by Lex Chase
“Good,” Ray said. “Someone brought in a fleet of snowmobiles. We can get to my place with them.”
“What about Lacey?” Taylor asked.
Ray crossed his arms. “What about her?”
Taylor furrowed his brows. “Don’t you think that’s a bit cruel?”
Ray frowned darkly and glared at Corentin. “I said I don’t trust him with them. And I don’t trust a junkie with me.”
Taylor had curses ready on his tongue until Corentin stepped between them. “It’s fine,” he said flatly.
“What?” Taylor shook his head.
“Ray has every right to protect these people,” Corentin said over his shoulder to Taylor. He nodded to Ray and held out his wrists. “Do you need to cuff me too, just to be sure?”
Ray smirked. “No need. I have plenty of jazz music.”
Taylor gave a slight shake of the head. “Jazz music?”
“It’s nothing.” Corentin bristled.
Taylor turned back to Lacey and scanned the cathedral one last time. His heart sank. Lacey looked so scared and small. Unsure of what tomorrow would bring. Would there be food? Or would she find morbid solace in another hit of Dust? He wasn’t sure what to do or if he needed to get wrapped up in her issues. He wanted to help, but was conflicted if he should at all.
He looked out again over the survivors as they traded cups of broth and coffee. Men and women smiling amid a terrible situation, holding hands and praying to get them through it. Some quietly cried, and others rocked with them in comfort.
Lacey looked Taylor directly in the eye as she trembled.
“Something’s not right about this…,” Taylor said, resting a hand on Corentin’s arm.
Ray snorted in frustration. “She’s coming down,” he said. “She’s fine.”
“Compassion,” Taylor snapped. “Try it sometime.”
“No,” Corentin said as he too looked out over the survivors. “Something isn’t right.”
Corentin stepped away from them, heading toward the pulpit. Taylor followed as they turned back to the pews from a better vantage point.
Lacey rose from her pew, her eyes round with panic as she watched them.
“What’s wrong?” Corentin asked Taylor as they both observed the scene.
“You see it?” Lacey asked as she worked her way toward them. “Zane knew it.”
Taylor narrowed his eyes. He had yet to have anything to go on about this Zane character.
“You see it?” she insisted. “Tell me you see it?”
Corentin nodded. With one last look, Taylor saw it too.
“Why aren’t there any children here?” Taylor asked.
Ray sighed, his expression dancing the edge of frustration and regret. “There aren’t any children at any of the shelters. No one can find them. It’s like they vanished into the blizzard.”
Corentin stormed down from the pulpit. “And you didn’t think to tell us?” he growled. “When did you plan on that part?”
“Soon as I knew you weren’t behind it,” Ray said.
Corentin shook an angry finger at him. “Now you listen, old man, I’ve had enough of your shit.”
“Because I don’t stand for yours?” Ray said, unflinching. “Wanna take a swing? Go ahead. Don’t let fear and common sense stop you.”
“Stop it!” Taylor bellowed, and Zee rumbled inside him. Her power rattled the walls, and the survivors shrieked. Taylor stumbled back from the force.
“The ward must be broken. Zane said it would be,” Lacey said as she paced a frantic path. “Zane said it would. He said Hook would do it.” She froze, seemingly terrified by her own ramblings. “Oh, Storyteller. Hook’s here! Hook’s here!”
Taylor dashed down from the pulpit and seized Lacey by her upper arms. “Lacey, stop! The ward on what?”
Lacey seemed to come back to herself, and she looked Taylor in the eye with her disturbingly empty gaze. “The witches’ prison…,” she whispered.
Corentin’s attention darted to her and then back to Ray. “It’s full of child-eaters, isn’t it?”
“You could say that,” Ray said a little too calmly.
“Where is it?” Taylor demanded.
“Fort St. Philip,” Ray said.
“We have to go.” Taylor tugged on Corentin’s arm.
“Way ahead of you,” Corentin said as he took the lead. He beckoned Ray forward. “We can use someone like you.”
Ray smirked. “I hope you didn’t want sleep tonight.”
“I-I-I can help,” Lacey called as she shifted from her pew.
Taylor hurried to her. “You need to stay here, okay? You need to get better.”
