by Rainy Kaye
Thibaut cut the fan and we sailed into a halt, landing right in the middle of where all the activity had occurred last time we had tried to get the talisman.
I scanned the water, looking for signs of Louvel. Perhaps I could spit out my recently acquired French phrase before Thibaut chucked a spear at him, catch his attention, and prove to Thibaut I had a better plan this time.
Hoping that I did.
Thibaut shot to his feet. I sprang up next to him. He narrowed his eyes into the distance. In one swift move, he snagged a spear, spun around, and flung it over the top of the fan.
A grumbling roar followed. Randall and I dropped down as fire shot overhead in a steady stream as if from a flamethrower. The fire fizzled out, leaving the air scented with heat.
I tried to find my French phrase, but it was just sounds jumbled in my head, none of the letters in the right order.
Thibaut went for another spear. I did the only thing that came to mind: I kicked him, hard, in the ribs. He teetered on the edge of the boat, and then grabbed the seat. His head snapped up and he glared at me.
“You’re going to get us killed,” I said with a growl. “Just let me get the fuckin’ talisman, will ya?”
Without a word, he spun back around. I lunged at him and leapt on his back. He fell face first into the pile of spears. The boat rocked, and we started to slip toward the water. Using my bodyweight, I rolled us back into the boat, coming to a stop next to the seat.
Randall stepped over us and began gathering up the remaining spears. I worked my arms under Thibaut’s neck and tightened. He pushed up, rearing up so I was straddling his back. My legs flailed for purchase. He gave a shake and my feet dragged into the water. I kicked up and planted my soles onto the boat again as he pushed backwards. We stumbled, regained balance, and stilled. Then we fell overboard, face up.
I hit the water first, and his weight pushed me under. I released him and swam out from under him, pushing my head above the surface. My lungs burned as they expanded, and I was caught between coughing out water and sucking in deep breaths.
Thibaut flailed upright and swam along the boat, headed toward Louvel. Randall stood on the boat, expression wide, staring down at me.
I was done. Thibaut could go battle Louvel himself. Randall and I needed to get out of here.
I started to turn back for the boat, but the expression on Randall’s face hadn’t changed. I realized he wasn’t watching me at all.
Dread filled up my body, so heavy I thought I might sink. Muscles stiff, I worked myself around to see what he was staring at.
The fifteen-foot-long alligator paddled toward us.
Not us. Thibaut.
Thibaut was just about to round to the back of the boat.
I opened my mouth to shout a warning to him, but nothing came out.
The alligator was on him. It chomped down on his shoulder and with a grace that creature should not possess, it pulled him under.
No bubbles. No splashing. Thibaut was just…gone.
I would probably be next.
That thought spurred me into action. I swam the short distance to the boat, and Randall reached down to help me onboard. Water fell off me in streams as I staggered toward the controls.
“Any idea how—” I started to say.
The boat teetered, just enough to be noticeable. I jerked around as the alligator pulled itself on board with us, the boat struggling under its weight before recovering.
I scrambled up the lower seats to the top row by the fan. Randall dropped all but one of the spears.
The alligator pulled the last of its tail out of the water, filling up most of the floor space.
Randall pulled back to the spear, but his gaze darted up and down the alligator, as if undecided where to stab.
“The head,” I hissed. “Just do it.”
The alligator moseyed a few more steps and halted. Its thick skin rippled, as if it were disturbed water. He began to shift and change.
A moment later, a man with tan skin and dark hair flopping into his eyes sat in its place. Before either Randall or I could respond, he sprang up the seats, pushing past me, and landed in a crouch on the top of the fan cage.
He outstretched his arm off the back of the boat. “Puis-je avoir le talisman?”
I puckered my face. That was supposed to be my line.
Something made a small but solid splash. The no-longer-an-alligator leaped back down to the bottom of the boat and darted to the side.
A round silver medallion about the size of a half dollar coin floated in the water toward us. Blue light danced along its surface.
The talisman.
I scrambled back down the seats. The man swooped his hand in the water, snatched up the talisman, and turned toward me.
Just as I reached him, he opened his mouth and shoved the talisman inside. Then he shifted and melted down into an alligator.
I tried to process what had just happened. Even though I had no idea why he was here, I knew one thing: I had earned that damn talisman.
On further thought, how safe was something so powerful in the possession of this crazy shapeshifter?
Randall seemed to have the same conclusion because we both went at the alligator at the same time.
The alligator stepped forward and dropped straight off the boat, into the water. It floated a few feet away before it sank below the surface, taking my talisman with it.
10
Randall took the seat with the controls and started the airboat. The fan whirred up, propelling us forward.
I stood at the edge, gripping a seat as I watched where the alligator had disappeared to until it was out of sight.
With a huff, I turned back to Randall.
“That should have been our talisman. Besides, what if that guy has something bad planned for it?” I inched between the rows and dropped into the seat next to him. “I just want to find Fiona and go home.”
