by Sara Clancy
“She totaled my car.”
“Horrible woman. Are you injured?”
Basheba’s lower jaw jutted out to the side as she suppressed her brewing rage. “I’m this close to going around town burning everything Katrina-related.”
Percival flinched at the name but held his tongue. With that, Ozzie had reached his limit. It was all too much to suppress simultaneously.
“Why do you get to say her name?” he blurted out.
Basheba took a moment to look him over from head to toe before answering. “Who’s going to stop me?”
“I just mean, well, Percival said it was like mentioning a serial killer to their victims.”
He wasn’t prepared for Basheba to roll her eyes and mutter about how she wanted another drink. It had never taken so little to make him feel like a complete idiot.
Pursing her lips, she let out a sharp whistle. The answering bark was instantaneous. The actual appearance of the dog took a little longer and was preceded with startled squeals and breaks in the crowd. Ozzie didn’t understand until he saw the animal for himself.
The Rottweiler was massive. A hundred and twenty pounds of muscle and fangs. It circled around Basheba to tap its nose against her left hand. From paw to shoulder, the dog had to be two feet tall, at least. Straightening its front legs, it dumped its rump onto the mushy leaves and stared at her with unwavering intensity. Side by side with her pet, Basheba looked as breakable as glass.
“That’s a big dog.” Ethan struggled to sound casual while simultaneously attempting to gather his family closer to him. “I assume he’s well trained?”
Both Basheba and the Rottweiler ignored him. She jerked a chin toward one of the ice buckets.
“Fetch.”
The dog’s lower fangs shone like polished marble before it was suddenly sprinting across the field, massive paws kicking up mud and leaves. That done, she returned her attention to the group before them.
“Quick question; who the hell are you?”
“Oh, um,” Ozzie glanced helplessly to Percival. “You didn’t check the website?”
“I was a little busy avoiding vehicular homicide. You might remember me mentioning that.”
Ozzie blinked at her, “You were serious?”
It seemed like she wanted to glare at him, but her angelic face didn’t allow for such an expression. It ended up as more of a pout, which Ozzie found unsettling.
How am I supposed to get a good read on her if she can’t express things properly?
It was like playing poker with someone who had just left a Botox party.
Ozzie shuffled his feet and fought the urge to look at Percival again. I can handle a conversation on my own. I can make her like me.
“I just thought the witch couldn’t do anything physical until−”
“Oh, you’re Osgood.” She said it as if the mystery had really been bothering her.
“Ozzie,” he corrected with a shrug, only to be ignored.
Her attention was stolen by the immense black dog’s return. One side of its lips was bunched up around the beer bottle it carried. Without prompting, it dropped the bottle into Basheba’s waiting hand and graciously accepted a neck rub as reward.
“Good boy,” she cooed as she read the label.
The animal melted into the touch, plastering itself to her side and looking up at her with utter adoration.
“Very good boy.” Twisting open the top, she smirked at Percival. “He’s even learned my brand.”
Ha-Yun’s motherly instinct couldn’t be denied. “You mentioned earlier you were underage.”
“I’m twenty,” Basheba said slowly.
“Still,” Ha-Yun pressed gently. “That’s not twenty-one.”
The blonde couldn’t contain her giggle. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”
“Ha-Yun.” Percival cleared his throat, seemingly sharing Basheba’s amusement. “By now, you must realize being a member of the four families comes with a certain degree of stress. Everyone here has developed a tactic for dealing with it. Admittedly, some are healthier than others, but it’s considered polite not to draw attention to them. Let alone criticize.”
“So, you just ignore illegal activity that could be damaging her developing brain?” Ha-Yun turned back to Basheba. “What does your mother say about this?”
The younger woman stopped nursing the bottle to mumble around a full mouth, “Katrina killed her five years ago.”
Ha-Yun instantly deflated. “Oh. I’m—”
“And I might die tomorrow,” Basheba chirped.
In that moment, Ozzie found the small pixie of a woman incredibly creepy. It was in the smile. The brilliant, pristine smile matched with dead eyes.
Like a shark sensing blood, Basheba continued, her pleasant smile frozen in place.
