Haven Divided

by Josh de Lioncourt

  “Fuck!” Corbbmacc cried, taking a few steps backward. Emily slammed the door and turned toward him, and their eyes met in the gloom. Total understanding passed between them without need for words. They had no more time; they had to go.

  Together, they sprinted back down the hallway. As Emily hurtled into the little bedroom behind Corbb, she kicked the door closed,

  “Fire,” Corbbmacc said in response to Celine’s bewildered expression. “We have to get out.”

  As Emily flew to the window, she saw Corbbmacc fiddling with the thing he’d been stringing together. She hoped whatever it was, it’d keep them from breaking their necks.

  She fumbled with the simple lock on the window, but it was stuck—rusted in place over the years that the town had been abandoned.

  Calm down, she told herself as her fingers slipped on the rough wood. The fire can’t move that fast.

  But no sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she heard something collapse at the back of the inn. The floor shifted beneath her feet, and Rascal yowled.

  The lock gave way at last and she pushed the window open, relishing the blast of cool air from outside. There was no sign of the blaze from this side of the building.

  “Go, Rascal,” Celine was saying. Emily turned to see her holding the kitsper in her arms, trying to get him to fly out of the window.

  “I’m comin’, but yeh need to get out of here. C’mon now, go!”

  Rascal fought her, scratching shallow trenches in the flesh of her arms. At last, she all but flung the poor creature through the window. Rascal hissed, but spread his wings and began circling just outside, his eyes never leaving his mistress.

  Smoke was curling its way into the room from under and around the flimsy wooden door. It clawed at the inside of Emily’s chest and made her eyes water. It was the mountain all over again; she smelled the smoke; she felt the heat as Marianne’s vines went up in flames around her; she smelled the perfume of jasmine and honeysuckle.

  “You’re going to have to jump,” Corbbmacc shouted, breaking the spell. The crackle of the flames, hardly audible minutes earlier, was now a roar in her ears. She looked back toward the door and could see that same golden, flickering light around its edges through the smoke.

  She looked at him.

  “What about you and—”

  “I have to go last,” he said impatiently. He held up the tangle of rags, and she realized for the first time what it was. A crude harness hung from the end of a long line. “I’ll lower her down, but it isn’t going to be long enough. You’ll have to catch her, and then I’ll jump too. C’mon, Em, we need to go.”

  She nodded and turned, scrambling up onto the window sill, then turning to sit on it with her feet dangling over the drop. She looked down. It was only twenty feet or so, but it seemed much farther. She could do it, but the window was narrow. She’d have to be very careful.

  Behind her, there was another crash as something gave way in the inn, and the whole building shook. There was no more time.

  She braced her self, took a deep breath, and pushed against the sides of the window, forcing her body forward and out into open space.

  As she fell, the knowing blazed up inside her again, just as it had when she’d fallen from the stairs. It roared to life, filling her body with a fire of its own and slowing time to a crawl.

  She tumbled in the air, watching as the cobblestones of the street below came toward her, appearing from the shadows like a cluster of islands in the black waters of the sea. She saw the cracks that ran through some of them; she saw the particles of dust and dirt that coated everything, the sunlight gleaming from each as though they were stars in the sky.

  “It’s close,” a voice said. “She has it, and you need it. It’s the only way you can see…it’s the only way we can teach you.” Whose voice was that? It sounded like her own voice…it sounded like Derek…

  Like a swimmer in water, Emily’s body twisted in the air. She got her legs beneath her, bending her knees as the ground swam up to meet her.

  As her boots hit the stones, there was an electric snap inside her head and the knowing washed away again. Her knees buckled, absorbing most of the force of her landing, but she lost her balance and fell forward, just getting her hands up in time to save her face from colliding with the cobbles. Her teeth snapped together, grazing her still sore tongue and making her wince.

  She scrambled back to her feet and looked up in time to see Celine’s frightened face framed by the window. Corbbmacc helped her onto the sill. Beyond them, Rascal circled, watching apprehensively.

