by Bree Moore
Tyson took them to a drive thru somewhere in Washington. Harper had missed the signs for the city, which wasn’t like her.
“Harper? Did you hear me?” Tyson asked, concern laced so thickly in his voice Harper immediately wanted to jump out of the car to get away from the sound of sympathy. She rubbed her face instead, sighing and crumpling up the half-eaten burger in the paper in her lap.
“What did you say again?”
“I asked if you wanted to hear what I learned from Charlie. You haven’t asked.”
He would have expected her to demand a blow-by-blow account of what happened in that “soothsayers” office. Harper had meant to, but she’d forgotten when the radio broadcast came on.
“All right.”
Tyson gave her a puzzled look, but after an hour of driving in silence, he seemed eager to talk. He launched into the story, something about psychedelic trolls and a magic painting, but one part caught Harper’s attention.
She sat up, blinking at Tyson. “She said ‘tribe?’”
“Yes, she did.”
“And they had wings.”
“Some of them did,” Tyson emphasized. “One of them might have been… ”
The last word blanked out the moment it reached Harper’s ears. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the sudden sensation that she’d gotten water in her ears.
“Say that again,” Harper insisted.
“What? Some of them did?”
“No, the last bit.”
“I think one of them was… ”
Harper frowned. It had happened again. Excitement bubbled inside of her. This had to have something to do with the hole in her mind. It had to. She bounced in her seat impatiently, wondering how to go about discovering what or who the Beryllium orb had taken from her when she didn’t know anything about it.
Harper wiggled her tongue around in her mouth as her mind churned, looking for words, and then she made a clicking sound. “Who was captured with Becca, Tyson?”
Tyson said a word, or a name, something that made his mouth open and stretch around sounds Harper couldn’t hear.
“Are you okay?” Tyson asked, his forehead creasing now.
Harper sat back in her seat and watched the road go by, aware of Tyson’s stare. He knew something or someone that Harper was supposed to know. Something she had known, until the Beryllium orb took it from her.
“Are we going to them?” She asked finally. “Becca and… did the soothsayer give us directions?”
Tyson turned his focus back on the road. Harper leaned back and put her feet on the dashboard. Tyson shot her a disapproving look, but didn’t lecture her. He cleared his throat. “I have a location. And the words she mentioned seemed to be a series of interactions or events. Find the mountains in the Arctic, the dreamwalker, the tribe, and the gods.”
“I’m not keen on meeting any gods.”
Tyson barked a laugh. Harper raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”
“You know, all that trouble over you at camp, them sending Aberration Management after you, they suspected that you are a demi-god.”
Harper laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I’m not immortal. I don’t have any special abilities. I can turn into a bird.”
Tyson lifted a finger from the wheel. “What about your song?”
Harper opened her mouth in an ‘O’ then shut it. She shrugged. “It’s just something I can do. I’m not related to any gods.”
Tyson studied her and dropped the subject. More driving. More silence filled with crooning country stars and their guitars. Harper found herself watching Tyson at one point, his look of concentration as he watched the road, tapping to the rhythm of the music on the steering wheel. She took in his dirty, torn t-shirt and the fact that he was still missing shoes. Harper busted out laughing.
“What?” A quirky grin popped onto Tyson’s face, combined with a perplexed, raised-eyebrow look. “What is it?”
“Your shoes!”
“Well, yeah. I figured we didn’t have time to stop.” He shrugged and smiled a bit sheepishly.
“Pull off at the next exit. You can’t go to Alaska barefoot.” Harper couldn’t stop laughing.
“Okay, it is funny. I’ll give you that. I just got focused, you know?” He signaled at the next exit and together they found a department store. Tyson had to stay in the car until Harper returned with footwear—a sturdy pair of hiking boots and socks. Then he joined her to help gather the rest of what they would need. Snacks for the road and the trail. A new set of clothes for both of them. A backpack for Harper.
