The hit knocks her back and breaks the spell. Without waiting for her to regain her balance, I pull her toward the exit. A coughing fit slows her down enough I know we won’t be able to outrun Borin, who is also now free.
I spin around, using the motion to force Cindy forward through the door and giving Borin no time to react to my next move. As he reaches to grab my shoulder, I kick. Low and hard. He doubles over in pain and I know it’s going to take him more than a second to recover.
Without another glance at the two wizards, I follow Cindy outside to the amazingly cool fresh air.
“Keys,” Cindy says between coughs with her hand stretched toward me.
“I’ve got them,” I tell her while racing to the driver’s side of the car.
“Great,” she says. “Give them to me.”
There’s no time to argue, and there’s also no way I’m giving her the keys. After standing still in the heat and smoke I know she’s not going to have the reaction time and clear head needed to keep the vehicle going. Plus, with my adrenaline as high as it is, I need to be actively doing something to get us out of here.
Without another word, I jump into the car and dig for the keys. If only I’d taken a smaller purse.
“You said you had them,” she says once she’s in the car and realizes what I’m doing. “Where are they?”
I ignore her and keep searching. I hear her slap down the lock on her side before she reaches across to do the same to mine.
“Now would be good.”
She cringes away from the window and a loud thump follows. I force myself not to look up and instead focus on the keys. There. I shove the right one into the ignition, missing a couple of times because of my shaking hands.
Whoever attacks the car gets one last hit in as the engine turns over and I throw the vehicle into gear. As I squeal out of the driveway, the tires digging up dirt and grass as I go a little onto the lawn, I look back to see Borin holding a large piece of wood he must have been using against the window. Stewart walks calmly from the burning building and watches us with a smile on his lips.
* * *
Chapter Eight
“Breathe, Lou,” Cindy says once we’re well away from the barn.
There’s no sign of anyone following us, but I’ve changed lanes and taken so many turns, I don’t know where we are. It’s no wonder they haven’t found us yet. I look out the mirrors and then glance over my shoulder just in case.
“Jesus Christ!” Cindy shouts while grabbing the wheel to put us back onto our half of the road. “Stop before you kill us.”
“They’re coming.” I tighten my hands around the steering wheel to stop from shaking. It doesn’t help. “I know they’re coming and they’re going to find us and then the animal is going to eat us and...” gasp “I can’t...” gasp “do this.”
“In and out. If you need to puke, do it out the window.” She even goes so far as to reach over and wind my window down. “I am not cleaning that shit up.”
I put my hand over my mouth and hold it there. I hadn’t thought about throwing up, but now my stomach feels like the entire contents of the past week want out.
“Think about something else,” she says.
But I can’t. All I can think about is the fire and the creature and being tied up and was there a red truck behind us?
Cindy catches the wheel again. “I know! You could put all of your concentration into DRIVING. Seriously, Lou. I thought you got your permit. Can’t you at least stay on the pavement?”
“No, this is good,” Al says. “Don’t do anything predictable. It’ll make it harder for them to figure out what your next move is.”
Cindy shifts the wheel a bit more. “Not helping, Mini-Al.”
“Do we have a next move?” I ask.
“It would help if we live long enough to get to a next move. Lou!” She slams her foot down as though she’s trying to stomp on the brake. “There was a car in that lane.”
I’m shaking so badly and my hands are so sweaty I can hardly keep them on the wheel. I don’t know how Cindy expects me to drive any better under these circumstances. Plus this car sucks. I don’t know why I ever wanted it for myself. Mom’s car is way easier to drive. Or at least it was the two times she let me take it the six blocks to the grocery store with her in the passenger seat.
“Good work with the ropes,” Cindy says after I’m able to steady the vehicle, more or less. “I still have no idea how you got us out of them, but it was a pretty sweet move.”
“I didn’t do it,” I say. “I thought you must have.”
“I was talking to Al. You keep your eyes on the road.”
