Shadow Twin

  SHADOW TWIN

  Black Dog Volume 5

  Rachel Neumeier

  Published by Anara Publishing 2018

  Cover art and design @ WillowRaven 2016

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 Rachel Neumeier

  Contents

  -1-

  -2-

  -3-

  -4-

  -5-

  -6-

  -7-

  -8-

  -9-

  -10-

  -11-

  -12-

  -13-

  -14-

  -15-

  -16-

  -17-

  -18-

  -19-

  -20-

  -21-

  -22-

  -23-

  Endnotes

  Also by Rachel Neumeier

  Praise for Rachel Neumeier’s Books

  Acknowledgements

  -1-

  Natividad began to feel strange during the last part of the service. The choir led the congregation in “Holy, Holy, Holy,” but she found herself unable to listen.

  She knew all the words, even in English. She had learned them over the past year. Maker of Heaven and Earth...she knew the words, but she couldn’t voice them. She found she couldn’t quite hear the organ or the choir or the congregation, nor even DeAnn, who had a beautiful alto voice and was standing right next to her. Not even Grayson, whose gritty bass laid down the deep foundation of the melody.

  She heard something else. Or not exactly heard. It wasn’t a real sound. In fact, it wasn’t actually much like sound at all. It was more like...it was like a lingering silence where sound ought to have been. It was as though some long note of music, a humming she felt in her bones and her blood, had suddenly stopped.

  She didn’t understand what it was, that stiff, empty silence that was both like and unlike sound. But she knew it frightened her. She blinked, gripping the back of the pew in front of her, dizzy. Or not exactly dizzy, her balance was all right, but something was off.

  Alejandro took her elbow, always the attentive older brother. Sometimes she found his close attention a tiny bit asfixiante, but this time she was grateful for his concern. She wondered if she had actually swayed after all.

  But then the strange sensation ebbed, and the music came back, all the massed voices: Heaven and Earth are filled with your glory. Straightening her shoulders, Natividad took a breath and smiled reassuringly at her brother, though she did not yet try to sing. He was studying her, his concern edged with anger because for a black dog almost everything was tinted with anger. He tilted his head at her smile, clearly doubting her reassurance. She offered him a firm little nod and shaped words under her breath: Estoy bien.

  Alejandro didn’t believe her; she could tell. But he returned her nod, pretending he accepted her assurance. He would ask later what had happened to her, though. And she did not know.

  She looked for Grayson. The Master of Dimilioc was blocked from her view by the massive form of Thaddeus, who was on the other side of DeAnn. DeAnn had one arm around each of her children—her black dog son Conway, and the little Pure girl they called Paloma. Paloma still did not talk, only a word now and then, but she followed Conway around, a little blonde shadow. Con pretended he didn’t care, but he had kind of started looking over his shoulder to make sure she was there. Of course a Pure sister was a very good thing for a black dog boy.

  Beyond Thaddeus and DeAnn and the children, Grayson stood right by the aisle at the left-hand side of the pew, here at the back of the church, in the rearmost pew of the three reserved, unofficially, for the Dimilioc wolves.

  Black dogs didn’t like people behind them. Black dogs never liked people behind them. Not even their own people in their own town. These were their own people: the whole town was practically part of Dimilioc. Many of the people here were Dimilioc connections: cousins of one degree or another. The church, the new one, built on consecrated ground across town from where the old church had stood, had protections layered into its foundation and set into every stone of its walls. It did not seem a likely place for violence. But even here, the Dimilioc wolves did not like to have anyone behind them. So these pews in the back were theirs, by long custom unspoken but understood. The people of the town knew it and made sure that not even occasional visitors trespassed.

  Grayson Lanning, Master of Dimilioc, did not actually insist that all the black dogs of Dimilioc attend services every week. He permitted alternatives, all of which were also designed to build patience, self-control, and tolerance of the human community. A Dimilioc black wolf might choose instead to attend the local town hall meetings, or join the school board, or even hold an actual job like an ordinary person—though it was understood that Dimilioc duties came first.

