Girl on a Tombstone

by Mia Strange

  “And?” Eli said.

  “He stole your last orange.”

  Eli raised his eyebrows, and I had to hand it to him, he didn’t say anything. The Bone Man and I exchanged wary looks. We knew from experience not to say one word. Eli’s prized oranges were legendary. It took forever to grow them.

  Turk walked toward us with the same slow measured steps he used on stage. Exotic feathers, anchored throughout his long dreadlocks, fluttered behind him like a flurry of bright ribbons. A prized peacock feather spun and twisted and turned. The eye of the iridescent green and gold feather winked at us.

  Twenty—three—old Turk walked with supreme confidence, showing no fear as he approached the great cat. Except for a scowl, he ignored the monkey. Charms of silver were knotted through his hair, clinking together like tiny bells playing an off tune. The sound announced his arrival to both animals. They heard, and watched his every movement.

  A born predator, the huge panther saw Turk and stopped short. Massive jaws opened and bone—white fangs flashed in the moonlight. The animal released a growl so loud, it could have shattered windows and cracked a crystal ball, echoed through the night. The crystals covering the clock faces from up above, shook, vibrated, and started to move. I looked up and was amazed to see the glass pieces rotating madly.

  Kong screeched and dug his little monkey fingers into the thick folds of the panther’s neck.

  Turk stopped, cocked his head, and waited.

  I held my breath.

  A natural born male panther weighed in around one ninety, tops. But this cat, born of dark magic in the jungles of Myanmar, and raised by a witch doctor, was supernatural. This panther weighed in at just over five hundred pounds.

  Massive jaws clamped closed and his gold eyes narrowed with suspicion. It was as Jin would say using a quote from her love of vintage Tarantino movies, “A Mexican standoff.” It was possible there would be no clear winner tonight.

  Even the monkey froze.

  I searched Turk’s chest, trying to see which of his tattoos were still in place. I could plainly see the mane of the lion as it wrapped partly around his torso. I knew the head of an Asian elephant, complete with huge ivory tusks, was inked across his back. I knew a Boa Constrictor wrapped around one leg. A King Cobra, on the other.

  Folding my hands, I sent a prayer into the wind, asking that the snakes were not slithering around The Bone Man’s ankles about now. It was hard to tell which one of us feared the snakes more. Guess you could always tell by who screamed the loudest and the longest. Last time, The Bone Man won. But in fairness, I might have passed out.

  I knew the raptor, a magnificent Bald Eagle, fanned its beautiful wings across Turk’s left hip and buttocks. A Siberian tiger rested on his other hip, stretched out in a prone position, with eyes closed, as if sleeping. The tiger was still there. I could just make out some of his stripes over the sagging waistline of Turk’s jeans.

  The giant cat looked harmless in his slumber. But trust me, the tiger, when awakened, was anything but. Once, I watched horrified as the animal took on ten men, killing them all in under two minutes. Granted, they were very bad men, but still. . .

  The patch high on Turk’s right ribcage consisted of blurred, marred flesh, resembling a burn. The area was vacant. The panther, as I liked to say, wasn’t home. Nope. He was standing right in front of me, his midnight coat winking with green glitter the color of emeralds.

  Now I remembered. This was the big cat we had used in our last show. A cat that, like me, hadn’t called it a night yet.

  Missing of course was the monkey. Kong. Short for King Kong, the monkey made up what he lacked in stature, with attitude. Between King Kong and Jin, it was amazing anyone in the Academy had any sanity left. Yet alone got any sleep.

  Kong usually sprawled across Turk’s shoulder holding whatever object he had recently stolen. And like a choker necklace, his long, wiry tale wrapped around Turk’s neck. This area, too, looked blank and disfigured.

  As if on cue, Kong, sensing what was coming, leapt through the air, landing hard on Dark’s shoulder. Dark grabbed for him, but Kong was too fast. With a squeal, he leapt again, this time landing on top of The Madison. The little creep grabbed my Cornucopia along the way.

  “Hey,” I yelled.

  “Not now, Skye,” Dark said.

  “Why are there two?” The Bone Man’s question got our attention right back on track. Because, as they used to say, there was the rub.

