by M. Pax
Haw Shot whirled, raising Earl into the air, pitching him straight at her. Earl hit with the force of a boulder, knocking her off her feet. The palms of her hands skidded on the pavement, scraping raw. The knife skittered to the curb.
The Rifters jumped from the shadows. Haw Shot glided as fast as a blink to the forest ranger, Moses, snatching him off his feet, firing him as a weapon at Daelin. Tall and dark, the man felt like a wall when he slammed into her. The tape recorder device he held clattered to the street, shattering into pieces. Purple and green flashes fizzed around it, then it lay still.
Hawley went after the blond firefighter, Vance. Bulky as a doorway, the firefighter’s size didn’t slow the ghost down. Haw Shot lifted him as if made of paper and hurled him through the window of the fire station.
Culver dove for the knife, tossing it to Daelin. She missed, reeling to run after it. Screams and curses tore through the night. Another body landed on top of Daelin. Trinidad. Tiny as she was, she hurt as much as Earl and the ranger. Daelin groaned.
“¡Perdón!” Tiny’s aviator goggles glowed with a purple sheen. “The knife.”
Daelin scrambled on all fours, focusing on the weapon and nothing else. It helped her keep a toehold on sanity.
Trinidad kept pace beside her. “Just another foot, señorita.”
A gust of wind blew Daelin backwards, only it wasn’t wind. The phantom stood in her path, howling. It held a struggling Wald, slamming him down in front of her, not letting him up, not letting her pass, moving Wald to block her anyway she turned.
“You must weaken the ghost,” Trinidad whispered in her ear. “Attack Greg’s head.”
Ugh. The skin sloughed, shifting. The ghost’s green glow didn’t hide Greg’s unhealthy gray complexion. Why couldn’t she kick Hawley in the crotch? It’d be less disgusting. “For Charming.” No other reason could convince Daelin to do this. Swallowing the rising bile, she leaped onto her feet and sprang at Haw Shot, her hands outstretched. She flew into Wald with a thud, cracking her forehead against his. Splotches of light sparked in her eyes. She gasped. Wald clutched at her, pushing her over him.
Right. Only one chance. She couldn’t give up. With her nails she slashed at Greg’s head.
Blood ran in a torrent from Earl’s nose. He hobbled behind the ghost, reaching for the knife. Haw Shot cuffed him, driving Earl’s chin up into his skull. Earl fell. He fell on the knife, groping for a grip. Finding the handle, he picked it up and slid it across the pavement.
Daelin bent to catch it. Hawley kicked Earl at her. She ducked, but Earl slammed into her shoulder. Her fingers opened of their own accord, dropping the blade.
Earl panted, rolling to get beside her. “Use my back to get over Wald. Sink the blade into Hawley’s throat.” He struggled onto all fours.
Haw Shot had Wald’s hands wrapped around Wald’s throat. His complexion shifted to an unnatural shade. If she hesitated, he wouldn’t get another breath. She seized the blade and jumped onto Earl’s back, pressing the knife’s trigger. Launching herself over Wald at the phantom, Daelin squeezed the trigger again, sinking the blade into Hawley’s throat. She clung to its shoulders, digging at the glowing gem in its throat. The crystal jiggled then popped. She dove for it, catching it before it hit the pavement, slamming into the curb face first. The pain flashed so brilliantly.
The world went green, completely green. The color radiated from thick mist, billowing, swirling. A pair of feet materialized then a pair of legs.
An instant later, Charming stood before her. “We don’t have much time.” Despite the green tint, the vibrancy of her strawberry-hued hair leaked through at the edges. Straight and shoulder length, her hair framed an oval face, the only trait besides a similarly shaped nose she shared with Daelin.
Daelin struggled to sit up, reaching for Charming’s bruised cheek, brushing against cool mist.
“Oh, it’s wonderful to see you. It is you? I saw the blood in the clearing. Look at all the blood on me. Are we dead?”
Charming smiled so sadly. “No, we’re not dead.”
How could that be bad news? Daelin didn’t know if she could handle all green all the time if this was the Afterlife.
“Then what is this place? I imagined catching up on your chaise in the cottage, giggling. That’s why I came to Settler.”
