Dark Summer

and gazed out at the mountains. 'Or maybe it's this place. Everything seems… easy here. Soft breezes, sun, blue sky…'

'Why did you come?' Marrok interrupted. 'I know you, Bridget. You never do anything without a reason.'

'Maybe I want to hit you up for a job.'

He shook his head. 'I'd give it to you. But I don't think that's why you came.'

'No.' She made a face. 'I came because Jordan said that it's up to me to tell you a story.'

'What story?'

'One that you're probably not going to believe, not at first.' She was silent. 'So let's play the suppose game.' She kept her eyes on the green mountains. 'Suppose that your mother, Catrin Munoz, was a member of our family. Not close. She belonged to a distant but very important branch. She was shallow, unstable, and wild as a hawk, but other members of her immediate family were more responsible. When she came back to Madrid after deserting you, her brother, Rico, decided it would be wise to keep an eye on you.'

'I'm already tired of your game,' Marrok said harshly. 'It's a lie. She left me, and there was no kindly uncle, Rico, watching over me.'

'I never said Rico was kindly. He was only a cut above your mother in character. But he did know that there was danger in Catrin's casting her seed about indiscriminately. So he hired someone to keep an eye on you to make sure there was no fallout from Catrin's promiscuity. His orders were not to interfere unless you became a problem.'

'A problem?' Devon echoed. 'He didn't consider having his nephew being brought up by a dope addict a problem? What kind of scumbag was he?'

'I told you, not a nice guy,' Bridget said. 'He didn't care about Marrok as long as the kid didn't interfere with his lifestyle. What he didn't want was having the core family angry enough to cut him off from funds when he needed them.'

'I could hardly have interfered with someone half a world away,' Marrok said sarcastically. 'Though if I'd known what an ass he was, I might have tried.'

'Those were the reports Rico was getting about you, violent, erratic, unstable. Even as a child you were reckless and striking out at all comers. Nothing to upset Rico or make him uncomfortable. That wasn't what he was worried about.' She paused. 'But then he received another report. A local shaman, Paco, had taken you in and was training you. That disturbed him.'

'You mean that for the first time in his life someone had been kind to Marrok?' Devon asked tartly.

'No, he was afraid Paco might have seen something in him. After all, Paco was a mystic. It was possible. Rico felt that he was out of his depth and sent a report to London to our people there telling them about Catrin's indiscretion. They took it very seriously and sent a man to Arizona, Edmund Gillem, to see Paco. He had to be warned. But your Paco had already seen the danger in you and still wanted to keep you with him. You'd been with him two years and still not shown any signs, so Edmund Gillem told Paco to call on him if there was a problem. Paco seemed to be handling you as well as anyone could, considering your temperament. We didn't hear from Paco again, but we still kept a close eye on you.'

'This is bull, Bridget,' Marrok said impatiently. 'Peddle your story somewhere else. Paco would have told me about this so-called visit.'

'Would he? He was terribly excited. Paco was curious; he loved to explore the unknown. You've always told me that. Now he had something interesting to experiment with. He probably told himself he had seen it in you all along.'

'Seen what?'

Bridget smiled. 'Haven't you guessed? Shi'i'go. Summer.'

Devon inhaled sharply. 'What are you talking about?'

'Catrin Munoz's bloodline had a history of producing individuals with a very rare talent. Not every generation, perhaps only one, or two in the four hundred years we've been documenting her family. None in the last two centuries.'

'Shi'i'go,' Devon repeated. 'Get to the bottom line, Bridget.'

'Healers. Extraordinarily powerful. And everyone close to them seemed to have glowing health and vitality. Probably one of the reasons the members of the family flourished and lived very long lives in a time when that wasn't common.' Bridget took a sip of her tea. 'Though the two men who possessed the talent both died violent deaths. The Munoz men were not the tamest offspring our family has produced. You wonder if they would still be around now if their lives had not been cut short.'

'Wait a minute.' Devon was trying to make sense of this. 'You're saying that the dogs have no ability to heal?'

'No, the dogs can heal. That's been proved by those visits to the hospital. It just didn't start with a panacea created by Paco. There was never a panacea. It was always Marrok.'

Marrok shook his head. 'Paco had me feed the dogs the panacea.'

'No panacea,' Bridget said quietly. 'You fed them, but you also petted them, you touched them, you lived with them. You gave them your strength. Just as they later gave it to those patients in the hospital. Shi'i'go.'

'Bullshit.'

'I didn't think you'd accept it easily. The transfer doesn't seem to happen with people. It must be because there's an inherent healing ability in dogs anyway. Some people call it psychological, but it does exist. Ask nurses and doctors in any hospital. The dogs are strong but not nearly as strong as you. It's diluted in them. Why else did Paco make you come with him when he took Ned to visit a dying patient? He knew that he'd need you. It was a gamble with the dogs but not with you. And when Lincoln sent you on the missions with Ned, weren't you near them, touching every patient? I think Paco must have first noticed your effect on the dogs. They weren't aging, they were growing in strength. Then he started experimenting.' She looked him in the eyes. 'It's true, Marrok.'

'What you believe is truth. Paco told Danner it was the dogs.' His hand clenched into a fist on the table. 'He was being beaten to death, and he told him it was the dogs.'

'To protect you. He loved you. So he sacrificed the dogs. But he loved the dogs, too, and wanted to make it right. He told you that you had to protect them, didn't he?'

'Yes.'

'And you did, Marrok,' she said softly. 'All these years, you did. You put aside everything, you grew, you worked and became a very special human being that had nothing to do with shi'i'go.' She got to her feet. 'I've got to get back to the helicopter pad. It's almost time.'

Marrok stood up. 'I don't believe any of this, you know.'

'You believe some of it. After it sinks in you'll believe more.' She handed him the envelope. 'It's the family tree of the Munoz family. I had it copied. I thought you might want it.'

'Why didn't you tell him before?' Devon asked. 'Why wait until now?'

'Do you know how much power a healer has? It's staggering. Misused, it could create chaos, sway the fate of countries as Lincoln was having you do. It would inspire worship or hatred depending on what side of the fence you are on. When Marrok was a boy, he hated the whole world. If he'd had power then, it would have been a disaster. Later, as he matured, it became better, but there was still that streak of bitterness and violence. He had to work his way through it.' She started across the patio. 'I think I hear the rotors of the helicopter. Are they close, Marrok?'

'Yes, five minutes to the south,' he said absently. 'And I don't like the idea of you and your precious family treating me as if I couldn't make decisions for myself.'

'We just wanted to make sure they were the right decisions. You had a fondness for death and mayhem.' She smiled. 'And it's your family, too… cousin.'

He thought about it. Then he smiled faintly. 'As long as I can pick and choose. You wouldn't be too bad as a relation.'

'Don't turn your back on Jordan and the others. You may need all the help you can get. Devon said she thought you needed a challenge. I just handed you a king-size one. The dogs may be safer because there was no panacea, but you're going to be faced with monumental decisions. You can't heal everyone, and there will be people who will hate you for not being able to do it.'

He scowled. 'If I even believe a tenth of what you're telling me.'