by Jake Bible
“Huh?” I asked. I went over to see what Lassa was pointing at. Family photos. Two more girls in the family. Older and not currently tied up in the living room. “Damn. Mom and dad can’t keep it in their pants.”
“Country family like this doesn’t always mean a college education is in the kids’ future,” the One Guy pressed. “You see any pennants or memorabilia? You see the ubiquitous proud parent coffee mug? You see any”—
“I get it,” Harper snapped as she sat up and studied her side. “One or more could be on their way home for dinner right now. We can’t stay.”
“What vehicles do they have?” I asked.
“Minivan”—Lassa started.
“Nope,” I interrupted.
—“pickup truck, a Mustang, and two little compacts.”
“Mustang?” I asked.
“If it runs, dude,” Lassa said. “It’s old. We’re talking 1970s. So it could be a project car or it could have nothing but gold under its hood.”
“How about someone in charge of transportation go check it out,” the One Guy said.
The knife appeared out of thin air and stuck in the windowsill right past the One Guy’s left ear. He didn’t flinch.
“Tell one of us what to do again,” Harper said. “Please.”
He held up his hands in surrender until Harper relaxed. Then he reached back and grabbed the knife, pulling it from the old wood. He tossed the blade to Harper and she caught it by the handle without hesitation. Then it was gone from sight, back to where it had originally come from.
“Lassa. Check the vehicles. We take the one that is the most reliable,” I said as he finished with Harper and she slid down off the table.
“On it,” Lassa said and left out the kitchen door.
“Route,” Harper said to me as she pulled out a map and spread it on the table, avoiding the spilled green gunk that had leaked out of her wound. “We’re here.”
I snagged five rolls, shoved two in my mouth, and went to the table. Her finger was just above a town called Gap Mills, West Virginia.
“We aren’t even halfway there,” I said.
“No and we won’t be for a long time,” Harper responded, taking one of the rolls from my hand and popping it into her mouth. She chewed and stared at the map then moved her finger to the interstate and Roanoke, Virginia. “I know people in Roanoke. People that can get us to DC in one piece. But we’ll have to break silence and cover. When I make contact, they’ll do some checking to make sure I’m legit. That’ll put them on the radar.”
“Make sure you’re legit? Who do you know that has to check if you’re legit?” I asked. “And are they worth us blowing cover for?”
“They’re worth it.”
“Who are they?”
“Other exiles.”
“From the Fae? Or only from the faerie dimension?”
“From all over.”
“And I’ve never met them because . . . ?”
“Because they don’t need you and they don’t need me talking about them. They stick to Roanoke exclusively unless they need to leave.”
“You’ll convince them they need to leave?”
“I’ll convince them they need to leave. But it won’t come cheap.”
“Sharon can bill the One Guy.”
“Not only cash. We aren’t talking life debt, but we’ll owe them. A lot.”
“My life’s worth a lot. So’s yours and Lassa’s. We’ll pay what we need to.”
“They aren’t going to like helping the One Guy.”
“Maybe they don’t need to know it’s him.”
Harper laughed. “A single doppler walking around functional? No, Chase, that won’t raise any red flags.”
“No, I mean they don’t need to see him at all.” I worked a little Dim and smiled. “I’m not topped off, but I ate enough to make a box.”
“You two do know I’m still standing right here, yes?” the One Guy asked.
“Don’t care,” Harper said. “Doesn’t make a difference what you hear. You’ll do what we say or we’re out and you’re on your own.”
“Not going into a Dim box willingly,” he stated. I had no doubt he was sincere.
“Doesn’t have to be willingly,” Harper said.
“Oh, yes, it does.”
She turned away from the map and crossed her arms. They faced each other, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, dicks out. Harper’s was bigger.
“Okay, I’m bluffing,” the One Guy said. “You’ll take me while I’m stuck in this body. Dopplers are all muscle with almost no agility. That’s why I keep them in volume. You’d dance around me easily. We’d only waste time.”
“And spill blood. Your blood,” Harper added.
“Yes, and that,” the One Guy continued. He focused on me. “Perhaps there’s another way we can handle this.”
I raised an eyebrow and waited.
“How do you feel about concealment hexes?” he asked.
Harper started to argue, I think more from reflex, but stopped and looked at me.
“Not liking where this is going,” I said.
“It’s not a bad idea,” Harper said. “Solves our single doppler problem, keeps the One Guy’s identity hidden, and allows you to save your strength. No Dim box needed. I can work the hex easily.”
“Allow me,” the One Guy said. “It’ll be a better match if I do it. More of a link that way. They’ll be looking for the link.”
“Link? Oh, screw you guys. I’m not linking to his brain,” I snapped. “Not goddamn happening!”
“What’s not goddamn happening?” Lassa asked as he came back in.
“We’re gonna make Chase look like a doppler so we can sneak these two into Roanoke without raising any suspicions,” Harper said.
“Roanoke? The Exiles?” Lassa asked. “That where we’re going?”
“What? He knows about the Exiles?” I said. “Fuck you guys.”
21.
