Aspen

by Skye Knizley

  “Can you afford all of this?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. After I pay, would you mind if I changed in the restroom? It’s freezing outside!” Aspen said.

  The cashier shrugged and began sorting through the stack. “As long as you can pay for this mess.”

  She rang up each item and Aspen handed over a wad of cash, which wasn’t as much as she’d thought it would be. She stepped out of the restroom a few minutes later dressed and much warmer in the fresh clothes. She stopped at an unused counter to pack the rest of her new belongings into the backpack. She was just flicking it closed when the lights in the store died, leaving her and the clerk bathed in twilight gloom.

  “Wow, the storm must be worse than I thought,” the clerk said.

  She was reaching for a flashlight when a silver-tipped arrow passed through her left eye and out the back of her skull. Her body jerked from the impact and fell to the floor at Aspen’s feet. Aspen screamed and skipped away in surprise.

  “Aspen-Fyre, child of Willow!” a voice bellowed.

  Aspen turned to see three bulky fae men approaching, weapons drawn. They wore the black tunics and leather pants of the Gallowglass Knights, a sort of faerie secret police. If they would kill a human in cold blood, they weren’t about to take her alive.

  Aspen ducked behind the counter and ran as fast as her feet would carry her, weaving through the clothing racks and shelves until she was in a section of ‘gently used’ camping gear, where she took refuge behind a display of tents. From her hiding place she could see the Knights approaching. They had spread out and were looking at small devices in their hands: follow-stones. The magikal rocks worked like compasses, but instead of pointing north, they pointed at missing people. They were attuned to a faerie’s clan marking, granted at birth.

  Aspen chewed her lip and thought furiously. She wouldn’t be able to escape as long as they had the stones, and their intentions were obviously less than honorable. One of the council must have authorized her death now she was away from the laws of the Faewild.

  “Aspen-Fyre! Surrender and your death will be counted among the trees!” the leader yelled.

  Aspen didn’t respond. Staying alive was more important than having a tree planted in her name. She had to get away and then she would have to get rid of her clan marking so they couldn’t follow her again.

  She crept through the camping gear, looking for something she could use. She collected flares, matches, military-grade cord, a cast-iron pie-maker that sealed and a long knife, then moved deeper into the shadows where she knelt and sorted through what she’d found. She cut the handle off the pie-maker then cut all but two of the flares and emptied their contents into it. A wad of matches was stuck into the hole where the handle had been and the whole affair wrapped in cord, making a serviceable explosive. It wouldn’t kill anyone, but it would burn and blind them, which would give her more time.

  She stuck the knife and the remains of her salvaged gear into her pack then crept back into the store. Twice she had to crawl beneath the racks and over shelves to avoid being spotted, but in a few minutes she reached a central location with a clear view of the doors, which the Knights had left unguarded. There, she knelt on one knee and waited, letting the Knights come closer.

  “Enough of this, Aspen-Fyre! Surrender and you will rejoin your mother in the Eternal Night! Do not make this harder than it needs to be!”

  Aspen placed her device on the ground and waited. She could hear the Knights getting closer, their soft footsteps sounding out on the warm linoleum like snakes slithering across sand. When they were close enough, she kicked the device with the side of her foot. It skittered across the floor and she ran the other way. When she neared the safety of the counters she looked back and muttered a phrase of power. Across the room, the matches ignited and the device exploded in a shower of sparks and flame surprising the Knights stalking her. They screamed in anger and fear and fought to put out the flames.

  Aspen didn’t wait to see what happened next, she was out and running through the snow, ignoring how it stung her eyes and cheeks. There was a truck stop on the other side of the highway and that was her destination. She ran beneath an overpass and slid her way down a snow-covered hill where she tumbled into the truck-stop parking lot. She broke her fall with her hands and paused to catch her breath. She didn’t want to look out of sorts when she asked for a ride.

  The truck stop was busy, with more than a dozen trucks in line at the pumps and others parked in the wide-open lot behind the building, their idling engines clattering in the cold night air. Inside the red and yellow building were dozens of diners enjoying hearty road-food and coffee so strong she could smell it from here.

  Aspen knelt in the snow and drew a design with her finger, then sprinkled a small amount of her dwindling supply of faerie dust across the surface. It sparkled and glowed to life with a faint purple light. The design spun like a compass and an arrow of light appeared in the snow, pointing the way to one of the trucks. Aspen looked where it was pointing and saw an eighteen-wheel tractor-trailer with an older long-nose design and a trailer that reflected the lights like a mirror.

  Aspen kicked snow over the enchantment and hurried after the truck, which was pulling into the fueling station for diesel. When it stopped, Aspen stood nearby and huddled in her coat until the driver stepped out. He was an older man dressed in a beige shearling coat and jeans. The collar of his black and red flannel shirt stuck out around his neck and the stub of a cigar dangled from his lips. He glanced at Aspen in passing and began working with the pump.