There’s a little hesitation before Al replies with a shy, “Nice work with the dust. I’ve never seen it used before in such a way.”
“You’re the one who told me what to do,” Cindy reminds him. “And do you see how good I’m being at not asking how you know so much about magic?”
Al remains quiet for a second, which is way longer than I can take right now.
“We nearly died, and there’s all this crazy stuff happening and you guys are treating it all like it is some game.” I use my hand as a puppet while imitating them. “‘Oh, good work.’ ‘Yeah, you too. High five.’ ‘Hey, why don’t we go out for pizza now to celebrate?’ ‘Sounds great, because whatever happened is so five minutes ago.’”
“I could go for some pizza right now,” Cindy says. “I don’t like pizza, but I’m so starved I’d happily eat at the greasiest diner.”
“CINDY!” I slam my hand on the wheel and without meaning to, my foot smashes down too, pushing the old car up to an alarming speed before I hit the brake a little too hard and jerk us back to something more manageable. “What is going on?” I demand.
Neither of the other two says anything for a few seconds.
“Jeez, relax, Lou.” She rolls her neck to work out the kinks from my erratic driving. “And you know I go by Sin now.”
“Cindy!”
“Fine, fine. But I don’t know much more than you.”
“Don’t give me that.” I reach over and smack her shoulder. Not hard enough to actually hurt her, but hopefully it’s enough to convince her to stop stalling. “What was with the dust?”
“It isn’t anything special.” The pride in her voice says something else entirely. “It’s a combination of a few different things. Ground together they can cause hallucinations and enhance fears.”
“Yeah, except stuff like magic dust doesn’t exist in real life.”
As I say the words my eyes drift down to Al. I don’t need Cindy’s next comment to know I’m being ridiculous. If he can exist, why can’t magic dust?
“Obviously it does, since you saw me use it.”
“Most people can’t make it work,” Al adds. “Only someone who can manipulate the magic the powder holds can force people to see and hear things like you did. A sorceress, for example. Or a talented witch.”
“I’m not a sorceress,” Cindy says as though she wishes she were.
“I know,” Al says.
“About that,” Cindy tone turns suspicious. “Are you going to explain how you know so much about all of this? Or am I going to have to beg?”
She’s right. He knew about the chimera and wizards and the magic on the door and he even mentioned something about the box. I didn’t have time to ask then, but since we’re relatively safe I want to know what he was trying to say. Except now he seems intent on staying silent.
“Please,” I say. “I need to know what’s going on.”
“I don’t know much either,” he says which makes Cindy growl with annoyance.
“Anything will help.” I sound as kind as possible to counter Cindy’s anger. Hard to do when my voice is shaking from nerves. “You said something about the box before. What were you talking about?”
“It was something the wizard, Stewart, said,” Al says. “He was looking for a portal and said your grandmother was the guardian of one.”
“So what?�
� Cindy snaps.
“This isn’t my world,” he says. “Combined with the fact I don’t remember being inside the box for more than a second, and it’s the only conclusion I can come up with.”
From Cindy’s snort, I can tell she gets what he’s talking about right away. My brain, on the other hand, is too busy driving the car and watching out for anyone tailing us to be able to figure out what he means.
“I don’t understand,” I admit after a moment’s silence.
“I’m not sure,” Al says. “But I think the box is what Stewart was looking for. The box is the portal.”
“Portal in a box.” I check the rear-view mirror in order to avoid processing the information for a little longer. “Why not?”
“It makes sense,” Cindy grudgingly admits. “I’m betting the rock with the holding spell on it came from your world too.”
“A rock,” Al says. “Thank you for telling me what held you. Not knowing was frustrating.”
Cindy grins. “Good call about the chimera, Mini-Al.”
“What call?” I ask.
Were they ever going to start explaining rather than talking around me as though I don’t exist?
