Oliver Crum Box Set

by Chris Cooper

  Oliver sat across from the man and folded his arms on the desk. “The last guy who came here for Asher ended up dead in a field. You don’t scare me.”

  That last bit was a lie, and the only reason Oliver’s hands weren’t visibly shaking was because he had clasped them tightly together.

  “I didn’t scare the bartender or that pig either.” The man held an index finger to his lips and grinned. “I like you,” he said, leaning back in his chair and flipping his lighter around in his hands. “You’re like one of those dolls that says heroic catchphrases every time you pull its string.”

  He looked at his watch. “Let’s see—nine o’clock now. I’ll give you until dawn to bring Asher to the train. If he’s not here by sunrise, I will come looking for him and will be sure to burn to the ground anyone and anything that gets in my way.” He clicked the flint wheel, and a flame rose from the tip of the lighter. “I have a proclivity for fire, so try not to test me on this one.”

  “Don't you have enough of his blood already? With the stolen tank from The Parlor and the specimen jars—what more could you need?”

  The man leaned in. “That’s just enough to get me started. Simon didn’t understand the boy’s true power. He may have lit a few torches and healed a few wounds, but Asher’s blood is more than that—it’s cosmic fuel. I will have him.”

  “Awful trusting to assume we won’t leave town,” Oliver replied.

  “You and I both know that’s not possible. Nothing comes in, and nothing goes out. Until I have Asher, winter will continue in Christchurch.”

  Oliver sat back in the chair. “How are you doing it? Are you an Unnatural?”

  “You’re wasting valuable time with all these questions. But I tell you what.” He opened one of the desk drawers, pulled out a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills, and tossed them on the table.

  “Because I like you, I’ll sweeten the pot. Consider this a finder’s fee. It’s yours if you bring him here. You have till sunrise to think about it before I come knocking. And I knock hard. Would be a shame too—it’s a beautiful home.”

  Oliver’s eyes widened.

  “What?” he asked. “You think I wasn’t watching? I saw the car come from over the hill on the outskirts of town. Few houses out that way, from what I’ve seen.” He grinned.

  “You will never have him,” Oliver said as he pounded a fist on the desk.

  The man rolled his eyes. “And what will you say if I pull the string again? Please don’t waste my time with your pathetic macho-man act. I have to say I’m offended you’re not more receptive to my generosity. I could have mowed this town over, and no one would have noticed. Instead, I offer you money, and you insult me with the pathetic excuse for a weapon that’s rusting out in the snow.” The man stood and led Oliver to the doorway. “Now, let me show you the door so you can go mull over my proposition although there isn’t much to consider. Bring me the boy, or I burn your town to the ground.” He cocked his head to one side and smiled.

  Oliver turned to reply, but before he could, the man pressed the button on the wall, and the metal door in the side of the room shot open. With a swift kick, he knocked Oliver out of the train car into the deep snow. He turned to look back, but the metal door had shot back into place, leaving no access to the iron fortress.

  Eric rushed to his side, while Will tried with no luck to pry the door open.

  “Are you all right?” Eric asked.

  “Fine,” Oliver replied as he stood up and brushed himself off. He bent down to pick up his weapon and coat and wiped off the shiny metal.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said I have until sunrise to bring Asher to the train.”

  “But why?”

  “Asher’s blood. He says it’s ‘cosmic fuel.’”

  “Oliver… you don’t really believe—”

  “You saw it for yourself!” Oliver snapped. “You aren’t allowed to be a skeptic, Eric. You nearly shot me, point blank, last year because I broke a damned violin. You know there’s something going on here you can’t explain away with reason, so cut the crap. This train won’t leave here without Asher, and he’s threatened to destroy anyone and anything that gets in the way. So you can either help me or stay the hell out of my way.”

  Eric took a step back. “Look, I know there’s something going on that I don’t quite get, but we’re trying to help, trying to keep the town safe when there’s just the two of us. But you’ve got to give me a minute, and you can’t go flying off the handle and expect things to work out in your favor.”

