“We have to go back.”
Behind the dive mask, his eyes blinked rapidly. After a moment, he nodded. “Back.”
She grabbed his dangling air hose and put the mouthpiece in his mouth. Then she turned on her tanks and inserted her own mouthpiece. As they carefully clambered across the slimy golden mud, a shadow swirled in the green sphere in the root arch. Ryker tried to pull away as the shape resolved. The thing that attacked them in the reservoir charged them, swimming at great speed.
Echo froze in indecision. Force the monster away from the portal, and ensure that it would start eating swimmers, fishermen and boaters? No, it had to return to the Twih, even if it meant she might get hurt or die.
“Nuh! Nuh! Nuh!” Ryker moaned past the mouthpiece.
There was no escaping, the thing moved so swiftly. In a second, it broke through the murky gateway. Yet when it was on the bank, it moved as sluggishly as its counterparts in the Twih. Echo realized that her world, beyond the portal, was speeding by. She knew time was slower here, but had never witnessed it before.
Huge jaws opened and closed, beady eyes taking in the invading humans. The growl from deep within the creature was reminiscent of a crowd in conversation. It did not move to attack. Still, it stood between the two of them and the only passage to the human world. Its head moved, pendulous, from her to Ryker, the babble flowing from the jagged-toothed maw. Then, with a flap of its paddle tail, it followed the others toward the bend in the river.
Taking no time for a sigh of relief, Echo dragged Ryker to the vertical surface of water. Just as they reached it, she caught two things out of the corner of her eye. The first was a trail of footprints made by small sneakers. They climbed the bank toward the upsidedown forest. The second was bright and orange, a bracket shape crossed with white ribbons. A brilliant flash engulfed her consciousness just after she realized that both belonged to Ryker’s long-drowned brother, Bobby.
Bobby Novak was trapped in this horrific area of the Twih.
Chapter 11
“SO YOU WERE MARRIED, had a child, and then abandoned your family.” Harvest sat on the log at the teenage party spot. Out on the water, she saw a bunch of divers on a boat that looked too small. A tinge of anxiety without source flared, and vanished before she could mentally pursue it.
Leshy sat across the firepit from her, hooved feet crossed. Digging into the bag of Mrs. Field’s cookies she brought, he shrugged mammoth shoulders. “I guess.”
“You guess?”
He crunched loudly, swallowed. “Look, Alan McGooby was not the smooth player you see before you. And may I say, the constable uniform with the shorts? Quite fetching.”
Harvest decided to let the comment slide.
“I really only got lucky a few times. Unfortunately, one of the times was with Marge Spratt, and she got pregnant. This was the early ’60s, so, we got married, of course. Back then, it was the right thing to do. Sort of.”
She waited.
McGooby craned his neck to look out at the reservoir. “Marge was not what you would call a looker. I was not what you would call responsible. If I was faithful, well, it was just because I couldn’t get laid anyway.” He held his palms up. “We had a girl, Lisa. I look in on her from time to time. She’s fine, followed her old man into the psych biz. Married a nice guy named Mudge, and had a son, my grandson, who is kind of an a-hole. I keep hoping he’ll run for the bench.”
Harvest had to puzzle it out for a moment. “Ah. Judge Mudge. Funny. So you don’t remember abandoning your family.”
He shook his horned head. “Everything gets blurry around the time I became a Leshy. I mean, the Twih, it’s freakin bizarre. Like, drive you bonkers bizarre. The portal I opened must have been deep in the Twih, where everything is more intense and insane-o. Luckily, I made it to the Arcadian Calm, that woodsy space right on the border of this world. Maybe it’s because it’s my job to guard the Arcadian Portal. Anyway, I think the journey might’ve messed up my mind. I just don’t remember how any of it happened.”
She kicked a crushed beer can in frustration. “Awesome sauce.”
“What’s the big deal, anyway? Alan McGooby became Leshy. End of story.”
It wasn’t a story she could tell anyone, however. She stared at the tumbled shack behind Leshy. Harvest still had nothing to bring to the DA. Would she have to kiss that job goodbye?
