“He kills them.” I hesitated. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. “Doesn’t he?”
“So far.” He lifted his shoulder—the one that sported a shark—in a lithe, graceful movement that had the dark skin rippling like water. “That fascination, that connection, is what makes him so very good at what he does. But you can never trust a breed, Phoenix. They’re only one step away from the darkness. Anything could push them over.”
“What about you?”
His mouth curved. “Oh, you can’t trust me either. You know better.”
I did, but that hadn’t been what I was asking, and he knew it.
How close was Sawyer to the darkness? For that matter, how close was he to the light?
Suddenly he sobered, his gaze turning toward the desert. “Seers are dying.” I stiffened, and he glanced back, eyes stark. “DKs too. Not a lot. Or at least not yet. But enough to be worrisome.”
“How? I thought only the DKs knew the identity of their seer.”
“Exactly.”
“Isn’t there someone in the—” I suddenly realized I had no idea what this group of seers and demon killers was named. “Whatever the hell you call yourselves.”
“The federation.” Sawyer spread his hands. “It’s a word. We needed one.”
“Isn’t there someone who knows all the identities?”
“Ruthie.”
She wouldn’t have told; I was certain of that.
“Someone else?” I insisted. “An office administrator? The accountant?”
Sawyer didn’t dignify that with an answer.
“This shouldn’t be happening,” I murmured.
“But it is.”
His gaze remained on me, as if he were waiting for me to ask something, do something. I wanted to run, but I wouldn’t, couldn’t. I was stuck with Ruthie’s power; I had no choice but to learn how to use it, and this man was the only one who could help me.
“Ruthie was the leader of the light,” I said. “What does that mean? What did she do?”
“Ruthie never really led, per se.” Sawyer snapped his fingers and a match appeared. He lit the hand-rolled cigarette he’d produced out of nowhere as well. My gaze swept down his nearly bare body.
Literally.
He took a deep drag, blew the smoke through his nose. The cloud surrounded the dancing flame and as it died, darkness descended once again.
“How did you do that?”
“How do you think?”
There’d been other times, other places, when things had appeared from nowhere. I’d rationalized them all away, but those days were done. Sawyer was a shape-shifting witch; he could probably do anything.
“The seers get their orders from…” The glowing scarlet tip of Sawyer’s cigarette slashed back and forth with the movement of his hand. “God. Ghosts. Unfallen angels. Who knows? Each runs his or her own little universe. There’s no need for interaction. It’s not like we have a convention or anything.”
“No,” I agreed. “But you could probably use a secret handshake.”
His dark gaze flicked to mine. I shrugged. Sometimes I just couldn’t help myself.
I stared into the suddenly chilly evening common to the desert. Keeping the identities of the seers confidential was a good idea. The less people who knew about them, the less chance an un-people might kill them. But that plan seemed to have gone out the window.
The federation’s security had been breached, and we didn’t know by whom or how. But I did know who was going to be responsible for finding out.
“The seer’s identity is known to no one but his or her DKs?”
“Yes. And the DKs are only known to their particular seer and other DKs they might have worked with.”
I stared at the ground, trying to work out what might have happened, but I was tired and the problem was complicated.
“We won’t solve this tonight,” Sawyer murmured. “We’ll be lucky to solve it at all.”
My head came up. Sawyer was gone. The glow of his cigarette had disappeared too, though I still smelled it.
His voice was disembodied, swirling all around me. “We’ll get started tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to start anything,” I muttered.
“Every hour, every day we delay could mean another death. The more seers and DKs we lose, the more innocents will die.”
I closed my eyes, thinking of Hardeyville.
“Go to bed, Phoenix.”
I opened my eyes. My gaze went first to the hogan, then to the house. I didn’t really want to sleep in either one.
I could sleep in the car, the sweat lodge, the ramada. Uncomfortable, true, but they all had a big advantage.
There was only room enough for me.
In the end, I slept in the house. I’d had to use the bathroom, and there was no way I was turning up my nose at indoor plumbing. Who knew what lurked in the darkness just out of sight. Even if it were only the commonplace beasties and bugs, I didn’t want to meet them in the desert with my pants down.