Dís-One leaned in closer as one other thought flashed by, even more disturbing than the last. Wyatt wasn’t the only older man who made my heart flutter recently. I mean, for an older dude, Mr. Keyne looked like he’d be pretty ripped under all that flannel, and... eww, did I really just go there? He was old enough to be my dad!
The death otter chattered with glee. “Yes, so very wrong, but so delicious. Would you like to know if he has such thoughts in return? I could get them for you, little girl—”
“No! I very much don’t want to know. I need to know what’s going on. I need—”
“Very well.”
I staggered as a rush of images bombarded my mind. I could see a small group of vampires—some of the other sleazy ones in suits. One of them was talking with a giant, a giant named Turd. What did that have to do with anything?
“Do not worry, my friend.” The vamp doing the talking sounded vaguely French. “The Freewill will play along. He is stupid beyond compare. By the end of this conference we will both have exactly what we want.”
The vampires and Turd were working together? Was it possible? If so, that meant the whole conference was rigged from the start.
More memories invaded my mind. The sleazy one smiled, showing off his fangs. “To another five-thousand years of peace, my new friend.”
Just as it was fading, I could see something else in the memory, a form skulking in the shadows. My heart skipped a beat as I saw eyes that I knew, eyes that I’d seen fixed and lifeless not too long ago. Bush had seen this, too, but what did it mean? What did any of this mean?
I lurched forward, almost toppling into the water. Dís-One caught me, even if it meant my hair slapped him and left a burn mark on his head. “Dís-One likes the pain, Jessie. You should hold Dís-One more often, yes?”
I shoved him away. I could feel the disgust and boredom in my mind—some vampire lackey happy to help his boss sell out to Turd.
But wait. If the conference was just a sham and the outcome already determined, why did Bush warn me about the Freewill T’lunta?
I was left with more questions than answers . . . again.
“Maybe this wasn’t your song, Jessie,” Dís whispered in my ear. “But someone wished to see if you could sing it anyway?”
The heat from my head returned with a vengeance, but along with it came stabbing pains filling my body. Hives broke out along my arms and the nausea from the other night came back with a vengeance.
Oh no. I’d been warned to avoid more magic because of the reaction I’d suffered, yet here I was, trading mystical memories with a talking otter. I made all manner of unpleasant noises, then fell to my side, curled into a ball.
Dís cackled and patted my cheek, careful not to touch my hair this time. “Only the liars tell you the truth. You should ask your older man about the flower, yes. He can’t, or won’t, tell you the truth, but Dís believes you are clever, girl.”
“I don’t . . . understand.” Please don’t vomit on the death otter, Jessie. Somehow I doubted even they were into it. “And it really hurts right now.”
Dís looked down at me, clicking and cackling. “Soon you will suffer the most terrible feelings, and if you would only promise a few of them to me, I would be ever so grateful. Wouldn’t you like my gratitude, Jessie of the toast?”
“I . . . don’t . . . think so.”
“You say that now, but we can make you one of us. Dís-One can strip away all that confusing morality and set you free. No more pain, no more lies, not unless you want them. Think about it. Such an offer I do not make to many.”
I scrambled backward as fast as I could, slipping and sliding on the mud while Dís loomed over me. Something in my guts warned me that no matter what, these death otters were never gonna leave me alone, not now.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Dís-One cooed. I blinked, and he was right in front of my face. “Your friends have already done that for me.”
I blinked again, and this time he was gone. I flopped into a mix of snow, leaves, and blood as the pain and nausea slowly faded. “Magic is bad,” was all I could moan as I tried to make sense of it all.
Wait, why was there blood here, by the river? I rolled over onto my stomach and realized there was a trail of it leading away. I’ve watched horror movies. There was almost no way I wanted to see what waited at the end of this, yet I followed it anyway.
What next, Jessie, are you gonna go down into the basement alone?
I followed the trail back to a tangled thicket, hiding behind a tree as I sensed movement ahead. It was a not-so-shallow grave, already piled high with body parts. I ducked down as I saw one of the lizardfolk schlepping a bag to this pit. It took all my willpower not to cry out as it dumped bloodied bones and clothes.
