by Sarah Fine
I shifted uncomfortably, realizing that going commando was not all it was cracked up to be, pun intended. “Sadly, this would probably be a good time to fetch my underwear.” With yet another exhausted sigh, I gathered up my filthy clothes and carried them out of the camper. I called out my thanks to Roberta and trudged up the road toward Asa’s van. He was cutting across the field diagonally and would reach it just before I would. Maybe we could make the interaction brief and painless.
A running figure on the other side of the van drew my eye, and I looked over to see Ben burst from the midway lane and sprint toward the van. He had Asa’s black toolbox cradled under his arm like a football. I stumbled to a stop as I watched him run across the road and dive into the back of the van, which shuddered a little as he moved around inside it. I glanced over to Asa, whose head was down as he traversed the thick, knee-high spring grass tangling around his ankles. He hadn’t seen Ben.
But Gracie had. She let out a growl that echoed across the field and took off at a dead sprint, racing toward the van as its brake lights flared.
“Oh my God,” I whispered as the van lurched into motion. The dirty clothes fell from my limp hands.
“Gracie!” Asa was running, too, now. Screaming her name while he watched her barrel toward the van as it picked up speed.
“Ben,” I shrieked, my arms up and waving. I raced up the road behind him, hoping he would see me in his side mirrors.
He didn’t slow. Neither did Gracie. There was an ominous thump. Ben didn’t stop. Some of the carnies chased him up the road until he rounded a bend and disappeared, but I didn’t.
I ran straight for the twitching gray form lying at the side of the road.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Gracie!” Asa’s voice was ragged with fear as he completed his sprint across the field. He reached her just before I did and let out a strangled sound that made me want to cry. Instead, I increased my pace, my breath huffing painfully from my lungs as I covered the last few yards.
I dropped to my knees on the other side of her. She was panting, whining with every breath, and bleeding heavily from a deep five-inch gash across her shoulder.
But she was alive. “Asa. Listen to me.”
His head was down, his arms around her neck. He was murmuring in her ears. Without moving away from her, he stripped off his shirt and tried to press it to her wound, but she let out a yelp and snapped at his hand, which he yanked out of the way just in time. She struggled to her feet but let out another sharp, agonized yip when she put weight on her right foreleg.
“It’s me, girl.” Asa inched toward her on his knees as she collapsed on the gravel road. “Please, baby. Please.”
“Asa,” I said loudly. “I’m a vet tech. I can help her.”
“She won’t let me touch her,” he said in a choked voice.
“Listen to me, okay?” I tried to make my voice steady and soothing, just like I did when people brought their wounded animals to the clinic. No matter how dire the injury, panic and despair never did anyone a bit of good. “I need you to get me a few things. A piece of plywood we can use as a stretcher. A rag or piece of cotton—clean as you can find—and something I can use to make a pressure bandage. Torn strips of cloth, a scarf, something like that. And a blanket.” I looked Gracie over. “Because I think she’s going into shock.”
Asa grabbed my wrist. “Don’t let her die.”
I put my hand over his. “I won’t.”
Asa took off running back to camp, pulling his shirt back on as he went, and I scooted slowly toward Gracie. “Hey, girl, it’s me. You are such a fierce little lady. That van’s going to be aching for days.”
And the person driving it? I hoped he would, too. I wasn’t sure he’d even known he’d hit her—if he’d been frantic enough, he might have had eyes only for his escape route—but still. I didn’t know what Asa would do to him if Gracie didn’t survive these injuries, but I was pretty sure it would be brutal, lingering, and creative.
“Need water or anything?” Betsy called as she rushed over. “Oh, that poor sweetheart.”
I eyed Gracie’s injured foreleg, which was canted awkwardly away from her body. “I need a stick or something I can use to support that leg. And we’ll need a vehicle. Maybe a pickup truck or a minivan? We need to get her to a vet as soon as possible.”
“Vern and I have a pickup, and you’re welcome to it. I’ll pull it up.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Ain’t nothin’, darlin’.” And she was off.