Tyson grabbed a winter coat and Harper laughed at him, but he shoved it in the cart anyway.
“You need one too,” he pointed out. “It’s not warm in Alaska, even in the summer.”
“I don’t get cold.” Harper smirked, crossing her arms.
“I assume that’s a native thing,” Tyson remarked, surveying the items in their cart. “Water.”
“Right.” They circled the store again, also picking up other hygiene essentials that wouldn’t overwhelm their backpacks. When their turn came at the checkout, Harper took the shiny plastic card out of her pocket, and Tyson froze. She glanced at him.
“I checked the balance when I got the boots.” Harper said quietly. She passed him the receipt, watching his eyes widen when he saw the number. Almost $3,000 remained on the card.
Blood money, as Tyson had called it.
The cashier rang them up and Harper silently swiped the card, sweating under Tyson’s gaze. I didn’t ask for the money. Harper told herself. It would be stupid to waste it.
“I’ll pay for our food,” Tyson said as they walked out of the store with their purchases.
“You don’t need to.”
“You’ll want something left when you meet up with … You never know. I want to split the costs. I have plenty. Bachelor living in Oregon. I didn’t really have girlfriends.” He grinned, but it seemed flat.
“As in, no girlfriends to blow your money on?” Harper teased.
“Exactly.”
“Was that by choice or…”
“Hey now.” Tyson tossed bags in the trunk. He stopped after a moment, frowning at the pile of plastic sacks.
“What’s that look for?” Harper asked.
“In a few hours, we’ll hit the U.S.-Canada border.” He turned to her. “You don’t have a human ID on you. And mine might be flagged, now that the murder has been reported.”
“Can we go around? Not go through Canada?” Harper swallowed. She had ditched her ID when she left the foster system a few years ago. If they looked her up, they would find her recent residence in Camp Silver Lake and know exactly what she was. They wouldn’t make it through.
“Fly over?” Tyson asked.
“They have guns, don’t they? Big ones. I’m not sure I can carry you plus all this high enough out of range.” She gestured at the trunk.
Tyson sighed and rubbed his face. He had a layer of stubble coming in on his cheeks and chin. They hadn’t gotten anything for him to shave with, and she suddenly wondered what he would look like with a beard. She screwed up her face trying to imagine it.
Tyson noticed and laughed. “What’s that expression for?”
“Nothing.” Harper said, looking away quickly. A beard would look good on him, she decided, as long as he grew his hair out a bit too. Not that it mattered to her.
“We have another problem.” Tyson dragged a map out of one of the bags. “Driving would take us roughly five more days. By then…”
“It could be too late,” Harper finished. She rubbed her hand through her hair, looking around the parking lot at people passing.
Tyson snapped his fingers, making her jump. “We need to find a witch.”
“And you couldn’t have thought of that when you were getting cozy with the soothsayer?” Harper grumbled.
Tyson gave her a look and continued. “Charlie wasn’t a witch. She couldn�
��t open a portal. At least not to our realm.” He stopped and turned to the trunk of the car again, rummaging through several bags. He pulled out a package, looking triumphant. It was the burner phone they’d bought.
“When did you put that in there?” Harper made a face.
“I thought you saw. I just didn’t want to get stranded in Alaska without a way to call for help.”
“Help that would think we’re murderers,” Harper shot back.
Tyson held up a finger. “It also comes with a data package. We can look up registered witches in the area.”
“That’s a huge risk. A registered witch isn’t going to help renegades.”
“They’re not all snitches. A lot of them won’t question why you need to get somewhere. They just fill out the paperwork for a portal and send you after you pay them.”
Harper reached to grab the phone out of Tyson’s hand. He held it out of reach, a split second grin crossing his face at her frustration. She growled.
“What if I knew how to find an unregistered witch?” Harper asked, somewhat hesitantly. She twisted her fingers around each other.
Tyson shook his head emphatically. “Now way. They deal in illegal methods of payment. Your firstborn child, that sort of thing.”