Despite knowing better, once the creature left, I crept out to get a better look—human remains, from the look of things. It was a chilling reminder of just how outclassed the so-called dominant species of this planet was compared to the things that lurked in the shadows.
Speaking of lurking, I was apparently not the only one waiting to investigate this pit.
“Excuse me, are you gonna eat any of that?” a brusque voice asked. I spun around to see a tiny goblin-like creature staring up at me. He had sharp, needle-like teeth, wore a sock on his head and, oh, was wearing two condoms as pants legs. It was like Papa Smurf after a meth bender. It spoke again. “I said, you eat that, or do you mind if I grab some morsels?”
“Um, help yourself.”
He tipped his sock to me before diving into the horror-show. After a few moments he started tossing stuff out: watches, cell phones and wallets, while warning me, “Don’t touch my stuff!”
“Ask him to dig a little deeper, yes. He will like what he finds.” I could see a dark shadow in my periphery, but when I turned there was no sign of Dís-One, just a severed human arm lying where I thought he’d been.
Ask him.
“Oh, God.” I felt nauseous again. “Um, hey, little imp guy?”
“Doug!” He called back in between rummaging.
“Sorry, Doug. Why don’t you dig a little deeper? I think you’ll like what you find.”
“Oh?” Rotten body parts went flying as Doug went to town. What the hell was I even doing, standing by a mass grave and asking Doug the imp to dig through it?
“Ooh, you were right! Shiny! So shiny!!!”
A moment later Doug resurfaced, holding a broken spear. The head was covered in floral etchings beneath a coating of crusted blood. Doug gave it lick and cackled. “Giant blood, and on a dryad spear. Very valuable!”
Before I could think of a better idea, I snatched the fresh arm off the ground and presented it to Doug. “Um? interested in a trade?”
The evil smurf held the spear tightly. “Mine!” But then he looked closer at what I was offering and smiled, avarice clearly gleaming in his eyes. “Okay. Gimme.”
He tossed the broken weapon at my feet and I did the same with the arm. He picked it up and sniffed. “Ooh, fresh.” Then he stripped off the watch still strapped to the wrist and held it up. “Yes! A Rolex and not fake!” He turned, grinned at me, and scampered off. “So long, sucker!”
I picked up the spear and stared at the bloodstained floral filigree. I ran my finger along the tip and a bit of brown, sticky hair caught on my nail. It couldn’t be possible, yet there I was looking at the evidence.
Was Bush killed by a dryad?
I stared at the flower etched onto the weapon and remembered what Dís-One had said to me. I needed to find Mr. Keyne and ask him about this. My hair flared, and the heat once more filled my body.
The spear in my hand likewise grew warm. Maybe this was my true destiny—to go back there, confront the Meliae, and ask them why they were trying to start a war.
Chapter Forty: Flower Power
The guards in the dryad grove were surprisingly accommodating considering I marched in covered in mud and had a broken, bloodied spear in my hand. I made a beeline fo
r the paddock area where I’d been nursed back to health, then promptly stopped dead in my tracks as I beheld a bloodstained flannel shirt hanging off one of the nearby trees.
“No!” I raced over to it, my eyes growing wide as saucers.
“You shouldn’t have come back, Mistress Flores.”
Mr. Keyne was sitting in an alcove just past the copse of trees. He was surrounded by medical supplies and busy wrapping gauze around one of his arms. His undershirt was soaked through with blood and sweat, but he was alive, thank goodness.
“What happened?”
“Lady Sayuri is not one to suffer liars.” He coughed and grimaced, holding onto his ribs, but then his focused shifted to the broken weapon in my hands and he averted his eyes.
“Is she also not one to suffer Sasquatches looking to stop a war?” I tossed the spear at his feet. “Tell me about the flower.”
“The flower?”
“Don’t play dumb. Our mutual friends at the river said you knew about it. Whose spear is this?”
