Dead End

by C. P. Rider

  "I'm listening."

  We plopped down—well, I plopped; he hovered—on the curb across from the fragrant green landscape of the sacred gardens that only those who had achieved internal peace and horticultural sanctification could enter, and I spilled my guts.

  "You're really going to leave Dead End?"

  I nodded.

  "It was an accident. You're not bad." He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I wished I could feel it.

  "I made my grandpa bleed, Aedan. Because of me, he's hurt. Does it matter that it was an accident?"

  "Probably not to you."

  "Exactly."

  Aedan gestured toward a house across the street. If I had to guess, I would have said it was Mr. Martindale's house, since it was catty-corner from the sacred gardens, and also because there were plastic lawn flamingos and ceramic garden gnomes packed butts-to-guts, as Dad would say, inside the white picket fence.

  Aedan pointed to the mailbox, underneath which five flamingos had cornered a cackling gnome. "Are the gnomes and flamingos fighting each other?"

  "It's either a fight or a party," I said. "I'm thinking party, since I can smell the boysenberry syrup from here."

  Aedan mouthed the word "boysenberry" and shook his head. "Are you sure you want to leave this place? It seems perfect for people as weird as we are."

  I wasn't offended by the insult. I'd been weird all my life. Weird, dork, creepy. Some of the kids had hurled those insults at me from time to time. I hadn't liked being yelled at, but as insults went, I'd never been bothered by weird.

  "I'm sure. I shouldn't be here."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I cause trouble." I stood, dusted off my pants. "As a thank you for listening, I'm going to offer you fair warning. Don't look for me on the other side, Aedan. Because the next time you Kilshaw a-holes show up, I won't hold back."

  "Come on. You're still lumping me in with them?"

  "Aren't you one of them?" I headed toward the ripper fields. It was going to be a long walk, so I figured I should get started.

  "Not everyone is as lucky as you are."

  Anxious, I ran my hand through my hair. My ponytail holder fell out, so I swiped it up and wrapped it around my wrist. "Lucky? Have you been listening to me at all?"

  "Not everyone has a dad who would die to protect them. Not everyone has a choice."

  I halted. "You say that as if you know my dad." I squeezed my eyes shut and mentally kicked myself. "Wait a minute. You're part of Kilshaw. You'd know if they had him."

  Why hadn't I thought to ask that before? I was so busy trying to use my ability to break through the Divide, I didn't consider that I had a spy in the organization standing, floating, right in front of me. For God's sake, how could I have missed such a simple thing?

  "You can stop mentally punishing yourself now. Even if you had thought to ask, I wouldn't have had any answers for you." Aedan shrugged. "Since I ‘lost' you at the café, no one trusts me with information about either your dad or you. After I project here, I report back to them, Maria, and I tell them things you're doing. Because if I don't, I'd never get to see you again. They wouldn't allow it."

  I looked at him. Really looked. I'd been so caught up in my own problems, I hadn't considered Aedan might be having some too. His normally easy smile had faded, and he looked tired. The sort of tired that follows a long, losing fight with something awful.

  "You have no idea why I work for a man like Kilshaw, so don't judge me, Maria Guadalupe."

  He was right and it annoyed me, so I started walking again. "You don't want me to judge you? Tell me why you work for him."

  "Someday I will."

  "When?"

  "Soon. Gotta go."

  "I hate it when you do that," I muttered to empty air.

  28

  The ripper field was as scary in the early morning hours as it was in the afternoon. There were more picked-clean bones scattered beside the carnival mirror membrane that made up the Divide on this side, and I wondered how many were chupacabra, how many were cow, and how many were human.

  It occurred to me that not bringing along some sort of weapon was a mistake I might not live long enough to regret.

  I walked along the Divide, not too close, letting the vibrations flow through my body the way Samuel had showed me. When I got to the other side, I'd do everything I could to find his sister after I found Dad. If this worked, I might be able to send her home. That would be a good way to thank Samuel for the lessons.

