Kiss of the Bees

“Your brother’s here,” Vega said, instinctively answering Lani’s unasked question, “because Quentin’s a good friend of mine.”

Assuming from the way he made the statement that no reply was necessary, Lani kept quiet. Seconds later, however, an iron grip clamped shut on her leg, just above her left knee. As the muscular fingers dug into her flesh, she squirmed under the punishing grip but resisted the urge to cry out.

“Did you hear me, little lady?” he demanded. “I said Quentin’s a good friend of mine.”

“Yes,” Lani said. “I heard.”

“But don’t put too much store in it,” he added. “Because I’ll kill the son of a bitch in a second if you don’t behave. Do you understand me? Whether Quentin lives or dies is up to you. If you try to run, or if you make any trouble at all, I’ll kill him, no questions asked. Do you understand?”

Lani nodded her head. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I understand.”

And she did, too. If Vega said he would kill Quentin, then he would, friend or not.

“I don’t make idle threats, you see.”

“No,” Lani said. “I know you don’t.”

Once again, Nana Dahd’s war chant came whirling into Lani Walker’s heart out of the darkness of that locked, long-ago root cellar.

“Listen to what I sing to you,

Little Olhoni. Listen to what I sing.

Be careful not to look at me

But do exactly as I say.”

For a moment it seemed to Lani that Rita herself was riding in the truck with them, telling Lani what she had to do to survive. Lani realized then that she was right. The two sets of darkness and the two evil Ohbs were somehow merging into one. And the advice Nana Dahd had once given Davy Ladd was the same advice Rita was giving Lani now in the Bronco.

“I’ll do it,” Lani said quietly. “I’ll do exactly what you say.”

It might have sounded to Vega as though she were speaking to him, answering him, but in Lani Walker’s heart and in her mind’s eye, she was actually speaking to Nana Dahd.

The words formed clearly enough in her head, but when it came time actually to speak them, they came out fuzzy and disjointed. Like her rubberized legs earlier when she had struggled to walk, the lingering effects of the drug still interfered with Lani’s ability to use her tongue. That was evidently exactly what Vega expected.

He loosened his clawlike grip around her leg and gave the top of her thigh a possessive pat. It was all Lani could do not to dodge away under his touch.

“Good girl,” Vega said. “Your mother told me you were smart. I’m glad to see some evidence that it’s true.”

Vega had spoken to Lani’s mother, to Diana? When? How? Lani wondered. And what was it he had said earlier about dropping something off at the house? Something about presents? What presents?

Lani cringed then, thinking about the terrible picture she had seen on his easel, the one he had drawn of her, the one with her body naked and with her legs spread open to the world. What if he had taken that one to her parents? Or else, what if he had done something to them? Her heart quailed at the thought.

“Why did you go to my house?” she asked.

Vega reached in his pocket and pulled out a key, one Lani recognized. “Why wouldn’t I?” he said. “You gave your brother your key so he could return your bike for you.”

By then the Bronco was on I-19 and starting off at the exit to Ajo Way. It seemed to Lani that they were headed for the reservation while off to the right, hidden behind a single barrier of rugged mountain, lay Gates Pass and home. Or whatever was left of home.

“You didn’t hurt my parents, did you?” she asked at last.

Vega frowned. “You’re awfully full of questions at the moment.”

“Did you?” Lani insisted.

He turned his face toward her, his face glowing ghostlike in the reflected headlights of an oncoming vehicle.

“I haven’t hurt them yet,” he said. “But then, it’s probably a little too early. Don’t worry, though, they’ll be getting your message before long.”

“What message?” Lani asked.

“Don’t you remember? You made it yourself, a very special tape for both your mother and father.”

A tape? Lani could remember nothing about a tape, nothing at all. “I don’t remember any tape,” she said.

Vega grinned and patted her again. “It’s all right if you don’t remember,” he said. “But what I can tell you is that once they hear it, neither one of your parents is ever going to forget it, not as long as they live.”

The patrol car, lights flashing, had barely stopped at the end of the driveway when the Walkers’ telephone started to ring. While Brandon went to meet the deputy, Diana raced for the phone, hoping beyond hope that the caller would be Lani. It wasn’t.

Jessica Carpenter’s mother, Rochelle, was on the phone. “I got your message,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind my calling this late. We saw the emergency lights as I was bringing Jessie home from the concert. Lani’s all right, isn’t she?”

“Lani seems to be missing,” Diana said, fighting to force the words out around the barrier of a huge lump that threatened to block her throat. “Jessie hasn’t seen her then?”

“Not all day,” Rochelle Carpenter said. “The last time they talked was last night. Jessie said Lani was all excited about something she was doing for you this morning before work, something about an anniversary present.”