  Celine’s arms and legs were shoved through the harness at odd angles, exaggerating the impression that she was a gnarled old crone. The strips of fabric, rope, and leather Corbbmacc had scavenged crisscrossed her body, digging into her ribs in ways that looked exceptionally uncomfortable.

  As Emily watched, Corbb pushed Celine off the sill. The girl let out a shriek, and what little color was left in her face drained away as she dangled from the line that ran from her back to Corbb’s fists.

  “Get ready,” he shouted down to Emily. “I’ll lower her down as far as I can, then it’ll be up to you to catch her.”

  “Fuck yeh!” Celine muttered and tried to raise her hands to cover her eyes, but the awkward position of her arms through the harness made it impossible. Instead, she lifted her chin and stared up at Rascal, still circling just above her head. The kitsper swooped down to nuzzle her cheek, surprising a screech of hysterical laughter from his mistress as she swung wildly.

  Corbb began letting out the line, hand over hand, the muscles in his arms taut with the effort. Emily moved to stand below them.

  Celine was halfway down the wall when Corbb ran out of rope.

  “On three,” he called. “One…two…”

  Emily raised her arms. This would be an excellent time for the knowing to make an appearance. Why couldn’t she trigger it at will? Damned inconvenient…

  Corbb let go and Celine screamed as she plummeted toward Emily. At the same time, there was a deafening crash as more of the tavern collapsed.

  Celine slammed into her like a ton of bricks. Desperately, Emily wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, trying to take the brunt of the impact with her own body as best she could. She stumbled backward a few steps, then her feet tangled in the line that was attached to Celine’s harness and she fell backward with Celine on top of her. The back of her head connected with one of the stones that paved the little street and lights exploded before her eyes, pulsing sickeningly in time to the beating of her own heart. Her ears filled with a roar that competed with the sound of the flames, and yet another crash came from the burning building. Hot ash and soot began raining down on them, stinging her face.

  Was Corbb all right? Had he gotten out in time?

  Celine was sobbing and clinging to her, but Emily had to know if Corbb was out. She tried to blink the spots in her vision away and gently rolled Celine off of her.

  She sat up, looking up at the window where Corbb had been standing. The flames had reached the room they’d been in, and flickering yellow light filled it with an obscenely cheerful glow, as if a fire simply burned in a hearth beyond the window where stockings were hung for Christmas. There was no sign of Corbbmacc.

  Her heart leapt, making her head throb dully, and she scanned the street around them. Where was he? He wasn’t still in there, was he?

  At that moment, the double doors at the front of the tavern burst open and Corbbmacc staggered out, his head down, coughing and retching.

  Ignoring the pounding in her head, Emily got to her feet and ran to him.

  “Corbb!”

  He looked up, his singed hair falling back from his face, and met her gaze through streaming eyes. She stopped dead, staring at him in horror.

  A burn covered one side of his face, fading from pink, to red, to purple, to an ugly charred black. Shiny blisters gleamed wetly in the light of the flames, and, as she watched, a few flakes of black a
nd brittle skin drifted down to catch on the chain mail across his chest.

  “Floor gave way…” he wheezed, clutching his chest. His words sounded muddy and misshapen, as though he’d been drinking. “But I wasn’t far from the doors. I’m okay. Sprained ankle, maybe…”

  Emily stared for a second longer, then went to him, sliding her shoulders beneath his arm.

  “Lean on me,” she told him.

  “Really, I’m okay…”

  She slipped her arm around his waist. “You’re not, and it isn’t just your fucking ankle. Do it. I’m stronger than I look. We have to get out of here.”

  She half supported, half dragged him to Celine, who seemed to have composed herself while trying to struggle out of the harness.

  “We need to go,” Emily told her.

  “I know, but I can’t get outta this ruddy thing!” But even as Celine spoke the words, the jumble of odds and ends fell away, and she got back to her feet shakily.

