by Sara Clancy
Jeremiah cocked his head. “The people you murder—”
“Hunt,” Basheba corrected.
“They benefit from this?”
“Didn’t I just say that? If you can’t keep up, maybe take a nap.”
“When did this start?” Cadwyn asked, once more wrangling back control of the conversation.
Within a breath, her body language and focus fixed on him like there was no one else around.
“Long before I had a say in it,” she said. “Are you okay?”
Deliberately keeping his thoughts away from working the numbers of how many people she had ‘hunted’ over the years, he smiled. “It’s just a lot to take in.”
“Seriously? You were born cursed, too. Neither of us is stranger to dipping into morally ambiguous territory to get through the day.”
“This is a bit more than ‘morally ambiguous.’”
“Only if you decide it is,” she replied. “Oh, come on! It’s not like I’m running around racking up supernatural debt for a new car or a hot girlfriend. This is the first deal I’ve ever made, and it was for you.”
His lips jerked into a half-smile. “And Buck.”
“Mostly Buck.”
The roaring water raged around them as Cadwyn tried to avoid the knowledge that reared on the edges of his mind. Only if you decide it is. The prospect that morality was a novelty to manipulate as he pleased was not new to him. He had first encountered it in a dingy room of an abandoned mental asylum, with a needle in his arm and his brother’s broken body strapped to a rickety table before him. When he had so easily pushed his guilt away that it had scared him. It was a part of himself that he had buried along with his brother.
There has to be a line. There has to be something that people can’t come back from. Mentally, he curled around the thought, trying to convince himself that he truly believed them.
“Cadwyn?” Basheba’s blue eyes pierced him. “Are you angry with me?”
“You killed your uncle! You murder someone every year!” Jeremiah groused. “We’re all disgusted with you.”
You can’t come back from that, Cadwyn told himself. Basheba didn’t look at anyone but him, waiting for his response, the first tendrils of fear coursing across her face. There’s a line.
“Cadwyn?”
The truth clawed its way out of its shallow grave. I don’t care. It didn’t matter to him what she did to survive, so long as she survived. If there is a point of no return, a bit of ritualistic murder didn’t bring her close to it.
Basheba’s voice dipped into an almost meek whisper, “Cad?”
He blinked rapidly, sucking a breath through his nose, and flashed her a smile. “We need to get organized and move out fast.”
Basheba grinned, her features lighting up with a combination of relief and gratitude that stripped years of horror and grief from her face. It was an expression that was impossible not to return.
“What?” Mina asked, patting her brother’s arm to keep him from butting in. “I think we need to discuss this a little more.”
“We’re here to destroy Katrina’s bones in the hopes of killing her,” Cadwyn reminded her. “And now Katrina’s cult knows we’re here to do just that.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Jeremiah offered.
“They did know to find us here, Jer,” Mina noted.
“Yeah, but—Well, no one said we were looking for her body.”
Basheba raised her eyebrows. “We did dig up her grave a bit back. That might be a hint.”
“Right. But—”
“And we tried to kill her a few months ago,” Basheba cut in. “Oh, and we’re in the Caves! During the Harvest. While she’s most distracted.”
Jeremiah squirmed, but his jaw was set. It gave the impression that he didn’t believe his own argument anymore, but he wanted to. It was probably easier for him that way.
“Yes, well—”
“Pro tip?” Basheba cut in once more. “The paranoid survive, and she’s survived a long time. She’s not going to start taking risks with her wellbeing now. Either they’re going to hunt us down, or move the body,” Basheba added with a tip of her head. “Or both.”
“While attempting to get Jeremiah into the Witch Woods to act as a sacrifice,” Cadwyn noted.
“And they might be a little annoyed that I killed my uncle.”
“So, we need to navigate a catacomb of hypothermic waters and crawl spaces while avoiding Katrina, the Leviathan, and a homicidal mob,” Cadwyn concluded.
Basheba smiled, sliding the last bit of distance separating them to swing an arm over his shoulders. “Today is going to be a fun day.”