  Tears clouded my eyes as I thought about Cindy. She was the first best friend I'd ever had. We'd only known each other for a short time, but it didn't matter. Sometimes you clicked with someone and it felt as if you'd known them forever. I was going to miss her like crazy.

  "Focus."

  I shoved all the worries and regrets out of my head and, reaching out with my ability, tested the closest rippers. None of them felt right. I needed one that spoke to me, one with vibrations I resonated with, one that was begging me to fix it.

  A half-mile walk later, I found the perfect ripper. It was partially underground and vibrating in a jarring rhythm I felt in my teeth. I could fix it. Make it hold steady.

  I tightened the straps of my backpack. There would be no time to pick it up once I got the ripper stabilized, so I needed to wear it. Again, I wished I'd brought a weapon. It's not as if I had a clue where I'd end up on the other side. No one had told me how this worked. I could be halfway across the world, or right back in Arizona, near the diner. The possibilities were endlessly frightening, so I decided not to think too hard about them.

  The vibrations from the ripper seeped into me. I welcomed them, let them boil my blood and rattle my bones. I drizzled my ability into the ground until the tremors I created blended with the chaos of the pulsations and beat like a drum into my heart. Together we created a melody so instinctive and ancient that it must have been around when the world was born.

  The ripper settled, and as though through the surface of a calm lake, I was able to see right through it. Desert scrub and a dusty highway. Tumbleweeds. Cactus. In the distance, I spotted the abandoned café. Still in Arizona, then. Maybe Dad was close by, watching for me.

  In my excitement, I dropped a few notes of the melody, but I picked it up again and refocused. The ground shook, but it wasn't as frightening as it had been yesterday in my grandfathers' house. I'd learned something from digging holes with Samuel. My ability wasn't static and unchangeable. It was flexible and elastic, and capable of more than just making holes in the ground and destroying things. It could fix things, too.

  The edges of the ripper peeled back, revealing more of the desert and café and road. A large black SUV sped up to the café and slammed on its brakes.

  I recognized that SUV.

  "So that's what he meant by soon. I should have known."

  The passenger door opened, and Aedan climbed out. His long silver hair was pulled into a braid and he was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt instead of his Kilshaw uniform, but it was him.

  My stomach rolled over. Of course, it was him. Who else could betray me so perfectly? The guy I was stupid enough to trust after he'd screwed me over.

  The driver's door opened and a man whose face I knew as well as my own, even though I'd only seen it in nightmares and blurry photographs, exited the vehicle.

  Tristan Kilshaw.

  His hair was black and threaded with silver that perfectly matched the color of his business suit. His skin was brown and lined with age. He was tall, and though I wasn't a great judge of height, I estimated he was two or three inches over six foot. Aedan was an inch or two shorter, closer to my dad's height.

  "You did it."

  I backed up a step as Kilshaw strode toward me, toward the ripper. He could just walk right through. Or I could. Did I want that? This was everything I'd hoped for, and nothing I'd hoped for, at the same time.

  "Did it?" I knew what he meant, so I don't know why I said that. Probably because I was scare
d half out of my mind and not making any sense.

  "You've learned to stabilize a ripper. Good job, Maria."

  Aedan trailed behind him, his chin on his chest, eyes on the rubber toe of his sneakers.

  "This is tremendous news for you. Because now I won't have to kill him." He whistled then, loud and sharp and long, and two men stumbled out of the SUV.

  One was short, red-haired, with milk-white skin. The other had the same skin tone, but he was tanned from outdoor work and had golden brown hair. His clothes were ripped and dirty, and his hands were tied behind his back. He shuffled in my direction as if his feet were chained together.

  "Loops?" His voice was faint, but I had been listening for it.

  "Dad?"

  The red-headed man shoved him, causing him to trip and fall to his knees.

  "Let my dad go." I lost control of the ripper for a second as fury boiled through me.

  "Oh, I will, I will." Kilshaw's voice was like a razor blade dipped in honey. "After you bring me through."

  "No." My dad struggled to his feet and the short guy punched him in the back.

  This time my fury didn't boil, it froze. I stared at Aedan's downcast face. "You told me you didn't know anything. Did you do this?"

