by Jake Bible
“Okay, you’re right. But I do have your thought patterns. I can only imagine what you’ve done in your life. Still can’t think why you get to manipulate the Dim and no one else does, though.”
“Join the club, pal.”
“There’s a club? Nice.”
“No, there is no goddamn club. It’s a saying.”
“So is yanking your chain or taking the piss. Chill, pal.”
“Pal is my thing, pal. Pick a different word.”
“Sugar? We are from the South. Maybe I’ll start calling everyone sugar.”
“Hey, you guys are awake,” Lassa said as he came into the room.
A room I hadn’t even looked at. Hard to when facedown in bed. I rolled over and sat up, scooting back into a bunch of pillows piled against the headboard.
“Hey!” Back Chase complained. “Hard to breathe!”
“Good,” I said. “Maybe you’ll suffocate.”
“Not nice!”
The room was decked out in Alpine chic, like an Austrian ski team had thrown up everywhere. But it was damn cozy.
Lassa leaned against the wall by the door. Harper appeared instantly and gave me a warm smile.
“Welcome back,” she said.
“Where are we?” I asked. “How long have I been asleep?”
“First answer is we’re at a resort at one of the best ski spots in my dimension,” Lassa said.
“What happened to your cousin’s place?” I asked and stretched. I ignored Back Chase’s grumblings. “I thought we were headed there.”
“Oh, we did, dude. We did,” Lassa said. “Which brings us to the second answer. Harper?”
“You’ve been asleep for two weeks,” Harper said.
“I what?” I exclaimed, pushing away from the pillows.
I swiveled my feet out from under the covers and went to stand up. The room was cold as hell outside the covers. I got back in immediately. Back Chase yelled something about making up my mind.
“Dude, you scared the shit out of us,” Lassa said. “You slept like you were in a coma.”
“Except for the you on your back,” Harper said. “That guy doesn’t shut up.”
“Bite me,” Back Chase said.
“Two weeks? Damn,” I said. “We’ve been here for two weeks?”
“No, we’ve only been here for three days,” Lassa said. “My cousin needed the cabin back. The weekend was booked for a bachelorette party or something.”
“Two weeks,” I said again. A few realities hit me. Medical realities. “Uh. That couldn’t have been fun for any of you.”
“No,” they both said.
“But we had some help,” Harper said.
“I called my mom,” Lassa said.
“You what? You called your mom?” I asked.
“Oh, sure,” Lassa said. “She’s been a registered nurse for like six hundred years. She’s retired now, but she was so excited to be taking care of someone again. Even if it meant cleaning up your, uh, bodily wastes. But, hey, Mom is a trooper.”
“She’s like the nicest person I’ve ever met,” Harper said. “I’m not kidding, Chase. If you ever meet her, you’ll totally agree.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty cool,” Lassa said with sonly pride.
“I can’t meet her now?” I asked.
“Nope, sorry, she didn’t come here,” Lassa said. “We’ve been doing the dirty work for three days. Not that there’s much to that. Mom had a shaman come and stabilize you. Anyway, your body is empty, dude. I doubt you could work up a thimbleful of piss even if you wanted to.”
“Nice image,” I said.
About eighty thoughts ran through my mind. But one hit me hard first.
“Dim key?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Harper said. “Believe me, we looked. Dear God, did we look.”
“You owe us,” Lassa said. “Big-time owe us.”
“That sucks,” I said. “Why the hell won’t the key come out?”
“I know,” Back Chase said.
“What?” I replied. “How would you know?”
“For the same reason I’m here,” Back Chase said. “You ingested changeling blood. If some of that blood got on the key while in your belly, which timing sounds about right, then the only way that key is coming out is if you purge the blood.”
“The blood is still in me?” I asked.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Back Chase said. “That trick Daphne did was only temporary and at her whim. From what Harper told me while you were asleep, you pissed that chick off right good. She revoked the spell and out I came.”
“Fae,” I said, moving on to the second most important thought. “What happened to the Fae?”
Harper and Lassa smiled.
“That’s the good news,” Lassa said.
“Sort of,” Harper added.
“Why sort of?” I asked. “Did the Dim trap work?”
“Oh, the trap worked, dude,” Lassa said.
“Sort of,” Harper said.
I concentrated and could feel the pull of the Dim trap. The discomfort wasn’t as bad as it had been two weeks ago, but the Dim was still drawing energy from me.
“You feel up for anther road trip?” Lassa asked.
