“I’d like to say I’m surprised to see you again, but I’m really not,” he said as we paused on the border.
“Are we going to start having these awkward conversations every time we meet?”
“I wouldn’t want to be rude and say nothing.”
“Do they know that you betrayed some of their secrets?”
“They obviously know I told you some, but I left out the real goodies so they aren’t too upset with me. Plus, I tipped them off about your friend in the grave, so that helped smooth things over.”
“Don’t ever mention him.” If I could’ve pulled my knife on him I would’ve, but I couldn’t get my hand to wrap around the hilt.
“Don’t worry. They don’t care about him.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does to me.” Croq looked over toward where our people waited and then back to me. “So can I assume I’ll still be alive later on today?”
I nodded, and he stepped past me, saying, “See you in a little while,” before he did.
I walked through the gates.
I nodded at the driver, feeling slightly relieved it was one of Dax’s spies. If things went bad, he’d get word back to him…I hoped.
I was still trying to figure out why they’d care about Bookie being dug up and not Bookie himself. Was Bookie alive because of something I had done or because of where I’d buried him? But if it had been where I’d buried him, and Croq had talked, why would Zarrod even need me? If he thought that place would heal his people, he’d already know where to go. Nothing made sense about this.
I felt like I was chasing my thoughts in circles by the time the car stopped only a half-hour later. The driver came and opened my door. I got out and looked around, surprised we had stopped in the middle of a field.
Zarrod stood beside another man, who was a slight thing and looked like he’d go down easily enough for a Dark Walker who had the mist clinging to him. Not as easy as a human would, but I’d taken down enough Dark Walkers to feel confident.
But why were we in a field? What was I supposed to do for him here? The only thing I was capable of doing, to my current knowledge, was getting things. Unless he wanted a tree, didn’t look like today would be too productive.
Or maybe I wouldn’t be helping him at all. I searched the ground for a freshly dug grave. No holes in sight. Unless it was behind some tall grass off in the distance, I was safe.
Or was I? I’d read a book a while back where the bad guy had made Moobie dig his own grave. Hoped I wouldn’t be digging mine. Now that would be some messed-up stuff, and I didn’t have faith that I’d be able to turn the tables like Moobie had.
I walked over to Zarrod, refusing to let the shakes I felt on the inside show through. Time to play pretend. It was a game I’d played most of my life, before Dax had broken me out of the Cement Giant and I’d had the taste of the Wilds and freedom. It was crazy how easily I slipped back into the act.
“Looks interesting,” I said as I strolled over toward Zarrod and his companion, keeping my pace somewhere in between let’s get this over with and I want to run the other way.
The weight of my knife hung reassuringly at my hip, and the hilt of the second one felt comforting against the skin underneath my pants. He hadn’t taken them from me the first time, and I doubted he would this time either. That was another curious thing. Did they think I was harmless to them? Was I? Who was making the error in judgment? I hoped it was them.
Zarrod took a small step forward. “This is Brod. He’ll be helping us today.”
Brod nodded toward me. I didn’t nod back. My manners had never been that good to begin with, and this situation was pushing my limits.
“May I?” Zarrod asked, pointing to the knife hanging at my hip.
“Sure.” I didn’t hesitate. I just let a cold, numb feeling overtake me, another trick I hadn’t used in a while. I’d dealt with Ms. Edith for years. Whatever he was planning on doing, I could handle it. I bent down and handed him the one at my ankle instead, leaving the one I could access quicker alone.
He pointed to my right arm. “I’ll need you to roll up that sleeve.”
Gone were the days I’d take an order from anyone without question. Cold and numb was one thing, but I wasn’t a doormat. “Why?”
“I need what you can do. But I can’t have you risk my enterprise by knowing what that is. You didn’t think I’d make it that easy for you?”
“Fine.” There was nothing fine about it. I imagined myself dragging Zarrod to the ground as I repeatedly punched him in the face until I got some answers, but I couldn’t do that. Well, I might be able to pull off the punching, but that wasn’t going to save the farm or the people. “What’s the plan? Or is that a secret too?”
“Roll your sleeve up and I’ll tell you.”
I pulled my jacket off, and Brod stepped forward and took it. I bunched my sleeve up and held my arm out, wondering the whole time, resisting the urge to grab my knife and take Zarrod out. Unfortunately, I had no leverage, and he knew it. I was playing his game.
He took my wrist in one hand and took the knife and pressed the point halfway up my forearm. “I’m going to take this knife, and I’m going to cut you from here to here and let your blood drip into that cup—with your blessing, of course. After it’s full, you are going to wait in the car until I’m finished with my business. Then you’ll be returned.”
“This is how I’m helping you?”
“Of course, you can go back and forget about this whole thing.” He watched, waiting for me to say no, which he knew I wouldn’t.
“Are you ready?” Zarrod asked as Brod moved in closer to me.
I saw the driver watching me from the car, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. It was as if I could smell his panic from where I stood. He was afraid I’d need help. I didn’t. I could save myself. Only problem was, then I wouldn’t be able to save anyone else.
