by David Estes
“That’s not comforting,” I say. “What did you want to show me? Do it slowly.”
In exaggerated slow-mo, Bil reaches down and pulls up the bottom of his jeans, rolling them up to his knee. Rhett shines a flashlight on his leg, which is covered by a large black tattoo.
“Just because we’ve both got tattoos doesn’t mean we have some kind of brother-sister bond thing going on,” I say.
“Oh, I will always think of you as more than just a sister,” Bil says, waggling his eyebrows.
“Vomit,” I say.
“The tattoo is something I got on the reservation—when I turned sixteen.”
I lean in slightly, really studying the design. It’s like a scene from National Geographic. A small dog-like animal (a wolf maybe?) lies prostrate on the ground, a spot of red on his leg. He looks injured. A lion closes in, as if sensing an easy kill. A massive bird—a hawk or eagle—swoops toward the lion, talons forward, as if preparing to claw its eyes out.
“Lovely,” I say. In my head I’m thinking it’s a pretty wicked tattoo. In a really good way.
“What’s it mean?” Rhett asks.
“My people are taught to be the hawks. The defenders of the weak. The protectors of those who can’t protect themselves.”
“We don’t need your protecting,” Laney says.
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Bil says. He blows out a breath, like a deep sigh. “All I’m saying is that I’m not a killer. I mean, yes, I’ve killed before, but I don’t take it lightly. Not like Graves and The End. If I kill it’s because I think I’m protecting someone who needs it.”
Sometimes I wish I could bite my tongue, but it’s just so damn quick. “Like the human Siren slaves you killed?” I say. “If anyone was weak and needed protecting, it was them.”
He closes his eyes, his head twisting slightly away. His lips fold in, pursed.
His whole body seeming to sag, he bends down and grabs his bedroll, dragging it ten or so feet away. He flops down and curls up on his side.
“Nice,” Rhett says.
Even Hex moves away from me, pushing in close to Rhett’s side.
And, despite my mistrust of Bil Nez, I feel awful.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rhett
Neither of us can sleep. I can tell because Laney’s breathing isn’t even or deep. She keeps tossing and turning, just like I’m doing. Although we’re only a few feet away from each other, it feels as if the Grand Canyon separates us.
“Laney?” I say, when I can’t stand it any longer.
She sighs. “Yeah?”
“You cold?” It’s not really cold at all.
There’s silence for a moment, and I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing. Implied the wrong thing. “Yeah,” she says, not trying to hide the lie.
I scoot over, pressing myself in close behind her, the way we slept together after getting drenched escaping the missiles that destroyed Heinz Field. And just like that, the Grand Canyon between us gets filled in with dirt.
“For warmth?” she says. I can sense the smile on her face.
“Of course,” I say. “What else?” I feel sweat trickle down my back. It really is a warm night.
I wrap an arm around her and she grabs hold of it, interlocking her fingers with mine, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I can feel my body starting to stiffen, like it did when she lay down next to me the night before she left. Like it did when I pushed her away. She’s not Beth, I remind myself. Beth is gone. And Laney and I…we’ve come so far together. I’m not dishonoring Beth. I’m not. Even as I think it, I wonder whom I’m trying to convince.
After a few moments of natural silence, I say, “I’m sorry about Trish.”
“I have to find her.”
“Sounds like she wanted to go.” Realizing how mean that sounds, I quickly add, “To protect you. To do whatever it is she thinks she needs to do.”
“It’s my job to protect her,” Laney says, a hint of irritation in her voice.
“I know,” I say, “but she might be stronger than both of us.”
“She’s just a kid.”
A kid who happens to be a powerful witch. I don’t say that, just hold her tighter. “What was that light?” I say. “Inside us. You said ‘Trish’ after it left us.”
“I think it was from her. I think she brought us back together.”
“Smart girl,” I say.
“I don’t know,” she says. “Seems like we’re fire and ice lately.”
“More like fire and fire,” I say.
She kisses my hand and I really feel like I’m on fire. “Will you help me find Trish?” she asks.
I try to focus on her question, and not the way her lips felt on my skin—like electricity. “Yes,” I say. I probably would’ve said yes no matter what question she had asked.
Can we murder Bil Nez in his sleep?
Sure, Laney, let me get my sword.
Attraction is a dangerous thing.
“Thank you,” she says.
“Yes,” I say again, probably sounding like a complete idiot now. Not probably—definitely.
“I’m sorry about what I said to Bil, but I can’t just start trusting him, not after what he’s done before.” Bil’s deep breaths, although invisible in the warm air, seem to take form and rise above the forest, drifting across the sky in lazy, smoke-like wisps.
“I know,” I say. “But there’s something you don’t know about him.” Her head turns part of the way toward me. So I tell her what he told me about his blackouts.
“God,” she says when I finish. “That explains a lot.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“But it doesn’t help me trust him. More like the opposite. He can’t even trust himself.”
“I know,” I say. “But maybe it’ll be worse if we abandon him. Maybe we can help him. Stop him from doing something he doesn’t want to do.”
“I’m not sure we’re qualified,” Laney says.