  “You shouldn’t be out here, kid. If you don’t catch your death of cold, you’re going to get run over. Some of these boys haven’t slept in forty-eight,” he said.

  “I know, but I need help. I understand you’re heading as far as Wyoming?”

  The driver didn’t look at her. “Where did you hear that?”

  Aspen bit her lip. “A little bird told me? I was hoping you could give me a ride, I can pay my own way—”

  The driver straightened. “What is a kid like you doing trying to hitch a ride on a rig? Shouldn’t you be with your parents?”

  Aspen decided on a version of the truth. “My mother died recently and I am trying to get out to my father. He’s a cop in Jackson Hole. Can you help?”

  The driver chewed his cigar and stared at the fuel tank in front of him. “Why isn’t your daddy coming for you?”

  Aspen joined him in his study of the truck’s outboard tank. “My parents are…were… separated, they have been most of my life. I tried to let him know what is going on, but he’s on a case. Please, I have nowhere else to go!”

  The driver flicked his finger across the pump and set it on automatic, then turned to look at Aspen. “Kid, you’re talking about two thousand miles in a truck with a man you don’t know.”

  Aspen shrugged. “How is that different than on a bus with fifty people I don’t know? Besides, I have a feeling about you, you’re a good man.”

  The driver snorted. “My ex and daughters wouldn’t say so. Okay, look, kid. I have a job to do in Wyoming and this truck is part of it. You can ride, but I make no promises as to how far. If things go south, you walk. Are we clear?”

  Aspen smiled. “Yes, sir, we’re clear. Thank you!”

  She made to hug the driver and he stepped back. “No hugging! You said you had some cash, run get me a burger and fries from the ‘stop while I finish filling this beast up.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  She started across the lot to the restaurant, picking her way through the ruts and around spots of diesel.

  “Hey kid, what’s your name?” the driver called.

  Aspen turned and walked backwards. “Aspen, what’s yours?”

  “Mack. Hurry up with that burger!”

  Aspen saluted and hurried into the restaurant, relieved to have found a ride that woul
d get her home with a minimum of fuss. She didn’t know who Mack was, but her magik said he was a good man going in the right direction; her magik had never let her down before and she didn’t think it would, today. With a smile, she took a seat at the takeout counter and waited for the busy waitress to take her order.

  II

  I-80 West, Somewhere…

  Miles clicked by and Aspen watched out the window as the countryside changed, little by little. She’d never seen very much of the country and it was interesting to see what changed and what remained the same as they moved along. Mack was quiet, as companions went, only speaking as necessary to share information or place orders at the many truck stops and restaurants where they stopped for food and fuel. Aspen dutifully placed the orders and brought food back to the truck where Mack was either busying himself with fueling the hungry diesel engine or talking on the phone in hushed tones.

  It was early morning and the sun was a haze beneath the heavy clouds that stretched as far as Aspen could see. She watched them while she stood in line inside yet another truck stop, waiting to order breakfast for the two of them. She was still looking at the grey storm looming behind them when she stepped back out into the cold. The truck was parked across the lot and she moved toward it at a slow walk, her attention on the clouds; she’d never seen a storm like that.

  When she looked back it was to see Mack talking with a young woman with long black hair and exotic blue eyes that were striking even at this distance. The woman was dressed in some kind of black military uniform and had a weapon holstered on her left hip. She spotted Aspen, said something to Mack and moved off to a black sedan parked away from the pumps. Mack turned and lit his cigar, his eyes on Aspen, who felt her stomach go cold.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, offering Mack his coffee.

  Mack took the foam cup and sucked at contents greedily. “Nothing. Just someone asking for directions. Did you get the donuts?”

  Aspen held up a white paper sack. “Two powdered jelly, two plain, two glazed and something called a longjohn for me.”

  Mack took the bag and opened the truck’s door. “Let’s hit it, we’ve got miles to cover.”

  Aspen let him help her back into the cab and settled into her seat. From her vantage point she could see the black sedan and the woman within. It looked as if she had two other people with her, an older man and, maybe, another woman in the back seat. They drove off heading west and Aspen lost sight of them in the early morning traffic.

  Mack climbed into the truck beside her. He flicked the controls and the engine coughed to life in a plume of exhaust and a rattle that shook the cab. The transmission clacked, the brakes hissed and they were off again, crawling across the lot and accelerating onto the highway. Once they were up to travel speed, Mack fished a donut out of the bag and handed the rest to Aspen, who retrieved her own snack and placed the bag on the console between them. She nibbled on the donut and watched Mack, who for the most part ignored her, his attention on the task of eating and driving without crushing any of the other vehicles around them.