“But no paperwork.”
“Not worth it.” Tyson wrestled with the plastic packaging on the phone, finally pulling out the pocket knife they’d bought for when an ancient magical knife wouldn’t do.
Harper tapped her foot, wondering how to convince him to not go the legal route. Sure, it could be dangerous working with witches that had no regulation, but leaving a paper trail was the last thing they wanted to do. And what if the witch recognized their faces or names and called the Stiffs? Harper watched Tyson struggle for a moment before he managed to get through the tough plastic. She sighed.
“Okay. We find a registered witch. But we use false names, and we need to change up our appearance a bit. We look like…”
“People who escaped a government camp, were attacked by goblins, and had an existential experience with a soothsayer?”
“Yeah, that.” Harper picked up a bag and double-checked to make sure it had her clothes in it, then pointed to a store next to the department store. “I’m going in there to change. A shower would be better, but I don’t see us getting one of those any time soon. Wipe down with what they have in the bathroom and don’t draw too much attention to yourself.”
“I’ll wait with the car until you’re back.” Tyson slipped the phone out of its casing and into his hand, pulling out the instructions with it. He closed the trunk door.
Harper jogged off. There was no one in the bathroom, and she had a quick and easy wipe down and change. It felt good to be fresher. She’d bought a comb, and with it she was able to get her hair to lay flat. She still had that pinched look, though it was less noticeable after eating so well at camp for a few days. The food was the one thing she’d miss. Well, and Kamri and Ian. And Fletcher.
She shook off the rising tide of grief. No time for that. She made it back to the car and found Tyson where she’d left him. He’d successfully gotten the phone up and running, and was scrolling through lists of registered witches who were in business.
“Can they get us across the border?” Harper asked.
Tyson nearly jumped out of his skin. “Geesh, make some noise, will you? And no, they can’t. Not legally. And portals have a significant, and personal, signature. No registered witch would risk her license. We can have her put us down in a wooded area near the border, and we’ll come up with a plan from there.”
“That only saves us about a day of driving,” Harper argued. She threw her hands up. “This isn’t worth the time.”
Tyson barely glanced at her, nose in the phone. She nudged his shoulder. “Go get dressed and let me have a look at that thing.” Tyson raised his eyebrows, and Harper sighed. “I promise I won’t sacrifice your firstborn child to get us into Alaska.”
He handed the phone over and jogged across the parking lot.
Harper navigated to ParaWeb. It took some finagling, since the last port she had used had vanished. She dug through the forums until she spotted a username she recognized: Nightwalker327.
Nightwalker327 was a vamp. At least, she claimed to be a vamp, and claimed to be a she, but all of that could be fake when you dealt with anyone in ParaWeb. It was the paranormal equivalent of the Dark Web, only, well, darker. And better hidden. If humans heard about it, they were taken out. The rumors were that the creator of the ParaWeb had a team of technology-trained psychics who monitored the logins. If they thought you were a threat to the system, you got shut down.
Harper had heard about the ParaWeb after she left foster care and ended up on the streets. The people she met through ParaWeb, like Nightwalker327, had given her leads on her parents.
Harper clicked on the name and sent a DM. The response came within moments, as she figured it would. Nightwalker327 was plugged in all day long.
I don’t deal with anonymous. The message read.
This is Harven078, Harper replied. She didn’t have an official account on this forum, and wasn’t keen on setting one up.
Did you find him?
Him. Not them. Harper nearly typed back, Did I find who?, but she didn’t want to sound imbecilic. And Nightwalker327 would figure Harper might not be who she said she was if she asked a question like that. For now, she tucked the information away in her mind. Him had to be this person the Beryllium orb had stolen from her, but she couldn’t dwell on it now.
It’s complicated. I need your help with something else.
Always willing to help. I know you’ll return the favor someday.