Charming had thinner lips and brows, everything a daintier version when compared to Daelin. “I can’t be in Settler right now. I’m sorry. The crystal you dislodged from the ghost brought you here.” Her fingernails had been torn ragged. Patches on her arms were bruised as dark as shadow.
“Did Haw Shot hurt you?” Daelin gently reached for her sister’s arm, touching mist and light, like Earl couldn’t touch the phantom. “Your friends claim the ghost was possessed. You? Were you trapped inside it?”
“No. Cerin granted me some time to contact you. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity.” Opening her palm, she revealed a crystal as glowing as Daelin’s. “We’re between worlds. The jewel in your hand brought you here. When we let go, we leave.”
Gripping hers more tightly, Daelin inhaled sharply. “People say you’re in love with Cerin. Earl says it’s a sham.”
“Trust Earl. Always.” An edge that had never previously existed narrowed Charming’s eyes and stiffened her jaw. “But know this, his promises to me come first.”
“He says you’re family.” Not by Daelin’s definition of family. Earl wasn’t part of the memories of her little sister, their brother, and herself hanging out on buses and in bars, stealing maraschino cherries and sugar cubes, playing hide and seek, shrieking with laughter. Earl hadn’t been there.
“He keeps me safe, Dae. He’s a good man.”
The effect Earl had over Charming showed, especially in the gaze. Oh. They had the same eyes. It didn’t matter. He was a stranger. Daelin had to remind her sister. “He’s not from our world. Culver told me.”
“He’s very much from our world just a different time. That’s all I can say without breaking my word. I can’t risk him doing the same to me. There’s too much at stake.”
More cryptic answers. Daelin wanted to shake Charming. “Tell me what’s going on. What’s hunting you?”
“In time, but not yet. For now, trust me. Trust Earl. Trust Dante. All else must remain a secret.” She didn’t blink or stutter, so certain about everything.
“You’ve dragged me into secrets within mysteries.” It didn’t matter. Daelin knew Charming wouldn’t ask for help without a good reason. Charming knew Daelin would never say no without a good reason. “Tell me you’re all right.” If Daelin knew that, she could promise a moon castle carved from green cheese.
“I am, and I’m counting on you. Before you sign the journal Sabina left you, you must see Dante. Have you met him?” Charming’s gaze bore into Daelin’s, her demeanor growing more serious.
Daelin sat up straighter. “I did. He made me forget—”
“You have to forget again. Or you can’t help me. I so desperately need you.” Her voice cracked. She drew in a deep breath. “Will you go to him?”
“I’ll stand by you no matter what. No matter murderous ghosts and crazy neighbors. You know this is all a little crazy?”
Her head fell back, and Charming laughed until she hiccupped, like when they had drawn pictures on their mother’s arms when she refused to get up in the morning. “You’ve always had a way with words. A little?”
A smile stole over Daelin. She couldn’t stop it. “Okay, a lot crazy. I wish I could hug you. We’ve been apart too long. Can I use this jewel to visit you again?”
“First, use it to get to Dante. Earl can help. Then give the gem up, give it to Earl. It’s the only way to protect him from the rift. It’s hunting him.”
Earl again. “Who is he? A half brother?”
Charming’s misty fingers breezed past Daelin’s temple, a chilled kiss. “That’s his secret to reveal not mine.” The sound of rustling leaves gusted through the fog. Her gaze darted behind her. “I have to g
o.”
The mist thinned. Charming vanished with it.
Alone again. Daelin felt emptier than when she lost her job in New York. She only had one sister, a sister who chased after… Daelin had no idea after what.
The faint imprint of Settler showed behind the green light. As if time had stopped, Earl and Wald lay on the street, mouths outstretched with hurt. Culver lunged toward the curb Daelin had smashed into.
She crawled into the library to grab paper and pen. She scribbled a note, made her way to Earl, and stuffed it in his pocket. Be at the closet in the morning. We have to go see the wizard. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” she whispered, planting a soft kiss on his battered cheek. For his devotion to Charming, he deserved Daelin’s loyalty.
