Jan took the bottle back, capped it, and put the bag of food and sodas into the car. Her jaw hurt slightly from all the things that she wasn’t saying, so she exhaled, trying to let the tension go. It didn’t work. “Do either of you need to use the bathroom?”
“No,” Tyler said, and Martin shook his head. “Let’s just get going, okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. I should make you ride in the back the rest of the way,” Jan said to Tyler, even as she was opening the door to the cab and waiting for him to get in first. She would be damned if she’d be stuck in the middle just because she was the girl.
“We’ll get a ticket if we do that and a cop sees us,” Martin said, getting in on the driver’s side. “And since I technically don’t have a driver’s license, let’s not, okay?”
“Technically?” Jan closed the door and pulled her seat belt on, having to adjust it slightly with Tyler next to her now. He turned to watch her, then looked for a seat belt, but there wasn’t one for the middle passenger. She was actually surprised there was one on her seat; the truck was that old.
“At all.” Martin shrugged as he started the ignition and pulled out of the gas station. “What? You need legal ID to get legal ID, and damned few of us are what you’d consider ‘in the system.’”
Jan was caught between amusement and annoyance. The laughter won but only by a slim margin. “And you’re driving instead of me because...why?”
“Because if you were driving I’d be stressing and being a pain in the neck. According to AJ.”
“AJ is a control freak who couldn’t be in any car he wasn’t driving.”
“Point not debated. But short of him being in the car, I drive.”
“Chauvinist.”
“Not even. I won’t let him—” and the kelpie gestured with his left hand to the man between them “—drive, either. And it’s not because you’re human. Don’t even go there.”
Tyler shook his head. “I don’t drive. Never learned how.” Having said that, he lapsed back into silence, letting them banter past him. His gaze was focused somewhere beyond the road ahead, his hands folded in his lap as though he were afraid to touch anything. Jan noted, too, that unlike previous trips together in a car, when he would slouch and fill every available space, his legs were squared in front him, even on the crowded bench seat, leaving an inch or more between their thighs.
Whatever reason he had for coming with them, human contact didn’t seem to be part of it. Jan couldn’t see over him to the other side, but she was betting the same distance was between his other leg and Martin, too.
She let the matter of who got to drive drop and looked out the window. It all looked the same, just the paved road and trees and the occasional signs by the side of the road. Cars passed them going the other way occasionally, and there were cars far ahead and behind them, but it felt...lonely, somehow. “Where are we going, anyway? I mean, lacking an actual destination yet.”
Martin shrugged faintly and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I figured we might as well do a sweep for preters while we were out and about, waiting for you to get a lead. We shouldn’t bother with anywhere a team has already swept and reported in, but that’s mostly south and west, far as I know. So, north?”
It made as much sense as anything. They’d tried going in a logical manner, with AJ’s predictive sweeps, and that hadn’t turned up anything. So, why not whim? “I still don’t see why you get to drive and pick the radio station,” she was saying when her phone vibrated—she’d gotten a message, either an email or a text. Breaking off her complaint, she pulled the phone out of her pocket and checked the display. Three emails, actually—right, she’d forgotten to check at the gas station.
“Anything?” Martin asked.
“Shush,” she said, reading. “Huh. That was fast.”
“What?” Martin was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel more rapidly now, and she decided now was not the time to draw things out, no matter how his attitude about driving annoyed her.
“Two noes and one maybe. We’ve got a possibility in Albany. A friend knows a friend who says they have a friend who might be who we’re looking for.”
“Well, that’s nicely vague,” Martin said drily.
Tyler spoke over Martin’s snark, his voice filled with an incredulity that was familiar enough that Jan felt her throat close up with emotion. “In Albany?”
Jan swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah. That’s where Katie— You remember Katie? With the poodle named, oh, god, what was it?”
“Archie,” he said. “She named the dog Archie.”
“Right.” She had remembered that but wondered if he had. The dog had crawled into his lap and gone to sleep, and Ty had sat still all night, rather than wake it. “She says there’s a witch there, one who might talk to us. A real, practicing witch.”
Jan hadn’t given specific details in her email, just asked if anyone knew of a real, serious practicing witch who was willing to advise them on a real, serious problem. Between that, and whatever her ex-boss was saying about her, Jan’s reputation was either shot or made, depending on who was listening. She’d worry about that, along with everything else, later.
Assuming there was a later. If not, then, hey, drink up! as her old college roommate used to say.
“Albany. Huh.” Martin shook his head and switched lanes, aiming the truck for the next exit, she presumed, to pick up a route that would take them into New York State. “Who knew that Albany was witchcraft central...?”
* * *
“What do you mean, they’re gone?” Even as AJ said it, he realized how stupid that sounded. Meredith meant that Jan and Martin weren’t on the Farm, which meant that they had left the Farm, which meant that they were about to get into trouble.
The bustle and hustle of the main room halted, not obviously, but enough that it was clear that everyone within ears-range—which went far for a building full of supers—was waiting to hear what had happened.
