“There are other dreamers,” Stormsong said, as if answering a question Tinker had missed. “One seems to be domi’s mother. The others might not be able to reach domi alone, but her mother’s blood connection is giving them all access to domi. Domi’s mother is quite strong but untrained and with the morals of snake; she does not care that what she’s doing is hurting domi. They are crowding into domi’s dreams, leaving her unable to cope with her own nightmares.”
“Why now?” Windwolf asked. “It’s been eighteen years.”
“It might be that becoming an elf awakened latent abilities in domi,” Stormsong said. “Or it might be something that happened when the dragon pulled magic through her at the edge of the Ghostlands. I can’t stop them. United as they are, they are too strong. Something must be done or they will drive the domi mad.”
“Will giving her sanjin help?” Windwolf asked.
“Please, not sanjin,” Tinker whimpered. “I hate that stuff. The oni forced it on me.”
Windwolf gave her a look full of raw grief.
“No, sanjin will only make things worse,” Stormsong said. “Now she can wake up from the nightmare, breaking its hold on her. Drugged, she would be trapped in her dreams.”
“Oh please,” Tinker cried. “Not that.”
“There are some drugs,” Stormsong said, “that she can take for a limited time that will keep her from dreaming completely. Someone more trained and gifted in dreaming would know better what to do.”
“I like the idea of not dreaming.” Tinker crawled across the bed to Windwolf, who took her into his lap.
“You need to dream,” Stormsong said. “Dreams are how your mind heals you from emotional harm. The oni rode you hard, but you were able to heal yourself each night and stay strong. Your mother is raping the very core of you. She will destroy you if we don’t stop this.”
“Can we use some other terms for this?” Tinker asked. “Something non-sexual? This is my mother we’re talking about. Ick.”
“Find what she needs for now,” Windwolf ordered. “I will send for a dreamer.”
Chapter 15: Sticks And Stones
Wolf made time the next morning to pray at the enclave’s shrine. Last night, he had the hospice deliver drugs for Tinker and sent a message to the intanyei seyosa caste in the Easternlands, but now there was nothing more he could do for his domi except pray. It filled him with helpless rage that the ones tormenting her were so far outside his reach. He had thought the time he spent wounded and helpless in Tinker’s care were the worst possible torment, but this was far, far worse. Even when she had been held captive, there had been at least something he could do, the illusion of making a difference. Now he could only watch as the female he loved slowly go mad.
Worse, he could not even stay with her and comfort her. He needed to attend the formal negotiations between the clans. For the sake of everyone that counted on him, he needed to be centered and calm when he wanted to be raging at the universe. At least he had the comfort of knowing that his domi was in the care of Little Horse and Discord, who both loved her well, and they were supported by the rest of his household. He prayed to the gods that they too lend their aid to his domi.
Maynard was waiting outside the enclave when Wolf headed to the aumani. “We need to talk,” Maynard said in greeting.
“I do not have time.” Wolf headed down the street toward Ginger Wine’s enclave. It had been decided before the Stone Clan arrived that Ginger Wine’s public dining area would be considered neutral ground for the three clans. At that time he liked the idea of keeping the sanctity of Poppymeadow’s — now he wished he could stay close to Tinker, even though she was still sleeping.
“I have a dead cop missing a head on Ohio River Boulevard,” Maynard continued in English, falling in step with Wolf. “And people are saying they saw a lot of sekasha in the area before he died. Tell me that this isn’t what it sounds like. My people are scared enough without your people killing cops.”
Wolf gritted his teeth to control his anger. Lashing out at his ally would not help the situation any. “You have a dead rapist missing a head.”
“How could he have raped her? She doesn’t go anywhere without her sekasha. Do you know how bad this looks?”
“It was after I transformed her. I left Tinker at my hunting lodge with a full Hand to guard her but somehow, she ended up back in Pittsburgh with only Galloping Storm Horse.” It put Little Horse in a difficult position as there was no way for him to communicate with rest of the Hand, short of driving back to the remote lodge. “Your police officer forced his way into Tinker’s home, stripped her nude, pinned her down and tried to enter her.”
Maynard looked like a person just handed a poisonous snake. “Tinker says that Czernowski forced her?”
“My blade brother does not know many English words, but he does know ‘no’ and ‘stop’ and ‘don’t.’ My domi was threatening to gouge out Czernowski’s eyes when Storm Horse intervened.”
“Oh, fuck.” Maynard whispered and then sighed. “That was two months ago. Why did they kill him yesterday?”
“The domana are forbidden to take lovers outside their caste other than their sekasha. I made Tinker domana caste because it was the only way we could be together. It also means she is now strictly off limits to humans. Czernowski would not keep his distance. He stated at the paparazzi’s that he could take Tinker back. Last night, he attempted to pull her into his car.”
Czernowski’s intentions might have been innocent, but he had crossed the line of Little Horses’ patience. Wolf could sympathize only with Little Horse. His blade brother, seeing Tinker spiraling downward, had been given the opportunity to take action — had been given a way to make at least one thing right — had been given a target. In the light of Tinker’s imbalance, Czernowski’s death had been inevitable.
“Stupid fucking idiot.” Maynard growled, but it wasn’t clear if who he meant. Wolf chose to believe he meant Czernowski. “This was the last thing we needed, Wolf. My people are not going to trust yours after this.”
“Did they truly trust us before?”
Maynard glanced away and ignored the question, which meant the answer was ‘no.’ “Which one of your people killed Czernowski?”
“Sekasha are exempt of all laws except the ones of their own making.”
“So you’re not going to tell me?”
“There is no need for you to know.”
“What am I suppose to tell the police? Czernowski’s family?”
“What is done is done and can not be undone,” Wolf said. “I have other problems to attend.”
Maynard acknowledged the dismissal with a hard look but took himself away.
Ginger Wine intercepted Wolf in her front gardens, bowing low.
“What is wrong?”
Ginger Wine’s face tightened and she glanced down the garden path. There were only her own laedin caste guards in sight. “These,” she hissed in English, “Conceited, pompous, arrogant Stone Clan pigs — that is what is wrong. I should have asked for four times my normal fee, instead of twice. The way they eat, you’d think they were hollow.”
“I can not do anything about arrogance and gluttony. Have they done anything wrong?”