by R. L. Naquin
He leaned over and examined Kam’s phone screen, nodded, then catapulted into the sky.
Kam grinned. “Follow me!” She ran toward the rusted, yellow pickup truck parked a short distance from my car. As she ran, her boots crunched in the dirt, and her leather made that odd squeaky sound.
As much as I hated the macabre game someone was playing with us, I was happy to see Kam again. When I’d dropped her and Darius off at the airport a month before, I hadn’t been sure I’d ever see them again. I had to admit, I was even glad to see Darius. He was terrifying, stubborn, and pushy, but he did listen to me now. And he loved my mother. He wouldn’t let her down.
Which meant he wouldn’t let me down.
As Kam passed my car, the dark window slid down and she stopped in mid-stride. We caught up a few seconds behind her to see Gris hike himself up on the door and bow in her direction.
“Good evening,” he said, grinning at Kam. “It’s a pleasure to meet you! My name is Griswold Octavius Abernathy.”
I elbowed Riley and whispered from the side of my mouth. “Octavius? When did he get a middle name?”
Kam gave him a deep curtsy that made a comical series of creaks, as if she were getting comfortable in a big leather chair in a silent library. “My name is Kam, and I’m charmed to make your acquaintance, Griswold Octavius Abernathy. Are you any relation to the Maryland Abernathys?”
He tapped a finger against his chin. “No, I don’t believe so. Have you no last name? I hardly think it’s appropriate for me to address you by your given name when we’ve only just met.”
Riley and I exchanged an amused look. “What the hell are they doing?” I asked.
“Either preparing to duel or he’s about to ask her permission to court her. Hell if I know.”
Kam stepped closer to the car squatted down so they were eye to eye. She dropped the weird historical affectation in exchange for a theatrical stage whisper. “I’m a djinn. I can’t tell anybody the rest of my name.”
“Ah,” he said. “My apologies. Are you helping the Aegis?”
“Every chance I get. You?”
He nodded. “I’d very much like the chance.”
“Good.” She smiled at him, then at us. “Then we’re a team. Let’s go.” She stood up, squeaking with every flexed muscle, waved at us, then slid behind the wheel of her truck without another word.
“I guess we’re following Kam,” I said.
* * *
Kam found us a clean motel on the east side of Amarillo so we wouldn’t have to cross the city in rush hour traffic in the morning to get to the Bug Ranch. She got her own room, and Riley and I took the one next to hers. She’d been on the road working with Darius for a while. Apparently, he didn’t sleep much at night in his mothman form. Around dawn, he’d change back to passing-human form, then crash on the other bed in her room for a few hours.
“I’m used to it,” she said, scooping ice into a bucket.
I contemplated the choices in the drink machine in the motel alcove. Various soft drinks offered a nice sugar rush, alongside sensible bottles of water. “So, nothing going on between you two?” We’d been drinking water all day. I hit the button for root beer. The bottle clunked and banged on its way to the exit.
Kam snorted. “He’s in love with your mom, Zo. It’s what keeps him going every day and every night. Sure, we’ve been working for the Board to rebuild the O.G.R.E. squads and get people off the streets, but, to him, that’s a side mission. He questions everyone we meet, looking for clues. It’s killing him that someone could be so thorough in leaving no trail for him to follow. The minute Bernice called and told us about this murder, I barely had a chance to change clothes before Darius had us on the road to investigate. I know it’s hard to imagine the big tree getting excited about anything, but he didn’t stop talking the whole ride out there.”
I fed more money into the machine and bought a bottle of orange soda. A clunk and a thud came from inside, but no icy cold beverage came out the bottom. “Dammit.” I slapped at the machine, but it barely moved.
“I can’t believe people buy water in bottles.” Kam slammed her shoulder into the vending machine and my bottle dropped. “In the eighties, only snooty people drank bottled water—and that had bubbles in it at least. In the sixties, we drank tap water.” She winked. “But in the twenties, we just drank gin.”
We went to our separate rooms to settle in and wait for word from Darius. When it came, the word was no. Darius called with the news that he’d done a flyby and saw nothing that glowed. Closer inspection yielded the same great big nothing.
“I’ll keep an eye on it during the night.” His gravelly voice had an odd, hollow quality to it over the phone. “Get some sleep, Aegis. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Riley had already checked in with Bernice when I got back to the room.
I tossed him a drink. “Any news from her end?”
He shook his head. “Nothing new. This Bug Ranch is the only thing we’ve got.”
“I hope we find something tomorrow we can actually use.” I sat on the edge of the bed and took a sip of root beer. If we didn’t find anything tomorrow, I didn’t know what I would do. My mother could be as close as the next room for all I knew. The longer this took, the farther away the killer could get.
The bed shook.
Riley stood halfway across the room, perusing a pizza menu.
Something under the bed rustled against the cheap carpet.
I froze, waiting to see if it was my imagination. My fight or flight instincts had always been a little off. Freezing was always my go-to reaction, whether I meant to or not.
A bedspring squeaked under me, even though I hadn’t moved a muscle.
We weren’t staying at the Ritz Carlton, but we weren’t in the No-Tell Motel, either. The room seemed clean enough. There shouldn’t be rats.