  Oliver shook his head. “What are we going to do, then?”

  “You’re going back to Izzy’s,” Eric replied. “The guy might have an edge on us while he’s locked up in that train, but he can’t drive it across the square. He’ll have to come out, and when he does, we’ll be waiting.”

  “And what am I supposed to do?” Oliver asked. “Sit and wait for him to knock on the door?”

  “If he can get through us and comes knocking on your door, we’ve got bigger problems to worry about,” Eric replied.

  Chapter Six

  Oliver lay in bed, watching snowflakes fall outside as Nekko’s head rested on his breastbone, her soft purr vibrating through his chest. Typically, he’d have pushed the cat off his stomach hours before, but her presence comforted him. He ran his hands through her fur, thoughts of what awaited him at sunrise racing through his head.

  He’d spent many sleepless nights in his third-floor bedroom, worried about the Witch, worried about the Siren, even worried about his mother. Now, he found himself sleepless again, wondering whether tomorrow would tear his newfound family apart and whether tonight might very well be his last sleepless night at Izzy’s… or his last night period.

  Eric and Will had planted themselves firmly between the train station and the town, hoping to protect it from the man who’d called himself the Collector. He was just a man, or so Oliver thought. Still, as the mysterious storm raged, Oliver wondered how the Collector was controlling the blizzard and just what other secret weapons he held behind the steel walls of the sleek locomotive.

  After several hours of tossing and turning, Oliver abandoned sleep completely and rolled out of bed toward the window. The snowfall had let up momentarily, and although the sky was still dark, the snow-covered ground reflected the moon’s rays, casting a glow in the atmosphere.

  Christchurch appeared sleepy and peaceful in the distance, but he wondered how many other townspeople lay awake that evening, Mitch’s death fresh in their minds.

  He shook his head and tried to clear it of all the panicked thoughts racing through. The floorboards creaked as he crossed the landing to Asher’s room. He stuck his head inside, but Asher’s bed was empty. So I’m not the only one who can’t sleep.

  As he reached the second floor, he heard chatter from the first and climbed downstairs, holding his weapon and ammo belt in one hand and gripping the railing with the other. When he reached the kitchen, Asher, Anna, and Izzy were all sitting around the table as though they’d been there for some time.

  They’d all resolved to stay in the house, where the four of them would face the man together if he came knocking. If Eric and Will couldn’t stop him, they would be ready.

  “None of you could sleep either?” he asked.

  Someone had gathered a collection of weapons from around the house. Several bats and a hockey stick leaned against the kitchen table, a blunt object for each of them.

  “Don’t you think that might be overkill?” Oliver asked, nodding at the cache.

  “I’d rather be over-prepared than caught by surprise,” Izzy replied. “I learned that during my protest days. Coffee? Was just about to put another pot on.”

  “Sounds great,” he replied.

  Izzy hopped up from the table and walked over to the coffeepot.

  Oliver set his weapon down and took a seat. “I got tired of lying in bed. How long have you all been up?”

  “An hour or so,�
� Asher replied. “I nodded off once or twice, just long enough to have a few horrifying nightmares.”

  Izzy returned, set a coffee cup in front of Oliver, and filled it with the rest of the coffee from the pot before turning the machine on to brew a fresh one.

  “I hate sitting here, just waiting for something to happen. I feel so helpless,” Izzy said as she returned to the table.

  “I know,” Oliver replied. “I’m sure they’ll grab him as soon as he comes out of the train. He can’t stay locked away in there and come after us, can he? And if he does, we have our own weapons.” Oliver patted the handle of his gun sword.

  “Let’s just hope he doesn’t have something more modern, like—I don’t know—a revolver.” Anna smirked.

  “Hey, it’s better than that bat you’ve been carrying around,” he shot back.

  Anna stuck her tongue out.