“When he cut our ropes, he told me to concentrate the dust on the creature. It doesn’t have the magical immunity the wizards have.”
“Al cut the ropes?” I imagine him climbing around us, hacking at the rope like a lumberjack. It doesn’t seem feasible. “They were as thick as he is tall. How is that possible?”
“My blade can cut through anything,” Al says simply as though it should be obvious. “It was a gift from my sister. She was always good at choosing gifts.”
“Yes, of course,” I say. “A blade that can cut anything. Fear and hallucinations caused by powder. A portal to another world inside a box and a bag full of toenails and magic.” I laugh at the absurdity of my words. “Yup, I’ve gone completely insane.”
“You can’t ever open the bag,” Cindy says. “Never. You hear me?”
“But, I mean, it doesn’t really hold my magic.” I laugh at the absurdity of the idea, but quickly realize no one else is laughing. “Can it?”
“All you need to know is not to open it. Ever. It’s what Gran wanted.”
“Stewart said...” I can’t believe I’m going to say the words aloud, they’re so ludicrous. “He said I’m a sorceress. Like Gran.”
Cindy stares out of the passenger window without saying anything.
“He can’t be right. Gran wasn’t... and I’m certainly not...” Silence. “Cindy, why won’t you look at me?
“Gran was a sorceress,” Cindy says in a matter-of-fact sort of way. “She was born with magic and could use it to do pretty much anything she wanted.”
“Like you?”
After what I’d seen in the barn, I wouldn’t doubt her if she said she could fly.
“No, don’t be an idiot. Do you think I’d spend so much money fixing this damn car if I could do the same with magic?” She brushes my words away with a wave of her hand.
“But, the dust...”
“A manipulation of pre-existing magic.” She sounds disappointed in her own abilities, though her tone turns wistful as she talks about Gran. “Gran, and others like her, can create magic on their own.”
I’m terrified of the answer, but I have to ask. “Others, like me?”
“Just, don’t open the bag, hear me?” Cindy says by way of an answer.
After a minute I finally have the nerve to speak again. “Are you a wizard?”
“Who me?” Cindy laughs. “No way. Wizards steal magic from people and twist it into something sick. I’m all about using what’s available naturally. Anything I want to do with magic requires time and planning.”
“She’s a witch,” Al says when it’s obvious Cindy would rather tell me everything except a straight answer.
“A witch!” I laugh. “Of course. Actually explains a lot. Wait, can you really fly? On a broomstick?”
She rubs her forehead and refuses to answer the question.
“Al,” she says. “You still haven’t explained how you know so much about all of this.”
As interested as I am in his answer, I’m more curious about Cindy right now. “I want to know more about you being a witch. What does that mean exactly? Where’s your hat and green skin and...”
Cindy interrupts. “Shut up, Lou.”
“I’m serious.” I move my hand in a ‘calm down’ gesture. “What is a witch and what else can you do?”
She considers her answer for a minute. Her hesitation makes me think she’s going to refuse to answer.
“We work with spells, generally. It takes us a lot longer to prepare even a little bit of magic compared to sorceresses, and everything has to be organized in advance. I can’t instantly cast magic if I haven’t readied the spell in advance.”
I’m about to ask more questions when she continues.
“It’s all a matter of balancing different aspects of the elements. It’s easier to show you than tell, but right now I’m more interested in Al.”
I would interrupt again, but something about the look Cindy’s giving Al keeps me silent. It seems to have the same effect on him.
“Tell me how you know so much about magic or I’ll remind you how much bigger than you we are.”
I doubt he actually feels threatened, but he makes the decision to start talking.
“My sister,” he says. “She’s a sorceress.”
“Your sister...” I never thought I’d see Cindy be too shocked to finish a sentence.
“Is a sorceress,” Al finishes for her. “Was. I guess.”
Always the one to be blunt, Cindy asks, “She’s dead?”
“I’m so sorry,” I say quickly to cover up her insensitivity.