Lacey trembled. “O-O-Okay. Zane said he’d help. He’s just taking his time.”
Taylor shook his head. His small scrap of faith in her wavered.
“Hurry up, Dragon,” Ray called from the cathedral doors.
Taylor clapped his hands over Lacey’s and nodded to her. “We’ll talk later? Maybe go to the Library?”
Lacey nodded and her pink hair fluttered around her face. “Yes. Yes. Between the stacks.”
Shaking his head, Taylor stepped away. Did Corentin always feel this confused?
Chapter 15: Whip Your Hair
May 7
Fort St. Philip, Plaquemines Parish
TAYLOR DIDN’T know what they’d find at Fort St. Philip. As the snowmobiles sped over the mountainous packed powder, the scene was unrecognizable to locals or tourists alike.
He hung on to Corentin as they rode together. The snowmobile bounced over the buried debris, shoving Taylor against Corentin. No one wanted to think of what was underneath them. Taylor resolved to stay focused on one task at a time. Getting caught up in the overload of too many questions and too many fears didn’t do anyone good.
Ray took the lead, his snowmobile treads kicking up long sprays of snow. He turned a sharp left in front of Corentin. Taylor saw it coming and instinctually tightened his grip. With the warning, Corentin hung a sharp left and skidded across Ray’s path, barely avoiding clipping his rear.
The snowmobile’s treads scratched through the packed snow and then jerked toward its side. Corentin slammed down his foot and protected them from crashing to the ground. “What the fuck was that for?”
“Something’s wrong,” Ray grunted.
“That seems to be par for the course here lately.” Taylor coughed, strangling on the frigid air in his lungs.
Ringo popped free from Taylor’s oversized pocket and then shook himself off. He pivoted in a slow fluttering circle. “I don’t know about you, but do you hear that?”
Taylor listened, straining his ears through the silence.
“The sound of nothingness?” Ray grunted. He rubbed his hands together and then puffed a breath into them.
“Shh!” Taylor hissed sharply. He stepped off the snowmobile and gestured for Corentin to do the same. He nodded with the rhythm. “Something’s ticking.”
“Fuck me,” Ray said. “Where?”
Taylor swayed with the rhythm. “Tick, tick, tick, tick,” he counted on his fingers. “Like a metronome?”
“Or a bomb,” Ringo said as he shivered.
Taylor scissored his index and middle fingers in time with the clicks. “I swear I hear a clock.”
“On a bomb,” Ringo said.
“Ringo.” Taylor scowled at him.
“I’m not kidding.” Ringo’s nervous, reedy tone made Taylor take note. “Not kidding, not kidding, not kidding.” He pointed frantically to the underside of Ray’s snowmobile.
Taylor caught a glimpse of a nest of wires and a blinking timer. He didn’t need any more proof. He shoved Corentin away.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Corentin said and got the hint. He and Taylor ran for cover.
Taylor reached for Ray, but Ray stood strong. Corentin kept his grip on Taylor’s hand; he was the faster of the two, and Taylor pushed himself to keep up. Ringo’s wings buzzed like a biplane as he zoomed over Taylor’s hea
d and dived for cover. Corentin dragged Taylor to the ground behind a snow-covered embankment. Taylor pushed to his knees out of Corentin’s grip, and he screamed out for Ray.
Ray tore off his beanie and ran his fingers over his bald head. A thunderous boom rippled through the ground, and a blaring orange flash lit up the night sky. Golden waves of Ray’s magic hair shot from the ground and solidified into a towering, impregnable wall before the group. Taylor’s jaw dropped.
Taylor gaped as Ray wielded his magic with masterful precision. He was sure he had a gift as the latest Sleeping Dragon, but witnessing Ray’s range of finesse from simple to complex, Taylor had much more work to do.
As Taylor watched Ray from the embankment, he pursed his lips, in awe with how Ray didn’t flinch in the face of danger. He seemed unflappable in front of Corentin, and Taylor marveled at his ability to keep cool under pressure. He was a raging asshole, but Taylor realized he had probably earned his right to be such a prickly bastard.
“Are we safe?” Ringo asked in a nervous chirp as he clung to Corentin’s arm.
