Storm of Locusts

Chapter 28

Aaron reassures us he can land the plan without the electrical. But he’s equally sure he won’t be able to take off again. So whatever made the plane fail—and I have my suspicions—Twin Arrows has our total attention.

The casino stands alone on a wide flat plain, the dark shape of mountains low in the east, and to the north, the looming shadow of the Wall. Twin Arrows is actually three buildings connected. At the center is a cylinder-shaped building, maybe three stories high. Two massive bright blue neon arrows jut skyward from the top of the cylinder, a literal interpretation of the casino’s namesake. Below the twin arrows is a breezeway held up by five imposing pillars of stone. The breezeway fans out over a driveway, marking the entrance to the casino. To the left of the entrance is a three-story square building that looks like a conference center, and directly behind that an undulating wall of white and red concrete disguising a parking structure. On the other side of the entrance is a five-story hotel. Stretched out on both sides of the casino are asphalt-paved parking lots. Enough parking for a thousand cars, maybe more. The lots make a perfect landing strip. They’re even lit, neon pinks and purples marking the long driveway like a welcoming acid trip.

“Looks fun,” Ben says, staring out the window, and I can’t tell if she’s kidding or not.

“What exactly are you wearing?” I’d been meaning to ask her, but we were all a little busy running for our lives.

She runs a hand over the white ankle-length dress, fluffing the layers of taffeta that billow out at her shoulders and hips like frilly layers on a cake. “Do you like it? I kind of like it.” She shrugs. “I never thought of myself as much of a girly-girl, but I think it’s pretty.”

“It’s a wedding dress.”

“Not that I ever want to get married,” she says hastily. “Dudes? Kind of gross. But dressing up to get married is kind of fun.”

“They let you marry women these days too,” Rissa quips from up front.

“They were going to sell you off to the highest bidder,” I say, frowning.

Ben, who had perked up a bit at Rissa’s comment, deflates. Of course she knows that, and now I just reminded her of it. I have no idea what she went through in our few horrible hours at Knifetown, but if it was anything like Rissa’s and mine, it couldn’t have been good. I feel like an ass. “But it’s pretty,” I say, trying to make up for it a little. “I mean, if you like that kind of thing.”

She grins. “I bet you could hide a lot of knives in this fluffy stuff.”

“Or bomb-making material.”

She flushes, looking proud. “It wasn’t that hard. A bottle, a little sugar, bleach. One of the Thirsty Boys taught me once as a joke, but I remembered. And did you see how much stuff they had back there?”

“Everything for sale,” I murmur.

We both jolt forward in our seats as the airplane’s wheels hit the ground. The craft bounces a bit and then rolls smoothly toward the breezeway and the looming double arrows above the entrance.

“We’re going to have to find another way out of here,” I say to no one in particular.

“He will help us,” Mósí says behind my shoulder. She’s shifted again when I wasn’t looking, this time into a young Navajo girl around Ben’s age. She has her hair back is a tsiiyééł, same as Ben before her Knifetown transformation into a child bride, and she’s wearing a traditional red-and-black rug dress, belted at the waist. Traditional moccasins, an earthy red with white wraps, come to her knees. She’s sitting demurely, hands folded in her lap, waiting for the plane to stop.

“Who is ‘he’?” I ask, pretty sure that my suspicions about who sabotaged the plane are about to be confirmed. “And what’s with the outfit?”

“He is ancient but new. Long ago exiled from Dinétah for his crimes but returned with the beginning of the new age. Why? I do not know. And I am dressed this way so that he will recognize a daughter of the Diyin Dine’é when one appears before him.”

“That was just a lot of words. You didn’t actually tell me anything.”

The plane has come to a stop in front of the casino. Mósí gives me a demure smile that still manages to show her delicate cat fangs.

“Come inside, then, Battle Child, and find out for yourself.”

She moves quickly to the front of the plane, opening the door and leaping gracefully to the ground. The others pile out behind her, grateful to be on land again. Aaron stretches, hands over his head and mouth wide in a yawn. Ben and Rissa look around, curious. And the last bit of the night fades into the whiteness of dawn.

So I follow.

Or not. Because the casino literally won’t let me in.

“I don’t understand,” Ben says.

“What did you do, Maggie?” Rissa asks.

We are all standing at the main entrance, only I’m on the outside of the bank of glass doors leading into the Twin Arrows and everyone else is on the inside. Aaron’s patiently holding the door open, but I can’t seem to cross the threshold.

“Try again,” Rissa says.

“I’ve already tried twice. It’s like an invisible wall. I just—” I put my hand up to my face, miming running into a solid surface.

“He doesn’t want you here,” Mósí says, stating the obvious.

“What? I don’t even know who he is.” I lean closer to the door. Cup my hands around my mouth and shout into the room. “I don’t even know who you are!”

From what I can see, the lobby’s more than nice. A round room, two stories high, the walls made of interlocking bricks in varying shades of tan stone. A tile floor inlaid with an elaborate arrow pattern, and above it, a massive chandelier—four hoops in directional colors encased in a cascade of crystals and light.

And all of it as pristine as the day the casino opened. The lights still work, the floor is still swept clean. I can hear the whirls and beeps of the slot machines coming through the doors on the other side of the lobby that lead to the casino.

Whoever Mósí’s mysterious friend is, he keeps a clean house. Now if he’d only let me in.

“He,” Mósí says, “is Nohoilpi. He is an old god, a god of games and gambling.”