Meredith stared back at him, refusing to bare her throat in submission to his anger. She hadn’t done anything wrong; she was just the messenger.
“All right,” he said. “Fine. Go back to work. Everyone, go back to work.”
After the first flush of irritation, he was more annoyed at himself, that he hadn’t expected this. He had seen the expression on Jan’s face, heard the frustration in her voice when she’d tried to talk him into her plan earlier. Some others of his kind might be able to claim they couldn’t read humans or didn’t understand their cues, but AJ had always prided himself on that very ability—it was part of how he earned a living, selling the parts from the cars his pack stole. If you couldn’t read a criminal’s face, you became a victim, not a trading partner.
Jan was uncertain, cautious, still a little lost among the supernaturals, but she wasn’t a coward, and she wasn’t a fool.
And Martin... AJ knew Martin by now. The kelpie was an odd and irritating mix of cold-blooded pragmatist and gooey sentimentalist. Normally, that wasn’t a problem; when you invariably kill the ones you get gooey over, the problem self-solves. But the bond between Jan and Martin was real enough that he would go along with whatever she decided.
So, they had a human who needed to feel useful, a kelpie who wanted to help the human feel useful, and a truck, all missing. And since he’d nixed their ideas on how they wanted to help, he had to assume that they had gone ahead with it anyway.
“Idiots,” he muttered. But they were idiots beyond his protection now.
Martin would keep her safe. AJ trusted that, after everything the two of them had been through. He’d keep his instincts under control, for her. And that was good. Beyond the fact that the human was useful—despite her own feelings on that topic—AJ liked her. He hoped they managed not to get killed.
“Boss?”
A yōkai stuck his head in through the window, his elongated neck reaching in easily. “Um, boss?”
“What now?”
“The other human’s go
ne, too.”
Huh. That he hadn’t expected. AJ rubbed at his muzzle, trying to keep his teeth from showing in a snarl that would only unnerve the others in the room, and hrmmed at the back of his throat in a noise that was not a growl, damn it.
“All right. That’s...not a bad thing.” He hoped. “Get Zan in here. I want to ask a few questions of the damned ’corn, but we can use this.”
Somehow.
“And send a message to the Huntsman,” he added, throwing it out for someone to pick up and run with. “If our humans are getting involved, I think this just became his fight, too.”
The Huntsman was old, but he was canny, and he still cared about his species, as much as he might deny it. AJ’s missing threesome was going to need help eventually, and he couldn’t spare anyone else.
“And what the hell is going on with the California team?” he barked at the rest of the room, aware that they were all still paying more attention to him than their own assignments. “It’s like every one of you loses the common sense you were hatched with—not that there was much to begin with—the moment you leave this house. Someone get me a report on California, before I have to eat someone!”
Around him, the hustle resumed.
* * *
The morning light filled the bay window of the council room, catching on the polished brass figures and making the polished wooden floor gleam with red highlights. The small table had been placed directly in the sun’s path, a simple blue vase with a single daisy stuck in it resting on the surface. Nalith studied the flower, then picked up her pencil and added a line to her work, frowning as she did so.
A human male stood to the side of the easel, just far enough to be outside her space but close enough that she could summon him with a gesture. He watched her, but his blue eyes were clouded, his expression vacant.
“You drew this so easily,” she said. “You made it more than it was.”
She had found him in town, working on this easel by the creek, sketching a simple clump of flowers that had somehow survived the first early frost. When he had looked up, smiling at the woman who had paused to watch him work, she had decided to keep him. Like the first human, he brought art to her. Unlike that first, he created it. He was the fecund soil, the remembered song, the missing spark. He would show her how it was done.
“Let the pencil rest lightly in your hand,” he said now. She looked at the pencil and opened her fingers slightly, so that she barely held it. “Like this?”
“Yes.”
He was a handsome man, well formed and graceful, if carrying more weight in his middle than she found attractive, but she cared not for his physical presence, only what was inside his head. Nalith lifted the pencil to paper once again and added another line, then another, attempting to re-create the shadow she could see under the petals.
There was a movement in the hallway outside, the faintest suggestion of someone awaiting an audience. Nalith, not looking up from what she was doing, made the faintest nod, and the creature crept into her presence.
“The houses you approved of are cleared, my lady.”
At that, Nalith did look up from the sketch pad, both slightly irritated by and, she admitted only to herself, pleased for the interruption. No matter how many times she attempted the simple sketch, no matter what advice her new pet gave, the results did not satisfy her. Having something else to focus on, especially something already completed, was a good thing.
“Houses?” She could not recall what the creature spoke of.
“The locations you had chosen to house the expansion of your court, my lady. Two houses, ready for your filling.”
She knew quite well that she had chosen no such thing; the brownie had suggested it and, after her nod of approval, had organized the acquisition for reasons of its own. But it was a good idea, and the creature had proven willing to credit her all the success and shoulder all the responsibility—and, if needed, the blame. Nalith could not fault it on its performance.