Taylor nodded. “Yeah. It’s good now.”
The moment was short-lived. A screech sounded of some kind of blade hacking against the wall of hair. Green and golden sparks showered over the snow, burning pockmarks into the powder.
As the hair burned, Ray clutched at his head, his face contorted into a grimace. “Now would be a good time to do something,” Ray yelled toward them.
Taylor leaped forward from the embankment, followed by Corentin.
Zee perked, alert and ready for action inside Taylor’s soul. He stumbled with the sickly shiver running through him. She had taken so much of him, and she would take more if he didn’t break her wildness. He needed her now, but there would be hell to pay later.
The blade tore through Ray’s hair, and the severed tresses smoldered into ash, then dispersed on the crossing wind.
Taylor stepped back to gain distance. The weapon became clear, and Taylor was dumbstruck. “A clock hand?”
Corentin flicked out his right hand, and his huntsman bow appeared in his palm. He pulled the string, and the silver arrow drew into existence. “Now would be a helpful time, Taylor,” he called.
“Right, right,” Taylor said and mirrored Corentin’s hand-flick gesture. Bolts of pink magic twisted vertically in his hand, leading from the ground to over his head as his multibladed lance materialized.
The owner of the gigantic clock hand darted forward from the cover of Ray’s hair magic. Built as big as a Buick and just as wide, the guy came out swinging.
Corentin hopped back and let an arrow fly, only for it to harmlessly bounce off the guy’s leather coat and ricochet into the snow.
The guy ran toward Taylor, his unusual weapon reared back, aiming to cleave Taylor right down the middle. He took a swing, and Taylor flipped back out of the way. But the guy kept coming. Taylor ducked in low, intending to use his lance to sweep him off his feet.
Instead, the guy saw through Taylor’s strategy and dodged with a surprisingly agile jump. Taylor darted back, then ducked out of the way as Corentin let a burst of arrows fly.
None of them hit the mark.
The guy turned back to them, grinning brightly at their weakness.
Ray tried his luck. He flicked behind his ear, and a thick ropy lock of hair exploded by the big man’s feet and ensnared his ankles. Surprised, the man jerked against the hair, and Ray stumbled forward, presumably a secondary effect from Rapunzel’s hair. The hair weaved up the man’s legs, over his crotch, and then his waist.
He fought a desperate, angry struggle, jerking and twisting at the waist, as well as tearing at the hair with his free hand. The clock hand fell from his grasp and sank into the snow.
Corentin moved in and kicked the clock hand out of grabbing range. As the guy lifted his head in challenge, Corentin raised his bow and took aim right between his eyes.
The man grinned. His amusement sent a chill across Taylor’s cold skin. “Go for it,” the man challenged Corentin with his unflinching smile.
Corentin pressed his lips together, as if contemplating his decision. He pulled back tighter on the bow, and the arrow stretched to accommodate. But the hesitation cost him.
“Idiot.” The big guy took a swipe at Corentin’s feet with a hidden blade in his palm.
Corentin jerked back, and the blade caught the fabric of his jeans. It missed the layered flannel underneath. He let the arrow go, and it hit its mark through the guy’s hand.
His snarling, beastly roar made Zee answer in kind. Her power tore from Taylor, the force of her shockwave decimating the snow, like blowing away harmless grains of sand. The man covered his eyes on instinct, ripping his impaled hand—arrow still buried in his flesh—from the ground to his face. He scraped himself across the cheek in doing so.
Taylor shuddered as Zee breathed fire for him, flowing in all directions from his body. All anyone else could do was get out of the way of Zee’s path of destruction, with Taylor at the epicenter.
The snow evaporated in a blink from the shocking heat. The man buried his face against the ground, hoping to save it from the rising flames.
Taylor trembled violently, unable to control the feelings racing through his body. The high from Zee’s fury numbed his limbs and stole his breath with the drain. Taylor doubled over, then wrapped his arms around his stomach as Zee’s light pulsed around him, fading with each forced gulp of air. After four final pulses, night fell over them again. Taylor blinked away the green and purple stars in his eyes and waited for them to adjust.
“Fuck,” Corentin grumbled, and Taylor tried to find him in the haze. “He’s gone.”