“I’m for sure going to be tortured, both mentally and physically. Katrina might even let me see my father’s death. She showed me my mother’s two years ago. And brother’s. Both my sisters’. Countless cousins. At this point, it’ll be kind of mean not to let me know if my daddy died screaming or not. Like ruining a set.”
Slowly, deliberately, she rose the bottle back to her lips. The tendrils of hair that hung around her face began to sway. It was the only hint she was trembling.
“I’m sorry.” She tipped the bottle. “Does this bother you?”
“No,” Ha-Yun said softly. She didn’t appear to know what she wanted to express, and her face restlessly shifted through countless emotions. “No, it doesn’t. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll pace myself.” She turned fully to Percival. “Where’s Cadwyn?”
“He hasn’t arrived yet.”
“So, um,” Ozzie lurched into the conversation, desperate to find a way to claw onto a better standing point with her. “Do you prefer BeBe?”
“What?”
“You know, Basheba Bell. BeBe. Or do you just go by your last name?”
“I prefer Basheba.”
“Really?” He snorted.
Big mistake, he realized when her eyes narrowed again. She didn’t say anything, just glared at him as she took another slow sip.
“I like your dog,” Ozzie blurted out.
Stupid. Stupid. Stu— His trail of thought shattered as he watched her face light up. Until that moment, he had been half-convinced she wasn’t capable of making a real smile.
“His name is Buck. And he’s the best boy who ever existed. Ever. I will fight you on that.”
A smile and a joke? Ozzie almost puffed out his chest with pride. Now we’re getting somewhere.
“Well, obviously he is,” Ozzie chuckled.
“Does he bite?” Ethan asked, trying to keep the light tone.
“Well, obviously he does,” Basheba said. “But only when I tell him to.”
Okay, two jokes. One’s a little dark, but that’s still a good sign. His hopes were confirmed when her smile grew, and she tilted her head to the side, her tangled gold hair spilling over one narrow shoulder.
“He’s a guard dog. Very well trained.”
“I see,” Ha-Yun said. “He looks like a lovely animal.”
She beamed, one hand lovingly rubbing the dog’s neck. “Yes, he is. And beautifully brutal.”
Percival took half a step closer to her and lowered his voice, almost as if he was trying to keep everyone else from hearing them.
“I didn’t get a chance to say it last year. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Almost instantly, her pale eyes brightened with threatening tears. She bit her lips and nodded rapidly.
“Johnny was a good man. He was the best of us.”
“Yes.” Life came back to Basheba. Her cheeks warmed, and she concealed every trace of emotion behind a tiny, ever-present smile. “He was.”
Ozzie had the distinct impression he was missing some integral piece of information; something important that would explain the way she locked her gaze onto Percival as she took another mouthful. He had never see
n the man look so unsure. He shuffled his feet but was kept from having to come up with a response when she abruptly scanned the crowd.
“So, you finally got to bring Osgood−”
“Ozzie.” He regretted correcting his name when Basheba turned her attention back to him.
One blink and she went from staring him down to looking like the most approachable person he had ever met. Is it possible to get emotional whiplash?
“Ozzie. Right, sorry, I’ll get it. Don’t you worry. So, what finally brings you onto our little farm of crazy?”
Ozzie cleared his throat. Is there a way you’re supposed to say it? Not thinking of one, he settled for holding up the music box.
“Ah. I was hoping you were holding that for a friend.”
“Nope. Just me.”
“How old are you?”
“Almost sixteen.”
Her eyelids fluttered closed, effectively keeping any other trace of emotion contained. There was just that smile. The creepy, creepy doll smile.
“Well.” Her eyes opened, and she said it so delightfully, Ozzie could almost hear bells chiming in her words. “You’re going to die. Enjoy your last day on earth. Well, last without all the nightmare-inducing stuff.”
With a salute of her bottle, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd as a stranger appeared behind Ozzie.
“Don’t worry about my niece,” the man replied. He was pretty much just a scrawny frame topped with wire rim glasses and wrapped in a tweed coat. “Go on, get some sleep. The others won’t be here for a while yet.”
