by Lex Chase
“It’s called reality,” Ray said firmly. “You cope. You don’t need to get high to cope.”
Corentin grunted under his breath and raised his knife high over his plate before dropping it like a dive bomb onto the porcelain. The crash and clatter jolted the conversation into silence. “Let’s start over,” Corentin said calmly. He gave a soft smile to the girl. “What’s your name?”
“Lacey,” she said. “Lacey Palmer.”
“And you’re from here?” Corentin asked. His tone was patient with her as he gave a challenging glare to Ray, daring him to say anything.
All the while, Taylor peacefully crunched on bacon.
Lacey shook her head. “N-No….” She pushed the strawberry around her plate some more. “San Francisco.”
Taylor pointed at her plate again with the tines of his fork. “Eat.”
She nodded. “Y-Yes. Sorry.” Lacey speared the strawberry and took a small bite. She concentrated on chewing and choking it down.
Ray ate his omelet in glowering silence.
Corentin waited for her to try her pancakes and watched her take four tiny bites before he spoke again. “So,” Corentin said, then sipped his café au lait. “Dust. What is it?”
“Pixie dust,” Ray interjected into the conversation.
“Not like… Pixy Stix?” Ringo asked, from under Taylor’s coat.
“You wish,” Ray said. “It’s the substance between a pixie’s skin and muscle. They’re skinned, and it’s harvested and refined into Dust.”
Ringo’s eyes widened, and Corentin caught his panicked look as he glanced from Taylor to him. Corentin pressed his lips together and made a slight nod, trying to puzzle his way on how to comfort him.
Ray went on and glared at Lacey, already passing judgment as he elaborated. “The Chinese found Dust useful for medicinal purposes. Everything from Alzheimer’s, mental illness, painkillers… and not your momma’s ADD medication.” He held out his hand in a half shrug. “The US naturally found a use for its highly addictive, mind-altering properties.”
“Enchant LSD,” Taylor said in contemplation.
“I-I’m trying to quit,” Lacey said as her hands trembled. “I don’t want to do it anymore. Zane gets it for me.”
Taylor passed a piece of bacon to Ringo, and he gnawed like a terrier on a bone. “Who’s Zane?” Taylor asked as he readied another bite of pancakes.
“He’s my friend,” Lacey said, nodding with excitement. “He takes care of me while Aliss is away.”
Taylor coughed, and his fork tumbled out of his grasp and bounced off Ringo’s head.
“Fuck, dude!” Ringo squealed and tried to rub syrupy pancake crumbs from his hair.
“You okay?” Ray asked, reaching over to give Taylor a pat on the back.
Taylor nodded with a quick bob of the head. “F-Fine… fine….”
Corentin rubbed at his chin and tried to carry the conversation. “And who’s Aliss? Another friend?”
Lacey’s eyes lit up with giddiness. “Aliss is at the Library.”
Taylor hacked harder and his cheeks flushed.
Corentin glanced at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Taylor nodded and gave a trembling thumbs-up.
“Drink, boyo, drink,” Ringo said, tugging on Taylor’s coat.
Lacey trembled from all the commotion, her gaze darting wildly at all the activity around her.
Corentin frowned. “You’re jonesing, aren’t you?” he asked softly. He reached out for her hand, but she jerked back.
“N-No. Don’t touch me. Touch is bad for Dusters,” she said as she tightly crossed her arms. “Sensations are too strong for Dusters. Some….” She hesitated. “Some l-like it like th-that.”
Taylor’s coughs finally settled, and Corentin patted the back of his hand. Taylor nodded in thanks and then sipped his orange juice.
“Listen,” Corentin said, making sure he had her attention. “I was once like you. I was there.”
Lacey blinked, trying to focus. She anxiously bounced her knees.
Taylor tapped the edge of her plate again. “Eat. Eat.”
Lacey nodded, coming back to reality. She tried a piece of bacon and chewed on it as though it were a tasteless dog biscuit and not meant for Enchant consumption.
“I get it,” Corentin said. “But I got up and decided one day I was going to stop feeling sorry for myself. I was going to stop hiding. I was going to start trying.”