She placed the gem in his hand and let go. The green light disappeared and so did Earl. The town swirled, her thoughts swam, the throbbing in her head whirled.
Culver scurried over, brushing hair out of her bruised and bloodied face. “Be still.” He rolled up his jacket, sliding it under her head. “Tiny, toss me the first aid kit.”
Culver and his cousin fought rift creatures all the time, accepting the strange as normal. Would Daelin become like them? She thought she had seen it all in New York. Not by a fat novel.
hapter
Haw Shot’s gem worked similarly to Dante’s closet, placing Earl out of all worlds, stopping the passage of time in Settler. The green tint distorted the town with bubbles, pits, and squeezes. It took away the pain knifing through his back, tingling his fingers and toes.
Tonight proved Daelin would be all right without him. He worried less about her than Charming. Charming had the same smarts, but not the same bite. He was glad of it, glad his defective self hadn’t tainted his descendants.
Earl could travel through the town using the ghost stone, something he couldn’t do in the closet. The scene in front of the Roadhouse had all the drama of a painting. Blood stained faces. Sabina’s mouth frozen in a scream. Trinidad’s weapon shot into infinity with as much effect as dust. Culver huddled over Daelin, tenderly dressing her wounds.
Earl saluted her. Daelin had done as well as a seasoned infantryman. She’d never be the same, but she’d be all right. Maybe. Earl still hadn’t found his way free from the brutality he had embraced in the 1860s. Now Charming begged for him to do it again. The enemy wasn’t human this time, making it easier to deal with, yet he hadn’t decided about it. “If I agree to be a soldier again, I’ll end up in the asylum stealing pills.”
After retrieving the book on outlaws from where he had hid it in the library closet, and bowing to Cordelia, he journeyed out to his ranch, fuming. The phantom had shot off its dead mouth, whispering things from the grave that pointed anyone with two brain cells to Earl’s past. Daelin would figure it out. Sabina would make sure of it. Then the town would never see past his notorious history, never again allow him to be who had become, never permit him to become who he had yet to be. If burning the book in his hands would do any good, he’d torch it right now.
His only hope was to become Earl or someone new, someone different, someone who no one could ever believe was a stagecoach robber. When he figured out how to be different, how to grow into his new name, then maybe he’d come home. Was this home?
The sprawling resort of a house had a pull on his heart nowhere else had. He stood in front of it, poking at the nuances it stirred in his soul. It meant a lot, but wasn’t everything. He walked inside.
Last year he had drawn up papers to put Wilma and Scott in charge of the ranch in case of an emergency. The green light made it difficult to see clearly. In his private office, Earl fished around clumsily in his desk for a pen then let go of the ghost stone. Guests hadn’t arrived, his employees were asleep in their homes miles away, the Rifters remained in town stopped in time. They couldn’t get here fast enough. No one would see him. He set the jewel on the desk within easy reach then continued his work.
He signed the papers and jotted a quick note, a lie about a sick relative. He wrote a second letter listing Wilma’s good points. She’d swoon, which would insure the ranch’s future. Then he tore up the letter and threw it in the trash. He had written similar to his wife, never really meaning it. Repeating the pattern wouldn’t get him anywhere.
He picked up the crystal and returned to between worlds. How many worlds were there? Were they like this one? Traveling the rift would be fascinating. Earl didn’t think he wanted his life to get that interesting, though. He’d had enough of interesting.
Outside and inside felt no different when the ghost stone was activated. He set the papers on Wilma’s desk, then he headed to the garage. The pickup gleamed in green instead of gold, but it still shone. He pulled out of the garage and followed a dirt track across his property to the little house where Scott and his family lived. Earl set the gem on the dashboard, hopped out, and knocked on the door. A sleepy little girl answered, rubbing her eyes.
She reminded him of his baby Ida. According to the records he had found, she hadn’t lived long after marrying. Earl hoped her husband had been good to her. He squatted to meet Scott’s girl eye to eye, smiling. “Go get your papa, princess.”
A moment later, Scott sauntered outside, thumbs hooked through his belt loops. “Is the herd sick? Wolves?”