“Not really,” I said. The last thing I wanted to do was get back in a car and drive the Gory Gauntlet. “But I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Not so much,” Lassa said.
“Steve’s been calling daily to see when you’re coming to get rid of the trap from their road,” Harper said. “Lord Beelzebub is not happy it’s still there. Steve says the Dim is blocking traffic and creating a huge mess.”
“Steve,” Lassa said knowingly.
“Fuck off,” Harper said, and her cheeks reddened.
“Steve and Harper sitting in a tree,” Lassa said.
He didn’t get to finish because Harper socked him right in the gut. He doubled over with a grunt, but started laughing as soon as he could catch his breath.
“We’re only friends,” Harper said. “We have the same professional interests.”
“Harper likes the bad boys,” Lassa said and jumped away before she could sock him again.
“He knows his weapons,” Harper said in a voice that made it very clear that if anyone wanted to continue the conversation, then that would be their last conversation.
I braced myself, then threw the covers off me and got out of bed. The floor was freezing.
“Dude!” Lassa said.
“Pants,” Harper said and pointed to a chair with a pile of folded clothes. “Please.”
27
RUNNING THE GORY Gauntlet wasn’t so bad the third time.
Instead of the limo, though, we had a Humvee that was armed to the teeth. Lassa had called in a favor and had one delivered to us at the resort. Harper had the vehicle outfitted with the latest weaponry. I did not want to see the bill. I was more than sure Sharon would let me know the amount, though. Loudly.
I spent my time in the back being bounced around on the less-than-comfortable backseat, eating constantly. Lassa drove, and Harper stood up in the middle and was handling the .50 cal machine gun set in the ring mount. Every time she ducked down to talk to us, she had the biggest smile on her face. Like I said, the trip wasn’t so bad.
We stopped and got gas from Stan even though the Humvee’s tanks could have gotten us to and from Ekron without needing a fill-up. Stan deserved the business after the headaches we’d caused him. Kek’cha was as mouthy as always. Except the Middle Head, which was back to glaring at me because I’d forgotten the Scrunchers.
We left quickly when harpies arrived. We kept ahead of them, but we could still hear their curses and insults, even over the Humvee’s diese
l engine.
The harpies followed us for a while, as did a gang of marauders, but no one attacked. I think we’d gotten a bit of a reputation from the last two times we’d driven the road.
When we parked the Humvee right outside the border and walked toward the cloud, Steve was waiting for us. He smiled wide at Harper, then quickly let the smile drop. He gave me and Lassa a professional nod.
“Welcome back,” Steve said. “A little tardy, but Harper says you had extenuating circumstances, eh, buddy?”
“I was in a coma and crapping myself, so yeah,” I said. “Very extenuating.”
“You’re awake now and that’s what matters,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get this done. The sooner you exile the trap in the Dim the better. Lord B really wants your head for the delay. I mean that literally. He picked out a mount and everything. But I’ve kept him reasonable. For now. Let’s not push our luck.”
“Let’s not,” I said. “No one deserves my ugly face mounted on the wall.”
Steve laughed and led us through the cloud.
“I heard about your guy, what was his name again?” Steve said.
“Travis,” I replied.
“Travis. Right. Sorry about him,” Steve said. “Horrible way to go. I’ve performed that move on a few beings before. Not as instantaneous a death as you’d think. The blood is still flowing through the brain long enough to feel the pain and know you’re going to die.”
“Dude,” Lassa snarled.
“Sorry,” Steve said and shrugged. “But we don’t work in retail, do we, buddy? Travis knew the score.”
“Steve,” Harper warned as Lassa’s snarl became a growl.
“Okay, I’ll shut up,” Steve said and pointed to the area of the road that was covered by the Dim. “There you go. I had some guys give me an estimate of how many of the Fae are in there and the average count came to three thousand. That’s a pretty good haul.”
“Three thousand?” I asked, almost choking on the number. “Daphne sent three thousand faeries at you?”
“No,” Steve said. “She sent four thousand. The trap only captured the first three.”
I knew instantly what that meant.
“And Daphne?” I asked.
“She got away,” Steve said, but held up a hand as we all started to snarl and fume. “But, don’t worry. Your plan didn’t fail. She’s off your back for now. Daphne has gone into deep hiding. You are the last of her worries.”
The wicked grin on his devil face was more reassuring than his words.
“I’m going to hold you to that assessment,” I said.
“Fair enough.”
“And Lord Beelzebub’s soul?”