Taylor’s cheeks flushed as he listened to Corentin’s encouraging words. In turn, Corentin rested his hand on Taylor’s in comfort.
“I had to start over far too many times to count,” Corentin said, and Lacey sipped her orange juice. “It was painfully discouraging. But I made a choice to start. I never stopped making the choice to start. Eventually I got to the goal.” He lifted his coffee mug to his lips and spoke over the rim. “Will I maintain the goal?” he asked, and she furrowed her thin brows. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I always have a choice. And I choose to start again.”
Ray set his coffee mug down with a thump. “Great story,” he grumbled as he swallowed a bit of pancake. “Is that how you remember it? Or how everyone knows it?”
“Seriously?” Taylor snapped. It seems his aggravation with Ray had hit its limit.
“I’m calling it like it is,” Ray said as he thrust down his napkin.
“Why the fuck are you here?” Taylor asked. “You could very well help out.”
“I am helping out, in case you haven’t noticed,” Ray said. “I’m keeping everyone grounded on what’s important.”
“What’s important is he’s coming,” Lacey said.
“Who?” Corentin asked, and Taylor leaned in.
“Hook,” she said. There was a tone of reverence and fear in her voice.
“Who’s Hook?” Taylor asked.
“Something that’s bullshit,” Ray spat. “That isn’t important. Securing and tending to the storm survivors is.”
“It’s not bullshit!” Lacey snapped. The force of her outburst made her violently shudder. “Hook is behind all of this. I know it. Zane told me he was.”
Corentin and Taylor glanced at each other, and Taylor shook his head. They added another suspect to a growing line of suspects.
Lacey nodded to Corentin and Taylor. “The Library will stop him. They will. Zane told me.”
“You mentioned the Library before,” Corentin asked. “What’s the Library?”
“What’s the Library have to with this?” Taylor asked, equally curious.
Corentin arched a brow at Taylor’s question. “Do you know about it?”
He tightened his jaw when Taylor didn’t answer him and instead looked down at his plate. Taylor picked at his eggs. Corentin resolved they’d have to discuss it later. There were too many questions and not enough answers just yet. Obviously Taylor had been keeping things from him, but Corentin couldn’t deny he had been doing much of the same.
“I can take you to them,” Lacey said with an eager nod. “They can help.”
“Hold on,” Ray said, holding up his hands. “We’re not stopping anyone, and we don’t even know if this Hook guy is up to something.”
“I don’t know,” Taylor said as he narrowed his eyes at Ray. “‘He’s coming’ sounds pretty definitive if you ask me.”
“What is the Library?” Corentin pressed Lacey for more information.
Lacey nodded. “They can break any curse of evil.”
“Break curses?” Corentin asked. “You can’t be serious. How does breaking curses even help right now?”
Taylor looked back at his plate, seeming to find his omelet more interesting than the conversation.
Corentin furrowed his brow.
“I’ve never heard of them,” Ray said. “How do we know we can trust a damn thing you’re saying?”
Lacey smiled like an excited puppy. “You can ask my friend. You can ask Zane! You can trust him!”
Ray groaned, tossing up his hands in frustrat
ion.
Corentin watched the snow flurries through the frosted window. He nodded. “Whatever the case, we need warmth for the night. The survivors too.”
“The cathedral might be okay for now,” Ray said.
Taylor smirked, and Corentin arched a brow, as they both seemed to doubt Ray’s sudden kindness.
Ray pointed an accusing finger at Lacey. “By morning, you’re on your own. If you want to stay, you work. Don’t bother with who did this. It happened. Now there’s a mess to clean up again.”
The kindness was short-lived, but Corentin appreciated it anyway.
Corentin rubbed at his neck under the high collar of his coat. A stinging prickle bloomed across his skin. It started as an annoying itch and then rapidly became a deep burning sensation. He winced as he rubbed his hot skin.
“You okay?” Taylor asked.
“Yeah,” Corentin said hoarsely. “I think I just got a nasty spider bite. It burns like a motherfucker.” He rubbed again, but it didn’t go away.
“Let me see?” Taylor asked, and Corentin leaned toward him. “Corentin…,” Taylor whispered urgently.
