ll find her some milk.”

Pete, after a moment’s hesitation, followed her into the house. Aunt Nat stood aside as he passed, as though fearing to come too near him and the baby. Finally, they disappeared inside, and Aunt Nat shut the door.

Before I could move, the world changed, not with the wavering undulations of a movie, but in a brilliant flash.

It was winter, the ground dusted with snow. A cold wind blew, nothing blocking its path. My father emerged in a flannel shirt and fleece-lined jacket, a cowboy hat jammed down hard on his head so the wind wouldn’t take it.

Something crashed inside the house, and then came my grandmother’s voice. “Janet Begay!”

The door burst open. A small child rushed out, her tiny legs covered in thick winter pants, she just pulling on a hooded jacket. “Daddy!” She ran after my father, small legs pumping.

Grandmother appeared in the doorway. “Get back in here! Let him go!”

The child continued running after her father. Pete stopped, turned, and looked down at her, his face softening.

Grandmother stood in the doorway, fists on her hips. Pete looked at Grandmother, looked at the little girl, and made his choice. He held his hand out to his daughter without a word.

Small Janet grabbed the lifeline, trotting alongside him. When Pete paused to open the gate to the sheep pen, Janet planted her feet and leaned far to the side, using Pete’s hand as her anchor.

As always, I thought, tears in my eyes. My father, my protector.

Pete lifted me and carried me into the pens, me perching on his shoulder. My grandmother, in the doorway, shook her head, and ducked into the house.

I leaned back into the shadows, cold now, and turned to the older version of my grandmother. “Why are you showing me all this?”

“Me?” Grandmother asked in surprise. “I’m showing you nothing. This is your dreamwalking. If you are here, then this is something you needed to see.”

“The mirror confessed it sent me into the dreaming, just before it knocked me out,” I said, half to myself. “Why is it showing me this?”

“How should I know? I’m not an expert on magic mirrors. I