“Here’s the big deal. Your grandson has been looking into your disappearance for a long time. I’ve read the files. FBI, state and local cops, private investigators. He isn’t going to stop. What happens if he finds out the truth? Even just a part of the truth?”
“Like the patients in my former career, he’ll go nutso. Humans don’t do well with Twih stuff. The brain translates experiences with magic or magical beings into paranoid delusions. I was able to tap into that translation, allow the patient to rationalize his experience, though there was nothing rational about it to begin with. That was the part I was missing at first—that the delusions weren’t delusions at all. All my equipment really did was open a window on the Twih. At base, the treatment changed what had been a physical encounter into something more akin to watching a movie. Of course, there is no treatment now. I guess ol’ Alfred Mudge would have to be committed.”
“Either that, or he might expose those of us with ties to the Twih. Maybe even accuse us of doing away with his grandfather,” Harvest argued.
Leshy’s horns bobbed like a balancing scale. “Maybe.”
“I need to give him a plausible explanation.”
He tipped the cookie bag to his snout and let the crumbs slide in. “People disappear all the time. I should know, I disappear some of them. It’s a thing. It happens. Maybe, if I hadn’t become this stunning man-beast, I might have left Marge on purpose.”
“Just vanish into thin air? No paper trail?”
Leshy guffawed. “What, in 1965? No computers, no problem. I could’ve faked a new identity, maybe even a therapist license, lived a carefree bachelor’s life filled with chicks and swinging cocktail parties.” He frowned and looked away. “Now that I think of it, that sounds pretty good.”
“I would still have to prove it to Mudge.”
His eyes turned to hers again, face bunched in disbelief. “Why?”
It was Harvest’s turn to look away. “I just have to.”
“Sorry, can’t help you. Say, I do believe this is our second date. First ice cream, now a picnic.” He held up the empty cookie bag.
“I wouldn’t call this a date.”
“You know what happens after the third date, right? Right?” Leshy leaned forward eagerly. “Weekend’s coming up. You doing anything?”
“Yes, I’m doing something. I am perpetually doing something.” Harvest rose. For a moment, she stared at the tumbled building. In the sunlight, she noted for the first time the scale pattern of shingles. These weren’t the fallen walls of a shack, but the roof of a structure much larger than she’d thought at first. Why did this fact stick like a splinter in her thoughts.
“It’s going to be a sunny weekend, so I have a full schedule of making teenage partiers pee their pants. But I could make the time.”
She gave him a pointed look. “Perpetually doing something.”
“You’ll come around.” He rose to his full seven feet, picked up his axe and vanished in the woods.
QUINN, ALL JAMMIED up after work, flopped on the Grams’ couch, remoting through on-demand shows. Her brain was tired. She needed distraction. As soon as she settled on the next episode of a Knights Templar drama, Harvest burst in.
“I hate this case.”
She let the knights in white battle it out on the screen. “Yeah, but if you solve it, you get a new job. How’s that supposed to work with the constable thing?”
“Mudge says I can do both, as long as there are no conflicts, until the next election.” Harvest gazed at the TV. “Haven’t we seen this one?”
“Don’t care. Brain fried. Watch show.”
&n
bsp; Harvest plunked down in the recliner. “I just don’t want to know any more about Alan McGooby.”
“That idiot?”
Both women’s head spun toward the kitchen as Uncle Nick stepped out brandishing a plate. He wore an ivory linen suit, a pink collared shirt, and loafers with no socks. Aroma flooded forth, the fried potato and greasy meat smell that made their stomachs rumble as one. Quinn rubbed her temples at the sight of him.
“Ox roast sandwiches and poutine. Any takers?”
“Hell to the yes,” Harvest stood up and took the paper plate from him. “I agree Leshy’s an idiot, but why do you think so?”
“Degeneration of the Twih began when he and his little coven started poking their science at it. There will always be consequences when a human intrudes. Quinn? Food?”
She saw the way that Harvest’s eyes rolled back in her skull after taking a few bites. Her sister looked on the verge of drooling. “Yes, please.”