“What? What is it?”
“You’ve been branded.”
Corentin shot from the table.
Across the crowded IHOP, a woman dashed from her table to the front door. She burst onto the street, the door slamming behind her.
“Fuck. This.” Corentin growled. “Coming?” he called to Taylor as he reached the door.
Taylor was no more than two feet behind him. “This is not happening.”
Ray glared at the two of them as he brought up the rear. He snorted in derision. “Fuck. Y’all always have this much drama?”
“Unfortunately,” Taylor said.
Ray pointed at Lacey. “The cathedral. Go there. Now.”
Lacey nodded. “Y-Yes.”
Ray spun on his bootheel and joined the hunt.
Chapter 13: White Knight Talking Backward
May 6
The Streets of New Orleans
WHEREAS LACEY was easy cotton-candy-colored prey, this woman moved like a black racer escaping a mongoose. If there was anything Corentin refused to be, it was a victim. Lacey had taken his wallet for the money, but for him it was about the physical remnants of his identity. This, on the other hand, this woman with her brand intended to place ownership on him. Corentin wouldn’t stand for either.
Corentin hurried, keeping focus on her movements as she darted left and left again, trying to lead him in a circle. Her long coat trailed behind her like tendrils of black tar. Lacey moved fast when she was motivated, but this woman flew over the snow effortlessly. Her feet were so light she never left a footprint, if her feet touched the ground at all.
Taylor, Ringo, and Ray followed him, and Ray was already falling behind. Corentin watched him struggle to keep up for a moment, but let it be. This was his hunt, and he didn’t need an old bastard of a princess getting in his way. He turned down Carondelet Street, refusing to give up.
Once he returned his attention to the woman, she was gone.
Corentin skidded to a halt. “Dammit,” he snapped as he ran his hand through his wet hair.
Taylor and Ringo caught up. They stood under the cover of flash-frozen awnings while Corentin puzzled through where she went.
“Think, Henri, think,” he scolded himself as he studied the surroundings.
“Hey, just breathe, okay?” Taylor said.
He knew Taylor was trying to be encouraging, but it wasn’t helping. The encouragement only drew attention to his insecurities. Corentin snapped his fingers. “Ringo, get me an aerial view.”
“On it,” Ringo said and took to the skies. He called out a moment later. “She’s going toward Common Street.”
“Slow her down for me,” Corentin said and then nodded to Taylor. “Let’s go.”
This time Ringo took the lead, like Corentin’s trusty foxhound. He kept his eyes on Ringo, letting him lead the way.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Ringo called out and shucked a wobbling ball of energy toward their unseen target.
Corentin heard the splat as he turned the corner, hoping Ringo had caught her.
Up ahead, the woman in the long black coat writhed in the puddle of Ringo’s sticky goop magic. Ringo had caught her by one foot, and she tried to wrench it free. She looked up at Corentin, her eyes wild and dark, like those of a shark in frenzy, and her hair was a mess of ash-brown, falling free from a disheveled bun.
Taylor kept pace with him, and the woman panicked and struggled to get free. They would not surrender. Corentin would catch her and get his answers. He knew Taylor had questions of his own. He understood Taylor was still dead set on proving Atticus was here. Taylor would give anything to know his brother was somewhere, in one piece—mental status, on the other hand, was a different matter.
As they closed the distance, the woman ripped her foot free of the goop and took off again. Corentin snarled, revealing the rage he had kept in check. She limped, her foot resticking to the slushy ground. Corentin roared as their gaze met. She shivered, and he grinned at her terror. The thrill of the hunt heated his bones, urging him on. Taylor was at his side, that was merely happenstance. Corentin lost his concern for him, and Taylor didn’t seem to care. Taylor would take a backseat to this as Corentin captured his prey.
“Please…. Please….” Corentin could read the word on her lips. Please? Insulting. There would be no mercy. No quarter. And no regret. She had marked him, and she would now know what that meant.
She tried to run again. She pulled her foot away from the slush and managed three steps before she fell into a snowbank, trapped in the powder.