Oh, please don’t let it be a rat.
Something warm and fleshy touched my ankle. I screamed and pulled my legs up on the bed.
Riley crossed the room faster than I knew he could move. Before my scream had a chance to quit echoing in my ears, Riley had grabbed whatever was under the bed and yanked it out in the open.
Stacy stood between us, quivering, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare her, Mr. Reaper. I was trying to be polite.” The tears spilled to her cheeks, and great gulping sobs emerged from her chest. “Please don’t eat my soul!”
The door to our room blew open, and Kam stood in the doorway in all her leather-clad glory, eyes filled with flames.
Stacy screamed and covered her face with both hands.
I palmed my face. “Okay, guys. Everybody find your zen. Kam, thanks for coming to my rescue. We’re good.”
The fire in Kam’s pupils died down, and she smiled. “Sorry. I heard a scream. Thought you were in trouble. I’m going to order a pizza. Anybody want in?”
Stacy sniffled and peeked one eye from behind her hands. “Pizza?”
“No.” Was she insane? “No pizza for you.”
“So, you don’t want pizza?” Kam asked.
“I want pizza,” Riley said.
At the sound of Riley’s voice, his captive under-the-bed monster cringed.
I unfolded my legs and climbed from the bed. Riley’s hand remained wrapped around Stacy’s wrist, and I pulled him away from her. “You go with Kam and figure out the all-important pizza thing. That way Stacy and I can be alone for a bit, okay?”
He gave Stacy a small dose of the stink-eye, then left with Kam.
“Glad the door wasn’t pulled all the way shut,” I said. “I’d hate to have to pay for that.”
“Are they gone?” Stacy came out from behind her hands, craggy face smudged with tears.
“They’re gone.” I retu
rned to the bed and patted a spot next to me. “Sit.”
She swallowed and obeyed, folding her hands in her lap. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay. You just startled me.” I smiled. “And as you can see, I have a lot of overprotective folks around me. You’re lucky the mothman is out right now.”
Her eyes grew wide. “A reaper, a djinn and a mothman?”
I nodded. “I run with a tough crowd.” I patted her hand. “So, why don’t you tell me what was so important you couldn’t call first?”
“Oh.” She looked down at her lap. “I guess calling would have made more sense.”
“Probably.”
She fidgeted with her tutu—orange today. I let her. She had come to talk to me, so when she was ready, she’d talk. Her unhappiness was a weight on my chest. Of all the emotions people gave me, sadness was probably the hardest one to take. Fear was temporary, but sadness could last a lifetime.
Stacy took a deep, shaky breath. “He hates me.”
“Riley doesn’t hate you. He was afraid for me is all.”
“Not him. Maurice.”
Ah. How I missed that was beyond me. “No, honey. He doesn’t hate you. I guarantee it.”
“He does. I can feel it.”
I smiled. “So, you’re an empath like me?”
“No.” She dropped her hands in her lap and her eyes narrowed. “You’re an empath?”
I nodded. “Yes. Which is why I can tell you absolutely, Maurice does not hate you. I’d know if he did. And I wouldn’t have left you with him if I’d felt anything like that from him.”
She brightened and tugged on one of her long blue braids. “What does he feel for me?”
“Nope. Sorry.” I shook my head. “I signed an empath confidentiality agreement. I don’t share that sort of information.”
“Oh.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “So, why is he so bossy?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Are you sure you even know him? Because the Maurice I know is bossier than a head boss at a boss convention in bosstown.”
She smiled. “I guess you’re right.”
“Have you talked to him?”
Her voice went quiet. “He doesn’t talk much.”
“Now that doesn’t sound like the Maurice I know.”
She scowled. “True. I’ll rephrase it. He only barks orders at me.”
“Ah. Well. Here’s the thing, Stacy. You two have a past—one neither of you seem to want to talk about. But you have to talk about it to get past it. Quit dancing around each other. I can’t fix this. You two have to fix it. Together.”
Prying was not my style. My whole life people had a tendency to dump their sorrows and life stories on me, even if we only had a brief encounter in which they totaled my groceries and took my money. It was part of being an empath. If Stacy and Maurice weren’t telling me their story, they weren’t ready to talk about what happened.
It was hard not to ask, though. Maurice was family. When he hurt, I hurt. That would have been true even if I hadn’t been an empath. And here was Stacy, the newest member of our group, also hurting. Was it so much to ask for everyone I cared about to be to be happy?
Stacy shrugged. “Hard to fix something together when you’re the only one trying.”
Her frustration tasted more of regret and sadness than irritation. It wafted around her in puffy clouds that sank to the dull carpet and piled there in drifts.
“Honey, it’s only been a few days.” I stroked her arm. “Give it some time, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.” She paused, scrutinizing my face. “They said you’re good to talk to. I’m glad I listened to them.”
“I’m glad I didn’t disappoint you.”
“I do feel a little better.” She stood and attempted to give me a weak smile. It wasn’t convincing.
I wanted to do more for her, but there wasn’t much for me to do, especially from so far away. She was hurting, and I couldn’t fix it. I hated when I couldn’t fix something. If they didn’t sit down and sort themselves out by the time I got back, I’d force them into it.