  In practice, everyone came to mass. It was simple and not too demanding, and there were doughnuts afterward. Even Keziah and Amira usually came, though they weren’t Christian. Keziah was allowing Father McClanahan to teach her about Christ and the church, in pure spite of the memory of her family—Natividad was almost sure about that motivation—and Amira, as always, followed her sister’s lead. Except both Keziah and Amira were away right now, guarding Justin as he visited his grandmamá for Christmas. Keziah and Amira and Nicholas Hammond, so that Justin would have a team of three black dogs to protect him while he was away from Dimilioc, even if two of them were kids.

  Nicholas had lost his older sister to a really horrifying master vampire, and almost worse, they still didn’t know absolutely for sure whether his sister Carissa had truly been killed by the vampire. She might have gotten away. Probably she was dead, but they couldn’t be sure. Nicholas was kind of hard to get along with, but Natividad couldn’t blame him. That kind of uncertainty must be almost worse than knowing that someone you loved was dead.

  Natividad missed Justin a lot more than Nicholas. He was so restful, a Pure boy among all these black dogs. She missed Amira, too. She’d grown kind of used to telling the younger girl bedtime stories. She even missed Keziah. Keziah could be hard to get along with, arrogant and sarcastic and with a cutting sense of humor, but Natividad had kind of learned to get along with her. Besides, she trusted Keziah, in a way that she didn’t trust most of the newer black dogs of Dimilioc.

  Russell and Andrew Meade probably didn’t truly accept Dimilioc law, but at least they had a human sister, Liz. She’d told Natividad that she’d never imagined living somewhere among normal people who knew about black dogs so that she didn’t have to hide everything about her life. So Andrew and Russell were probably all right, because of their sister.

  But the other newer wolves, Carter Lethridge and Max Smith and Don and Rip Jacobs—Rip was really Richard, though only Grayson called him that. Naturalmente Grayson would never use a nickname like Rip. Natividad didn’t trust any of them a bit.

  Grayson had brought them all into Dimilioc from a small shadow pack in Tennessee. Carter Lethridge had ruled that little pack. He’d held no fewer than eight other black dogs together and established a territory that encompassed parts of three states before Grayson had personally broken up his pack and brought him in, and the others that had survived. So now they all had to deal with Carter. Natividad was almost certain he was going to be trouble. She thought he was going to challenge Grayson eventually. She didn’t trust him. She would have been even more worried except she did trust Grayson to handle whatever Carter eventually tried.

  Natividad guessed, though she did not know, that Grayson mostly wanted his wolves to attend mass because so many of the Dimilioc black wolves were new—new to Dimilioc, new to being around ordinary people. He probably thought all his wolves needed structure
and ceremony and reasons to really feel like they had joined something bigger than themselves. He was probably right. He usually was.

  So every Sunday morning, all the wolves of Dimilioc who were at home came to services and then joined the townspeople for doughnuts and café in the parish hall. It wasn’t only doughnuts, although that was what people said. Natividad made besos and cuernos and cinnamon rolls. DeAnn made pies, with canned pie filling. Until coming to Dimilioc, Natividad had never imagined pie filling in cans, but it was actually pretty good, especially the cherry kind. Miguel, who could sometimes surprise even his twin, made scones. Before coming to Dimilioc, Natividad had not imagined her twin learning to bake, but he said it was nice to stop thinking about big things and just think about whether to make scones with chocolate chips or coconut or lemon.

  Miguel wasn’t next to Natividad this morning; he was up in the front, with Cassie Pearson and her father. Natividad knew Alejandro was uneasy having their brother pasa tiempo, hang out with, Cassie Pearson, who was a cambiadora, a moon-bound shifter, and dangerous when the moon forced her into the cambio de cuerpo. The moon-bound could not control their shadows, and when the shadow came up, it always first tried to kill those the shifter loved most. That was all true, and Cassie really was dangerous when she shifted, but Natividad had been working and working to figure out ways to help her control her shadow better. Eventually she was sure Cassie would truly master her shadow and prove that cambiadors could learn to do that and didn’t have to be killed. That would be wonderful.