Corentin closed the last few feet as she pushed from the snow. He saw his chance and ripped her to her feet by her upper arms. She shoved against him. He spun her with her back to his front and then yanked her arm up behind her to pin her in place.
“What did you do to me?” Corentin growled in her ear. “What is this? Answer me!”
“Tel em og!” she squealed, and Corentin held on tighter. “Esaelp… t’nod truh em… esaelp….”
“Truh uoy?” Corentin purred, catching the woodsy scent of her hair.
“Corentin.” Taylor’s voice drifted over his thoughts.
“Tel em og, tel em og,” she begged. She looked to Taylor in fear. “T’nod tel mih. T’nod tel mih. Ll’uoy eb txen!”
Corentin jerked her closer to him, and she screeched. “Shhh…. Eh t’nseod wonk tey. Sknaht ot uoy gniwohs em eht yaw.”
“Corentin!” Taylor barked and slapped his hand on his shoulder.
Corentin startled at the contact. His grip loosened on the woman, and she tumbled free into the snow. She backpedaled, scooting away in horror. Corentin blinked, all of reality fading in to his senses. The snow, the cold, the night, the moan of the wind between the buildings. The thirst for blood drained from his thoughts. He staggered with the nausea of what he could have done.
“T-Taylor…,” Corentin stuttered. “You’re here?”
Of course he was. Corentin knew that. They were together. This was New Orleans, he remembered. He remembered everything. He looked to the woman as she trembled from the cold. The snow melted into her coat and her teeth chattered.
“You both were talking backward…,” Taylor said as he glanced between the two of them. “How did you?”
Corentin curled his icy fingers into soft fists and then worked them out again. He bent forward over her and offered his hand. “I’m sorry,” he told her.
She slammed her dark brows low. “M’i ton.” The woman slapped her hands on Corentin’s and sent a burst of blackness into his skin.
Taylor screamed as Corentin fell back into his arms. His heart fluttered hard in a furious rhythm, and Taylor clung to him. “Corentin…,” Taylor said, his voice wavering. “Corentin, stay with me. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”
But Taylor didn’t sound convinced. Corentin tried to focus on him. His v
ision pulsed in time with his heart from black to the darkness of night to black. He gulped for air and choked on his own saliva. He tried to talk as he weakly gestured to his chest.
Taylor pulled his hands out of the way. “Okay, okay,” he said. His voice was soothing, but the look in his eyes wasn’t as assuring. “Let me try.”
Corentin nodded as he gagged for air.
Taylor curled behind him and pulled him into his lap. Clutching his hands over Corentin’s heart, Taylor whispered in his ear, “Shake the dreamland tree, pray a little dream falls down on thee….”
Corentin gasped as air rushed into his lungs. He panted, and his heart slowed into a peaceful rhythm. He looked down at Taylor’s hands on his chest, glowing brilliant deep pink with his magic. Taylor’s fingers flexed with each resting beat of Corentin’s heart as if his own magic was breathing for him. Corentin yawned and stretched, his rested state a residual effect from the Blooming Lullaby. He patted Taylor’s flexing hands. “Hey,” he whispered over his shoulder. “It’s okay, I’m okay now.”
Taylor didn’t answer, and Corentin heard his ragged breathing become shallow. His hands still moved over Corentin’s heart.
“Taylor… Taylor, stop,” Corentin said, patting his hands again. “I’m okay. You’re going to drain yourself….”
Taylor didn’t answer, but his fingers violently trembled, signaling trouble.
Corentin pulled away from Taylor and then turned to face him. “Shit!” he gasped at the state of Taylor’s bleached face. His eyes had clouded over with light pink and his jaw clenched tight. Corentin clasped his hands over Taylor’s cheeks. “Come on, stop. Stop,” he begged him. “Please, I’m okay. Look. Look at me. I’m okay.” The brave face he had always maintained for Taylor’s sake had fallen, and Corentin was at a loss for what to do.
Ringo appeared in a puff of glitter next to them.
Corentin looked to him for guidance. “Please, something’s wrong, and I don’t know if I can stop it.”
“He needs to sleep,” Ringo said as he fluttered over Taylor. “He can’t seem to pass out on his own.”