  He lifted his head and gave me a miserable look. "None of this was my idea."

  "Of course it wasn't. It was a good idea," Kilshaw said. "Maria, you really—"

  "Don't touch him again or you'll regret it." I caught the redheaded man's gaze. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

  "Loops, I'm okay," my dad said. "Don't do anything." He'd stumbled up to Kilshaw by then. The four males stood in a semi-circle around the ripper.

  For no reason I could see, the short guy gripped the back of my dad's neck and forced him to his knees. More than anything else, it was that stupid, senseless violence that made me do what I did next.

  The ground in both places trembled. Samuel had never told me my ability would work on the opposite side of a ripper, but then, maybe it would have been news to him, too.

  I took a step closer to the Divide. It felt as if I were slogging through wet sand.

  "Think, my dear little Maria." Kilshaw's expression was the dictionary definition of condescending. "It's a good deal. We both get what we want. You get your father and I get into Sanctum." He edged toward the tear on his side and I pulled my ability back. The ripper shrunk by half. He stopped, cursed. "Grady, Maria needs a little convincing."

  "This isn't necessary." Aedan's gaze went from me to my father. "She'll let you through."

  Kilshaw ignored him. "Now."

  Grady kicked Dad in the ribs. His breath huffed out, along with a groan of pain.

  "Stop it!" Energy filled my entire body. It was a little like I imagined sticking my head in an oven would feel. Painful, but mostly suffocatingly hot and terrifying.

  "That wasn't even hard." Grady spat on the ground by Dad's head. "Wuss."

  "You should run away now." My anger was a big thing. Too big for my mind and body. "I'm warning you."

  "Loops," my dad gasped, "don't."

  "No, Maria," Aedan shook his head. "Don't use your ability over here."

  "Shut up, Aedan. Again, Grady." Kilshaw was watching me, and I was watching for an opportunity.

  This time, the short man took six steps back. He wanted a running start, I guess. It gave me room. Just enough.

  I thrust my ability into the sand under his feet.

  "No," Dad rasped, but it was too late.

  Grady was sucked beneath the surface of the ground so fast he didn't have time to scream. The only evidence he had been there at all was a shock of red hair sticking out of the sand.

  "Damn it, it's not enough! If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself," Kilshaw bellowed, red-faced with fury. He stomped to where Dad lay and yanked him to his feet. Pulled out one of those weird guns—it looked like the one the man working with Aedan had fired at me—and jammed it against my dad's head.

  "Don't," Aedan said. "She'll do what you want. No one has to get hurt." He glanced at where Grady used to be. "Well, you know, no one else."

  Kilshaw lifted his chin. "She attacked my associate."

  "You hated Grady. You brought him out here to kill him yourself, remember?"

  "He was mine to kill." Kilshaw pointed the gun at me.

  "He's not dead. Yet," I said. "You can still save him—if he's good at holding his breath."

  My father gaped at me. Kilshaw looked interested.

  One side of Aedan's mouth lifted into a grin.

  "No." Dad shook his head in what looked like a mixture of disbelief and disappointment. "This isn't you. Loops. Set him free."

  "Why?" Aedan's brow scrunched into a frown. "He wouldn't think twice about killing you."

  "She knows why," Dad said.

  I did, but I also didn't care. "No."

  "This isn't you." Dad shook his head sadly. "This isn't my little girl."

  "He hurt you."

  "I can take the pain. What I can't take is you letting Kilshaw turn you into a monster."

  Aedan's puzzled frown turned into an angry one. "Don't call her that."

  "You think I'm a monster?" I'd suspected Dad saw me that way since the accident on the highway, but he'd never said it aloud. It felt like a knife to the heart.

  "You know that's not what I meant, sweetheart."

  Did I? Because it sure didn't feel like it.

  "Don't kill this man and allow him to turn you into something you aren't. This isn't you."

  Maybe he was right. Maybe this wasn't me.

  "Don't listen to him, Maria," Aedan said, "Using your ability to protect someone you love doesn't make you a monster."