Chapter 12
Ozzie did his best to avoid everyone, needing some time to process what had just happened. At the same time, he wasn’t a complete idiot, so he made sure to keep close to the safety of the group. It was a hard balance to strike. Sorting through the contents of their few bags to survive the trip helped.
Cadwyn kept a tight grip on his med kit as he tended to the few cuts and scrapes the Crane siblings had. So that left him with Basheba’s backpack and Mina’s ghost-hunting kit. With everything that had happened, Mina had completely forgotten about the bag until Ozzie had pulled the strap free from her shoulders. Carefully, he pulled each item out and set them deliberately into a broken ring of glowsticks. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t focus on the items for long. It all came back to Basheba and her Leviathan.
The information sat like a stone against his chest, crushing the breath out of him and making it almost impossible to think. Thinking is fine, he corrected himself. All he could do was think. It’s the conclusions that are the problem.
Once more, he snuck a glance at Basheba. Almost from the beginning, the slight blonde had dragged him through this nightmare, whether he wanted it or not. Where he stood with her had never been specified, but he had always kind of assumed it was like a hurricane taking him in as a pet. She was a force of nature. Neither good nor evil. But, no matter what she did to everyone around her, he had felt somewhat protected. Human sacrifice. It changed everything. Turned her from Pompeii to Chernobyl. Less of an Act of God and more of a man-made disaster. He couldn’t stop a single question from bubbling up over and over. Was I ever an option? Was there ever a time when she looked at him and thought, ‘he’ll do’?
He tried to focus on the task, pulling the items out, separating what they could use from what the water had destroyed. It didn’t stop his thoughts. All this time, he had thought that Basheba somewhat cared for him, or at least found him amusing. Was I ever an option?
“Your face is all squidgy.”
Ozzie would have been embarrassed for yelping like a kicked dog if he hadn’t also leaped wildly. He ended up sprawled over the damp stones, staring up at Basheba.
“Where did you come from?” he gasped.
She pointed over her shoulder to the bloody patch of rock she had been sitting on since they washed up. He blinked at her, the stone, and back.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Ozzie squeaked, cleared his throat, then repeated himself.
Basheba knelt and plucked up a glowstick, waving it back and forth to better inspect the scattered items. A metallic cone spiked her interest. She began to wiggle it around with a finger placed upon the tip.
“You know what I like best about you, Ozzie?”
“I know to stay the hell out of your way?” he offered.
“That you’re a horrible liar,” she smiled. “There’s something to be said about a certain measure of honesty, in other people, of course. People don’t tend to react positively when I start spouting off hard truths.”
Ozzie hunched his shoulders, quickly reassuring himself that Cadwyn was close by. “It’s still better to know.”
“Is it? Let’s test that theory.” She lifted her finger, letting the cone wobble. “We can start with you asking me whatever the hell keeps making your face go all scrunchy.”
Ozzie could only stammer, not sure how to reply to that. She tipped closer to nudge him with her shoulder.
“Oh, come on.” Basheba straightened and nodded once. “I won’t get stabby. Scout’s honor.”
He laughed louder than her joke warranted, earning him some strange glances from the others—more from Mina and Jeremiah than Cadwyn. I guess things are easier when you know you’re on ‘Buck’ levels of affection.
“Ozzie,” Basheba sang.
He whipped around to face her, thick eyebrows climbing up to his hairline.
“Come on,” she whined. “We should bond, you know?”
His voice cracked a little as he studied the wide-eyed woman. “Um—”
She impersonated a clock with a few clicks of her tongue. Is she messing with me? That, after everything, she was still dismissing him as a child helped to solidify his voice.
“How do you do it?”
“Stay a happy little ball of sunshine despite being surrounded by the crushing disappointment of humanity?” Basheba steepled her fingers pensively. “Dogs. Well, Dogs and food.”
“No, I meant—”
“This is my natural hair color.”
“The murders,” Ozzie blurted.
Shock widened her eyes and dropped her jaw, “Someone’s been murdered?”
“The sacrifices,” he tried again, balling his hands and surging forward, determined to make her take him seriously.