Earl gently shut the door. “Nothing is wrong. The cattle are fine. The horses, too. I have to go away for awhile. You and Wilma will manage fine?”
“Sure.” Scott squinted. “You on the run? How’d you get so beat up?”
“No, I’m not on the run. I’ve been cleared of the murders. I helped catch the real killer. This experience made me realize I have to take care of some things so I can move forward.”
“Will you ever come home?” Scott’s eyes widened, the tint of sleep leaving his features.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I hope so. Will you do one last job for me? Park the pickup in front of the mercantile at sunrise?”
Scott crossed his burly arms, which made his neck more square than usual. “Si. Do you just want me to leave the truck there?”
Friends like Scott were rare. Earl smiled. “You’ll drive to Bend.” Earl gave him the exact instructions then the truck keys.
He waited until Scott went inside before returning to between worlds. In a haze of green, he hobbled through the brush to a cleft of lava dividing his land. He hopped onto a little ledge a mere two feet down. On it he sat, placing the crystal beside him.
The physical world assaulted him. Pain. Cold. Agony. Gingerly, he felt along his jaw line. He’d be all right. He’d stop in the spa for some healing supplies. Medicine had improved by a mother lode since 1888. From his pocket he slid out the burner phone, pressing Dante’s number.
Dante didn’t sound sleepy. “Is Charming back? Cerin?”
“No, things are still like a heist gone left. Very left. I can’t be Earl anymore.”
“Should I quit being Dan?”
“Yes, but not until after Daelin comes to you. I’m sending her with Scott at sunup. She needs to forget again.” Earl told him the story of Haw Shot. “Sabina will have her take the oath, and Daelin’s association with us will mark her as an enemy to the Governors. So do your memory voodoo on her again.”
“I’ll return her unharmed. Swear it. How are you going to get her here unseen?”
Earl explained the crystal.
“Fascinating technology,” Dante said. “I’ll study it and come up with something better for you.”
“You can keep it. I’m going to disappear.”
“Don’t you want to know what Charming’s crystal disc does?”
“Let me guess, I have to come to you to find out.”
“We both need to keep our heads low. Why not disappear together?”
“I’ll have a think about it.” For awhile, Earl could stand the company. Maybe he’d let Dante come along. Leaning back against the rough rock, he thought about a new name and who the next version of himself should be.
h
apter
The throbbing in her face, okay everywhere, kept Daelin wide awake, that and what she had done. She had battled and defeated a ghost. “In all the dictionaries.” She hadn’t expected life in Settler to be filled with monsters and secrets.
Pain squeezed her body everywhere, relentless, getting worse instead of better. She pushed herself off the chaise and shuffled to the washroom to get more pain relievers. She doubted the entire bottle would help. Her reflection stopped her, a complexion of scrapes, bruises, and swelling. The robber in the subway hadn’t done half as much. A robber wasn’t anything anymore. If she encountered one, she’d take him on, wail on his head, give him a taste of defeat.
“Don’t mess with the ghost killer. Right. Mild-mannered librarian has a different definition here, too.” Yeah, like fancy, normal, and weird.
She padded to the kitchen to make a sandwich, pausing to stare at the photo of Earl and Charming. Could he be trusted? He held Charming’s life in his hands. Daelin’s, too, because life without Charming would be wrong, terribly wrong.
If she waited until morning, she might not find a quiet minute to have a meaningful conversation with him. She washed up and put on clean jeans and a sweater. Needing to feel a little girly, she slipped on her ballerina flats with the gold and pink flowers.
The chilled air outside slapped her, reviving her better than seven cups of strong coffee. A box on the porch caught her attention. It was from Cobb. She tore it open and pocketed her new phone.
Half way down Madeline Street she regretted not driving her sister’s Jeep. Her muscles stiffened, screaming, roaring about her injuries at a higher volume than earlier. Every half block, she had to stop to let the pain settle. Somehow she made it to the library before sunrise and without being seen.
The silver key let her in, and she locked the door behind her. Leaving the blinds down and the lights off, she used her hands to navigate past her desk and the restroom to the closet. Earl sat on the floor inside, the gem beside him, looking as bad as Daelin felt.