  Never once had Turk’s magic extended to more than one tattoo animating at once. Only one could be called. Only one could be brought to life.

  Only one.

  At.

  A.

  Time.

  That was how his magic worked.

  Until it didn’t.

  I held my breath as Turk shed his coat and let it drop to the ground. He put on his other glove and rolled his massive shoulders. And even though it was winter—cold, I could see a thin sheen of sweat on his upper body. Whatever had transpired this night, it had Turk hot. And bothered.

  He yanked a charm, in the shape of a crescent moon, from one of his dreads, and threw it to the pavement. The silver sparked and the scent of both sage and sulfur filled the air. Crushing the charm under the heel of his boot, the metal smoldered and smoked, and began to melt.

  Turk’s magic spread.

  Like a bucket of spilled water, the silver liquefied and ran over the ground, pooling under the massive paws of the great cat. The panther began to circle, round and round, becoming smaller and smaller with each completed loop. Like Alice in Wonderland, the animal shrunk and shrunk, and shrunk some more, until finally, he looked no larger than a common house cat.

  Turk picked up the little cat that now looked so harmless and cute and fuzzy. He held the animal to his chest. The cat purred. The crystals on the clocks above us stilled. The November wind calmed. The peacock feather fluttered one last time, then settled, draped in front of Turk’s shoulder. The little cat batted at it.

  Turk raised his head and looked at me with eyes that would not smile. Eyes that had not smiled once, not once, since we lost Maddie.

  I see you made your way home, Skye,” he said. There was no warmth in his words. “Yet again.”

  “Turk,” Dark said softly, but the warning in his voice was unmistakable. “Don’t start. Not tonight.”

  Turk sighed. Then nodded.

  The little cat continued to purr and play with the feather. Turk’s frown made the tip of his eyes crease, and the tiny tattooed African bees that circled in a crescent wave around his left eye seemed to move in the tiny lines.

  “Turk. I’ve got to tend to Skye.”

  “How bad is it this time? Anyone die?”

  My stomach dropped, and that familiar squeeze of soul crushing guilt threaten to break my heart all over again. He would never let me forget about my role in losing Maddie.

  And wrong or right, he couldn’t be harder on me that I was on myself.

  “Stop, Turk. We all need rest tonight. Now. What about Kong?” Dark frowned and motioned over his shoulder at the monkey. Kong held the horn to his ear like he needed it to hear. “Need help with the catch?”

  Kong screeched and shook his head no.

  “Leave him for tonight, Doc. We both know Kong won’t leave the train.” Turk shook his head. “Together these two have had me running in circles for hours. But the panther? A hunter and a born predator? I couldn’t be sure what he would do left unattended.”

  “Good call,” Eli said. “The magic in this place is fucking with you, Turk. There’s no other way to say it.

  Turk nodded his head. “Agreed.”

  “If we stay here much longer, it’s bound to fuck with all of us,” Eli added.

  Turk nodded and jumped off the running board. I watched as he swooped down, snatched up his coat. He melted into the shadows. A moment later, a flash of light lit up the night, and I knew that the panther was once more in tattoo form.

  I heard the metal
on metal grating of a railcar door as it slid open. I looked up the line. It was Jin’s railcar. The car, covered in wide, sweeping, brilliant graffiti, was impossible to miss. She poked her head out.

  “King Kong!” Jin squealed as she spotted the monkey. Kong let out another screech and flew past me— with the Cornucopia in his hands.

  “Hey,” I shouted after him.

  The monkey ran straight to Jin, jumped into her arms, turned back around, and stuck his little tongue out at me. Jin slammed the slider door shut before anyone could tell her to put the damn monkey down, grab Pilot’s hat, hand over the Cornucopia, and don’t eat the orange.

  “Did you guys see that? The little thief. Thieves,” I added throwing Jin under the train.

  The Bone Man smiled. Eli shook his head. “You’ll get it back.”

  “Kong hangs with Jin because together the two of them with their sticky little fingers can tag team all the Krylon cans in a fifty—mile radius. The little kleptomaniacs.” I added.