  Besides, Natividad just liked Cassie, and she was glad Miguel liked her, too. Cassie was the right kind of girl for her twin: Miguel thought he knew everything and he did know a lot, and he could sometimes pasa por encima...walk all over, an excellent phrase...yes, her twin could walk all over someone without even noticing he was doing it. But it was impossible for him to do that to Cassie Pearson, who was just as smart as he was and just as used to being right about everything.

  But right now, she kind of wished her twin was right next to her, instead of Alejandro. Miguel would have noticed that something was wrong, too, but he would help her try to figure it out, not just get all suspicious and protective.

  In the pew in front of them stood James Mallory, now the only remaining black dog to carry the Mallory name. James had lost his younger brother in that terrible fight with Vonhausel. He had changed after that. He had been loud and effusive, but Natividad had barely known him at all before his brother had died. He was quieter now. Or maybe it was because Grayson had lost Zachariah and Harrison and now had so little support; maybe that was why James had become serious and quiet.

  Next to James Mallory stood Ethan Lanning—Ethan stood with his arms crossed, only marginalmente more patient than Conway for all he was more than twenty instead of just six. But Ethan was Grayson’s nephew. Natividad knew he probably thought he shouldn’t have to follow the rules as closely as the new black wolves.

  Theodora and Maddie and Rebecca, the three women Ezekiel had brought to Dimilioc a month ago,[1] were all over there with Liz, surrounded by ordinary people. They had only been at Dimilioc for a little while and preferred to stay in town.

  Those women had very good reason to hate black dogs. But despite his father, Theodora loved her son. Soon she would have to move into the Dimilioc house. Even that she would do for her bebé. It was too hard for a human woman to raise a black dog child without help, even a child who had had the Aplacando done for him before he was born and again when he was a day old so that he would have better control over his shadow.

  No one could tell about Maddie’s bebé yet, but everyone could tell Rebecca’s would be a black dog also. That was why Ezekiel had brought the three women to Dimilioc, of course, and why Grayson had accepted them. But Grayson hadn’t let Ezekiel stay even a single night. Natividad hadn’t seen him at all. In a way it had been good just to know he was so near. In another way, it had been very hard, so she had been almost glad he had gone away again so quickly. Except that she would have felt completely safe from all the newer black dogs if Ezekiel had been nearby.

  But it wasn’t any of the newer black dogs who had made her feel suddenly uneasy a minute ago. Black dog magic couldn’t make sound fade out and come back. That hadn’t been anything familiar from Pure magic, either. She didn’t understand what had happened. Whatever it was, she thought it was actually still going on, too, because there was still that feeling of something missing, something that should have been there. She didn’t remember ever feeling anything quite like this, except at the same time it seemed almost like she did remember feeling this way before. She frowned, puzzled.

  Grayson’s phone vibrated. Natividad couldn’t hear it, but despite the last dwindling notes of the organ music, every black dog turned his head. Grayson took his phone out and held it up, frowning, to look at the number. Then, instead of rejecting the call, he stepped quietly out of the pew and left the church. And he didn’t come back.

  Of course, the service was nearly over, so it made sense that Grayson wouldn’t want to disturb everyone by coming and going. There was no reason at all to para preocuparse...to fret. To fidget and wish Father McClanahan would hurry through his closing. Natividad tried to wait patiently, but she was surrounded by all these impatient black dogs, so it wasn’t her fault that she kept catching herself shifting her weight and twisting the reminder sheet and trying to look over her shoulder without being too obvious about it. And she definitely didn’t suggest going over to the parish hall for doughnuts. No one did, not even Miguel, who usually liked that part of Sunday services best. Even though he’d been close to the front, her twin almost beat her out the door and into the chilly sunshine.