The implication of payment pending sent a chill down Harper’s spine. She shivered and glanced up at the building. Tyson wasn’t in view yet. Her thumbs flashed across the keys.
I need a portal to Alaska. Transporting two people. An unregistered witch or anything you have. I’m in Kennewick, Washington, but headed north.
A longer pause before the response came. How prepared are you?
I can handle anything. False bravado, and Harper knew it. There were plenty of things she couldn’t handle. But Tyson had his magic knife and she had her song, if she could manage to sing it again. Surely they could make it through whatever obstacles Nightwalker327 mentioned.
There’s a tunnel on the other side of the city. Fenced off, overgrown, abandoned-looking. Don’t let it fool you. There’s a portal inside, highly unstable. It will take you anywhere you think about when you step inside. Enter one at a time, and whatever you do, don’t think about how hungry you are.
Harper laughed out loud, then covered her mouth and looked to see if anyone had heard. The next message came immediately and had a set of coordinates, which Harper memorized quickly. And then another message.
It’s guarded.
Harper didn’t have time to ask by what. She saw Tyson crossing the parking lot toward her. Tyson might be exhibiting powers, but he still couldn’t be trusted with something of this magnitude. Sure, he seemed to be slowly changing his opinions about Naturalization, but it had only been a few days. She didn’t need him to have a moral crisis about what went on in the ParaWeb.
Thanks, Harper typed before clearing the history and shutting the whole thing down.
“I found us a portal. No illegal payment required.”
“How?” He was smart to be suspicious.
Harper smiled. “An old friend.” At least, Nightwalker327 was unlikely to do anything that would get Harper straight up killed. She had a reputation as a guide, and she took it seriously. Harper headed for the passenger seat of the Jeep. “I’ve got the address. Come on. We can be in Alaska by sundown.”
Tyson didn’t object, to her surprise, but buckled in next to her and started the engine. Harper pulled up a map on her phone and scrolled with her fingers, looking for the coordinates that Nightwalker327 had sent over. They led to
the middle of a field beside a running trail.
Tyson grumbled as he unpacked everything and shoved the items into the two backpacks. He had to carry his winter coat, but otherwise everything managed to fit.
“What about the Jeep?” he asked, staring at the keys in his hand.
“Can’t you tell her where it is? Through, I don’t know, astral projection or something?”
“Uh, no. Or at least, I’m not sure if I can do that.”
Harper shrugged—she wouldn’t lose any sleep over it—and watched Tyson from the trailhead.
After some thought, he pocketed the keys. “In case this portal doesn’t work out, you know. And I realized I can look up her shop on my phone and call her at some point.”
“Okay, then. So, five minutes in, we should see a rectangular, fenced enclosure,” she said, tucking the phone in her back pocket. She handed Tyson a granola bar.
“I’m not that hungry,” he said.
“Eat it anyway,” Harper replied, taking a bite of her own. It seemed like a normal day. Birds chirped. A river rushed nearby. The breeze rustled branches and the long grass on either side of the trail. They could have been a couple out for a short hike on the paved trail.
Harper turned a bend and suddenly, there it was. No attempt had been made to hide it from view. Anyone could see the fence surrounding a concrete ramp leading to a tunnel underground. A gate guarded the front with a decently sized chain and lock on it. Inside, the tunnel walls were covered with colorful graffiti—bright yellows and reds and blues and purples, words Harper couldn’t quite make out no matter how much she squinted, which made her suspect they were well-disguised runes. Inside the fence, the entrance of the tunnel was grown over with tall weeds. Whatever this place had once been, it now had the eerie feeling of having been abandoned, which made Harper’s skin itch.
“What now?” Tyson had the sense to whisper his question, at least.
“I’m not sure,” Harper murmured. She reached forward to touch the lock. Her finger went straight through it, and she smiled. So there was magic at play here, after all. She pulled open the gate, Tyson’s protest cut off by the quiet squeak of the gate’s hinges. Nothing stood between them and the tunnel now except those weeds.