“Still in there,” Steve said, pointing at the Dim. “Keeping three thousand faeries company.”
“I’m not going in there to get it back,” I said.
“No, of course not,” Steve said and laughed. “No need, buddy. Lord B is perfectly happy with it being in the Dim. It’s safer there than in his penthouse in that box of his. Speaking of . . . ?”
Harper pulled that mahogany box out of her pack and handed it to him.
“Jesus Christ, this thing is ugly,” Steve said, taking the box from her. Their fingers touched, and his smile flashed briefly again. “He cares more about this box than his soul. Sentimental value, he says.”
“He’s not afraid the faeries will do something to his soul?” I asked.
“Shit no,” Steve said. “The faeries are the ones that should be afraid. If we ever let them out, they’ll be mad as the Hatter. You ever met the guy?”
“Can’t say that I have,” I responded.
“Good,” Steve said. “Avoid him like the plague.”
“Do you plan on letting the faeries out?” I asked as I scratched off a chunk of Dim and formed a key. I held it out to Steve. “I don’t really care. Just wondering.”
“Maybe,” Steve said. “Probably depends on whether Lord B gets bored or not.”
He took the Dim key and opened the ugly box, tossing it in there, then clapping the lid shut. The box disappeared into his overcoat pocket.
“Need anything from me before you get started?” Steve asked.
“Food,” I said. “But that comes after. Lassa has a list for our trip back.”
Steve nodded and looked at the Dim.
“What now?” he asked.
I snapped my fingers, and the Dim trap was gone. Plink. That fast. I felt a billion times lighter. My legs went a little weak from the weight lifted off me, and I swayed. Steve grabbed my elbow and gave me a worried look.
“You should try to figure out what this shit is doing to you long-term, buddy,” he said. “No way a human can keep this up.”
“I’m good, pal,” I replied.
“But for how long?”
“Don’t bother,” Lassa said and handed him my list of needed road snacks. “He won’t listen.”
“I’ve got a routine that works,” I said, nodding at the snack list. “Which includes that right there.”
Steve shrugged. “I’ll have a guy get on this right away. You all care for a drink?”
“Yes,” we said in unison.
We had way more than a drink, and by the time the food was loaded and we were back in the Humvee, I had serious doubts about Lassa’s driving ability and told him so. He wasn’t too pleased.
“I’m fine, dude!” he exclaimed, his words slurring.
“I can drive, pal,” I said. “No problemo.”
“Why are you picking on me?” he asked as he dropped the keys, then stumbled as he tried to pick them up. He held out a hand to stop me from helping him. “You aren’t telling Harper she can’t work the .50 cal, are you?”
“Harper could be high on PCP and airplane glue and still hit a bullseye,” I said.
“I’ve actually been there,” Harper said as she climbed into the Humvee, her torso appearing in the ring mount as she got behind the huge machine gun. “Fucking wickedest hangover from that stuff. Still didn’t miss, though.”
“See?” I said to Lassa.
“I’m driving,” he growled.
“Fine,” I said. “You drive. Not like there’s anything to hit on this road that we want to stay alive.”
“And if it gets back up,” Harper said and patted the .50 cal, “we’ve got a solution for that.”
Lassa drove. I ate, keeping one eye on him the whole time.
But, Lassa was Lassa, which meant he drove like a pro and pretty much all signs of drunkenness were gone after the first few miles. He settled in and relaxed as he aimed us toward home. And home was where we were headed. Not back to Lassa’s dimension and sure as shit not to the faerie dimension or any other damn dimension.
Home.
“We should do something for Travis,” I said after we gassed up once more.
The gas station had been covered in snot, and Stan was shouting at Kek’cha while he cleaned. The multi-eyed guy was so mad he let Lassa work the gas pump. There really was a huge mess.
“Huh?” Lassa replied to my comment like I’d mentioned the weather.
“We should do something for Travis when we get back,” I repeated.
“Nah,” he said.
“What do you mean ‘nah’? He was our friend,” I said, confused.
“Like what? Huh?” Lassa snapped. “He’s dead, Chase. Nothing we can do now.”
“I’m talking about some sort of memorial or wake or whatever,” I said. “I don’t know. Maybe there are funeral rites that shapeshifters have.”
“They don’t,” Lassa said. “Shapeshifters are a singular society. If you can even use the term society. More like a bunch of individuals from the same place. They don’t have rituals or rites. No customs. None o
f that. They . . . are.”
He barked a sad laugh.