  “Are you telling on them?” Dark raised that annoying eyebrow of his.

  “Hell yeah.”

  “Let’s go,” he said. “And don’t worry. I’ll deal with the little ‘kleptos’ as you would have me call them, later.” He flashed a smile and shook his head.

  It was so good to see his smile. I was ready for the beard to disappear so I could watch that dimple of his make another appearance. Maybe, just maybe, tonight would turn out okay after all.

  “I see a soaking tub in my future,” I said feeling more positive than I had a right to. “My near future.” Eli didn’t respond, he just turned away to lock up The Madison.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” I said to The Bone Man.

  He gave me a half—hearted smile. Shifting me in his arms to cinch up the camp blanket, The Bone Man stepped down from the running boards. He started to walk toward the front railcars that belonged to Dr. Dark.

  The night held the morning captive and inky darkness still covered everything. That’s why I didn’t see him. I had forgotten about him . . . almost.

  But once again, I felt him. Those invisible, boney fingers started to tap dance along my spine once more.

  Dagger suddenly appeared, and as if on cue his hackles rose. His lips curled, revealing wicked canine teeth. A growl started low in the dog’s throat. A film of frothy, white saliva formed around his jaws and dripped to the pavement. The dog snapped and bit at the dark. He trotted in front of us, stopped, lowered his head and let out a thunderous bark. There could be no mistaking the warning coming from the huge dog.

  The Bone Man came to a halt.

  “Enough, Dagger.” Dark emerged from behind us and walked up to place a hand on the dog’s head.

  Eli’s transformation was once again complete. The ancient Dr. was gone, and the young Elijah Dark, stood at the front. As usual, he was ready to take on the threat, whatever it may be.

  Eli pulled a scarab from his pocket, and the wings parted just enough to lift the shadow in front of us. He nodded an acknowledgement. “Traveler.”

  “Elijah.” Traveler Hale materialized from the shadows. His appearance was uncanny, chilling even. He moved with a grace and silence, that only magic could explain. Mysterious and spooky, there was only one word to describe the kind of magic Traveler Hale carried within him.

  Black magic.

  18

  Traveler Hale’s magic was black, dangerous, and powerful.

  Hale considered the magic a curse. Dr. Dark, oddly enough, embraced it. And the rest of us? Feared it.

  You see Traveler Hale, the mystery, the enigma, the oh—so—strange, was a necromancer.

  Death was his canvas. Black magic, his brush. In a landscape such as ours, littered with so much death, he had no trouble assembling a palette of bodies.

  Traveler Hale could not only raise the dead, he could speak with them. In foreign languages, in ancient tongues, with sign, there seemed to be no dialect that could stump him. He could raise anywhere. The only thing he needed was the veil of night. That and a ‘dash’ as he liked to say, of human blood.

  There was no darker magic, not on any continent, not in any world. At times, the dead surrounded him more than the living.

  I’m not going to lie. Even after two years with us, most of the time? He scared me. Adding to his already creepy mystique, Hale suffered from a rare disorder that kept him forever in the darkness, cocooned against the sunlight. His extreme allergy to the sun left him photosensitive to the extreme. Sunlight was his enemy. Even our gray, dismal skies were too much for his pale skin, for his blank, black eyes.

  So, for the last two years, while we slept, he roamed the night. He guarded the train, and he watched the rails. He played poker with Darius, keeping the demon entertained, so we weren’t awakened in the middle of the night by a temper tantrum called from the depths of Hell.

  And sometimes? In my dreams?

  I thought he watched me sleep.

  That familiar involuntary shiver passed through my body once again

  Traveler and Eli stood face to face. They would normally shake hands in greeting, a formality that Hale preferred. But tonight, it would have been impossible to shake, because Traveler carried his pet in the palm of his hand.

  A large Mexican Brown Tarantula rolled over his hands. Yes, rolled. The creature had been found in the canyons of Sedona, dying. Its legs had been eaten away by wasps. Traveler, with his dark magic, had saved the spider and transformed it by crafting moving cogs, working wheels, for the spider to maneuver on. The small fangs of the spider gleamed as it rolled from palm to palm, as if pacing.