  “Can you walk?” Emily asked her. “Can you keep up?”

  “I think so, Em.” Celine’s gaze moved from Emily to Corbbmacc, and Emily didn’t like the way she set her jaw when she took in the burn across his face.

  “We need to go,” Emily repeated. “Right now.”

  They began working their way slowly down the street, Rascal flapping along in their wake. Behind them, the tavern went on burning, raining more searing ash on their heads. It was a wonder that the whole town wasn’t already ablaze, given how many of the buildings were made largely of old wooden boards, not to mention the piles of autumn leaves that lay in mounds between the buildings. The recent rain was probably working in their favor for now, but it was only a matter of time.

  They left the cobbled street and turned down a dirt path that wended between some small structures—little more than huts with crumbling walls and collapsing roofs—that were homes once, Emily supposed. They would have to shelter somewhere to tend to Corbb soon, but where? She was terrified the fire would spread and engulf what was left of this godforsaken ghost town before they could escape to safety.

  Beside her, Corbbmacc’s breath was heavy, and she suspected he was hurting worse than he was letting on, although the burn on his face didn’t seem to be bothering him. That worried her, too. Was it second degree? Third? How could you tell how bad a burn was? Wouldn’t one like that cause nerve damage? How were they going to treat an injury like that out here?

  Her eyes flicked, of their own accord, to Celine. She couldn’t let Celine use her powers again. They would just have to find another way.

  One step at a time, she told herself as Corbbmacc leaned more heavily on her. First, shelter.

  Rascal’s yowl of warning came too late.

  As they approached the corner of another dilapidated shack, an enormous shape stepped out of the shadows beyond it with speed and grace that belied its size. It darted forward toward them before Emily could react, and suddenly Celine was dangling several feet above the ground in the fur-covered fist of the Sarqin.

  “Don’t move,” the creature growled in a voice so low Emily could feel it in her own chest. “If you move, she will die.”

  Casey

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Are you almost ready?” Lisa called through the bathroom door.

  “Almost,” Casey said. She put a little more of the dark purple eyeliner under her eyes, then examined herself with something like wonder in the mirror.

  She didn’t recognize the girl—no, the woman—staring back at her, and she liked it that way. She doubted even her own mother would have known her if they met in the street. Her hair was cut shorter now—a little raggedly—and Lisa had helped her dye it a shiny black that made for a startling contrast against her pale complexion. The lipstick she wore was just a shade too dark to be natural, and the dark eyeliner hid the ever-present brown smudges beneath her eyes, transforming her face into something more exotic. The entire effect gave her a vampiric, otherworldly appearance that she rather liked. Even the fading vestiges of the sunburn on one side of her face seemed to add to the mystique of her new persona. She smiled at the face in the mirror, revealing a flash of white teeth. It felt strange to smile; how long had it been? If only she had a pair of fangs!

  When she came out of the bathroom, she found Lisa sprawled across one of the two double beds of the tiny motel room idly spinning a half-empty bottle on the threadbare coverlet.

  “Hey, that’s mine,” Casey said, coming over and plucking the bottle from Lisa’s fingers.

  “Yep,” Lisa agreed amiably. “But I thought I should keep an eye on it for a while. Jeff doesn’t care what we do after the show, but no booze and no weed before.”

  “I know,” Casey retorted, feeling heat rise to her face. She wasn’t sure if she was more upset by Lisa’s lack of confidence in her self-control or the fact that she had been considering sneaking a swallow or two before the show despite Jeff’s admonitions earlier.

  “No sweat,” Lisa said blithely, as if Casey hadn’t just snapped at her. “It’s your first time on stage with the rest of us, and I just wanna see you get off on the right foot, y’know?”