WE ENDED UP IN one of the compacts. It wasn’t ideal, especially since I was almost the same size as the car myself once the One Guy turned me into a doppler. But the Mustang was a piece of shit and the truck wouldn’t hold us without working some mojo that would instantly put us on the hex radar. We were already taking a risk with my transformation; a hexed truck would have been a blinking blip on the magic GPS.
So I ended up crammed into the backseat of a Hyundai hatchback with the One Guy’s elbow jammed into my ribs. Two hulking dopplers in the rear seat of a Hyundai makes for a tight fit. But it was better than fighting a blood ghast, so I wasn’t complaining.
Harper was in the passenger seat, her eyes watching for any and every possible threat while Lassa drove. I was amazed he could fit his long yeti legs into the car at all, but the guy was flexible.
“The family will be released at midnight,” Harper said as we drove down the tree-lined lane that led to the country road. “Ropes and gags are set to drop off then. That should give us plenty of time to get away and switch out vehicles.”
“One with slightly more legroom,” the One Guy said.
“You want the trunk?” Harper asked. The One Guy did not respond. “Exactly.”
“Talk to me about the Exiles,” I said. “Since Lassa obviously already knows them.”
“Dude, I don’t know them. I know of them,” he replied. “Big difference. And I only know because I answered one of Harper’s texts on her phone when she stepped away from her desk. I thought it was gonna be funny. It got weird fast.”
“Exiles are no joke,” Harper said as she turned to stare at us. “They’ve been not only kicked out of their clans, families, villages, towns, and whatever else they live in, but completely out of their dimensions. Most of them deserved it. Get that into your heads, both of
you. Most of them deserved it. These are not nice beings.”
“And they’re hiding in Roanoke instead of a vortex point town . . . why?” I asked. “Better cover in a vortex point town. Are some of the Exiles being hunted?”
“Maybe,” Harper replied matter of factly. “I don’t ask. You don’t ask. No one asks. Details are kept hidden and held close to the chest. All you need to know is these beings have made a pact to watch each other’s backs. Fuck with one of them and you fuck with all of them. Clear?”
“As a Crystal Springs”—
“Shut up, Leonard,” Harper snapped.
“No need for that,” the One Guy snarled. “Can you try to be pleasant until we have a little more space between us?”
“No.”
“Waste of a question, pal,” I said.
I shifted as much as I could in my seat and leaned slightly forward to talk to Lassa. He turned onto the country road then glanced in the rear view mirror at me.
“What?” he asked.
“I have an idea,” I said. “If we see a vehicle soon that might work, pull over and I’ll snag it in some Dim. Then we keep going for a ways before we switch.”
He blinked a couple times then realization dawned in his eyes.
“Dude, that’s a good idea.”
“It is,” Harper said. “We’ll all keep our eyes peeled. I’m thinking SUV. Crap for gas mileage, but it gives us size and options in case we have to leave the road.”
“Too much to ask for a nice Cadillac?” the One Guy asked.
No one responded.
“Or we could hire a limo,” he continued. “No one would raise an eyebrow. A limo going from Roanoke to DC can’t be that much of an anomaly.”
“Or we can stick with the plan we have so we stay alive while still transporting your ass even though there really isn’t any reason to other than the fact that we need answers from the DEX and handing you over is the only way to get them,” I said. “I vote for that.”
“Aye!” Lassa called out.
“Ditto,” Harper said and flipped the One Guy off.
“Your client relation skills are severely lacking,” he huffed.
“That’s why we have Sharon,” I said. “She smoothes over the rough edges we create.”
We sat in silence as Lassa navigated the country roads until he finally got us to rural Highway 311. Not that it was much of a highway. It was a glorified switchback up and over the ridges of the West Virginia/Virginia stretch of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The sun set behind us as Lassa pushed the car’s engine to get us across one last ridge before our descent into the Shenandoah Valley and Roanoke.
We hit a little town called Catawba, and Lassa pulled into a gas station. We didn’t need gas, but we did need the nice Land Rover that was sitting outside the country store attached to the gas station.
“I’ll watch the store,” Harper said. “Lassa, keep the car running. Chase, do your thing.”
Harper and I got out of the car and walked by the Land Rover. We glanced inside the store and spotted the driver instantly. He screamed of douche. I left Harper to keep an eye on him as the guy hunted the snack aisle.
I went back to the Land Rover and peeked inside. No one in there. Smoke began to pour from my palms as I formed a good sized box to wrap the SUV in. I kept glancing around, expecting someone to notice, but there were only a few cars on the road and it was dark enough that no one could really see me unless they looked hard.
Then I created the box, closed it, and scratched off a key. Poof, the car was gone into the Dim.
“Set,” I said and Harper rejoined me as we hurried to the Hyundai and got in.
“Go,” Harper said. “We’ll drive to the next closest pull-off and make the switch. Chase, you good?”
“I could eat all of that country store, but I’m not gonna pass out. I’m good,” I said as I tried to get comfortable in the backseat. “Move your ass over, will ya, pal?”
The One Guy shifted and made about an inch more space for me.