The reassurance flooded Ozzie’s insides with warmth. As small as it was, it was the first hint from someone outside his family that everything was going to be okay. He desperately wanted to believe it. But there was something in the way Percival lifted his chin that made him hesitate. The tiny motion spoke volumes to Ozzie. He doesn’t trust this man. There’s real hatred there.
“Oh, thank you,” Ha-Yun stammered.
Ethan rushed forward to grab the man’s hand, shaking it almost violently in his gratitude. Only afterward did he recall that they were lacking some introductions.
“I’m sorry. I’m Ethan, this is my wife, Ha-Yun, and our son, Ozzie.”
Ozzie’s stomach tied up in knots as he watched his parents stammer and gush their gratitude on the stranger. He had never seen them this desperate. The truth sliced into him like a knife. They’re terrified. They don’t think I’m going to survive. They think I’m going to die here. Suddenly, the air seemed too thin to breathe.
“Oh, Percival has kept us well apprised of all of you,” the man smiled. “I’m Isaac Bell. Have you met my daughter yet? A sweet girl called Claudia?”
“No, we’ve just arrived,” Ha-Yun said.
Isaac’s smile grew warmer while the tendons in Percival’s neck pressed against his skin.
“You must be exhausted. I know my home won’t be up to your normal standards, but it’s close, warm, and yours to use as you wish.”
“That’s very kind,” Ethan said. “Thank you. But I don’t think any of us can sleep right now.”
“You’ll be surprised. Come, I’ll introduce you to my daughter, and we’ll get you comfortable. I’m sure Percival has a lot he needs to get in order.”
“Thank you. But we really should be talking to Basheba,” Ha-Yun said.
Isaac dismissed the protest with a wave. “She’ll protect your son. I’ll make sure of it.”
It hadn’t occurred to Ozzie how desperate his parents were for any kind of reassurance until he watched them both gush gratitude onto the stranger without any further prompting. Ozzie lingered back as Isaac herded his parents across the open field, waiting for them to be far enough away so they wouldn’t hear his whisper to Percival.
“Why don’t you like this guy?”
“Because he’s a horrible human being,” Percival whispered back. “He has absolutely no control over his niece, by the way. I don’t know what he’s angling for, but there’s no way he can deliver on what he’s promising.”
“So, I should still be trying to win over Basheba?”
Percival mulled the question over before giving a quick shake of his head. “No. We can’t, now. Any attempt to play nice will be tainted by Isaac.”
Ozzie’s stomach dropped. “What do we do then?”
“We need Cadwyn.”
Chapter 9
Sheets of iron had replaced Cadwyn’s eyelids. Muscle memory had long since taken over, keeping him upright on his bike even as he played with the brink of sleep. Reckless speeding hadn’t been one of his best ideas, but it had shaved a few hours off his journey. The noonday sun had started to push into the afternoon by the time he reached the outskirts of the town.
The long, monotonous roads didn’t help to keep his attention, but it did make it easier to ride. Looming trees shaded him from what little warmth the sun held. Combined with the air whipping around him, he was pretty sure he had fallen into a mild state of hypothermia. Although, that could’ve admittedly been a trick of his sleep-addled mind. While the demon had abandoned its trick of raining bloodied teeth upon him, the damage was done. His leather gloves crackled as he tightened his grip. It wasn’t enough to stop his fingers from shaking.
Reducing his speed, he weaved through the cavernous jaws of the covered bridge. Chipped wooden planks, weather-worn and eaten away by burrowing insects, rattled under his wheels. The sound became a steady rhythm that mingled with the hum of his bike as he crossed over the babbling brook. Sunlight poured in between the old slabs of lumber that constructed the walls, cutting across the bridge in solid bars and flashing against his helmet’s visor. The strobe light effect rendered him blind, leaving him to navigate by feel alone.
His bike growled in protest at the slower pace, but he didn’t speed up. The ancient bridge was only large enough to accommodate one car at a time. If he was going to careen headfirst into a farmer’s truck, it wasn’t going to be at full speed. The sound of vibrating wood gave way to the crunch of dead leaves and the even feel of concrete. A twist of the wrist let him burst back out into the light. A small incline later, he was finally able to leave the river behind. In the home stretch, now. The looming promise of sleep kept him moving. A few rapid blinks brought his eyes back into focus.
