“Ezekiel, Ethan you will both stay; I want your full report. Alejandro, I want you to share with Ezekiel your exact perceptions of that situation in Boston. Keziah, check on your sister and the little girl. I trust they are both still asleep. Inform me if you have any concerns. Natividad, Miguel—” he gave a dismissive little flick of one broad hand and said, his tone taking on surprising undertones of both resignation and humor, “Try to give our guest a good impression of Dimilioc.”
-4-
Even though she was just a bit worried about Ezekiel, who looked tired and strained under his cool pose, and who for some reason seemed to be avoiding her gaze —though maybe she was just being too sensitive, there—but anyway, Natividad was glad Grayson had made sure she would be the one to explain things to Justin. She didn’t know how to explain about Dimilioc and black dogs and the Pure and to someone who didn’t know anything, but she was sure she had better not leave all those explanations to Ezekiel. She didn’t know whether to laugh or shudder in horror at the idea.
But it was fine. Grayson had got everyone else away from them very neatly: not a single black dog was going to be allowed to interfere. That was good. Natividad liked Justin. She didn’t want him frightened or bullied or anything.
She could see that even Miguel might be a little difficult. She knew what her twin was thinking: if a boy could be born Pure, why not him ? But of course Miguel must already have thought about the other part of being Pure, the part where Grayson Lanning would set up your whole life for you. Because Grayson would never let Justin go. Probably Justin didn’t even guess about that, yet. Poor Justin. She thought she had better keep him away from Keziah for a little while. A black dog girl, a Pure boy—she didn’t know what to hope for, there. Justin might be very good for Keziah, but would she be good for him ? Though, well, maybe. Hard to say.
It was almost funny, the idea of a Pure boy . Except the rest of it was sad, too, and a little bit scary. Imagine never knowing what it meant to be Pure, growing up with no idea about black dogs and cambiadors , the little shifters, or how to protect yourself or, well, anything, really. She wondered how Justin had even lived to grow up when he didn’t know anything. Maybe his mother had been Pure after all. But then why hadn’t she explained everything to Justin?
She glanced at him, the kind of slanted, sideways look that might let her see the glimmer of subtle spellwork. She didn’t stare. That wasn’t the way to see magic, and anyway, Justin must have got enough of girls staring at him in his life. It was the look in his eyes, really. He had nice eyes, sort of a light brown. There was a warmth to them, like he really noticed you. But there was something else, too, a tristeza —a kind of sadness. The sadness of memory and grief. Natividad know all about that, too. She impulsively took his hand, holding fast when he tried, startled, to pull away. Then he stopped trying to pull away and returned her grip. He stared into her face, looking sort of confused, but no longer so lost or scared.
“That’s because I’m Pure,” Natividad explained. From his puzzled, wary expression, she thought Justin didn’t understand this, not really. She said patiently, “I know you must have figured out years and years ago that people just feel better when you’re nearby. Right? You don’t have to do anything to make them feel that way. That’s just you. Because you’re Pure. I bet people just get along when you’re in the room, even people who usually don’t like each other. In your school and your neighborhood and maybe half the whole town if your mother had lived there a long time! Come on, you must have noticed it, everyone being just a little bit nicer when you or your mother were around?”
Justin looked like he didn’t know what to say. He said slowly, “But most people are
-4-
Even though she was just a bit worried about Ezekiel, who looked tired and strained under his cool pose, and who for some reason seemed to be avoiding her gaze —though maybe she was just being too sensitive, there—but anyway, Natividad was glad Grayson had made sure she would be the one to explain things to Justin. She didn’t know how to explain about Dimilioc and black dogs and the Pure and to someone who didn’t know anything, but she was sure she had better not leave all those explanations to Ezekiel. She didn’t know whether to laugh or shudder in horror at the idea.
But it was fine. Grayson had got everyone else away from them very neatly: not a single black dog was going to be allowed to interfere. That was good. Natividad liked Justin. She didn’t want him frightened or bullied or anything.
She could see that even Miguel might be a little difficult. She knew what her twin was thinking: if a boy could be born Pure, why not him ? But of course Miguel must already have thought about the other part of being Pure, the part where Grayson Lanning would set up your whole life for you. Because Grayson would never let Justin go. Probably Justin didn’t even guess about that, yet. Poor Justin. She thought she had better keep him away from Keziah for a little while. A black dog girl, a Pure boy—she didn’t know what to hope for, there. Justin might be very good for Keziah, but would she be good for him ? Though, well, maybe. Hard to say.
It was almost funny, the idea of a Pure boy . Except the rest of it was sad, too, and a little bit scary. Imagine never knowing what it meant to be Pure, growing up with no idea about black dogs and cambiadors , the little shifters, or how to protect yourself or, well, anything, really. She wondered how Justin had even lived to grow up when he didn’t know anything. Maybe his mother had been Pure after all. But then why hadn’t she explained everything to Justin?
She glanced at him, the kind of slanted, sideways look that might let her see the glimmer of subtle spellwork. She didn’t stare. That wasn’t the way to see magic, and anyway, Justin must have got enough of girls staring at him in his life. It was the look in his eyes, really. He had nice eyes, sort of a light brown. There was a warmth to them, like he really noticed you. But there was something else, too, a tristeza —a kind of sadness. The sadness of memory and grief. Natividad know all about that, too. She impulsively took his hand, holding fast when he tried, startled, to pull away. Then he stopped trying to pull away and returned her grip. He stared into her face, looking sort of confused, but no longer so lost or scared.
“That’s because I’m Pure,” Natividad explained. From his puzzled, wary expression, she thought Justin didn’t understand this, not really. She said patiently, “I know you must have figured out years and years ago that people just feel better when you’re nearby. Right? You don’t have to do anything to make them feel that way. That’s just you. Because you’re Pure. I bet people just get along when you’re in the room, even people who usually don’t like each other. In your school and your neighborhood and maybe half the whole town if your mother had lived there a long time! Come on, you must have noticed it, everyone being just a little bit nicer when you or your mother were around?”
Justin looked like he didn’t know what to say. He said slowly, “But most people are
Similar Books
