by Lex Chase
Taylor cupped his cheek and considered Ray’s words. “Seems like a pretty convincing theory. But it’s just a theory.”
“It’s the best one I got right now. And I’m pretty sure I just got proof about the army.” Ray tilted his chin toward Corentin. “I see you’re here reporting for duty.”
Corentin took a step forward, and again Taylor blocked him. Corentin growled as he lost his temper. “You listen to me, you fucker—”
“That’s enough!” Taylor barked and held Corentin by his coat lapels. “Stop. Now.”
Corentin and Taylor locked gazes, and Taylor kept his expression stern as Corentin’s wrathful glare made him internally cower. He refused to show how Corentin was getting under his skin. Corentin batted Taylor’s hands away with a hard flick and stepped away.
When Corentin didn’t say anything, Taylor returned to the topic in question. “Idi is not behind it. Only one Enchant can cause a nor’easter like this. It’s my brother, Atticus. This is the Tranquil Frost.”
“You don’t know that,” Corentin said with a growl.
“I know it!” Taylor snapped back.
Corentin fell silent, crossed his arms, and looked away with a scowl.
Taylor watched him check out of the conversation.
Ray, on the other hand, seemed to let them quibble and remain unflappable. “Atticus Hatfield went missing after Idi’s death in Kansas. Or was that a lie?”
Taylor sighed. The truth would come out sooner or later, but if his father had his way, it would be never. “Atticus was committed to a mental institution specializing in Enchants after I took down Idi,” he said sadly. “My parents spun the story, of course. Snow White in a psych ward doesn’t sound particularly PR-friendly in their circles.”
Taylor looked to Corentin for support, and Corentin’s expression softened as Taylor stepped toward him. Corentin rested a hand on Taylor’s shoulder, and Taylor nodded, thankful for the kindness.
“Early this morning, I got the call that Atticus went missing,” Taylor said. “The storm led me to believe this was his doing. We came here to investigate and get him back.”
“You’re telling me he escaped,” Ray said, but something in his expression looked like he wasn’t buying it. “You don’t think he was let out? So, it’s true he went over to the witches.” He shot a glance to Corentin. “I’m sure you know about that.”
Taylor tightened his grip on Corentin before he could lash out again.
Corentin growled. “Don’t group us all together.”
“A witch is a witch, Axeman,” Raymond said in derision, but the name made Taylor stumble.
“What did you say?” Taylor looked at Corentin, silently asking for clarity, but Corentin’s grim expression wouldn’t provide the answers.
“Both of you, stop. Just stop, okay?” Taylor growled. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but if Ray can help, I’m willing to hear him out.”
Corentin narrowed his eyes. Taylor knew he was moments away from completely losing control of his temper. If he did, Taylor would have to unleash Zee to put him in his place. Ringo was right: Taylor had a deadly weapon that he didn’t know how to use. If push came to shove with Corentin, Taylor didn’t know if he would stop him or mash him into a paste.
“I think the royals should talk,” Ray said, glaring a challenge at Corentin.
Taylor’s grip eased on Corentin’s arm. He gave Corentin a silent pleading look.
“Right,” Corentin grunted. “It’s a princess thing.” The way he said it was like a slap across Taylor’s jaw. He turned sharply on his heel. Before Taylor could get a word in, Corentin stalked off across Jackson Square to Café du Monde.
Taylor turned helplessly to Ray. “We have the same goal, to get to the bottom of this. You need to knock this off,” he pleaded.
“Knock what off?” Ray asked, and Taylor balked. “Do you have any idea what that thing is?”
“Hey now,” Taylor said as his indignation rose. “His name is Corentin Devereaux. Him being a Cronespawn doesn’t mean he’s evil. He’s a good person and I love him.”
Ray whistled. The sound set Taylor’s teeth on edge. “He’s got you good.”
Taylor squeaked in disgust. “Excuse me? What the fuck gives you the right to judge him like that?”