“Anytime you want to talk...” I said.
“I’ll call first.” She ducked her head and gave me a sheepish smile.
“Yes.” I hugged her, and she disappeared under the bed as if she’d never been there. “Welcome to the family,” I said to the empty room.
* * *
When we pulled up to the Bug Ranch early the next morning, I noticed two things right away. First, there were only five VWs lined up with their noses buried in the dirt. And second, the same family from the day before was there, too, getting in their car to leave.
“Weird,” I said, watching them buckle in the youngest girl, then the twins.
“It’s not that weird,” Riley said. “They were talking about it yesterday, so they’d already planned to come before we did.”
“I guess.”
As their car pulled out, the girl smiled and waved.
After Riley unbuckled his seatbelt, I placed Gris on his shoulder. It was one thing to leave Gris in the car when we were in a motel, but he was here to help. “Time to earn your keep, Gris,” I said.
He tipped his head toward me. “I’ll do my best, Aegis.”
Kam and Darius were already examining the cars when we got out. Kam, true to her word, was dressed in red silk with hand-painted flowers. Her dark hair was swept to the top of her head and anchored with a pair of chopsticks. I looked down at my Smurf tank top and jeans and made a face. Boring.
“Anything?” Riley asked.
Darius shook his head. “Nothing so far.” He did a double take at Gris, then continued what he was doing, as if he hadn’t seen a tiny man sitting on Riley’s shoulder.
Kam popped her head through the open door of one of the vehicles. “Just dirt, empty cans and Carly is boss in here.”
We went through every one of the five cars. Nothing seemed to stand out.
“Wait,” I said. “Step back this way.”
We all stood in the dirt, several feet away from the cars, looking from an angle where we could see their hoods lined up.
Each had been painted with a symbol. The first was blue wavy lines. Water. Then in red, flames. Fire. A green leafy thing. Earth. A white spiral. Air. And last, a black skull and crossbones, like on a pirate ship. Death.
Water had a red circle around it with a line through it. Fire was circled, but no line.
“Dennis was an aquaphile,” I said. “And he drowned on dry land. Who had a power that’s fire related?”
Gris pulled a tiny notepad from his shirt pocket and flipped through it. “Ceecee Tanner. She’s a heatsync.”
“That sounds like fire,” I said. “What’s a heatsync do?”
Darius strode to the car and traced the fire symbol with his finger. “It means she can channel heat through her body and redistribute it.”
“What good is that?” Kam asked, circling the other cars. “Sounds kind of useless to me, except maybe on a cold night.”
Gris fanned the pages of his notebook. “Not every Aegis is as powerful as Miss Donovan and her mother.”
I squinted at the symbols. “So, each of these five cars represents a missing Aegis. Do we agree on that?”
“Agreed,” Riley said.
The others nodded.
“Okay,” I said. “So, water is gone. Fire is circled but not marked out. I think this might be the order he—or she—expects to kill them. Gris?”
“Yes.” He tapped the pages with the tip of a micro-pencil. “If earth is after fire, that would be Amanda Fairweather. She’s a terramotor—she molds earth and rocks. And then Rob Cavendish is an aviacom. He can direct air currents.”
Selfish or not, it was a relief to know that
my mother was slated for last. As a necrofoil, she was kind of an anti-death. It didn’t take a genius to equate the skull and crossbones with her. It meant we had some time—not that I was willing to let other people die first. But it helped keep me moving to try to save the others if I wasn’t paralyzed in fear that the next body might be my mother’s.
I scanned the area. “That can’t be all we’ve got. Telling us who the next victim is without giving us anything else would be a dick move.”
Riley returned to my side and put his arm around me. “We’re talking about a murdering psychopath, sweetheart. Dick moves are probably all she’s got.”
“No,” I said. “There’s got to be more. She’s playing with me. This isn’t nearly taunting enough.”
We didn’t know for sure that the killer was a one-hundred-and-seven-year-old empath named Kathleen. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense, considering her age, but the rest rang true. For now, she was our only suspect.
I stepped away from everyone and looked around. The Volkswagens lined up, nose down in the dirt. Next to them, a small building stood ready to collapse under the weight of time, neglect, and layers of graffiti. Not much farther than that, a gutted service station stood watch through its broken windows.
I stretched my awareness toward the smaller building, searching for the presence of another person. It felt empty, but with a slight tinge of hate. Hate left behind not too long ago.
“There,” I said, making my way past the spray-painted frame of an old jalopy parked forever out front.
The boards creaked under my feet. As I started through the door, Darius grabbed my shoulder. “Let me go first, Aegis.”
I nodded and let him pass, then followed him through.
Sun streamed through the window frames, bouncing light into the corners. One window had bars, and sunlight left a slatted pattern across the floor. I wrinkled my nose. The room stank of old urine, cigar smoke and mold. Fresh hate echoed off the walls as if some recent visitor had left it for me as a gift.
The building was mostly one long room, probably once a roadside snack bar or souvenir shack. Whatever it had been was long gone, leaving nothing but four walls and a leaky roof.