Fog gathered around Taylor’s mouth as he drew in long gulps of air. Zee’s power had once again shocked his synapses into alertness, yet danced the cottony, foggy edges of exhaustion. Even when he had passed out since his arrival to New Orleans, Taylor was never truly rested. He lurched with the cold, and his skin tingled as his nerves jittered. The temperature plummeted, and his body failed at staying warm.
“C-C-Corentin…,” Taylor croaked through chattering teeth. His heart hammered in a slow, labored ache.
Corentin was at his side in moments. Taylor leaned into the comforting warmth as Corentin braced him with his arm around Taylor’s back. “You okay?”
Taylor nodded and pressed his lips together, trying to make his teeth stop chattering. “Just cold,” Taylor said and then coughed.
“Gotcha covered,” Ringo said and conjured fistfuls of gold glitter. He twirled, showering the magic dust over them like a sprinkler on a summer day.
Taylor sucked in a breath from the sudden shift of his external temperature to his core temperature.
Corentin rubbed his back. “Just relax, okay?”
Waving him off, Taylor tried to stand straighter. “There will be time later.”
Ringo snorted. “Good one. A pun on time when we fought a weirdo with a clock hand.”
Taylor arched a brow. “And a time bomb.”
“You’re ruining my pun, boyo,” Ringo said.
“There was no pun to begin with,” Corentin interjected.
“A clock hand. A time bomb. Gotta be related.” Taylor shook his head.
“Yeah. But who had the chance to put the bomb on the snowmobile?” Ringo asked.
“Ray said someone had brought them in from elsewhere.” Corentin glanced up to Ray as he paced through the snow. “And I’m sure we’d see a big ugly guy with crocodile skin boots.”
Taylor startled. “Crocodile skin boots?”
Corentin nodded. “You didn’t see ’em? In this weather, they stood out like a whore in church.”
“Wasn’t there a thing about a crocodile that swallowed a clock?” Ringo asked as he glanced between the two of them.
Taylor scowled. “If you’re trying to smack me in the face with a hint when you obviously have it figured out….”
Ringo shrugged. “I mean, Lacey’s been babbling on about th
is Hook guy, and then Corentin notices the guy’s crocodile boots. And then he’s got a damned clock hand and sets time bombs. I’d say Hook has a buddy.”
Ray retraced the tracks of the skirmish and then nodded in approval. He pointed to the footprints. “And he’ll have to show his face sooner or later. See?” He gestured to the disturbed snow all around him. “There’s blood splatters everywhere.” He smiled at Taylor. “You took a good bite out of him.”
“But it’s getting too cold to be out here,” Corentin said as he held Taylor close. “I hate to say it, but we need to get to Ray’s place and out of this weather.”
Taylor pushed weakly at Corentin’s chest in protest. “We need to get what we can and get out of here.” He glared at Corentin, trying to get his point across. “I can do this.”
Corentin hesitated and then relented. “All right.”
Ringo arched a bushy brow at Corentin. “It’s useless to get in Taylor’s way, y’know. Storyteller have mercy on the poor bastard who gets in the way of a princess with a dragon soul and his goal.”
Corentin joined Ray, and Ray guided him to follow his steps. “Hey,” Corentin said and crouched. He brushed away a dusting of dirty snow and ice from the concrete and picked up a broken watch. “I got something.”
Taylor and Ringo joined them, and Corentin wiped away the snow and grit from the ripped band and broken clock face. He smirked and held out his prize.
Taylor chuckled under his breath. “A Goofy watch? Are you kidding me?”
“This guy is like us,” Corentin said as he stood.
“If fighting with a giant crazy clock hand wasn’t a good tipoff,” Ringo said, then pulled his tiny scarf over his nose and mouth. “I’m telling you. Hook has a buddy, or that was him.”
“You guys need to get off that damned Hook thing. Hook isn’t real,” Ray said, remaining stoic.
“Lacey knew about Hook. It’s worth investigating,” Taylor said.
“She doesn’t even know what day it is, she’s so high,” Ray snapped.
“She knows more than she lets on,” Corentin said.
“You can’t blame me for not trusting your opinion,” Ray said, narrowing his eyes.