Lassa floored it and we were off and out of Catawba in a minute. Three miles later we spotted a good place to pull over and made the vehicle switch. Second stolen car came out of the Dim, first stolen car went in the Dim. Way easier than jacking a car straight out of a parking lot and leaving the old one for the cops to find.
“Where to now?” Lassa asked.
“Head to Roanoke and straight downtown,” Harper said.
“In the middle of town? Doesn’t seem safe,” the One Guy said.
“Depends on how good their disguise hexes are,” I replied. “I’m guessing they’ve put some work into them.”
“They have,” Harper responded. “They also have a mage that can wipe a mind clean with the snap of her fingers. Don’t give her a reason to, okay?”
“Not planning on it,” I said. “One Guy? Planning on getting yourself wiped?”
“Not today, no,” he said.
His attention was on the dark landscape outside as Lassa drove us down out of the mountain ridges and into civilization and Interstate 81. We weren’t too worried about State Troopers or local police spotting the Land Rover. Harper had given it a shimmer that made it hard to focus on. Cops would drive right past us without giving a second look. It was a small hex, barely detectable. A risk, but needed.
Once we stopped, though, that would be a different matter. We’d needed to ditch the vehicle fast in Roanoke and make our way to whatever rendezvous point Harper knew. Probably a bar.
It was a bar.
We were six blocks from where we ditched the Land Rover and walking into a bar that looked like a thousand bars in the South. Neon signs for various beer and liquor brands; jukebox playing 1970s rock which was the genre that transcended class and politics; semi-attractive waitress, but way overworked; gruff bartender that doubled as the bouncer. No question there was at least one baseball bat and one shotgun behind the bar.
“What can I get you?” the waitress asked as we sat down in a large, round corner booth, backs to the wall, eyes on the door. “Damn. You folks look like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet. I’m thinking whiskeys and beer backs?”
“Double that for all of us and you are thinking right,” Harper said.
“Be right back, y’all,” the waitress said as her eyes lingered on Lassa. She gave an extra wiggle as she walked away.
“No, pal,” I said. “We do not have time for Lassa love.”
“And she’ll eat you alive,” Harper said. “That’s Maaike. She’s a valkyrie.”
“Like as in Norse mythology?” I asked.
“Exactly like that,” Harper said. “Her real form would destroy Lassa in seconds.”
“You never know,” Lassa said. “I’ve been known to soothe even the most savage beast.”
“Not tonight, stud,” Harper said with a grin.
Good to see her smile. That meant she was relaxed enough to feel semi safe in the bar. That made me relax. I didn’t drop my guard, but I let my shoulders fall slightly. Or as much as my doppler shoulders could fall. Musclebound was an understatement.
“How does a valkyrie get exiled? And are we talking about Valhalla here? Is that a dimension?” I asked.
“Kind of and any being can get exiled if they are shitty enough,” Harper said.
“The bartender?” One Guy asked.
“I don’t know him,” Harper said.
“Smells like horse,” Lassa said as he let his yeti nose do some work. “Centaur?”
The bartender was busy pouring beers, but paused and turned in our direction.
“If he is then he’s a centaur with good hearing,” the One Guy said. “I would have thought the Moody Blues would have masked our conversation back here.”
Maaike was leaning h
er hip against the bar as she waited for our drinks, but she pushed away and turned to stare at us as well. The couple of patrons in the bar, an older man by the jukebox and a young woman that looked methed out by the bathrooms, stopped pretending to be nothing and straightened up. They focused on us.
“Teddy? Kill the music,” the bartender said as he pointed at the old man. “Diane? Lock the doors.”
The meth girl got up and she was definitely not on meth. Her body was healthy and toned and she walked with a confidence that made me slightly uncomfortable. There was death in that walk.
Not that there wasn’t death in the way Teddy moved. He grinned at us as he yanked the jukebox’s cord out of the wall. He had some serious canines behind that ratty mustache of his. Either he didn’t hex his teeth or he didn’t care if he showed them off. Probably kept punks off his back when he walked home late at night.
Maaike watched us for a second then snapped her fingers. The bartender turned his glare to her and she met his gaze. Something unspoken was communicated between them and the bartender continued pouring drinks until Maaike’s tray was full.
She carefully, making a show of it, walked our drinks over to us then set them down until her tray was empty. Setting the empty tray on a table close by, she grabbed a chair, spun it around and joined us as she straddled the chair.
“Talk fast and use wise words,” she said to us. “Feel free to drink up. Nothing in the drinks except maybe a little extra water to help with the profits.”
“Harper Kyles,” Harper said, extending her hand.
I have never seen Harper offer to shake with someone like that before. Sure, she shakes hands, but it’s always to either seal a deal or intimidate someone. This was an actual conciliatory gesture meant to show peace. I’d have made a crack about her showing her belly too, but that would probably have gotten one or all of us killed.
“Harper Kyles,” Maaike said, taking the hand, giving it a good shake, then letting go so she could focus on the rest of us. “Then this must be Lassa. I should have guessed with that pretty boy face and that . . . bod.”