  I couldn’t help myself. I watched, fascinated. It was all just so unusual and weird and creepy.

  “So glad to have you back, Skye St John.” Traveler did that formal bow of his, a habit that he brought with him from his homeland in Eastern Europe.

  Oh no. Just damn it no. Not tonight.

  He just used my last name. With a bow. Traveler Hale was only this formal when he wanted something from me.

  And that something?

  Was always my blood.

  The Bone Man stood rigid and tightened his grip around me. So, it wasn’t just my imagination. He’d picked up on it, too. Traveler Hale was glad to see me, but for all the wrong reasons.

  “What is it, Hale?” Eli asked.

  “A body.”

  “Here? At the station?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?” Eli demanded.

  “Close. Behind the wolves’ railcar.”

  “Tell me they do not roam free tonight, Traveler.” Eli looked to the full moon. “That would be a disaster in so many ways.”

  “No. Of course not. And while I admit, the Lycans are not my favorite, I know to keep them safe under the pull of the moon.” He looked at me and I tried not to shudder. “Especially on a night such as this. And in a place, such as this.”

  Eli cocked his head. The wheels in that magnificent brain of his had started to turn again.

  Traveler broke the silence first. “I apologize. This is the epitome of bad timing, I realize.”

  “It is,” Eli agreed. “What do you need?”

  Traveler continued to pass his spider back and forth, from hand to hand. It was both mesmerizing and disturbing.

  “Skye,” Traveler said softly.

  What? Just like that? No lead up? No softening the blow? Whatever happened to the art of easing into bad news? Something like, well there are options. . .

  Damn it. Just fucking damn it. My head ached, my wound throbbed and burned, my entire body felt like the Dark Horse had hit me. This night? Will. Never. End.

  I didn’t care, body or not, I was not going to do it.

  Eli shook his head. “No. She’s not up to the task. She is injured.”

  Thank you, Eli.

  “There really is no choice,” Traveler said, not taking his eyes off his spider.

  “I disagree,” Eli countered. “There is always a choice. Even if it isn’t the best
one—”

  “No. Not tonight, Eli.” Traveler looked at me. “There is only one.”

  “Now just you wait—”

  “Wait a minute—”

  The Bone Man and I stumbled over each other’s words. We not only did it often. We did it loud.

  Eli shook his head. “You two,” he held up his hand. “One at a time.”

  I opened my mouth to protest. “And,” Eli continued, “I’ll go first.” He turned to Traveler. “Explain.”

  Traveler took a long step closer, and The Bone Man, like a big brother in protection mode, took a step back. Dagger went crazy with the snapping and barks, until finally, Eli had to restrain the dog by grabbing his red collar.

  Traveler shook his head in an apology. “I’m sorry to upset the animal. I kept my distance tonight with Turk. I didn’t think I could help—”

  “And why is that, Hale? Why is it that animals,” The Bone Man paused, “that animals don’t like you much?” The Bone Man left the underlying real question hanging silently between us.

  Why is it, no one seems to like you much?

  We had all been thinking this for a long time. Tonight? It almost became a real question. The Bone Man had pretty much put it out there.

  Hale’s eyes narrowed and for a moment, a trick of moonlight played against his black irises. I could have sworn I saw a flash of amber, a low, golden glow, reflecting from his eyes.

  I looked again. There was nothing. Only blackness.

  Eli cut off any response. “It’s fine. We all know Turk can handle his animals.” He looked pointedly at the two of us. “However, this is not good for Skye. Not now. She’s been through too much.”

  “Yeah,” I echoed reaching up to finger the bald spot on my head. “A whole hell of a lot.” I squinted into the darkness toward Hale. He needed to go away. I had some serious soaking to do. Plus, I had lost enough blood for one night. I’d be damned if he would get one drop more.

  “Yep. Not a good time for her,” The Bone Man added. “So, goodnight, Hale.”

  “I’m sorry to upset you,” said Traveler in a voice that tried to hold back the impatience simmering underneath it. “But this is a dark discovery, I’m afraid. One that may put us all at risk. Dawn is approaching.” He glanced at the night sky. “Time is critical.”