Mr. Keyne crouched down and picked it up, his expression unreadable. “It’s a manna flower. The shaft is made from a sacred ash tree. The more it kills, the more powerful it becomes . . . but if it kills against its nature, with dishonor or devious intent, it will weep and falter until its virtue is restored. I was asked to dispose of it.”
“Who gave it to you?” He looked up at me, a tear rolling out of the corner of his good eye. “Please Mr. Keyne, tell me who did this?”
“I told him to dispose of it.”
Of course.
I took the spear from Mr. Keyne and turned to face my favorite snorting, masked Meliae. The weapon vibrated in my hand and started to glow.
“Is it your intention to strike me down, child?” Ash asked, sounding only mildly interested. “If so, know that weapon is a part of my grove, my very body. It will never turn against itself.”
“Why would you kill Bush?”
“I didn’t, but to have a part of me used in such a dishonorable act would bring shame upon this grove and its children, so I asked it to be disposed of and nothing to be said of it.”
“Screw your shame! One of your people killed my friend and you tried to cover it up. If you think that I’ll ever help with your prophecy now—”
“Good!” she snapped, whipping her spear around and knocking the one out of my hand. She followed up by sweeping my leg like I was Daniel LaRusso, then towering over me triumphantly. “Maybe this will finally get the message through your thick skull that you don’t belong here. The longer you stay, the more my sisters will continue with their foolish notions, and the more of your friends will be hurt. Leave, accept this was never your destiny . . . and the torment will end.”
I picked up the spear again, tears welling in my eyes as I looked at Bush’s blood. “You people are seriously messed up.” It wasn’t anything witty or heroic, but it was all I could think of.
What else could I do, challenge a legendary tree lady? There was no way I was joining them after everything that had happened. Ash was right. I needed to walk away. But how could I without knowing how and why any of this insanity had happened?
Ash tapped her spear and snorted when I didn’t move. “You are testing my patience.”
“Why?”
Ash rolled her eyes. “Because a child such as you should do as she is—”
“Not that! Why me? Why does my hair glow? Why are all these crazy things happening to me? Why do I seem to fit your stupid prophecy? Answer me and I’ll leave.”
Ash seemed pensive for a moment. “There are those who believe certain individuals are destined for greatness, that they are chosen by fate. I am not one of them. Listen to me well. I spoke true when I said that destiny is an illusion. Fate does not care who fills the gap, so long as the weave is maintained.”
“So, you’re saying I was in the wrong place at the wrong time?” She inclined her head slightly as if to concur. “And how does that explain my glowing hair or what I can do?”
“It does not. It merely explains what you need to know. Push further at your own peril. I’ve answered your question, now prove that you are a girl of your word. Go.”
I lowered my head. She was right. I’d given my word. Going back on it would make me just like everyone else. I glanced down at the broken spear in my hand. It was the only evidence of Bush’s murder.
Ash held out her hand. “You know the truth now, and the truth is more powerful than any bauble.”
Reluctantly, I handed her the weapon. It shimmered in the Meliae’s hand for a moment then transformed into a necklace, just like the one Boo had given me—only the leaf etched in it was red.
She slid it around her neck. “We shall both remember her. And perhaps one day her spirit may be appeased and the weapon restored.”
I wanted to be furious, to solve this problem by punching her or someone else. However, that wouldn’t solve anything, so instead I turned and walked away.
I’d almost made it to the edge of the grove when I heard Mr. Keyne’s voice calling to me. “Mistress Flores, please wait up.”
I stopped and turned. “I’m sorry that you got wrapped up in this—”
“Our friends back at the river, what exactly did they tell you to ask me?” He said in a hushed tone. “Please, Mistress Flores, it’s important.”
“They told me to ask you about the flower, just like I did.”“
“I see.” Mr. Keyne looked furtively around. “You know, I never finished that one task you asked of me, and I would be remiss if I didn’t at least try.”
“What task?” I raised a brow.
“You asked me to find you some Pop-Tarts back at breakfast.”
“Um, really, it’s no big deal.”