  “I wish I could figure out how he’s keeping us locked in. I don’t think he’s doing it himself. Think he’s got another Unnatural onboard?” Oliver sipped his coffee cautiously but still burned his lips. “I asked him if he was an Unnatural, and he waffled. And if he was the same burned man they found near the pub, I didn’t see any burns.”

  “Let’s just hope that Eric can get onboard and find out,” Anna replied.

  “And the woman. I thought he’d killed her, but he said she was still alive. I wonder if she could be controlling the storm.” Oliver pressed his head into his hands and massaged his temples. “Why can’t we just have a normal fall: an ordinary old Halloween with fake witches and a Thanksgiving where no one’s burned to death? Is it too much to ask? Hasn’t this town been through enough?” He looked up at the others.

  “I don't know what normal is anymore.” Anna grinned.

  Oliver shook his head. “We’ll get through this, right?” He wanted to be strong, but the question had been percolating in his head, and the severity of the situation brought it spilling out.

  “All we can do is try,” Izzy replied, “and our track record has been good so far.”

  “You’re right,” he replied, looking up from the table. “Let him come.”

  By dawn, the crew sitting at Izzy’s kitchen table had consumed several pots of coffee and force-fed themselves breakfast. Orange slivers of morning light moved along the walls as sun rays sneaked through the breaks in the clouds. Oliver stepped to the back of the kitchen to peer out the window. The scene outside was deceptively peaceful. The sunlight was a reminder that a world still existed outside Christchurch’s invisible walls.

  “Wonder how long it’ll take the guy to figure out we’re not coming,” he asked.

  Asher rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know, but I wish he’d get on with it. I’m too wired and stressed to sleep but too tired to do much of anything else.”

  A frantic knock made them all jump, and Pan ran through the living room, yapping loudly.

  Oliver lifted his weapon from the table and clicked one of the hammers.

  “He couldn’t have gotten through. The police were guarding the train.” Anna reached for her bat, her eyes wide with concern.

  “I don’t know,” he replied, holding his fingers to his lips. “I’ll go see who it is.”

  Another violent pounding echoed through the house.

  Oliver approached the front door, training the barrel of his weapon at its center.

  “Who is it?” he shouted.

  “It’s Eric. For God’s sake, let me in!” Oliver hadn’t heard that level of desperation in Eric’s voice since he’d pleaded for the sound of the Siren’s violin.

  He lowered his weapon and approached the door. As soon as he flipped the lock, Eric rushed inside and slammed the door behind himself. As Pan leapt at his legs, he bent over and tried to catch his breath.

  “What happened?” Oliver asked as the others emerged from the doorway into the living room.

  “Go, now,” he said. “You’ve got maybe five minutes before he gets here. He’ll burn the place to the ground—make sure you take everyone. Get as far away from town as you can. We’ll come find you once it’s safe.”

  “But how? He’s just got a lighter,” Oliver replied.

  Eric let out a nervous laugh. “That’s what I thought. It’s more than that. The flames come from his hands.”

  “We can go to the cottage,” Anna said.

  “No, he’ll go door-to-door until he finds you. You have to leave town,” Eric replied.

  Oliver was dumbfounded. “What are you going to do? Come with us.”

  “No, I’ve got to stay here and help the others. Take care of yourself,” he said. “Just go! I’ll try to hold him off.” He turned toward the front door and was gone before Oliver could process what had just happened.

  As Eric trudged back to his car, Oliver caught a glimpse of smoke rolling from the far side of the square.

  He turned toward the others, whose faces were terror stricken.

  “Where do we go?” Anna asked.

  “I don’t know,” Oliver replied.

  “We have to go back, don’t we?” Asher asked, stepping toward the window to look outside.

  “Back?” Anna asked.

  “Back to Briarwood.”

  “Are you sure it’s safe?” Izzy asked.

  “Gideon’s alive,” Oliver replied. “I’ve seen him at the edge of the woods. He might be able to help us.”

  “You saw him?” Izzy asked. “Why didn’t—”

  “I think we should do it,” Asher said, as if trying to get the words out before good sense persuaded him otherwise. He turned toward them. “If you think Gideon will help us, I’d be willing to take the risk. We’ll be harder to find there, anyway.”