Ray narrowed his eyes. It seemed his irritation had shifted from Corentin to Taylor. “You really don’t know?” he asked dubiously. “He’s a legend here. I never thought I’d see him in person, and with a princess at his side, of all things.”
Taylor pressed his lips together in a tight line and clenched his fists. “He’s a huntsman. I know. I’m aware of what he’s done in his past.”
“He’s not just a huntsman.”
Taylor halted, silenced by Ray’s words. He shook his head once and searched his mind for what Ray meant. With the terse tone of the conversation, Taylor wasn’t sure what Ray could say next and if it was simply to get a reaction.
“What are you talking about?” Taylor asked softly, whispering his question, though he wished he could take it back and remain ignorant.
Ray looked him in the eye, his green eyes like burning acid, and Taylor’s bravery waned. “That man, as you call him.” Ray pointed to Corentin, pacing back and forth in front of the café, clearly frustrated. “You say you love him, but he’s lied to you so much you’re blind. That’s his thing. Blinding people to the truth, where they feel nothing but sympathy for him. You even go to bat for him. It’s just how he wants it.”
“You seem to have a lot of opinions about him,” Taylor said and doubted Ray’s explanation. “From the theory about Idi, to who Corentin is, you thought these theories so far out, you’ve convinced yourself they’re true.”
Ray wiggled his hand in a gesture of uncertainty. “The theory about Idi is the best so far. But I could be wrong. And I’m open to being disproved about it.” He pointed toward Corentin as Corentin ran both of his hands through his hair and then shook them out. “Now that thing? I’m not wrong.”
“He’s not a thing,” Taylor insisted. “Corentin is my true love. If you think I’m going to stand by as we try to help one another, and you try to constantly insult him, you have another thing coming.”
Ray frowned. “Listen. I’m trying to help you out of the deepest respect, Sleeping Dragon.”
“Help?” Taylor asked in disbelief. “Why do I need help?”
“What if I told you this man you love, this man you trust and insist on protecting, has no intention of doing the same? In fact, it’s much worse than that,” Ray said as they watched each other. “You’re the latest to be caught in the Axeman’s web.”
Ray’s words hit Taylor like a punch in his ribs. He clutched his chest as his heart raced. Two days ago, an all-too-happy kindergartener had scrawled a disturbing stick figure of what she called the Axeman. She had said he lived in her backyard, and the sentiment made Taylor’s skin prickle then, and it made him shiver now.
Not only was the incident subtly creepy at the time, it confirmed something else Taylor had once decided to deny.
He studied Ray’s expression to understand if he could believe him to tell the truth. “Have you heard of the Queen of Hearts and the Library?”
“Fuck!” Corentin roared from across the street.
Taylor jumped at the outburst, and Ray held out a protective arm.
“Corentin!” Taylor hollered as he slipped around Ray’s arm and ran after him.
“Bitch took my wallet!” Corentin shouted and darted after an escaping pickpocket.
“Dammit,” Taylor grunted. “Ringo!” he hollered over his shoulder.
In a puff of gold glitter, Ringo appeared at Taylor’s side, his arms laden with two éclairs. “Got you some donuts.”
“Later,” Taylor said. “We got drama.”
Ringo looked up, and together they watched Corentin dash down the snowy road. “You kids.”
Taylor understood Ringo’s exasperation as they hurried after.<
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Chapter 11: Run Away! Run Away!
May 6
Moonwalk along the Mississippi River
WHERE DID she go? Even without a hunting dog, Corentin would sniff her out.
In his fury, the time change from midnight May 5th into May 6th slammed into his chest. He stumbled, and his momentum carried him across the slippery ice. Corentin flailed before latching on to sidewalk railing. He maintained focus and bolted off again.
He dashed down the ruins of Decatur Street, skipping over the snowbanks and clambering over debris for a higher vantage point. As he stood atop what used to be Jax Bistro, he caught sight of his prey.
A flash of pink hair whisked by his peripheral vision. He picked up the trail once again and leaped into the cavernous shell of the souvenir shop across the street.
