when they arrive? Many of the Navajo are Christians themselves. Christianity has been a good thing—at least that’s what Matthew says. There are no obvious monsters any more. The twins couldn’t possibly see their own kind as monsters—could they?”
“We’re getting close to Black Rock I think,” said Dan, who hoped to change the subject before Becka got too upset and jeopardized the mission.
“Would the Little War Gods really go to war with their own kind?”
“It is possible. You know all that crap about ‘what lurks in the hearts of men.’”
Becka hissed to herself, but Dan continued.
“Potentially, the twins could see anyone with a Christian heart as invaders infected with a monstrous disease, a thing foreign to the Navajo old world. They might attack like a body attacks cancer.”
“Will everyone die?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think Father Matthew knows. I don’t think our Priestess knows.” Dan turned to Becka. “We are the Lord’s Indians because we do not know. If the twins attack, only our merged faiths—the hand of the Navajo Earth Mother bound to the hand of Jesus—can stop them.”
“Just one more question,” said Becka, unsettled by what she’d heard though they’d had this same conversation many times before.
“Okay.”
“What about the rest of the world? If the Little War Gods kill all the people who usurped their old world’s lands, that’s a lot of potential victims.”
“If the bridge falls…well, we can’t let the bridge fall. If—”
Before Dan could answer completely, Becka suddenly gripped his arm in warning. He stopped the truck several feet from a pool of shadows that cloaked a steep-looking drop off.
“Give me a sec,” said Dan, leaping out of the truck and disappearing into the watery blackness. He returned moments later. “We’ll just have to take it easy. It’s sort of steep, but I think we’re there. It’s at the bottom, like the brothers said.” Dan slipped the truck into third gear the moment he felt it gathering speed. They descended 150 yards, the drop not as steep or as long as it looked. As the trail leveled, Dan slowed almost to a stop, reluctant to follow the path through a curtain of rock that shot up on both sides. They were passing through the southernmost of four narrow gaps in the circular mesa that surrounded the hallowed stone. As the rock walls fell away, Becka and Dan had their first close-up view of Black Rock, which sat some fifty feet away at the circle’s center. Its features were nondescript at this distance, but it had the presence of a living thing. They were instantly mesmerized. Still a respectful twenty-five feet away, Dan put the truck in park and left the headlights on. Though he knew he wasn’t the first to enter this arena, he felt like an important adventurer.
“It’s like being in a giant nest. Maybe the rock is an egg?” Becka said, her face flushing with passion as she succumbed to the rock’s powerful spirit. Throwing her arms around Dan’s neck, she planted a bevy of kisses on his cheek. Unsatisfied, she crawled onto his lap, kissing him deeply and pulling at his curls, her knees digging into his thighs as she rose up and down. As Dan responded to her sudden desire, his eyes opened of their own volition, needing to assuage the irksome feeling that they were being watched. “Come on,” said Dan, wriggling away, his frustrated expression oddly contorted. “We have to do something first, outside.” They both clamored out the driver’s side door.“I hope this audience of titans doesn’t give you any performance anxiety,” said Becka as she ran ahead, twirling around with her arms outstretched.
“Hah!” shouted Dan, running after her around the opposite side of the stone she’d chosen. Outside of the headlights’ luminescent cone, they nearly crashed into each other. Becka laughed loudly at Dan when he stumbled, trying to avoid her.
Impulsively, Becka reached out to touch Black Rock, her hand coming ever so close before Dan grabbed her wrist.
“Wait.” Dan’s face betrayed a moment of concern. “The brothers said we can only touch the rock once. They said there was a good reason.”
“Okay,” said Becka. “But isn’t it amazing that even rocks have rules?”
“It will all be worth it. You’ll see.” Dan reached into his jeans pocket and produced a penlight. Its glow made a bright circle on the rock before them. Daniel moved the circle upwards until half of it disappeared some ten feet above as it diffused with open sky over the rock’s edge. The entire surface of the rock looked wet, an unexpected quality in the desert.
“You’re going to have to trust me on this part.” Dan looked into Becka’s eyes to see if he had her attention. “Squeeze your forefinger and middle finger like this,” Dan held his fingers together. “That’s it. Now, run them across the stone.”
Tentatively, she reached out and was surprised to find the rock—and whatever coated it—felt cool and silky to the touch, like cold paint. She liked the texture as it accumulated on her fingertips. She could see the foot-long impression her fingers had left. Dan imitated her stroke.
Dan fell to his knees before Becka. “Draw two angled lines down both of my cheeks. You are to make me a Navajo with the blood of their land by painting me for war.” For the first time, Becka looked at her fingertips and could see that the clingy substance was the color of fresh blood. The excitement she felt chilled her. She closed her eyes and imagined what Dan would look like when she was finished. Pressing harder than she meant to, she drew the first two lines on his left cheek. She could feel him staring up at her. She drew the second two lines. She was as excited to look at Dan on his knees with his face painted as she was to imagine what her own face would look like when he’d finished with her.
Even before he could stand, she dropped to her knees and held her head back. Uncertain what to do with the paint left on her fingers, she let her hand rest on her thigh, palm up. She resisted a sudden urge to taste it.
Dan wedged the penlight between his knees so its light cast up evenly between their bodies. With his unpainted hand, he brushed Becka’s hair from her eyes.
“You’re teasing me,” she said, her excess adrenaline causing her to shake.
“I am not,” said Dan. “I have something else for you.”
Becka looked genuinely disappointed that Dan wasn’t going to paint her.
“It’s almost time.” Dan’s tone was gentle; he was a gentle person. Carefully he applied the bulk of the paint from his fingertips to his left wrist in two thick lines. He pressed his forearms together, forming identical hashes on his right side. Becka watched, her curiosity apparent. “Cross your wrists and grab hold of my forearms.”
Becka complied, alarmed by the sense of pleasure she felt as the gel-like substance spread between their pressed-together flesh.
Thirty seconds passed. Neither of them moved. Instinctively, both kept their eyes tightly closed.
A minute passed.
Becka could feel her heart beating faster, her face turning flush.
Dan felt sleepy, and he was dimly aware of the pain in his shoulders from the strain of their awkward position.
Another minute passed.
Unable