“Hey, Uncle Nick, why aren’t you rhyming at us?” Harvest asked around a mouthful.
He produced a sandwich plate for Quinn. “I’m using the device in Quinn’s bag.”
Quinn flopped back on the couch and pulled out the Walkman knock-off. The play button was pressed. She shrugged and pulled free a gravy-smothered French fry.
After blinking a few times, Harvest turned back to Nick. “Do you know what happened to McGooby?”
“He went too far, and trapped himself in the Twih. How or why he did this, I have no idea.” Nick came in with his own plate and sat on an ottoman.
“Okay, I have more questions. If time is a spiral in the Twih, and you can see the past and future at the same time, why are you dragging Quinn into your custody case? Don’t you already know you’ll live happily ever after?”
“Linear time is absolutely confusing to me. Fixed points attract my attention. Otherwise, your lives are a muddle, always moving forward. I couldn’t possibly keep track of all the events in your chronological dimension, nor can I put them in an order you would understand. When necessary, I play out my role here, as boring and tedious as it is. Speaking of which, I’ve established an identity.”
Quinn groaned inwardly. “Oh?”
“I’ve been living in Russel for the past six months.”
Harvest stopped, midway to a bite of the sandwich. “I live in Russel. Where in Russel?”
Nick pulled a folded document from his linen jacket. “On the other side of your duplex.”
Harvest took the paper, reading. She eyed Quinn. “This is a lease.”
“I deducted the cost of a new refrigerator, which will fail around the solstice, and the upstairs bathroom plumbing problem. I believe that happens at the same time as the refrigerator incident.”
“I’m not renting to you!”
“Ah, but you’re a constable. That’s a signed document. You know the law.”
Harvest shoved the lease back at Nick. “How about I write up a signed document right now, a three-day notice to quit for lack of payment.”
“Oh, that. Here.” He reached in his suit pocket and handed her a fistful of muddy rocks.
Harvest’s face colored. “Seriously?”
Nick made a strange figure with his hand. Harvest now held a fistful of muddy gold nuggets.
“What am I supposed to do with these?”
“Gold always has value in this realm. Your monetary system is a bit complex. I do believe I’m getting a handle on the legal system.”
Quinn gaped. “How did you do that?”
Nick shook his head. “You’re witches. Why do you always act so stunned in the sight of magic? If you’d rather, I can go win the lottery a few times and give you cash.”
Chapter 12
ECHO SPUN, STUNNED by cold water that seeped into her suit like a slap, pressure in her ears squealing audibly. Spots from the brilliant flash danced against the gloomy green. They were back beneath the reservoir, in the cinderblock building, breathing canned air. Ryker floated near her, a dark shape against the glowing hemisphere in the floor. He didn’t move.
She grabbed his wrist, pulling him closer. Bubbles rose from his gear, and she could feel his pulse in her hand. Alive, but unconscious. Towing him, she kicked out of the structure, into open water. Keeping hold with one hand, she dropped her weights, and then Ryker’s. How much did dive weights cost? She had no idea, but this was an emergency.
They rose to the surface, and though they were not deep enough for any dive sickness, she still didn’t let them rise any faster than their air bubbles. In a few moments, they broke the surface. Echo saw the dive boat far downstream and waved her arm frantically. In response, the outboard motors gunned to life.
“He’s been diving non-stop since the ice melted,” Jim Scott pulled Ryker into the boat, the class standing behind him with hanging jaws. “I knew it was too much.”
Echo did her best to push him up from below.
“Did you find him? Did you find Bobby’s body? You’ve been down there for hours.” Mr. Scott laid Ryker on the deck. “Ryker’s been obsessed, ever since Bobby went over the side of their fishing boat. Moved here from Buffalo, took any jobs he could, just so he could dive and search for his brother.”
Echo climbed the ladder. She was pretty sure they had found Bobby Novak. Not on the bottom of the reservoir, but in a nightmarish area of the Twih.