A moment later, Asa was back with the bandages and blanket. “A couple of the guys are bringing the plywood.”
“Good.” I grimaced as I looked at Gracie’s lolling gray tongue, her unfocused eyes, her incredibly sharp teeth. “Asa, we need to muzzle her. I want to make sure I don’t hamper her breathing, but I also don’t want her to maul me as I deal with her wound.”
Asa examined one of the strips of cloth he’d been given. “I’ll do it.”
“Just enough to keep her from being able to open her mouth wide enough to bite.”
He knelt beside her and did the deed, whispering loving words to her as he slowly tightened the cloth around her broad snout. The look he gave me as I set to work was the most pleading I had ever seen, and I felt it deep in my chest. The next few minutes were pure concentration as I worked first on slowing the bleeding with a pressure bandage, then on supporting her broken leg so it didn’t cause her unnecessary pain. As I did, I kept an eye on her respiration, hoping the fact that her breathing sounded dry and unobstructed boded well for her internal organs. Once I had done all for her that I could, I covered her in a blanket, and with the help of a few of the carnies got her safely onto the plywood board. While Asa stood back and laced his fingers behind his head, his body like a live wire, Betsy pulled the pickup truck close, and we got Gracie gently settled in the back. I started to climb up behind her as Betsy tossed the keys to Asa.
“Do you want me to drive?” I asked him. “You could ride back here.”
He shook his head. “Will you stay back there with her? She knows and trusts you. And I need to be doing something.”
That was Asa, I realized. Control was soothing to him. “No problem. Gracie and I are pals. Take the bumps easy, okay? She needs a smooth ride.”
Asa gave me a curt nod, and Betsy went over to his open driver’s-side window to give him directions to the nearest emergency vet. Then we were on our way, Asa meticulously avoiding every pothole, and me focused on keeping Gracie comfortable. We made it to the vet in less than half an hour, and fortunately, it seemed to be a competent operation. The vet, Dr. Monahan, was an older woman with short gray hair and deeply tanned skin, and her hands were steady and confident as she checked Gracie out, complimenting our quick thinking with the bandage and improvised splint. I stayed and listened so I could translate for Asa if he needed, but he sounded like a near-expert himself as he reported Gracie’s medical history, including the names and dosages of her arthritis medication and eyedrops. I realized that Asa might eschew traditional medications for himself, refusing to take so much as a Tylenol even when he was in intense pain, but he didn’t hold that standard with Gracie. He had looked after her like a parent would a child.
When Dr. Monahan said she needed to keep Gracie for evaluation to make sure there was no internal hemorrhaging, Asa looked as if he were going into shock himself. We exited the clinic to face a gloomy day, with clouds hanging low and heavy over the town.
Instead of heading for the truck, Asa sank down on a bench at the edge of the public park across the street from the clinic. The town was a sleepy little three-stoplight place with at least two bait-and-tackle shops, a doughnut shop, the vet clinic, a police outpost, and a library. The park was just a tree-lined square of grass with a statue of some guy on a horse at the center. A farmers’ market was in progress on the other side of it. I blinked as I realized it was Sunday—I hadn’t been away from home for forty-eight hours yet, but it felt like a
year.
I settled hesitantly beside him, his mood hard to read. “Dr. Monahan seemed pretty good. I think Gracie’s in good hands.”
Asa stared across the street at the clinic. “She looked so bad. And she’s getting old, Mattie. She’s been with me for nine years. Had to be at least a year old when I found her.”
I carefully laid my hand on his shoulder but drew away when he flinched. “She could still have a third of her life in front of her, Asa. This isn’t the end.”
“What if it is?”
I leaned toward him until I had secured his bloodshot gaze. “I do this for a living, all right? I don’t know everything, but I do know that dogs can be incredibly resilient. And Gracie is well loved and healthy, thanks to you. It’s a great foundation for healing. That kind of devoted care does wonderful things for an animal, and you love your dog better than any pet owner I’ve ever met.”