  Grayson was standing a little way from the church, listening to someone on his phone. Natividad could see nothing of the ordinary give and take of conversation. It looked more like he was listening to someone report. He wasn’t saying anything himself, just occasionally nodding, the way you did on the phone even though the other person couldn’t see you. And he was frowning. Grayson seldom looked cheerful. But surely his expression now was more forbidding than usual?

  The feeling came back to her, or maybe just the memory of the feeling. Of something missing, a spreading silence where there ought to be...she didn’t know. Not exactly sound. But something sort of like sound. She took a step toward Grayson, found her balance uncertain, and caught Alejandro’s arm quickly. Her brother steadied her. “Natividad—”

  “Espera,” she said to him. “Wait.”

  Alejandro was paying more attention to Natividad than to Grayson, but most of the other black dogs were gathering, moving slowly, giving each other plenty of space but all watching Grayson attentively. They knew something was wrong, too. Thaddeus had his back straight and his arms crossed over his broad chest; a dominant posture that sent all the other black dogs wide of him. He was scowling, as always when he felt uncertain. DeAnn had her hand on her husband’s back, rubbing gently, nudging him and everyone else toward calm and peace. She’d let Con and Paloma run away to burn off the impatient tension of staying still for an hour, which was probably as well, but she’d stayed by Thaddeus and Natividad was glad of it. Just having the other Pure woman nearby made Natividad feel better. Especially when she saw how intently Carter was watching the Master.

  Miguel, as curious as any of them and probably more than most, had edged forward, bringing Cassie with him. Plainly aware that something was happening, Cassie’s father, Sheriff Pearson, also joined them.

  Grayson said finally, in a flat tone that did not invite argument, “Yes, I understand. I will come myself.” Then he thumbed the phone off. He stood still for a long moment, looking at nothing. At last he turned, scanned the gathered Dimilioc wolves and everyone else, and met Natividad’s gaze.

  “Oh,” said Natividad, somehow surprised and not surprised, both at once. “Something’s happened to Ezekiel.” She knew it was true. Something was wrong with Ezekiel. Since they’d fought the vampire toget
her, she’d held a tiny bit of his shadow, just a trace, less even than she’d kept of Alejandro’s. But it was enough to spin a thread of awareness between them. It wasn’t much. She hadn’t even realized it was there until Grayson had sent Ezekiel away, and then she’d found it was just enough to let her kind of tell where he was, even when he was a thousand miles away. It also let her know, even more vaguely, that he was all right. That thread of awareness was a comfort to her, even though she also worried about it sometimes—about what that trace of black dog magic might be doing to her own proper Pure magic.

  At least, it had been a comfort until now all of a sudden it wasn’t.

  A sharp silence had spread out around her, around all of them. Natividad blinked, becoming aware of it, realizing only when it was too late that it was a silence that had teeth in it. Then suddenly half the black dogs in the gathering were moving, aggression flaring in the air. She froze, understanding what she’d said.

  Grayson himself only lifted his head and squared his shoulders, but Ethan and James both swung around to put their backs to him, facing the rest of the black dogs. Ethan’s attention was on Russell Meade, and, as though they’d sorted out their priorities by some unspoken black dog telepathy, James was staring straight at Carter Lethridge.

  The other black dogs realized this, too. Russell’s lip curled in silent contempt: he knew he was stronger than Ethan. But he glanced away despite this, declining any challenge. His brother stood behind him, but he stood still, he wasn’t moving either, at least not yet.

  But Carter stared back at James, deliberately holding his gaze. He was a light-skinned black man of thirty or so, trim and good looking. More importantly, he had, for his age, a dense, powerful shadow and surprisingly good control. When he glanced around at the rest of the newer black dogs, the ones who hadn’t been born into Dimilioc, they all looked away, wary and deferential.