  Casey held the bottle between her palms for a moment, staring into its depths to avoid looking at Lisa. What had started out as putting off calling home for just one night had become putting it off for a week—and then another. Now, nearly a month later, Jeff’s little band, Landlocked, had more or less adopted her as they’d trekked slowly south, playing gigs where they could get them or drawing impromptu crowds in parks or on beaches where they couldn’t. If any of them had recognized the pictures of Casey that had popped up in the news on their phones or TV screens in cheap motel rooms as they’d travelled, none had commented. And they had to have noticed, hadn’t they? Her name was right there—right there!—marching across the ticker at the bottom of the screen in big bold letters.

  Eventually, despite the pleasant fog she’d drifted in and out of from the pot and alcohol they’d happily shared with her, Casey’s conscience had gotten the better of her. It was time she started pulling her own weight. She couldn’t just let them keep feeding her.

  And so, after sobering up as best she could three days ago, she’d gone to Jeff to ask what she could do as a member of the band. Jeff hadn’t hesitated, leading Casey to believe he’d already been considering the question for a while. She wasn’t sure if that revelation made her feel better or worse—but it was what it was.

  “I’ve heard you sing along with the radio,” he’d told her with that strange, clipped accent of his, over-annunciating every word. “And you move with grace. Let’s start you out singing here and there and dancing to the music to give the boys something to look at. Of course…you’ll need a different look…”

  Tonight would be her first night on stage with the band, wearing a tight black dress emblasoned with the Batman insignia over the left breast and showing more skin than she was used to. It was fun, in a way. She could put on the makeup, toss back her formerly blond locks, and not mind showing off her legs because it felt like they were someone else’s. She, Casey, was just playing a part. It was freeing, feeling like someone else kept Emily’s voice out of her head—at least for a little while.

  Slowly, she forced herself to put the bottle in the battered Hello Kitty purse Lisa had lent her, slung the strap over her shoulder, and turned to face her friend at last.

  “Ready?” she asked, and the casualness of her tone sounded brittle even to her own ears. Lisa didn’t comment though. She just flashed Casey her infectiously goofy grin and bounded up off the bed.

  “Ready for what? For you to suck my blood, vampire girl?” She batted her eyelashes, making Casey laugh. She put her arm through Casey’s. “C’mon. Let’s go, sister,” she said, and they left the room that way, letting the heavy door slam shut behind them with a dull thud.

  ***

  The show was over. They’d loaded the equipment into the van, and, after driving through yet another Taco Bell for their usual far
e, Jeff had driven them back to the cheap no-name motel they were staying at for one more night.

  None of the others had commented on her performance, and Casey couldn’t blame them, really. They were doing the kind thing by saying nothing. Sure, the men in the audience had whooped and cat-called as she moved across the little stage with Jeff, but it didn’t take much to please them, did it? The rest had been a nightmare that couldn’t have ended soon enough. What was she going to do? Who was she kidding? She couldn’t sing. Screeching along with a few bars on the radio was one thing. Belting out songs to a crowd beside Jeff—who really could sing—was something else entirely.

  She’d slipped away from the others as they were piling out of the van, walking slowly down one side of the motel’s exterior and looking at, but not really seeing, the grimy cars parked outside each room’s door until, at last, she had found herself quite alone in a narrow graveled area behind the building. A handful of cars were parked in a ragged line beside a pair of dumpsters, and she supposed they belonged to the motel’s employees.

  There was a low concrete wall behind the cars, separating the lot from a steep embankment that sloped down to an expanse of two-lane blacktop and empty fields beyond.

  She sat on the wall, her back to the motel, and stared down at the headlights that passed, most accompanied by the twang of blaring country music, despite the lateness of the hour. The air was warm and heavy with moisture in a way it never had been in Minnesota. All around her came the hum of insects and the stench of garbage from the dumpsters. Distantly, she heard the rev of a motorcycle engine and the pop of what was probably a truck backfiring but could just as easily have been a gunshot.

  She was suddenly aware of the bottle in her hand, though she couldn’t remember when she’d taken it from her purse. The glass felt pleasantly cool against her sweaty fingers. She looked down at it, marveling at the way the moonlight gleamed from the glass.