The woman with the pink hair darted by the broken window, and Corentin dived out onto the street in an attempt to tackle her. He missed and rolled helplessly into a fluffy snowbank.
Taylor rounded the corner, with Ray puffing and panting at his side.
Corentin shoved his way out of the snow, then started off again, following the brilliance of pink hair.
“Where are you going?” Taylor called out to him.
“Follow her!” Corentin yelled back. “She’s got my wallet!”
He ran onward, figuring sometimes the best way to have a chase is just to follow in a straight line.
Only it was all for naught when she turned a corner once again and Corentin slipped, his momentum carrying him straight into a lamppost. He caught himself on the frigid metal, the fibers of his glove sticking to the surface. The heat of his chem pack thawed the frost and caused him to slingshot into the street. His hand stung with the icy moisture sinking into his glove.
He hurried along, tracking where he last saw her. Deciding she went toward the Moonwalk, he went on.
Taylor and Ringo appeared out of the corner of his eye, with Ray close behind.
“The Moonwalk,” Corentin instructed as they ran.
Ray stopped, huffing and puffing for breath. “You two… go ahead…. I can’t keep up with… you kids….”
Ringo hesitated by Ray. “I’ll stay behind with him. You guys got this, and I’ll be there in a second if there’s trouble.”
Corentin nodded, and Taylor fell in step. They dashed off, following the stream of pink hair.
“How the hell can she run that fast?” Taylor asked as they hurried.
“Anything is possible when you’re motivated enough,” Corentin said. “And I’m pretty fucking motivated.” Before Taylor could ask, Corentin threw his arm out in front of Taylor, forcibly making him stop or risk crashing into Corentin and getting clotheslined.
“What did you do that for?” Taylor growled.
Corentin pointed at the streetcar rails running the length of the frozen Mississippi, the rail lines just exposed enough to indicate their existence.
Taylor gave him a questioning look. “How much did you have in your wallet?”
“Enough,” Corentin said as he narrowed his eyes from the cold.
“It’s only money,” Taylor tried to plead with him. “It’s not a big deal.”
“I don’t care about the money,” Corentin said and gnashed his teeth.
Even without a hunting dog, Corentin would capture his prey. The snow crested and rolled like dunes of beach sand. And there it was. Footprints leading the way.
“Getting sloppy,” Corentin said and traced the path down the rails.
Taylor followed, and they studied the tall fluffy banks, looking for clues.
On the center rail, a snowbank rose and crested into a jagged monument between them. There the footsteps ended.
Corentin and Taylor glanced at each other. “Streetcar,” Corentin mouthed to Taylor and pointed. He gestured for Taylor to circle the back and he’d take the front, blocking both entry points.
She was in here, and Corentin would ferret her out. It was more important than the money. She could keep every last dime. It wasn’t even the principle of the thing. It was just a simple series of objects tucked into his billfold that meant more than any sum of money could replace. Bits of his own soul.
Corentin listened to the clickkity-click of her high heels, then puzzled how the hell she even ran in those things. She was agitated, pacing back and forth and mumbling to herself. If she was confused and upset, it made her sloppy, dangerous, or likely both.
As she paced, the snow around the streetcar fell away bit by bit. Corentin ducked out of sight when the snow dropped from the windows and gathered around his feet. Taylor did the same, staying low.
“What the hell are y’all doing?” Ray grumbled as he caught up to them. He made a B-line for the streetcar door.
“Wait!” Taylor and Corentin shouted in unison.
But it was too late. The girl darted out, aiming directly for Ray and seeming to make every attempt to bowl him over. Ringo was with him and seemed just as confused at Ray’s tactics for direct confrontation.
She didn’t make it that far. Ray flicked his ear, as if tossing back an imaginary lock of hair. Instead, a lock of spun gold curls shot up from the snow and ensnared the girl around the ankle. She tumbled forward and collided with him. Ray grasped her hard, and the jolt sent Corentin’s duct-taped wallet skidding over the sidewalk and onto the iced grass.