In fact, it deserved a reward, of sorts.
“Two houses,” she said, as though only now considering the ramifications of such things. “They are not within this enclave, but some distance?”
“Yes, my lady. In surrounding townships, to better extend your reach and yet cement your hold on this territory.”
“Indeed. Well done. The court will well-fill such distances, but I find that when out of sight, some courtiers tend to...unregulate their behaviors.” Not here, but back there, if she did not cast an eye on the court, they would ferment gossip and disquiet. She expected no such ill behavior here, but best to be prepared rather than face an unpleasant surprise later. Back there, a single word would strike down any who annoyed her. Here...she had fewer weapons to her command, but that did not mean she could not shape new ones.
Yes. She had not planned this, but it suited her needs to do it now. She would use these houses. And that led to an excellent, and useful, reward for her little supernatural.
“Tell me, brownie. Would you oversee these Extended Courts in my name and under my word? Ensure that all within adhere to my pleasure and my whim?”
The brownie should have looked staggered at the level of trust she granted him, but instead a crafty expression crept into its eyes, calculating the offer against its own plans. Nalith had once thought these supernaturals were placid, ambitionless creatures, but every day in this realm taught her otherwise. The creature thought to use her? She was amused and saw no reason to not let it continue, for a while at least. Ambition could be molded into useful things, after all.
“My lady, it would be my honor and my privilege to serve you in such a fashion,” the creature said now, finally coming to a decision.
“Then all we need are courtiers to fill these houses, West and East.” Nalith smiled, catching sight of herself reflected in the window, her lips pale and her cheeks blushed high under dark blue eyes. Beauty, as humans saw it. Danger and power to the supernaturals. A weapon to bring her what she most desired. “Courtiers suited to my whim. And that shall be my pleasure....”
Placing the pencil on the ledge of the easel, she strode past the artist, still waiting on her command, and went through the front of the house, stepping through the door and onto the porch that wrapped around the structure. The brownies had painted the house white on her orders, a glamour of her own making stirred into the paint, and it glistened in the sun with a faintly metallic aspect, enough to draw glances but not so much that any would know why they could not look away.
Nalith rested her hands on the railing and considered the lands around her domain. She had chosen well, for all that the area surrounding was not so well served with amenities as she might have wished. The road in front of the house was wide and well repaired, the trees rising in front of her tall for this area, if nothing at all like the great trees of the other realm, whose leaves chimed in the breeze and whispered in the night air.
Still, the leaves here, while silent, had turned from green to gold and scarlet since she had taken residence, and that, too, pleased her. Soon enough the cold season would take hold when, her court had told her, the leaves disappeared and white rain limned their branches. She had never seen such a thing herself, but this, too, pleased her: a new experience to anticipate.
Not barren, this place. She could feel it within the elements, carried on the breeze, stirred in the water, growing in the soil. Warmth—not the painful glare of the sun but the sudden crack of lightning, the molten flow of lava—filling her with promise.
The only things that did not please her were the other structures on this street. Her lip lifted in an elegant sneer. Beings not of her choosing lived in those structures, filling them with their noisy, useless selves. She would have only the finest near her, those who filled their days with performance and creation, not slovenly behavior and consumption.
But if they were to avoid a repeat of the last attempt to build a court, where she had moved too swiftly and drawn attention before she’d been ready, th
en slow steps were the best. In this, the old ways were still the best, to lure rather than take. Slower but safer. Start outward and bring her grasp in, clearing the way steadily but without notice. Capture them all without a shout. Humans and supernaturals alike.
Then, when she was ready, when the fire within her was ready, they would all know who ruled in their midst.
Chapter 7
Jan hated road trips. Her ass was numb, and her shoulders ached after two hours in the same position, the door handle digging into her on one side and the space between her leg and Tyler’s almost as painful.
“Pass me the soda?” Martin said, holding out his right hand.
“All gone,” she said and held the empty bottle upside down to prove her point.
The sodas were long finished, the licorice and chips nothing but memories, and all three of them were sick and tired of being in the car, and probably sick and tired of each other, too. On the plus side, after an argument over what radio station to put on that had ended in the radio being turned off entirely, Tyler had started taking more part in the conversation. He still didn’t sound like “her” Tyler, but it was a start.
She still thought him going anywhere near a preter was a crap idea, though.
“We could pull off and look for a convenience store,” she suggested, hoping for a break to stretch her legs.
“No.” Tyler shook his head. “He’s already jittering too much. No more caffeine for him.”
“Who’re you, my mother?”
“Don’t,” Jan said, warning them both. “I swear, I’m half-tempted to bitch slap you both.”
“Don’t slap the driver,” Martin warned, and a sound came from Tyler that made them both look at him, Jan worried, Martin confused.
“I’m sorry.” He was biting his lips hard, staring straight ahead. “I just... We’re in a pickup truck driven by a kelpie, heading to find a witch, driving up the Interstate to stop an invasion from another realm by elves, people, and...”
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