“NO FREAKIN WAY ARE you renting half of my duplex. I didn’t sign that lease,” Harvest held up the fistful of gold. “What am I supposed to do with this? I’m not a prospector.”
“You haven’t signed the lease yet.” The ends of his mouth turned down. “I needed to establish myself here. Any scrutiny will be met by the requisite underpants that missed the hamper and expired milk in the refrigerator. Why is it that people drink food for baby cows, anyway?”
Nick produced another sandwich and fries. Harvest thought he was going to eat it, even though Twih witches could not consume anything in this world without consequences (admittedly, she didn’t know what those might be). Instead, Echo burst through the front door.
“There’s a boy trapped in the Twih, a human boy. We have to rescue him.” The youngest triplet looked at them with wild eyes and hair. “You both know how to dive, right? We can rent some gear. We need to go right—”
Nick handed her the plate. Echo stopped short. “Oo. Poutine.”
“What are you talking about, Echo?” Harvest eyed Nick, but Echo had a more pressing issue.
Echo chewed some fries, swallowed. “There’s a portal to the Twih under the reservoir. An open portal. And the Twih is crazy there, upside down trees, alligator monsters, we have to get him out.”
“McGooby’s lab,” Harvest sighed.
“That idiot,” Nick sighed.
Echo raised her brows in question as she bit into the sandwich.
Harvest recounted what she’d learned about Alan McGooby, now Leshy. “I’m betting he disappeared right into that portal, and came out the other end a goat-monster.”
“Which might explain why he’s so odd,” Nick said. “Goat-monster notwithstanding.”
Echo gestured at them with a fry. “I’m new at diving, but it’s not too deep. We’ll need an extra set of gear for the kid, Bobby. He’s Ryker’s brother.”
“Oh, I remember that. It was on the news,” Quinn said. “He got dragged off a boat when a big fish hit his line, and vanished into the reservoir last fall. This is your boyfriend’s brother?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
Nick held up a finger. “Yet.”
“Yeah?” Echo ate another fry.
“We’re going to dive into the water, then go into the Twih, rescue a kid, dress him in scuba gear, and bring him back?” Harvest shook her head. “We’re not Seal Team Six.”
“Seal Team,” Nick collected empty plates. “How apropos.”
“Can’t you just pull him out, Uncle Nick?” Quinn asked.
He shook his head. “With the Twih in its current state, I can only pull so
meone in. I can barely get in and out myself. Your Leshy could do the job, but appearances aside, he is at base, human. The depths of the Twih are incomprehensible to the human mind. You can see that he’s still shattered from his first experience, more than half a century ago in your terms. You’ll have to do it the hard way. That’s how it goes in this silly realm. Speaking of which, my wards against this place are wearing thin. I’m getting a headache, and I’m going home.”
“To my home, you mean,” Harvest said. “We’re not done yet, Uncle Nick.”
“No, to the Twih. The rushing temporal stream, the million mundane details—how do you put up with it?” Nick took Echo's plate, stacked it on the other two, and vanished.
“WHY IS HE SUCH A DICK?” Harvest flapped the lease.
Quinn still stared at the place where Nick stood a second before. “I kinda get why Cora can’t stand him.”
“If he’s a dick to Zuri, I’ll kick his ass,” Echo said. “Big-time Twih witch notwithstanding.” She tried to imitate his deep voice.
“I get why he’s frustrated. He knows all the outcomes, but he has to wade through all these little details, bits and pieces of normal life he has zero relation to, all the while, our world is trying to tear his brain apart.”
“But he can function here, Quinn. Why can’t Mom?” Echo asked.
“He’s got a bag of tricks. This Walkman thing, those sunglasses he wears. He said something about potions. But we have Mom’s bag of tricks. Harvest has her shades, I have her grimoire, Echo has the animal amulet.” Quinn sighed. “Who knows what else Nick has.”
“I’d give it back if it meant Mom could come be with us,” Echo said.
Quinn nodded. “Me, too. But I get the impression that Mom has to remake these tools for herself. She’s still too weak, the Twih is experiencing a climate change like this world is, and she gave part of herself to us.”
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