My voice choked on the last word. Home had been destroyed by a witch, much in the same way New Orleans was being ripped apart by a yet-to-be-seen mage. And five other cities were suffering similar fates. Joseph Stone had been sent by some consortium to clean up the mess. Once we found Fiona, Randall and I were out of here. I just had no idea where we would all go. There was nothing left in the direction we had come.
Randall didn’t seem to struggle much with controlling the boat, though that could have been partly credited to how easily the craft skimmed over both land and water. Short of hitting a tree dead on, there wasn’t much out here to stop us.
Except not knowing where we were going.
I turned my head to watch him. He was caked with dirt and sweat and had a split lip, but lately, this was a normal look for us. His arms appeared toner than usual, his chest defined by his damp t-shirt. He was the same Randall, but it was like I could see all the missing parts I hadn’t known to look for. He was resilient, resourceful. He had rose the occasion repeatedly now, even when the occasion defied logic.
The piece of him I found myself turning over in my mind was the subtle actions that had spoken most loudly: when he pushed me aside out of danger, when he came running at the sound of a fight. When he held my hand in reassurance.
Now, thinking back at how he used to hang at my house, sometimes for days on end, and I half-heartedly grumbled about him being underfoot, I realized he hadn’t been clinging to me—he had been, in some strange Randall-way, looking out for me. Checking in after I took on a naughty fairy. Making me coffee when I needed to do research all night. Not leaving me to be alone.
Nothing had been the same since I’d lost Jada. She used to be by my side, my best friend, my confidant. There was, when I allowed myself to acknowledge it, a dark emptiness where she had once been.
Randall could not replace her, but I had never fully appreciated him until now.
“We don’t have a lot of fuel left,” he said, breaking me from my thoughts.
The bayou stretched out before us.
“I
have no idea how to get back to town,” I said.
“We can’t really afford to guess.” He veered the boat toward the bank. “Let’s stop and make a plan.”
As the boat glided over ground, he turned off the fan and guided the boat through trees until it came to a stop.
He turned to look at me. “Not gonna lie. I’m entirely turned around.”
I nodded stiffly, dread filling up my stomach. Part of me had been coasting on the hope Randall had a better sense of how to get out of this maze of water and wet dirt than I did. Now I wasn’t sure what we were going to do.
Randall stood but stayed near the seat, surveying the distance. The world around us was still, but it did not feel peaceful. It seemed anything could happen at any moment, and no one would be near enough to witness it or help.
I still had so many questions about what had transpired in the bayou, but right now, we had to focus on getting out of here.
Randall crossed to the edge of the boat and hopped down. I pushed to my feet to follow after him, though an irrational part of me hesitated as I left the boat. Like it would disappear the moment we stepped off from it.
I scanned the area, looking for any clue we had been through here before. The trees all looked the same. Even the waterways didn’t look distinctly different from each other. I wanted to believe we had seen this gentle curve of land before on our way in, but when I peered past the trees to the other side, there was another slope that could have been the one I was thinking of.
We were lost.
Randall stood at the base of a tall cypress tree and stared straight up at it until my neck hurt just watching him.
I trotted over to him. “Do you wanna build a treehouse?”
“Does it have to be a treehouse?” He flashed me a tired smile, eyes crinkling at the corner. There was something in it, a feeling I couldn’t quite place, that made my heart happy.
If I had to die in a bayou with the town outside being destroyed by an evil mage, then I would rather it be with Randall.
Of course, I would rather not die at all.
I stood next to him and looked up. “What are you contemplating?”
“If there is some way for us to climb to the top so we can see into the distance, maybe figure out which direction we should be heading.”
“This tree is like seventy-five feet tall or something,” I said, the tone betraying just how exhausted I felt. “Do you remember how much I struggled getting over a cemetery wall to summon Arlo’s grandmother?”
A half-grin cracked on Randall’s face. He started to say something, but his expression darkened as he turned to take in the distance.
I followed his gaze. The gold magic streamer, the kind that seemed to turn people into something demonic when it touched them, was floating down the bayou, weaving high through the trees.
It headed toward us.
“Are you friggin’ serious…” I muttered.
It might have been my imagination, but it seemed to be picking up speed.
As if on cue, Randall and I charged back to the boat. I dropped into the driver seat and started the engine before Randall had even sat. The fan roared to life and the boat slid into the water, not too unlike an alligator. Fumbling with the controls, I guided the boat in an arch away from the oncoming streamer of magical mayhem and cranked up the speed.
A thought stirred in the back of my brain. The streamer was likely the one we had seen from the parade, since there was no logical answer where else it would have come from. If that was true, then it was possible this streamer had come from the house, and it was in fact, just working its way through the area.
“We have to turn back,” I shouted over the fan, but didn’t change directions.
Randall shot me a look like I had lost my mind, and I wasn’t ready to rule that out yet.
“If we follow the streamer, I think it’ll guide us back to the house,” I said. “From there, it won’t be far to get back into the city.”
