The specialist, Dr. Ramona Honani, lived in San Francisco and caught the first available plane to Denver. I drove out to DIA to pick her up. I went alone. Amanda had to scamper back to her masters at DGI and make a status report. Brand confirmed that Daphne and the rest were worse, so he went back to the hospital.
I can’t pretend I was happy with either of them.
I parked in the covered garage and went in to the baggage claim where I’d agreed to meet the doctor. There’s a statue just to the side of the doors, up on the wall. You’ll miss it if you don’t look for it, so I always do because it amuses me – a gargoyle sitting in an open suitcase keeping watch over all the luggage. But today for some reason it just reminded me of Tally’s, which worsened my mood.
I wasn’t sure what to expect. Colin told me Dr. Honani was Hopi, and that she was part of an organization that monitored Native American paranormal events. He wouldn’t say much beyond that, except that he and Joanna were friends with, but not members of, the group.
A short, dark-haired old woman in long flowing skirts and a turquoise shawl came up the escalator from the trains that ran to and from the concourses. I waved at her and held up a sign with her name on it. She glanced at me, frowned and went on to the baggage claim. I followed, thinking, this should be a fun ride back to town when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I spun around to see another woman in her late twenties wearing a trim grey business suit, black-rimmed glasses and stiletto heels that made her a little taller than me.
“Kelly Chan? I think I’m the one you’re looking for.” She extended her hand. “Dr. Ramona Honani. Call me Ramona.”
I hate shaking hands, especially in public places, because it leaves me with only one hand free in case I’m attacked. But I obliged her, since I felt embarrassed about my earlier assumption.
“Call me Kelly.” Her light grip was more of a handhold than a handshake. “How many bags do you have?”
“Just this.” She indicated the black leather bag she carried with her. “I travel light.”
We walked in silence to my truck. When she saw the damage, she stopped. “Someone did a number on you, didn’t they?”
“Still drives. Get in.”
Ramona struggled a bit in her pencil skirt and heels as she climbed up. I noticed a long rawhide cord slip from under her collar. Whatever was strung on it stayed hidden in her blouse. I’d already started the engine before she got all the way in.
“Impatient, huh?”
I didn’t answer. I noticed her smiling at me, just the corner of her mouth turned up. She broke into a full smile when we drove past the thirty-foot tall statue of a blue mustang rearing up as if to destroy oncoming traffic.
“Looks like Blucifer is happy to see me. That pecker is amazing, don’t you think?”
I damn near snorted.
“It’s okay to laugh. Very bad to keep laughter in.” Ramona tried to catch my eye. “Oh, wait. You’re tough, not supposed to laugh.”
“I just haven’t had much to laugh about the past few days.”
“God forbid you start now, huh?”
I smiled. Couldn’t help it.
“That’s better. My last laugh was watching you chase down that frou-frou woman at the airport thinking it was me.”
“I apologize. I thought. Well.”
“You were expecting some medicine woman, right? Some old Indian with feathers and her hair and a dreamcatcher around her neck, spewing some shit about the Great Spirit, huh?”
“I didn’t really know what to expect.”
“Even my Grandma’s not like that. She’s a retired doctor, graduated from U-Dub in Seattle. She taught me about science alongside our traditional stories. Told me I could be anything and I believed her, so I did.”
“I apologize.”
“You’re Japanese, right? That would be like me expecting you to show up with like a katana or something.”
“Chinese. And look in the back.”
Ramona saw my katana, then burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, we’re even.”
“So you’re a medical doctor?”
“No way. I practically faint at the sight of blood. I’m a physicist. One of the spooky ones who studies quantum physics.”
“What’s spooky about that?”
Ramona took off her glasses and polished them on her jacket. “Stick around and I’ll show you.” She held her glasses up and looked through them before putting them back on. “But let’s hope I don’t have to.”
***
Do you know what a luxury is? Taking the mundane for granted. I drove us to my dojo, where Jessica got me up to speed with that day’s classes. I returned a call from my insurance agent about the truck, fed my fish, paid a couple of bills. I like killing people as much as the next magically-engineered assassin, but it’s hard to keep a business running smoothly when things are constantly popping up and trying to murder you. See? Luxury.
Ramona wandered barefooted around the dojo watching students, fingering weapons, smiling to herself. Not at all what I’d expect from someone about to face down a god. Maybe she was enjoying a little luxury, too.
She caught me watching her and smiled over the top of her glasses. If I wasn’t mistaken, she checked out my whole body and liked what she saw. I went back in my office to wait for Amanda and Brand.
Amanda showed up right before Brand. She and Ramona went into my office but I put my hand on Brand’s arm to stop him.
“How is she?” I asked for my own sake as much as his. Testing my waters, seeing how I felt.
Brand’s eyes narrowed for the briefest of moments, calculating, or judging. “Worse, or at least that’s the rumor. They aren’t letting anyone in, not even family or friends. Hell, they aren’t even allowing civilians on the same floor anymore.”
“Is that weird?”
“Not unheard of, but yeah. What’s weird is if it’s that bad, they should have called in the CDC by now.”
“Hello?” Ramona called from the other room.
Brand raised his eyebrows. “Our specialist?”
“Yeah. Let’s—” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me. Taken off guard, I pushed away.
“Just wanted to do that before we went in.” He gave me his best cocky smile.
“Why?”
The smile went away. “One day, you’re not gonna have to ask.” He laid his hand on the small of my back, indicating I go before him. “At least, that’s my hope.”
We settled into my office and I made quick introductions. Amanda laid the zombie’s phone on my desk.
“My tech guy says it belonged to a guy named Qaletaqa. No last name. Or first, whichever.” She looked at Ramona.
“What? You think we all know each other?”
Amanda blushed. “No, but—”
“Well, in this case, I do know him.” She gave Amanda the same smile she’d given me in the truck, but it disappeared quickly. “You could say we ran in the same social circle. He is…was…a guardian of the people. This is not good.”
“A guardian against what?” Brand asked.
Ramona picked up the phone without answering him. She scrolled through the contacts. “Not against anything, not at the moment. He was the guardian of something.” She stopped on a contact and a worry line appeared between her brows. “This is a Navajo name.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.
“We don’t get along much with Navajo. Except in one case, where both tribes join against a common enemy.” She scrolled further. “Oooohhh.” Ramona looked up at Brand. “What was your DJ friend’s name?”
“Two friends. Eleventh Hour. And Trixster Thirteen.”
“Yeah. Well, looks like you and Trixster have a mutual friend here.” She waved the phone.
“He was also driving Trixster’s truck, so we kind of knew that already.”
Ramona ignored him again and went back to scrolling through the phone. “And, Qaletaqa had a three-way chat with Trixster and the Navajo, though the conversation’s been erased.”
“What’s the Navajo guy’s name?” Brand’s voice made my skin tighten the way it does before a fight.
Ramona handed the phone to Brand. “I’m not saying it out loud. He’s dead.”
Brand swiped it away from Ramona. “So do you know what the guardian was guarding?”
“Yes I do. And if it’s gone we’re in a shitload of trouble.”