“Oh okay, I’ll get him an appointment to see a doctor,” I say.
Laney sighs. I’ve made my point. If not us, who else? “Fine,” she says. “But only until we get to New Washington, then he’s on his own. That’s where you’re headed, right?”
“Well I was,” I say. “Until that sister of yours brought me way off course.”
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Laney says.
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me,” I say.
“Hmm,” Laney murmurs, her breaths deepening.
“Goodnight,” I whisper.
“Mmm-hmm,” she says, drifting away.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Laney
Sometimes we have to do the things we want to do the least. In this case, that’s apologizing to Bil Nez. I haven’t been entirely fair to him, although in my defense I didn’t have all the facts because he didn’t tell me. Blackouts? Gosh, I can’t even imagine. Waking up and not knowing what you’ve done for the last few hours? That would be scary.
Even still, I don’t want him to get the idea that I like him in the least. Because I don’t.
“Look, Bil, I’m sorry about what I said last night. I know you did what you had to do to survive. And, uh, thanks for saving Rhett all those times.”
Hex cocks his head to the side, staring at me like I’m nuts. Maybe I should’ve practiced my apology on a tree.
I jump when a voice from behind says, “And you.”
Whirling around, I reach for my gun, but leave it strapped to my side when I see who it is. Speak of the devil.
“Morning, Bil,” I say. How did he sneak up on me so easily?
“Morning.”
“What did you mean, ‘And you’?”
“I saved your life, too. Once.”
I chew on the side of my mouth. Maybe I should have made it a silent apology. “I guess you heard all that?”
His wide grin gives me the answer.
“So do you accept?” I ask.
“I’ll think about it,” he says, turning and traipsing back toward the clearing.
Grumbling, I follow after him, catching up.
“So,” he says when I settle in beside him.
“So,” I say.
“You and Rhett, huh?”
I fire him a look, but he stares straight ahead. We’d gone to sleep after him, and I woke up before him. How did he know what happened in between?
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” I say evenly.
“Right. Well, I know they say once you go black you’ll never go back, but if you ever change your mind, I can show you that brown ain’t so bad either.”
I stop, controlling the urge to hit him, while he moves ahead of me, chuckling under his breath.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Rhett says, appearing noiselessly from the side. Hex bounds up to him and then past him as if he’s not even there.
“Why do people keep sneaking up on me?” I say aloud.
“Maybe because it’s easy,” Rhett says.
I barge my shoulder into Rhett and vow to pay closer attention in the future.
He laughs and says, “Good morning to you, too.” His smile is a mile wide and I think I know why.
“Rhett, about last night…” I say.
“It was a mistake,” he says, and my head jerks toward him. He’s joking, like it’s April Fool’s Day and I’m the fool. His smile is a mile wide. “We fell asleep together,” he says, like it’s no big deal. “It’s not the first time.”
“I kissed your hand,” I point out.
He raises his hand to his mouth, says, “So if I kiss it too, is that like one degree away from making out?”
“Only if you use your tongue,” I say. He laughs. “Seriously though, I don’t want to force you into anything. It almost feels like I’m taking advantage of you after what you’ve just been through.”
“Please. Take advantage of me,” Rhett says. It’s my turn to laugh. And maybe blush a little.
“Be serious for two seconds,” I say.
“Like you always are?”
Fair enough. Seems the queen of one-liners has a reputation to protect. I don’t say anything.
Rhett moves closer, wrapping one of his huge paws around my shoulder, pulling me into his side. His body radiates heat, the way it always does. A human furnace. “Last night was my choice,” he says.
“So I had no say in the matter? Right when I was thinking I could’ve rejected you straight out.”
He ignores me. “And nothing even happened.”
“Unless you count our one-degree of separation make-out session.” The queen is back.
“And anyway, we’ve kissed before. On the lips.”
“Oh, I’m surprised you remember that,” I say.
“I’ll never forget it.”
“Damn. Then I guess there’s no need to remind you what it felt like,” I say, feeling flirty and confident all of a sudden. Rhett’s chin angles toward me and he leans in, closer, closer.
Our lips lock, tenderly at first, and then harder, faster, more urgent, like every second we spent apart is giving weight to this one epic kiss.
So of course that’s when Bil Nez decides to make a reappearance, as if he purposely came back just to annoy me. God give me patience.
“At this rate the day’ll be half over before we leave,” he says.
“You in a hurry?” I ask, releasing Rhett and pushing past Bil.
“Getting back to home base beats being the third wheel with you two,” Bil fires at my back.
I couldn’t agree more.
~~~
With a surprisingly sane Bil Nez leading the way, we make good time. Although we stick to back roads where we can easily hide if we happen upon any witch gangs, our pace is steady and quick. I hate to admit it, but without Trish’s shorter legs to slow us we’re a lot more efficient.
“I wonder where she is,” I say, thinking out loud.
“Your sister?” Bil Nez says.
As if I want to talk to him about Trish. “Never mind.”
“You’re the one who spoke,” he says. “Not me. I was more than happy to continue on in silence.”
“Awkward silence,” I mutter.
“More like angry silence,” Bil says.