  "No, it makes me a murderer." And a disappointment to my dad.

  I sent a small ripple through the sand, freeing Grady's head. When I heard him gasp for air, I knew he was alive, but what I didn't know was how I felt about that.

  Kilshaw didn't even glance in Grady's direction. "Walk through the ripper, Maria. Prove it's safe."

  My dad lifted his bruised face. Not to me, but to my lying, astral not-boyfriend, Aedan. "Please. Don't let Maria do this," he begged.

  Aedan's shoulders drooped. "I can't help her, Mr. Thompson."

  Dad's jaw tightened and he got that hard, stubborn look in his eyes I knew so well.

  "Yes, you can. In fact, I think you're the only one who can."

  29

  None of my urban fantasy stories had prepared me for this. Not even the Patricia Briggs or the Ilona Andrews books. Nothing in fiction, in Dead End, or in any other part of my life up to this point, had prepared me for this.

  I forced myself to take a step.

  And another. And another. Until I stood directly in front of the ripper. Once there, I discovered it wasn't only difficult to put one foot in front of the other, it was also difficult to breathe. The vibrations amplified the closer I got, and they repelled me. My vision doubled. Tripled. A warning?

  Don't do it.

  The music the ripper and I made together formed lyrics. There was no audible voice. The words were the music, and the music was the words.

  Don't do it.

  "Please." I heard my dad beg Aedan. "She'll die."

  "Hurry up, girl." Kilshaw's gaze swept over the ripper. "It's starting to collapse."

  Dad lunged at Aedan, grabbed his shirt, and shook him. "Do it now!"

  Kilshaw reached over and backhanded my dad like an afterthought. As if he were a black ant on the tip of his finger to be flicked away.

  Teeth gritted, I lifted my foot to step over the threshold. My legs were cement, my lungs filled with sand. Every inch I moved was a battle won.

  "That's right. Come across and I'll let you and your daddy go home. Wouldn't that be nice? Wouldn't you like to go home?"

  Yes. I would like to be home right now, surrounded by my books, safe with my dad. How things were before we started running. Things would be normal, if not perfect, and
safe.

  I thought of Cindy and Toby and wondered if it really would be all that good without my best friends. And did I really want to return to normal, hiding away for the rest of my life?

  There was one last sorrowful, "Please," from Dad as I broke through the resistance and reached the other side.

  The second my shoes touched warm Arizona dirt, something slammed into my chest, sending me back through the ripper, breaking my concentration and knocking the wind out of my lungs as I hit the hardpacked sand with an enormous whomp.

  Gasping for breath, I climbed to my knees, dug my fingers into the dirt, and spider-crawled to the ripper.

  It was gone.

  "Dad." I thought I'd screamed it, but all I'd managed was a whisper.

  "Maria." Aedan sat a few feet away, silver eyes wary.

  "You," I gasped, tried to catch my breath. "What have you done?"

  "Saved your life. Ended mine."

  "You've ruined everything. Kilshaw is going to kill my dad and there's nothing I can do." The words caught in my throat.

  Aedan looked at me. "At least this way he won't kill you, too."

  Once my lungs had recovered, I pushed to my feet and ran along the Divide. I was desperate. My body was working overtime just to keep me conscious, but I pushed it harder, making my feet move, forcing my eyes to focus.

  "Ripper." My voice returned, though it was deeper now, as if I had a cold. "I need another one. I have to get back to him."

  "You can't. We lucked out finding each other this time."

  "He's going to kill my dad," I shrieked. "I have to get to Kilshaw."

  "And do what?" Aedan stomped through the sand behind me. "Were you planning on sinking him in quicksand like you did Grady? Do you really think your little parlor trick back there would work on Tristan Kilshaw?"

  "It works on everyone."

  "Not him."

  "Everyone."

  "That only goes to show you have no idea who you're dealing with. He'd let you try, laugh at your weak attempt, and shoot your dad in front of you."

  "Why?"

  "Because it would break you, and then you'd do whatever he wanted." Aedan's eyes were flat, emotionless. "I've seen him do it dozens of times before."