His brow knotted as he approached the first curve that marked the twisting road to come. A Witch Elm tree stood proudly in the arch of the bend. Its cluster base had been a formidable match for an old Chevrolet hatchback. The whole front of the car had crumbled like paper against the thick trunk, leaving glass scattered over the damp road and the weak headlights fighting against the shade cluster under the canopy.
Cadwyn slowed again, staring at the sight, trying to get his sluggish brain to make sense of it all, or at the very least, tell him why the sight left dread gnawing in the pit of his stomach.
1979 Chevrolet Chevette Hatchback. The information drifted across his mind before the meaning followed. That’s Basheba’s car.
Cadwyn gripped the brakes. The soft layer of leaves caught his wheels, making him skid and slide as he brought himself to a sudden halt.
Look around you! The thought tore free of the foggy haze that filled his skull. Still straddling his Thruxton, he tore his eyes off the mangled steel to survey his surroundings.
The forest stood tall and still around him. No witch. No demonic force. No Basheba. The kickstand struggled to keep the still rumbling vehicle upright as he leaped off and raced to the driver’s side door.
No body. No blood.
The disjointed thoughts left Cadwyn sagging against the gaping hole of the window, trusting his thick leather jacket to protect him from the shards of glass that protruded from the frame like broken teeth.
She’s not hurt.
He stared at the front seat, trying to understand why he cared about the scattered shrapnel. It’s undisturbed, he realized at last. There was no sign anyone had been in the driver’s seat at the time of impact. Gripping the door with bo
th gloved hands, he cast a look down the road. It twisted out of sight after only a few yards.
Well, go, a voice in his head whispered, almost as if his inner self couldn’t stand his sleepy stupidity for a moment longer. If you hurry, you might be able to catch up with her.
Before he could turn away, a clear bag of yogurt pretzels caught his eye. The combination of a long torso and a long reach made it easy for him to snatch up the bag from the back seat. What on earth? Vibrant green icing filled two of the pretzel holes, each glop topped with candy eyes to make them look like little aliens. A little ribbon kept the bag together and he twisted the attached tag around to read it.
“Intergalactic Truck Stop. Best stop on the Milky Way Highway,” he read aloud. A soft chuckle rolled around the inside of his helmet. “Basheba, the places you go.”
Struck with the sudden urge to try one, he pulled back away from the car. It wasn’t until he was plucking at the drawstring that his situation dawned on him. This had all the makings of a trap.
Shoving the bag into one of his jacket pockets, he scanned the area with more concern. The tint of his visor muted the vibrant woods around him. It saved his eyes from the glare, but swelled the shadows, letting them gather beyond the initial tree line. The normal sounds of wildlife that would fill the woods were lost under the constant rumble of his bike. Robbed of both sight and sound, he retreated back to the road, constantly watching for any signs of movement.
Adrenaline ripped through his veins like wildfire, burning away any trace of fatigue and leaving his hands twitching. A few quick strides and he was back on his bike, gunning the engine until it howled like a wounded beast.
Nothing rushed from the undergrowth to prevent his escape. He didn’t know if he should find that a comfort or a dark omen, but it didn’t matter. All he wanted was to get to town.
Picking up his speed turned the slow, meandering curves of the road into dangerous turns. The road slashed at his knees as he leaned into them, stripping away the leather of his biker pants to grind against the internal padding. Bit by bit, it came closer to reaching his flesh.
A straight stretch allowed him to push his engine to its limits. Frozen air lashed at him. Shadows danced across his eyes, some coming from outside his visor while others seemed to be within his helmet. Decomposing leaves and mud spewed up from his wheels as he barreled down the foliage-covered road. The earth trembled, the trees thrashed violently, and, with an explosion of shattered twigs, a massive beast lumbered free of the tree line. Two swift strides brought the creature to the center of the road. Cadwyn jerked, forcing his bike into a skid and almost losing control entirely as he slid a few yards to an abrupt stop.
