“Yes, ma’am … she and my daughter passed on to the Spirit world a few years back. I stay in touch with her brother, Arlen. He lets me know how things are getting on with her family. I haven’t had much other connection to the rez since they passed.”

The air around Calliope went cold. Reflexively, she turned around to face Chance.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” Mara said, reaching her hand painstakingly from beneath her blanket, patting his.

Chance held Calliope’s gaze, their eyes locked on the sad thing huddled between them.

She hadn’t realized they’d both died. How had she missed that? His whole family, gone.

She pictured his wife and daughter with his ancestors dancing in that underwater dancehall. Though Calliope wasn’t Zuni, she imagined Bisabuela there too.

But not her family. Not her mother, not her husband, not her son.

The truck jolted, lurched forward, then stalled. The engine had died. Amy turned the ignition, a cranking sound. “Shit-shit-shit.”

The silence between them broken, Chance said, “I’ll see what’s wrong,” and got out. He lifted the hood, clanking metal.

“Can’t trust a man,” Amy said, and shimmied out too, sliding against the truck.

“We’re cursed,” Mara whispered.

“For what?” Eunjoo’s eyes were wide.

“We’re not cursed,” Calliope said, staunchly. Though Chance’s words reverberated through her mind, I don’t know what the punishment is for killing a god.

They hadn’t killed a god; they’d stopped a monster from killing them. It was self-defense.

A gust of wind. A pounding in the trees like a drumbeat. Crows shrieking in the sky.

“Mujer, lock the doors. Get down.”

“Not again,” Mara moaned. “I won’t live through another attack.”

“It’s coming,” Eunjoo said, her small body scampering mouselike below the dashboard.

“Amy,” Calliope called through the window. “Come back inside.”

“Like hell,” Amy shouted. “I’m hardcore too, momma.”

And the second Suuke was upon them.

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-FIVE

THE ARROW

Calliope locked the doors. Her contractions came stronger, burning her stomach, her groin, her thighs. She struggled to breathe deeply, struggled to breathe at all. She had felt brave earlier in the night, with the rush of adrenaline, the rush of triumph. Now, replaying the image of Buick’s lifeless body twisted stiffly in death, she felt sick.

The Suuke in the light of day was even more terrifying, if that were possible. It cleared the cliff, jumping on the rocky crags, landing on its haunches. They’d killed its partner, and in its eyes glowed the fire of revenge. Whatever they’d done before to warrant the Suuke’s ire was nothing compared to this.

“You don’t even have a gun,” Calliope called to Amy.

“Hand it to me, then.” Amy’s voice sounded exhilarated.