Shadow's Blade, page 34
Smart. Really smart. Amaya had found a way to give Gracie and her kids as much freedom as they could possibly want, while making certain they were more closely tied to him than ever. Why wasn’t I ever that smart?
Of course I kept all of this to myself, saying only, “Sedona sounds perfect.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
“Well, I’ll check in with Kona about the charges. But I want you to be in touch before you leave, all right?”
“I will,” she said. “I promise.”
From the jail, I drove back out to the Gila River Indian Community. I parked the car at the base of that rough, narrow dirt track that led to Lucan Quinn’s shack, and started the long walk up the hill. The 280Z would have been eaten alive by that road, and I was in the mood for a hike.
I walked slowly, enjoying a cool, clear morning, listening for the buzzy calls of Black-throated Sparrows, and watching the skies for Swainson’s Hawks.
When at last I crested the top of the rise, I found the shack empty. I sensed, though, that I wasn’t alone.
“I’m looking for the granddaughter of Lucas Quinn,” I called, my voice swallowed by the desert wind as it rushed over the scrub and dirt.
I waited for several minutes and finally opened my mouth to call for her again. But at that moment, there came a soft rustling of brush. Turning toward the sound, I saw a huge wolf pad into view, her amber eyes bright in the sunshine.
“Hello, Grandma,” I said.
I licked my lips and glanced around hoping the girl was nearby.
The wolf growled low and deep, but she didn’t bare her teeth.
“I have something for you,” I said. I held up my hands for her to see, reached into my jacket pocket, and pulled out the stone knife. “This should be yours. It can’t be destroyed, and I think it would be dangerous for anyone else to have. But it can’t be allowed to fall into the hands of the people who killed your husband. It has to remain hidden. Forever. Do you understand?”
For a moment, she merely stared back at me, and I wondered how much of what I said had reached her. But then she threw back her great, beautiful head and howled, the sound penetrating the same wind that had muted my voice.
This wasn’t the first time I had heard a wolf howl in the wild, but I’d never seen one do it or been so close. I could feel the note in my chest, mournful, pure, haunting, a cry of love and grief and, dare I hope it, expiation.
I listened as her howl went on and on, my throat tight, my pulse racing at the sheer beauty of what she had shared with me. And when at last she finished, I whispered, “Thank you.”
I knelt and held out the Sgian-Bán to her. She walked to me, her eyes never leaving my face. And she licked my fingers just once, before taking the knife between her teeth and trotting away.
The wolf headed toward a line of low hills lying to the north, her head held high, her steps quick and nimble. She didn’t look back at me, and I didn’t stay to see where she took the blade.
Acknowledgements
As with the previous books in the series, I wish to thank Karen Kontak and Jeri F. of the Phoenix Police Department’s Crime Analysis and Research Unit, who gave me valuable information about life in the PPD and in Phoenix’s various police precincts and beats, and Gayle Millette, of the Phoenix Medical Examiner’s Office, for her help with details about the OME. I owe a great debt to Michael Prater, for his expertise on firearms, and for his bravery in actually taking me out shooting. I also received valuable feedback on firearms from a reader, William Cawthon, to whom I’m deeply grateful.
Faith Hunter, A.J. Hartley, Elyse Poller, Laura Willis, Michael Thompson, Patrick Dean, Virginia Craighill, April Alvarez, and Megan Roberts offered feedback on various elements of the story and manuscript. I’m grateful to all of them.
Huge thanks as always to my agent, Lucienne Diver, for her close reading of the manuscript, her wisdom and professional advice, and her friendship.
I am deeply grateful to Jim Minz, for his editorial feedback on the manuscript, which improved the finished product immensely. Thanks as well to Toni Weisskopf, Tony Daniel, Gray Rinehart, Danielle Turner, Carol Russo, Christopher Cifani, Marla Ainspan, and all the great folks at Baen Books.
Finally, as always, I am grateful to Nancy, Alex, and Erin, for their support, their silliness, and their love.
—D.B.C.
About the Author
David B. Coe is the Crawford Award-winning author of nineteen novels and the occasional short story. Under his own name he has written three epic fantasy series, as well as the novelization of Ridley Scott’s Robin Hood. As D.B. Jackson, he is the author of the Thieftaker Chronicles, a historical urban fantasy. Shadow’s Blade is the third book in the Case Files of Justis Fearsson, after Spell-Blind and His Father’s Eyes. David’s books have been translated into a dozen languages. He lives on the Cumberland Plateau with his wife and daughters.
David B Coe, Shadow's Blade