As the driver watched, I tilted my head up and then slowly turned it toward his car and back. I saw his fingers go slack on the wheel as he slumped back in his seat, knowing he was a spectator for the day.
My arm extended, Zarrod held the knife while Brod started chanting. The magic buzzed around me like it was a horde of insects. Brod’s words continued as the buzzing increased, and then Zarrod pressed the tip of my knife into the skin at the top of my forearm.
As soon as my skin broke and the blood welled to the surface, it was as if all the insects in the horde concentrated on the opening of my skin. This wasn’t like any other magic I’d felt. It was as if it was layering my skin with grime as it crawled on top of me.
I didn’t cry out as he sliced my skin, and I prayed that Dax wasn’t feeling this as the knife moved slowly across the plane of my arm. By time he reached my wrist, Brod had stepped behind me with a hand underneath each arm.
Common sense told me I wasn’t weak from blood loss. I’d been pierced in the heart with a bullet and hadn’t passed out. No, whatever they were doing was draining me in a different way.
I didn’t hear the final chant Brod made.
* * *
I woke up with my cheek against the seat of the car as we drove. There was a canteen of water propped up beside me and a roll that had become partially unwrapped from its cloth. “How long was I out?”
“’Bout forty minutes or so. We’ll be at the border soon. I left some stuff there for you.”
“Thank you,” I said, unplugging the canteen before taking a bite of the roll that had probably been his lunch.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shoulda helped you.”
His hands were still shaking and I could see the flush to his skin. I knew what it was like to be scared, and I knew he was only that terrified because, in spite of the fear, if I’d given him a sign, he would’ve tried to help me. If I’d wanted to fight, I hoped I wouldn’t have needed him, because he would’ve been dead weight.
“You did the right thing.”
“You feelin’ ’k
ay?” I heard the accent that came out with the nerves, telling me he was from the southern end of Newco, where most of the hard laborers lived, and I felt bad about eating his roll.
“I’m fine. How did you get this job?”
“Our group heard one of our suppliers wanted someone keepin’ an eye out on that Zarrod guy, so I applied.”
“Suppliers?”
“One of the folks who supplies us with guns and stuff from across the border,” he said, making eye contact with me through the mirror.
So Dax was running guns across the border. Couldn’t say I thought that would be out of his wheelhouse.
“I need you to do me another favor,” I said to the driver. I didn’t know his name, and I wouldn’t put him in the position to have to lie to me. I knew personally what a name could cost you.
“What?” he asked, and I could hear the nerves.
“Don’t tell anyone what you saw here. I don’t want your supplier to get upset you didn’t do anything and withhold guns from your group because of it.”
“But you said it—”
“I think it was the right thing, but your supplier may not.”
He nodded nervously and then focused on the road, probably afraid to talk any more for fear of what I’d say next.
As he drove me back I ate the rest of the roll, wondering what the hell I was going to do now.
The car pulled up in front of the border of Newco, and I ran a hand over the tender flesh of my arm. The cut had healed over by now. The only trace was a pink scar that would probably fade. Dax would know something had happened, like he’d known with the shot, but I’d be able to play this down.
I was steadier on my feet than I’d expected. I was able to walk through the gates with a strong pace, and although Dax was supposed to wait farther back in case something went wrong, he was standing there beside Croq as the guards rolled the fence open.
Croq walked forward, nodding to me as he neared.
I walked with a brisk pace as I made my way to Dax, hoping he wouldn’t sense whatever magic they’d done to me.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I didn’t offer any details.
He didn’t say anything else, but I knew he wouldn’t. Not here and now.
I climbed onto the back of Dax’s bike, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist as we left.
We didn’t stop until we were halfway back to the farm and he waved on the rest of the riders to keep going, so I knew we weren’t stopping for long.
I got off the bike to stretch my legs for a moment, and by time I walked back to Dax, he was eyeing me up as if he couldn’t figure something out. “What happened? I felt something weird.”
He knew something was off but didn’t know what, and he didn’t know about the cut. It had to have been that chanting Brod did. Dax always seemed to know when I lied, so I was going to have to tread carefully here, because there was no way I was going to tell him the full scope of what went down, not unless I wanted the Newco army at our doorstep next week.
I’d had some time to prepare, though. “They took a small sample of blood from me, like they used to in the Cement Giant all the time. Then had me wait in the car. They might’ve been chanting something, but it was hard to understand. I think they’re trying to figure out how my magic works so they can use it.” At its core, it was close to the truth, just a whitewashed version I thought he could swallow. I’d practiced it in my head the whole way here until I’d nearly convinced myself it was all that had happened.
“They didn’t have you do anything else?” he asked.
“No.”
He nodded, but I didn’t relax until he told me we had to ride through the night because he’d picked up a scent he hadn’t liked.
Chapter 14
It was already dark out the next night and Fudge was baking with Tiffy. All seemed quiet with the basement dwellers and Lucy was sleeping on the couch, drooling onto the arm she was using as a pillow. Dax had left after dinner like he’d been doing every night, probably patrolling to see if he could catch a scent of anyone near the farm. He was going nonstop lately, and I knew he sensed strangers in the area.