“She isn’t... not entirely.” His voice is cold, as though he’s separating himself from the event and ultimately the emotions he doesn’t want to express. “A wizard found her. He took her magic and left her...empty.”
I expect Cindy to say something rude, or disrespectful, or stupid, or something along the lines of ‘shit. That sucks, dude.’ But she doesn’t say anything at all for a long time. Or at least a long time for her. When she does speak, it’s a quiet, “Sorry.”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Well, one thing I’m sure of is wizards never give up when they find something they want.”
“You mean, you think they’re following us?” I look at each of the mirrors and turn my head to look out the back window, but there’s nothing there as far as I can see. The screech of the tires brings my focus back to what’s in front of us.
“I swear, if you get so much as a scratch on this car, I will kill you.” Cindy lets go of the wheel when she’s sure I’m paying more attention. I focus on where I am on the road. Even so, I can’t stop my eyes from flicking to the mirror more often than necessary.
“I don’t see them,” I say when Cindy’s a little less angry.
“They might not be right behind you,” Al says. “But they will come after you. You have something they want.”
“The box,” I say.
“It’s not the only thing,” Al says.
“What else is there?” My eyes are drawn to my purse and the bag inside.
I already know the answer when he says, “You.”
* * *
Chapter Nine
“He wants you to open the bag,” Al continues. “He can’t take the magic directly, so he needs you to regain your power so he can strip it from you.”
“Lesson is, don’t open the bag,” Cindy adds.
Her irritation at Al for telling me about the bag is obvious, so neither Al nor I say anything more in hopes of her cooling down. It makes for a long drive, especially once my adrenaline starts to wear off and exhaustion takes over.
“The turn’s coming up,” Cindy says after a long silence. I’d almost fallen into a stupor while staring at the pavement ahead of us. “A few more minutes and I’ll be safe from you
r driving forever.”
I take in everything around me for the first time in a while and realize we are only minutes from Gran’s house. It seems unreal we’re so close to our destination. Soon we’ll be able to figure out a way to get Al back home and everything can go back to the way it was.
Exactly what I want.
Isn’t it?
“Thank you,” Al says, interrupting my thoughts
“For what?” The heat of a blush warms first my face and then creeps down to my chest. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
“You’re trying.”
I shake my head at the misplaced gratitude. “Anyone would try to get you home. But most people wouldn’t nearly get you killed in the process.”
“Most people would have put me back in the box and left me to die.”
I shift uncomfortably as I remember the idea had crossed my mind. The only reason I’m doing anything at all is because of Cindy. If not for her, I’d still be sitting in a corner of my room, rocking back and forth while staring at him on my night table. I glance at the clock on the dashboard and notice it’s after six in the morning. Well, I suppose right now I’d actually be at rehearsal.
“Rehearsal,” I groan.
“What?” Al asks.
“Nothing, it’s stupid.” I sigh. “There goes the lead, that’s all.”
Before Al can ask what I’m talking about, Cindy cuts in. For once I’m actually grateful. I’d have felt like an idiot explaining to Al about dance. He’d probably lose respect for me, like all guys do.
“There,” she says while pointing out the window to a carved wood community sign. “Don’t forget to slow down for the turn this time. And maybe signal. Or not. Whatever.”
“Shut up,” I say while turning my signal on a little too late. “I’m not so bad.”
I switch lanes and pull into the suburban area extra carefully to show how awesome a driver I am. As soon as we’re inside the development, however, I get lost. There are too many side roads and similar-looking houses to remember the right directions.
Cindy takes over navigation without a single snide comment, a miracle in itself, until I finally spot Gran’s house. It’s well back from the road, completely at odds with every other home in the neighborhood. Row after row of residences, all with perfectly manicured lawns and meticulously maintained exteriors, make up the subdivision. All of the buildings are new and there are only half a dozen designs repeated in an irregular pattern.
The Man in the Box Page 6