“A god?” Aaron says incredulously. For a moment he forgets he’s holding the door open and it swings toward me, but he catches it right before it closes in my face. Sorry, he mouths.

I wave his apology off. I should have figured that this would be Mósí’s chosen destination, and that someone like this Nohoilpi would be waiting for us. Because Mósí isn’t just a cat, or even just a Bik’e’áyéeii, but a nightlife-loving former bookie of one of the most notorious dens of iniquity in Dinétah. Of course she’s tight with the god of gambling.

“We are acquainted,” she admits. “But I do not know if he will remember me. He was banished long ago from Dinétah for angering the Diyin Dine’é.”

“What did he do?” I ask.

Mósí shrugs. “Only what was in his nature.”

“That could literally mean anything.”

“Well, he’s back now,” Rissa says, “and apparently living in a very fancy abandoned casino.”

“Which is his prerogative, I guess,” I say. “But why can’t I come in?”

“You are known to the gods, Battle Child,” she says to me. “I have told you this. And”—she cocks her head, considering—“you are wearing a very large sword that once belonged to Naayéé’ Neizghání. Before you buried him alive.”

“You did what?” Aaron asks. Rissa lays a hand on his arm, shakes her head. Not now.

“And how does he feel about Neizghání?” I ask, suddenly feeling hot. And short of breath. And like I might not need to go in this damn casino after all.

“There is nothing between them. I did not think it would matter. But clearly it does. Perhaps he would let you in if you left the sword outside,” Mósí suggests.

“Is that wise?” Rissa asks. “He may be your friend, Mósí, but he’s still a god. I kind of think we should bring the sword.”

“Bring the sword,” Ben agrees.

“Definitely the sword,” Aaron echoes.

“I’m keeping the sword,” I say loudly. Maybe if he knew I can’t call the lightning it would make a difference, but I’m not one for telling strangers my weaknesses, and not knowing how to use the sword is definitely a weakness. But I can make one promise that sounds reasonable. “I’m not giving up the sword, but I will keep it in the scabbard. Would that work?”

“And if it is not enough?” comes a voice from the across the casino lobby.

We turn to find a brown-skinned man walking toward us. He’s dressed in a scarlet red suit. The jacket looks expensive under the light of the casino’s chandelier. Fitted at the shoulders, trailing down past his knees, a row of red buttons adorning the closure. Matching red pants are wide and loose at the hip, cuffed at the ankle so that they balloon out over his black-and-white dress shoes. He’s wearing a black hat with a red band and a large brim that keeps most of his face in shadow. A huge piece of turquoise hangs from a gold chain around his neck to rest dead center over a white tie with small polka dots.

“Wow,” Ben says. “Nice threads.”

He smooths knuckles down the line of his lapel, preening. Lifts his chin to get a better look at her wedding dress. “Quinceañera?”

She shakes her head sadly. “It’s a long story.”

“Nohoilpi,” Mósí murmurs with a small bow of her head. “It has been many years since you were banished to live among the Nakai.”

“But you are ever the same, shí heart.” He rests a palm against Mósí’s cheek. She flushes and leans into his touch. “How could I ever forget you?” And a few things come together in my mind.

“Perhaps you can introduce us to your ex, Mósí,” I say, still standing outside the door.

Nohoilpi’s eyes turn to me. “That won’t be necessary. Your fame, Godslayer, precedes you.”

That name again. “Where did you hear that name?” I ask.

“On the tongue of a dying angel, from the mouth of a storm king. It is known.”

There’s something familiar about Nohoilpi, something in the way he talks. I can’t quite place it, but it’s there. “Then maybe you can let me in.”

“Not without reassurances.”

“What kind of reassurances?”

His eyes flicker to the pommel over my shoulder. “That my head stays on my shoulders this time.”

This time? “Have we met before?”

“Perhaps you are hungry? Tired?” he says, ignoring me and turning to the others. “I can provide you with a feast. The kitchens here are vast and well stocked. My predecessor kept everything as it was before. A remarkable skill, even for a god. There are beds with clean sheets, soft pillows, showers with water that falls from a mechanical rain cloud. It is all here, and it is yours.”

Ben and Rissa make agreeable noises and Aaron brightens noticeably. It’s been at least twenty-four hours since we’ve eaten, more since we’ve bathed. Everyone could use food, some rest. The Twin Arrows glows and beckons, a temptation to partake, an oasis from the darkness of the Malpais.

Nohoilpi gestures toward the bounty farther in. “Mi casa es su casa,” he says, his voice as enticing as warm baths and soft sheets and impossible as lost loves found again. And they follow. Every one of them. Even Ben. This time Aaron lets go of the door without even bothering to look in my direction.

“Wait!” I shout, but they are already disappearing deep into the lobby, out of earshot.

The last thing I hear is Ben happily exclaiming over a gift shop.

“It’s a trap!” I shout. I don’t know how, but I’m sure of it. “Don’t listen to him. This isn’t real. It’s not real.”

Nohoilpi appears in front of me so quickly I stumble back. He grabs the door right before it shuts. His nails are long and curved. He lifts his chin, and I catch the gleam of a golden eye hidden under the brim of his hat. He leans out over the threshold and says, “Once I’ve accommodated my new friends, I’ll be back to discuss the price for their return. It is a small matter for a godslayer like you. So, if you would please wait here . . . Magdalena.”

He shuts the door firmly in my face. I stare for a moment, dumbfounded, until the shock wears off. I beat my fists on the glass and scream helplessly as my companions disappear into the depths of the casino.

“Ma’ii!”