I left the house in search of Bookie. I’d caught him staring at me during dinner, but he hadn’t said one word to me since I’d gotten back. Dinner had been particularly awkward when I’d asked him a question about the Glory Years and he’d acted as if he hadn’t heard me.
Dax had shot me a look that said, What did you expect, but he wouldn’t get involved. He was good like that. Unless it was mortal danger, he preferred to stay out of squabbles. Considering how many threats we had around us lately, who had the time?
Even though I thought what I’d done yesterday was for the right reasons, there was still enough wrong about it that I didn’t feel completely good—or even so-so. But I was protecting Bookie, and didn’t that keep at least a couple toes in the Lake of the Righteous?
We just needed a good talk, was all, so he could see how I was right. I’d explain how this was for his own good.
I could see the light coming from the small barn he kept his bike in as I walked across the yard.
The box played where it sat beside him. He’d found it digging a long time ago and rigged it with little solar panels he’d stashed away, just waiting for the right purpose. The song “Blinded by the Light” was belting out as best it could from the rusted old box, but it sounded as if the thing was rounding the end of its charge and struggling to finish.
Most of the verses didn’t make a lot of sense to me. What was a manager mister or a deuce in the night? Still, it was a catchy melody, and one of Bookie’s favorites out of the little plastic circles he kept.
Bookie didn’t look up from his bike even though I knew he’d heard the door open. It creaked louder than the box could sing.
I plopped down on the other side of the bike, trying to give him his space even as I peeked at him through the gaps between the metal. It was becoming second nature to check his skin tone whenever I saw him. It was hard not to. I’d lived my life believing death was a one-way ticket. Who knew there were round-trip options?
Bookie looked straight at the bike, as if he couldn’t see me just beyond it. I had two options: proceed like I had no idea what was wrong, or admit guilt. Option one was screaming, Pick me, pick me, while option two sat quietly, as if trying to evade attention. Easy choice.
“Bookie, the place I buried you, do you remember anything about it that might have been weird? Anything at all that you might’ve left out?” See? I did nothing wrong, and speaking to you like this proves my case.
He looked up, squinted at me, and went back to his bike.
“Bookie, this is important stuff. I know you’re upset with me, but I really need to talk this out with you.”
“And I really needed my bike yesterday and you stole my spark plugs. Don’t deny it.”
I sat back on my heels silently. Was that what those things were called? Had to be, unless I wasn’t the only one yanking parts off his bike. Bookie was pretty well liked around here, so I was fairly certain I’d stolen his spark plugs.
He wasn’t looking at me again, and it was hard not to feel like I was one of those steaming piles the horses made that everyone avoided. I told myself again that I had no choice. Once he knew I was going to help Zarrod, he’d want to come, and I couldn’t risk Bookie getting that close to Newco after he’d already died once. What if there was a limit on the round-trip tickets?
And he wasn’t needed there. I’d had Dax, and he was as tough as you got. Bookie was different. He wasn’t cut out for this. Plus I couldn’t stop Dax even if I tried. If I’d stolen his spark plugs, he’d either find them or a replacement, and then it would be war with us. And not silent feuding like this was, but dragged-out, dirty warfare. Dax was too much like me. You trod on him and who knew what he’d do. Bookie was different. He was nice and sweet and soft, and I was keeping him away from that place of hell no matter what.
I would sit here and wait until his anger ran out, because he didn’t have an endless supply, and then we’d be good again. This shouldn’t take too long. I repositioned my legs to stretch them out in the meantime in case this ran a while. Nothing worse than someone giving you dirty looks and having pins and needles at the very same time.
He put down the silver thingy that he clanked around on his bike and leaned around the side so he could really get a good look at me. “You aren’t going to say anything?”
I squinted back and threw up my hands, sending a couple of stray pieces of hay flying. “You just told me not to deny it.”
“You’re meeting with monsters and I haven’t said one word, but you screw with my bike?” His voice got louder with each word until he was a decibel under what I’d classify as a yell.
I bit my cheek. He did make a good point. So much for keeping a toe in righteousness. They weren’t even damp anymore.
“Aren’t you going to at least try and defend yourself?” he asked, my quiet not seeming to help his calm.
I leaned my head into my hand as I tried to get a handle on things. “I know you’re upset, but you’re throwing out mixed messages. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to talk or not.”
“Why did you do that?” he snapped as soon as I finished.
Okay, he wanted me to talk. Got it. “I’m protecting you.”
“Remember when we were at the Rock and I hated you going out? I never sabotaged you.” He was giving me a look that was like the one Fudge gave Tiffy on occasion, when Tiffy screwed up royally. It wasn’t as well done, but that look coming from Bookie didn’t need to be. He was the one who always agreed with me, even when I was wrong.
“It’s different for me.”
“How?” he asked, as if he truly had no idea.
Great, now I’d have to point out the difference. “I haven’t already died once.”
He was getting ready to really let loose now, as much as Bookie could, that was, but all I could think about was burying him again. Every time I saw him I wanted to run over and hug him, but I didn’t because I was trying to not create a spectacle.
The Magic Page 10