I whirl on him. “And don’t I have the right to be angry? You abandoned us right before we got ambushed. Maybe things would’ve been different if you’d stayed. Maybe together we could’ve made a difference.” I take a step toward him, feeling my face go red. I don’t care. “But you had to do your freaky-Bil thing and go all rogue on us. That’s why I’m angry.”
Bil’s face is a blank mask. Any sign of his usual confident jokey manner has been washed away under the force of my verbal onslaught. I can sense Rhett giving me a death glare from the side. But this time I don’t feel bad. The heat of my anger will boil me alive if I don’t let it out.
I expect Bil to react the same way he did last night. Avoidance. Perhaps he’ll turn away, walk apart from us the rest of the way to New Washington.
“You should be angry with me. And scared. I can’t be trusted. Maybe I didn’t want to admit it before, but I will now. I have blackouts. There, I said it. You’re better off without me to worry about. I’ll point you in the right direction and then we’ll go our separate ways.”
With that, Bil starts off down the road, leaving me gawking at his back. I never, not in a million years, would’ve believed Bil would admit what he just did. Doing so must’ve been the hardest thing in the world.
Either I grow a conscience or, if I already had one, my conscience makes an appearance, because I find myself running after him down the road. “Wait!” I shout. What am I doing?
“It’s not your fault,” I say.
He takes another few steps and then stops. He doesn’t turn around. “I killed them,” he says. “I’m not sure who else you could possibly blame. And I did abandon you guys. I did. And you know what? It wasn’t even during one of my blackouts. I waited until Rhett had gone to keep watch and you were asleep and I left.”
“Why?” I ask. A simple one-word question that suddenly feels like the most important question in the entire universe.
“Because I was worried what I might do to you if I stayed,” Bil says, finally turning around. His dark eyes seem to get swallowed up by his even darker eyebrows, becoming black dots that penetrate to my very core. “That’s the truth.”
And I know it is. It’s like all the false layers of bravado have been stripped away from him and he’s been left as raw as a piece of sushi.
“Stay with us, Bil,” I say.
He raises his eyebrows. “But what if I—”
Cutting him off, I say, “I want you close to keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t do anything stupid. If I have to tie you up to stop you from running off, I will.” I allow myself a grim smile.
He grins back. “Thanks,” he says. “And I’ll try not to kill you in your sleep.” With that, he turns and continues on, leaving Rhett and I to share a nervous look.
Hex munches on a flower he pulled from the side of the road, looking bored.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rhett
I hate wizards.
Of the trifecta of magic-borns, I hate wizzes the most. They’re stubborn, arrogant, and as smart as software designers; always one step ahead, never acting with passion or on impulse like the witches and warls do.
And this one’s in a class of his own.
“Harooz manna fey rahhh!” the tallish, bearded man shouts from behind the Dumpster. Or at least that’s what I think he says, although it’s gibberish to me. And what’s with wizzes always being exceptionally tall and sporting beards that the Amish would be jealous of?
So much for avoiding the magic-born by taking back roads. We’d barely just reached the mini-mart, excited to scavenge for some food, when the wizard made his appearance.
“Get down!” I yell. Following my own command, I duck,
dropping flat to the cracked cement parking lot ground just as sparks fly from the wizzes long, white fingers. Laney and Bil throw themselves down beside me.
Big mistake.
The attack doesn’t come from the air, but from the earth, which undulates like a bucking snake, rolling across the lot toward us. I clamber to my feet just as the cement wave hits my feet, catapulting me into the air like a daredevil on a trampoline.
Laney’s and Bil’s arms and legs whack me and kick me and I think I bonk heads with someone.
But then the wiz utters more nonsense—“Garba fatata wayy tooo biig!”—which either means he thinks I need to go on a diet or that he’s going to create a magical golden spear out of thin air and chuck it at my head. Unfortunately, it’s the latter.
As the razor-sharp instrument spins toward my nose, I twist in midair, flinging out a foot in desperation, hoping I don’t end up with a lance through my heel. Even as I tumble to the cement, I feel the tip of my sneakers connect with the shaft of the spear, knocking it aside and changing its trajectory.
Or so I think.
That’s big mistake number two.
Did I mention I hate wizards?
Instead of glancing off harmlessly, the spear suddenly turns rubbery, wrapping itself around my legs like a boa constrictor, tethering them together as I finally return to earth, skidding across the rough lot and scraping off a layer of epidermis from my arms. And even as my scraped-up arms burn I’m wondering where Hex has wandered off to. So nice of him to go chasing squirrels when I’m about to be squeezed to death.
No, not just me. Laney, too. She’s also been caught by the snake-like weapon, trapped next to me.
Bil somehow avoided it and has managed to get his crossbow out, firing bolt after bolt at the wizard, who deflects them aside with a casual wave of his hand.
I whip out my sword and slash hard at the strange multi-functional golden spear, which is more like coiled rope now. My magged-up blade glances harmlessly off the wizz’s magical weapon, despite the multitude of powerful potions built into the steel. Whatever defense spells the wiz infused into the spear/rope thingy (yes, that’s a technical witch hunter term), they’re significantly stronger than my sword.