“Oh.” She dragged the sound out, then seemed to get distracted by pursing her lips like a fish.
His brow furrowed, “Basheba?”
“Huh? Those are hunts, not murders. Completely different things.”
“Are they?”
“When you murder someone, the whole point is to get a corpse. You don’t do anything with it. Well, some do some pretty sick things, but they don’t use it.” She tried to both speak and resume her fish lips. “It’s such a waste of meat.”
He opened his mouth but all the questions he dreaded to ask got lodged in his throat, allowing her to cut back in.
“What was the question again? Oh, right. How do I pick ’em?” Basheba chuckled and dumped herself down on her rump. Pain sparked across her face, turning her breath into a hiss. It passed before she had carefully stretched out her legs. “Broad strokes or details?”
“I don’t think we have time for details.” And I don’t think I could stomach them.
Buck trotted over, seeking out her attention, and she folded herself around the massive dog. Half smooshed against his neck, Basheba blinked heavily, her lids falling slowly then opening far too wide.
“Are you feeling all right?” Ozzie asked.
“There’s no real outline, you know,” Basheba mused. “We’re not pushing virgins into volcanos. So long as someone ends up dead, we’re allllll good.”
What did Cadwyn give her? He decided to quickly ask a few more questions before he called the nurse over. I’m sure he’s paying attention. And when else am I going to get another chance? “How do you pick them?”
She shrugged loosely. “How do you pick someone for a job?”
Ozzie frowned. “You look at their resume and measure it up against the current needs of your company.”
“Huh.”
“You’ve never had a job before, have you?”
She snorted like he had just told her a dirty joke. “Actually, that kind of works.” Thrusting a hand into the air, she declared loudly, “We check out their resumes!”
Cadwyn’s head popped up. A slight bit of interest that could quickly shut this conversation down.
“What do you look for exactly?” Ozzie asked hurriedly.
“Grandma used to set the criteria,” Basheba sighed wistfully. “Then it was mom’s job. I’m the last one, so it falls to my pet peeves.”
“Pet peeves?”
He clamped his mouth shut as his brain screamed, You murder over pet peeves?
“Yeah.” This time, her strange blink was met with a slight sway of her body. The motion confused her. She went slack, starting at the mid-distance, before suddenly jerking back to life. Dragging a hand through her damp hair, she continued as if nothing had happened.
“Grandma was big on rapists. Mom preferred child abusers. Hey, do you taste purple?” She smacked her tongue against her teeth a few times. “I taste purple.”
“Um, no, I don’t,” Ozzie said. “So, you guys only go after bad people?”
“We go after the ones no one will miss. I mean, yeah, people will notice they’re gone, but come on, who would care? Well, that’s the theory. Sometimes people just won’t let it go!”
It was Mina’s turn to have Cadwyn’s attention. Jeremiah chose that moment to insert himself into the conversation “That surprises you?”
“It’s been—what? Fifty years? And they’re still making Zodiac Killer movies. Let it go.” She made the words wobble like a ghost in Scooby-Doo.
“You killed the Zodiac Killer?” Jeremiah asked.
Basheba gaped at him. “Math isn’t your strong suit, is it? No. I didn’t. My relatives did. He was a bit of a jerk anyway, and my great-uncle had this thing with the law, so they thought—hey, two birds, one stone.” She burst upright, her words suddenly coming at a rapid pace. “Then it turns out that sacrificing a serial killer to a sea monster doesn’t count as part of your court-ordered community service! What the hell? Am I right? Pick up some garbage along a highway, and everyone sings your praises. But putting an end to a giant tax drain and giving the cops a night off is apparently a bridge too far.”
“What’s your pet peeve?”
She nuzzled into Buck’s side until the dog was the only thing keeping her upright.
“Jerks, mostly. Didn’t I just say that? I could have sworn my mouth moved.” Her brow furrowed as she clicked her tongue again.