He gave me a small, pained smile and then looked away as his eyes took on a sheen. “Thanks for helping her,” he said in a strained voice. “And thanks for coming with me. I wouldn’t have blamed you for walking away, after some of the stuff I said last night.”
I stared at the side of his face. Not coming with him would have been unthinkable. “Gracie’s more important to me than hurt feelings.”
“Dammit, Mattie,” he whispered, keeping his face directed at the Beer, Bait, and Ammo shop across the street.
I glanced over my shoulder at the farmers’ market. “Do you want some time to yourself? If you give me some cash, I’ll go buy you some stuff to eat. I’m guessing the free-flowing bacon at the camp didn’t quite meet your nutritional needs.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” he murmured, pulling out his wallet and handing it to me.
I held it pressed to my middle. Nearly all of Asa’s possessions had just been stolen, but he’d handed me his wallet without hesitation. The warmth of knowing he still trusted me, at least a little, was like a small piece of sunshine inside of me, brightening the day. “I’ll be right back.”
There was a skip in my step as I headed over to the market. The pain in my chest had faded, and I was actually feeling pretty good. I knew it was temporary; part of it was just the relief of not having the massive Sensilo magic in there anymore, but I suspected it was also that I had been focused on Gracie and Asa, a purpose outside myself that had required all my attention. But I was going to enjoy every agony-free moment I was allowed.
I picked out a fat bunch of carrots, a huge sack of cherry tomatoes, apricots, strawberries, two bunches of kale—Asa really seemed to like it—a big sack of raw almonds, a honeydew melon, a jar of organic coconut oil and another of olive oil, and a package of sprouted bread that the lady at the booth swore up and down was suitable for raw diets. She also convinced me to buy a jar of dairy-free pesto. “You must keep enough fat in the diet,” she said, eyeing my skinny wrists.
I almost blurted out that it wasn’t for me, but then realized it didn’t matter. Asa looked like he could use the extra fat in his diet, too. He was bone and muscle and basically nothing else.
I tried not to dwell on how good it felt to do this for him. I was just being a friend. Just a decent human, really. The guy’s dog was in the hospital, for God’s sake.
By the time I was ready to return to Asa, I was loaded with enough stuff to wish he’d come with me. I skirted the big man-on-horse statue—some Confederate general I’d never heard of—happy that I was almost within hollering distance. I needed some help.
But Asa was gone. I stared at the bench where he’d been. Then I looked up the street to where the pickup had been parked.
It was gone, too.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Grumbling, I turned around and headed back to the farmers’ market, thinking to borrow a phone—and then I realized I didn’t have Asa’s number. I dropped my bags and rifled through his wallet—his license informed me that his name was Nathan Cockspillier, which made me snort in spite of my irritation. Nothing in there was actually useful, apart from the cool two thousand dollars in hundreds that he happened to be toting.
It had occurred to me once or twice that Asa was probably a pretty wealthy guy, even though most of the time he dressed like he worked at the local army surplus store.
Still, cash wouldn’t necessarily help me here. “Why didn’t I even suspect you would do something like this?” I said loudly to the overcast sky.
It answered me by way of a few drops of cool rain.
And then about a million of them.
Groaning, I lugged my bags toward the market, where the sellers were rapidly covering their stock and clearing out as the deluge hit. In less than two minutes, the streets were running with water, and I was soaked to the bone and grumpier than a constipated skunk. Planning to shelter in the doughnut shop, I made for the street. One of my paper sacks dissolved, dumping my kale on the ground. Don’t ask me why I couldn’t have just left it behind, but I scooped it up, carrying one bunch under each armpit. Luckily, most of my other bags were plastic, recycled from a Piggly Wiggly. Limping as my shoes became saturated with mud, I finally made it to the curb—just as a black SUV roared by, splashing me with about fifty gallons of water and nearly knocking me onto my butt. “You see my T-shirt?” I shouted after them. “Karma saw that!”
I was about to step into the street when a pickup rolled up, slow enough not to splash me, thank God. The door creaked open, and there was Asa. “Hop in quick, Mattie. Get those little legs moving.”