Ringo hung back and whistled. “Phantom Rapunzel hair magic stuff. That’s kinda nifty.”
Corentin bypassed her and chased his wallet.
She struggled in Ray’s grip.
“Gave us a lot of trouble, didn’t ya?” Ray jerked her closer. “What the hell would you want with a wallet? Oh? Yeah? I think I know.”
“Dust…,” she said, her voice rough from inhaling cold air. “Please. I just wanted Dust.”
Corentin snatched his wallet from the frozen grass and fished out a handful of bills. He didn’t keep track of the amount. He had written down the total he started with, so he’d just subtract what was missing at the end of the night.
Corentin took the initiative. He reached out to hand her the money, only to have Ray bat away his hand.
“Don’t you get it?” Ray said. “She’s a fucking Duster. That’s what she’s taking the money for.”
Corentin withdrew the money from her line of sight. “Duster?”
Ray jerked her straight to her feet as if displaying her like a mannequin. “This? This here is the face of an Enchant drug addict.”
She shivered and moaned in Ray’s grasp. “Please…,” she said. “I’ll do anything you want.”
Taylor frowned and shot a worried glance to Corentin. “Look.” He tilted his chin to indicate her clothes, or what passed for clothes in these below-freezing temperatures—a silver sequined miniskirt, stiletto heels, short thin jacket, and plunge-neck bustier that left zero to the imagination.
“Are you cold?” Corentin asked her.
“What’s it matter?” Ray hissed.
“Are you cold?” Corentin repeated firmly.
“Dust… makes the cold stop…,” she stuttered. “Please… I’ll do anything.”
“You know what else stops the cold?” Corentin said. “A hot meal.”
Ray stiffened, and by proxy their prisoner did too. “Feeding her? You’re not serious.”
Corentin nodded. “I am.” He extended a hand to the girl. “You saw what happened here, right?”
She nodded quickly and mumbled incoherently.
“Come with us,” Corentin said. “You tell us what you know, and I’ll give you this.” He held up the handful of bills. “Deal?”
“Deal, deal!” she squeaked quickly.
“You really are a piece of work,” Ray grumbled.
Corentin held out his hands. “I got this.”
Ray hesitated and then released the girl into Corentin’s care with a shove. “Don’t make me regret it.”
Corentin pulled the girl to him. Her skin was like brittle broken glass, and she shivered from
withdrawal and the lack of protection. He glanced at Taylor and shook his head. He tried to smile. “How do you feel about pancakes?”
Chapter 12: Two Princesses, a Huntsman, and a Pixie walk into an IHOP….
May 6
IHOP, Canal St.
SHE TREMBLED like a timid fawn learning her first steps. The coffee cup rattled in her hands, and the café au lait sloshed against the sides.
Corentin narrowed his eyes, intensely interested in the pink-haired girl.
Taylor puffed a breath into his cupped palms and then propped his elbows on the table and watched her in silent contemplation. Ringo stayed out of sight underneath Taylor’s coat. It was a safe bet that all of the currently sane storm victims were Enchants, but they couldn’t risk it for the relief workers from out of town.
Ray, on the other hand, was not the least interested or impressed.
The waitress arrived with steaming plates of pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, and sausage. She winked at the group, her eyes a little too blue to be a mundane woman. “On the house,” she said casually and wandered off to help the equally cold and ravenous gathering of customers.
The pink-haired girl took her fork and solemnly pushed a strawberry around her plate.
Taylor took a bite of his pancakes and pointed to her plate with his fork. “You need to eat,” he said with his mouth full.
“I-I’m sorry. I-It’s hard,” she stammered.
“From Dust, right?” Ray asked pointblank.
Her shoulders shook as she nodded. “I’m… I’m… trying to quit….”
Ray tilted his head toward Corentin as he watched her. “Stealing his wallet and begging for Dust definitely looked like quitting,” he said, unimpressed.
“It’s hard, y’know,” she spat. “It’s how I deal. Especially when a blizzard fell out of the sky! You’d want to forget that happened.”