He seemed to battle with the reality that this might be our only guide out of the swamp, but it might also kill us, or worse.
His body tensed as I veered the boat in a U-turn. We shot forward, toward the streamer. It waved in the air only a few feet above the boat. I hunched down, trying to make myself as small as possible.
Up ahead, the streamer split off into several, and they snaked through the air, disappearing out of sight. I peered up at the beguiling display, unable to fathom what kind of magic someone had to possess to cause something like this.
Except, according to the children, there was only one type of magic, and it was the one I commanded. If I hadn’t somehow missed the crucial step of developing my powers, what would have kept me from falling off the deep end like the witch and mage and the five other creatures currently obliterating cities across the globe?
Nothing, it seemed, except the desire not to.
What a precarious solution.
The streamers began to lower, moving through the air as if it were water.
I twisted a little to look up at it. “Um, Randall…”
He growled, surveying the area as if he could find a weapon to use against it, and I maneuvered the boat from under the streamers. They shifted in little billowing moves, sidewinding toward us.
I bit my lip, staring straight ahead as I followed along the streamers, veering the boat ever so slightly to keep them from being able to easily touch us. It wasn’t foolproof; a good gust of wind was all that stood between us and being turned into carnival demons.
The boat hit the side of the water and kept going, half across land lengthwise.
A streamer ducked low and swiped at us. Releasing the controls, I hit the floor, stomach down, as it barely passed over me. Heat danced along my skin in its wake.
After a moment, I dared to look up. Randall inched from behind a seat where he had taken cover.
A cracking sound filled the air. I popped straight up like a ferret. The streamer of doom had swung straight into the line of trunks near us. The trees swayed then toppled in our direction.
I darted for the controls and yanked the boat out of the path as the trees crashed into the water almost in domino-like succession. Randall and I stared wide-eyed as the trunks began to sink below the surface.
Randall cleared his throat. “I don’t want to say that thing just tried to kill us, but…”
The streamer swung back toward us. I skirted the boat toward the other bank. The streamer kept going into the next line of trees, right next to us.
“Dammit.” I pulled the boat back out to the opposite side as the trees toppled into the water.
Branches scraped the side of our boat, and a twig yanked my hair. I grabbed the twig and twisted it free, and then tossed it into the water.
As the streamer swung back like a pendulum for the next round, I wove the boat around the submerging trees. Just before the streamer reached shore, it snapped back, hard and low. It slammed into the side of the boat.
The boat tilted out of the water. Randall stumbled into me. A seat caught us before we fell into the murk. The boat seemed to stall for a moment, before it continued to turn over.
I scrambled out from under Randall as we plunged into the water and grappled onto one of the fallen trees just as the boat began to go under. With all the upper body strength I could muster, I yanked myself up and out of the swamp, throwing my leg over the log. Gritting my teeth, I shoved my palms against the bark and got my feet under me. I half-crawled, half-waddled my way across the log, headed for shore. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Randall as he swam through the murk, using a different fallen tree as a guide to keep himself aligned with the shore.
When I reached land, I hopped off the log and turned to watch as Randall pulled himself from the murk, a bit like a swamp creature. We staggered to each other and then turned to watch as the streamer vibrated in the air above the water, as if contemplating its next move.
I liked it better before I realized it was someh
ow sentient.
A loud glug announced the end of our little fan boat as it disappeared below the water.
“Town must be that way,” I whispered, pointing up ahead, in the direction the streamer faded into the distance.
Randall gave a tight nod, and we huddled together as we moved among the trees, keeping an eye on the streamer as if it were a snake that would strike once it got our signature. Our only hope was to not catch its attention.
As we trudged onwards, glimpses of the house flashed through the trees. Without a word, Randall and I picked up our pace in unison, charging straight for the building. The streamers had broken out all the windows and jutted in every direction. They hung in the air like decorations for a child’s birthday party.
We ducked around them, careful not to touch any, as we made our way past the house and back toward town. Just as we cleared the last of the streamers, my footing slipped. I hit the ground on my ass, and pain centered in my tailbone. My palms went to the grass as the earth beneath me shook. My vision wobbled, and I squeezed my eyes shut until it passed.
Except it didn’t. The ground shook harder, chattering my teeth. A deep, dark rumble filled the air. It pressed into my ears until my head felt crammed full and ready to crack open.
“What…the…actual…” I said between pants. I pushed my hands against the ground so hard that my biceps ached.
“Come on,” Randall hissed from somewhere nearby, though I couldn’t find my sense of direction. My brain seemed to be spinning.
I focused on righting my senses and pushing away the nauseated feeling in my stomach. My eyes fluttered open.
The world was engulfed in white. I struggled to my feet, and then waved the dust from in front of my face before covering my mouth with one hand. I blinked away the grit in my eyes, trying to locate Randall.
His shadow moved through the haze toward me. He found my free hand with his fingers, and he guided me forward, away from the house. As we entered back into town, the dust had started to settle. We stared in one direction down the road and then the other. Words died in my throat.