I glared at him but obeyed quickly, because rainstorm. “What the hell, Asa,” I said as he pulled quickly back onto the street.
“I don’t want to lose them.” He was hunched over the wheel and staring fiercely at the road ahead as the old windshield wipers screamed for mercy.
“About twenty-seven thousand steps behind you.” I tugged up the collar of my T-shirt to wipe my dripping face. “Where did you go?”
“I was sitting on the bench when that SUV rolled up to the bait-and-tackle shop across the street.”
“Beer, Bait, and Ammo?”
He tapped the tip of his crooked nose without tearing his gaze from the road. “And I recognized the guy who got out of it.”
“Who was it?”
“His name’s Arkady. Mindfucker with a rep.”
“And Russian,” I murmured. “Works for Volodya.”
“How the fuck do you know that?”
“I’ll tell you later. Why are we following him?”
Asa gave me a curious sidelong glance and appeared to notice the kale still jammed into my armpits. “This is a new style for you.”
“Shut up.” I crammed the kale into a sack with the strawberries. “Do you know why a Russian Knedas would be in this tiny town?”
“He’s got to be looking for the relic.”
It all hit me at once. “His boss thought he had the Sensilo relic all these years, but must have gotten wind that it was in the States.”
“He met a black guy who came out of the shop, and they both got back in the SUV.”
“Did you recognize the black guy?”
“Didn’t get a good look at his face. Could have been anyone. Maybe a spy for Volodya here on the East Coast, maybe a freelance reliquary or conduit. I’d sure like to know where they’re going.”
“Well, I sure hope that other guy isn’t a magic sensor. The relic would lead them right back to the—oh, God.”
“What’s wrong?” Asa turned to look at me. “Are you okay?”
“Where did you put the Sensilo relic after you and Vernon pulled the magic out of me?”
“In my toolbox.”
“The black one?”
“Yeah . . . oh, shit. Ben—”
“He had your black toolbox when he stole your van, Asa. Ben stole the relic.”
“That motherfucking—”
“What will they do if they find him?”
“You think I give a shit about what happens to him at this point?”
I folded my arms over my c
hest, a shield against the sharp tone of his voice. “He said he would regain my trust,” I said, dazed. “Not thirty minutes before he stole your van and the relic. I don’t get it.”
“Greedy little shithead. It would serve him right if Volodya’s crew tracks him down and crucifies him. But Zhong’s people may find him first. They know what my van looks like.”
“What do we do?” The rain was coming down like God had opened a spigot and walked away. I braced myself on the dash as Asa came to a sudden stop.
“Fucking road’s washed out.” We’d long since left town and had been trailing the SUV far enough behind to render it nothing but a black speck in a sea of green and brown. But now it was out of sight. “They either got through before the flash flood, or they must have chanced it.”
“I would think you would, too.”
“Not with you in the car,” he mumbled. He cursed and turned the truck around.
“I can swim.”
“You look like you just escaped a fucking refugee camp, Mattie. You probably couldn’t swim your way out of a kiddie pool.”
He checked his phone and found a text from the vet saying that it didn’t look like Gracie had any internal bleeding, but she still wanted to keep her overnight so she could set the broken leg. Fortunately, that wouldn’t require surgery, just mild sedation, so we headed back to the carnival.
“This weather can’t be helping business.”
“You’d be surprised. Once the Knedas juice hits, people probably don’t even notice the rain.”
It was tapering by that point, too. Up ahead, the sun had even punched a hole through the cloud cover. “Are you going to try to find out what Arkady’s up to?”
Asa nodded. “He’s a nasty motherfucker. No one you’d want sneaking up on you—plenty of rumors about how he assassinates via suicide.”
I cringed. “He makes people kill themselves?”
“Hard to prove, but that’s what I’ve heard. His power’s subtle, too. I was so distracted that I didn’t pick it up until he got out of his vehicle.” He poked me in the shoulder. “And now I want you to tell me how you know who he worked for.”