Ozzie had reached his limit of how long he could put this off and turned to call Cadwyn over. He needn’t have bothered. The nurse was already kneeling beside Basheba before Ozzie could get the second syllable of his name out. How well anyone could use the limited light of a glowstick to check pupil response, Ozzie didn’t know. But Cadwyn put in a solid effort. What followed was Cadwyn asking a series of general knowledge questions. Basheba answered them correctly when she could be bothered to pay attention.
“Is she okay?” Mina asked, inching closer.
Cadwyn cupped Basheba’s jaw, his fingers gently probing. The blonde took that to mean that he was now in charge of holding her head up. She flopped against his palms with a wide, dreamy smile. Buck shuffled restlessly, offended at suddenly being ignored, and propped his head on top of his owner’s.
“She’s fine,” Cadwyn said with a tight-lipped smile. “Just a little high.”
Jeremiah choked on his breath. “Great. If there’s anyone I want hallucinating while we’re trapped down here, it’s her.”
Cadwyn and Ozzie snuck a glance at Mina. Basheba was far less subtle about it, twisting her entire torso to stare at the younger girl. Although it looked like she was simply mirroring their body language, Basheba’s exaggerated movements seemed to be what made it click for Jeremiah. Ozzie watched the color drain from under his tanned skin as he remembered that his sister was claustrophobic. With the combination of the wide burrow they had washed up in and the array of distractions, Mina had survived so far without any signs of panic. Ozzie had kept a close eye on her, though. People can only take so much.
“Not trapped,” he hastily said. “I didn’t mean trapped. You know, we’re more…”
“Mildly inconvenienced?” Basheba’s words slurred as she remained caught between Buck and Cadwyn.
“Yes. That.”
“Ha!” Basheba blindly swung an arm out in Jeremiah’s general direction. “You agreed with me! No takebacks!”
Cadwyn rearranged Basheba until she was propped up against his chest.
“I like him a lot better when he agrees with me,” Basheba noted.
“I’m not surprised,” Cadwyn said, hi
s response ending with a grunt when Buck flopped across their laps.
“I feel fuzzy,” she noted.
“It’s okay. It’ll pass soon,” Cadwyn said. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
“Did you have to give her so much?” Mina asked.
“She lost a tooth, skinned herself, and slashed open her legs,” Cadwyn noted.
“I’m not saying I want her in pain.”
Cadwyn arched a disbelieving eyebrow.
“I don’t,” Mina insisted. “Whatever she’s done, I believe in justice, not torture.”
“That’s just because you’re bad at it,” Basheba dismissed, lazily jabbing her index finger against Cadwyn’s chin.
Cadwyn ignored the touch while Mina ignored the comment.
“Are you going to turn her in?” Cadwyn asked.
“All that’s on my mind right now is saving our families,” Mina said earnestly. “Our odds of survival are a lot better if she’s got her wits about her.”
“I dulled her pain. And her verbal filter will be down for a while. But she’s with us.” He swatted away the blonde’s hand and asked, “Aren’t you, Basheba?”
“Sure!” Basheba chirped. “I’ll kill everything for you guys. But not puppies! I draw the line at puppies. But just about everything else sucks so, you know, game on.”
“Aw, that’s sweet,” Cadwyn smiled.
Basheba wiped a fake tear from her eye. “I got it from a poem.”
“Are you sure she’s okay?” Mina asked.
“We just need to get her through the next hour or so, and she’ll be fine. I didn’t give her a lot.” Catching their worried expressions, he offered, “Just pretend she’s drunk.”
“I always saw her as a violent drunk,” Mina remarked.
“Really?” Ozzie asked, quick to pounce on the thin slither of humor as it presented itself. Last year had taught him that he was a lot braver after a laugh. “I always assumed she was more like the ‘breaking into a golf course and running through the sprinklers naked’ type. Can’t you just picture her stealing a golf cart?”
“She’s a grog-gorgon.” At their confusion, Cadwyn elaborated. “Sorry. It’s a term my friends and I used in college. A few drinks in and she turns into a snake. Either she’s draped over someone’s shoulders, or she’s on the floor. And the only time she’s known to talk, it’s to tempt people to do something stupid.”