  “Are you sure?” Oliver asked. “I’m far from certain.”

  Asher shrugged. “We don’t have much time to debate. We’ve got to go now, and I think Briarwood is the best option.”

  Oliver nodded. “Let’s get going, then.”

  They pulled their coats and boots from the hall closet and bundled up as best they could.

  Asher stood at the back window, his face as pale as the snow accumulating outside.

  “You look like you’re going to be sick,” Oliver said.

  Asher swallowed hard. “What if it doesn’t work? What will stop him from waltzing right into Briarwood? Don’t exactly need this to get in anymore.” From under his shirt, he pulled the chain holding the Briarwood key.

  “We’ll find Gideon, and he’ll help us. This guy doesn’t have a chance.” Oliver tried to sound confident but wasn’t sure he’d convinced Asher.

  Asher turned toward him. “I could walk right over to the train station, and things would be back to normal by tomorrow. Just promise you’ll let me go if the Briarwood plan fails.”

  “That really what you want to do?” Oliver asked.

  “No. I just don’t want anyone else to suffer to save me.”

  Oliver thought back to his conversation with Anna, when she chased him as he left for the train station. “We’ll figure this out, and we’ll do it together.”

  “Just promise me, if it comes down to it, you’ll let me go.”

  “I promise.” Oliver rolled his eyes.

  “Who’s taking the cat?” Izzy asked as she entered the kitchen, carrying Pan and wearing an old leather belt with a baseball bat looped through it.

  The pets…

  “We can’t leave them,” she said. “You saw what happened to the bar.”

  “You’re right,” he said.

  “I’ll grab the cat!” Asher shouted from the living room.

  The early winter wind cut through Oliver’s jeans as he pulled his coat tight around himself, and the snow clung to them as they traversed the hill as quickly as their feet could carry them. Nekko, happy to let someone do the walking for her, burrowed herself in Asher’s arms and nuzzled against his chest, trying to absorb his body heat. Pan squirmed in Izzy’s grip, whining desperately to be put down.

  The scene must have looked abs
urd—a train of people trudging down a snowy hill with a fat cat and a corgi.

  Although Oliver kept a steady pace, Asher was gradually slowing.

  “Doing all right back there?” he asked.

  “Just preparing myself,” Asher replied.

  “They won’t even recognize you. You weren’t exactly in the best shape, considering you were covered in blood and all.”

  They came to the edge of the briars, or at least where the briars had once been. Snow had covered most of the broken brambles, but several dead branches stuck out.

  “They’re harmless now,” Oliver said, stepping into the crunchy patch. He wasn’t sure exactly where the invisible dome had been, but that mattered little ever since it had come crashing to the ground.

  As they approached the ruins of the stone house at the edge of Briarwood, Oliver kept a close eye on the trees in front of him.

  Oliver recognized the foundation of the collapsed building Asher had shown him a few weeks before. Although the ruins were covered with snow, scorch marks still showed on the far wall—the only wall still standing. A thick roof beam lay up against the charred stone. The body they’d seen before had been covered, too, and Oliver chose not to mention it to Anna and Izzy.

  They passed the broken lampposts that once lit the way into town, powered by the magical blood flowing through Asher’s veins.

  When they reached the edge of the town square, Oliver stepped out from behind a tree at its border to get a closer look. The shops had all been boarded up, and one had even collapsed in on itself. The toppled statue of Nathaniel Hale had been cleared, leaving an empty pedestal.

  The impossibly proportioned town hall sat on the far end of the square. The metal lantern room on the side of the building—the same one from which the Witch had burst a year earlier—still hung broken, copper bracing mangled and clinging desperately to shards of broken glass. The main structure stood strong although the stones had been scorched on one side and debris littered the front steps.

  “Maybe this was a mistake,” Asher whispered.

  “Just a drop,” someone said from behind.

  Oliver held in a scream and turned around.