“For a servant such as myself, fulfilling a request is everything. Besides, it’s the least I can do after all your troubles. If I find some, I’ll bring it to your cave.”
It was so ridiculous, yet sweet at the same time. I guess it was his way of saying goodbye. I leaned in and gave him a hug.
“Do not fear. Lady Ash will keep the others away, but I wouldn’t return to the grove if I were you. Sayuri is not one to be trifled with, and she desperately wants her prophecy fulfilled.”
“Thank you,” I told him, and then ran once more.
♦ ♦ ♦
Confusion, dread, aimlessness . . . all those thoughts filled my brain as I tried to get some rest. Yush and Phil kept a nervous watch over Gary. Whatever had happened back when he’d stopped me from going super Saiyan had taken its toll on him.
Word had spread that, despite all odds, the Freewill had indeed bested the mighty Turd. It was . . . a lot to take in. I was just starting to drift off, blissful unconsciousness beckoning, when Phil wandered over and began rummaging through Gary’s bag.
“Gare-bear is sweating like the dickens,” she explained, her voice breaking a little. “I just thought I’d help him get cleaned up.”
“Here,” I said, standing up. “Let me help.”
“It’s okay, you don’t need to—” A notebook fell out from the bundle of clothes she’d retrieved, and I managed to grab it before she could. It was Gary’s.
“I need to know what else he’s hiding,” she said, obviously caught. “What happened to him, his hair . . . this isn’t the way it’s supposed to work. But there’s something different about him. I guess there always has been.”
I didn’t pretend to know how much of this magic stuff worked, but even I’d seen that Gary seemed to react differently to magic than his aunt or even Sensei.
Phil looked at me and seemed to pick up my psychic waves. “Come on. I need a cigarette.” She led me past where Yush was wiping Gary’s face with glowing water from the pool, while he whimpered and tossed in a fitful sleep.
Once we were outside, she leaned against a tree. After she checked that it wasn’t one of the sacred maples, she whipped out a menthol and lit it with her fingertip.
“All his life, Gary wanted to b
e a spell-slinger like me. My brother hated the idea. He thinks most Magi are idiots—all explosions and no finesse. He’s not wrong, really, but Gary . . . well, if he asked for the moon, I’d at least try to catch it for him. He deserved it after all his bitch of a mother put him through growing up. No matter what he did, he was never good enough for her. She was a seer, just like my brother. My family was pleased to have such a match, and when Gary was born, they thought they had the next generation of prophets at their fingertips. The irony is that neither one of them treated him like anything but dirt, so I stepped in.”
“He’s better than they are, isn’t he?” I asked. “I mean, he can see more.”
“Yes and no. Did he tell you how he used to get sick all the time?” I shook my head and she took a long drag. “The more magic he tried, the more it drained him. Even when he’s linked up to someone who doesn’t need any power from him, somehow it doesn’t work right. I was hoping he would grow out of his desire to be a wizard, since it was so difficult for him, but he’s one stubborn kid.”
“Peas in a pod,” I said with a grin.
She nodded. “I knew he had a touch of the sight, but I figured it was just little flashes and moments.” She started flipping through his notebook. “But now I’m beginning to suspect it wasn’t late night research and statistics that led him to choose you.”
She turned around the book to show several sketches of me, including a pretty good one of me in a Spidey hoodie. I had a spaced-out look on my face that could only mean that I was probably looking at Tony Castorini at the time. It seemed like forever ago . . . and everything that once seemed so important just didn’t matter anymore.
“Gary saw me,” I whispered. There were more pages of drawings: me working at Justice Comics, me hanging out at my uncle’s, scenes from my life. She flipped to the last page, where finally something different had caught his attention. This was the sketch of the ubervamp embracing a faceless shining woman. The one which had freaked him out so much.
“Icons have been the fuel for prophecy for centuries,” Phil said, looking at it. “Their actions seem to show up in all the predictions, but even the best seers can never see their faces. It’s one of the mysteries of their powers.”
Second String Savior Page 32