  “The side of my head is starting to burn, kid,” he said.

  Aspen looked away. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

  Mack licked jelly off one of his fingers. “Thinking what?”

  “That you weren’t always a truck driver.”

  Mack glanced at her. “Nobody is born behind the wheel.”

  Aspen laughed. “You know what I mean, you used to do something else. Maybe even still do. Something important.”

  Mack finished his donut and pulled the chewed end of his cigar out of his pocket. He lit it with the lighter stud on the console and took a drag before looking back at Aspen. “You’re a very observant girl, Aspen. You remind me of one of my daughters. No, I wasn’t always a driver. I used to be a cop, back in the day.”

  Aspen leaned back in her seat, which was more like a recliner than anything else. “Why did you quit?”

  Mack exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I didn’t quit, I moved on. It’s a long story.”

  “We have a long road ahead,” Aspen replied.

  Mack chuckled and flicked ash out the window. “Maybe later. Get some sleep and let me drive.”

  Aspen curled up in her seat and drifted into a fitful sleep. Though they would part in just a few hours, Aspen would see him again in seven years’ time.

  CHAPTER TWO

  St. Louis, Missouri, Smokin’ Guns Diner, Five Years Later

  Smokin’ Guns Diner had once been a truck stop on Route 66 back when the 66 was the main thoroughfare from Chicago to California. It had become a diner and motel in the 80s and later been adopted as a refuge for those eager to avoid the prying eyes of the law. Everyone from down on their luck gamblers to so-called ‘monster hunters’ gravitated to it for the food, comfort and sense of safety found within its old chrome walls and battered but clean rooms.

  It wasn’t much to look at. The chrome had seen better days and was now stained and pitted with age, the windows had turned yellow in the Missouri heat and the old neon sign sputtered and sparked in the rain, sometimes so bad it shorted out.

  The inside wasn’t much better, just a dozen cracked red vinyl booths flanking a long counter and another twenty red vinyl stools. An antique jukebox sat at one end, a payphone and restrooms at the other.

  Aspen hummed to herself and rubbed down the scarred Formica countertop with a rag that smelled of an odd mix of soap and egg. No matter what she did, the dishrags at Smokin’ Guns always smelled like fried eggs.

  The diner had once required waitresses to wear yellow dresses with white aprons, but the current owner, Creek Jackson, had come to his senses and Aspen was dressed in a pair of jeans and a white camisole. The cross Raven had given her hung from a chain around her neck as did the amulet that protected her from prying Fae eyes. The cross was identical to Raven’s save that the name Aspen was engraved in the back; the amulet was a simple pentacle of silver with a purple stone in the center. It was plain and that was how Aspen preferred it. Curiosity meant prying eyes, which was the last thing she wanted.

  She scrubbed at a wad of egg and cheese stuck to the counter and sighed. What she wanted was to go home. She missed Raven terribly and the longer she was away, the stronger the ache in her heart became. She imagined she could feel their link growing weaker with each day, but she knew that was impossible.

  “Why did I even leave?”

  A customer sitting nearby, a retired hunter named Clay, looked up from his steak. “I beg your pardon?”

  Aspen hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud. “Just wondering why I left home. How’s the steak?”

  Clay’s weather-worn face cracked into a smile revealing the tombstone lumps of his teeth. “Bloody, just like I like it. You can tell ol’ Creek he done good.”

  Aspen glanced at Clay’s plate. Steak fries floated in a pool of blood that threatened to wash over the sides of the cracked white plate and surrounded the lump of meat that had, once, been a bulk-sold sirloin as tough as shoe leather. The sight made her stomach growl and she returned her attention to the stain, which was stubbornly refusing to come clean.

  Why had she left Chicago? Life with Raven was great, better than anything she had expected in her lifetime. She’d wandered from job to job since college, always running when the Gallowglass or local Master discovered her. But Raven was different. She didn’t want magik or power, all Raven wanted was Aspen’s friendship and, if she would admit it to herself, Aspen’s love. Aspen could feel Raven’s love even now, three hundred miles away.

  And maybe that was the problem. Aspen knew Raven loved her as much as she loved Raven, but Raven wouldn’t say anything. She was too afraid of hurting Rupert and screwing up their friendship to treat Aspen as anything but a friend. It was maddening. So…she’d left. Yet another dumb move.

  The bell over the door rang and Aspen looked up to see a lank
y, blonde girl enter. The girl looked to be seventeen or so, with long, blonde hair streaked with pink and eyes hidden behind chrome aviator glasses. She was wearing a rain-soaked leather jacket over a black tee that read “I Smell Like Strippers” and jeans tucked into combat boots. The girl pulled off her glasses and took a seat at the counter.

  “Can I get a menu?” she asked in a thick southern accent.

  Aspen pulled a fresh plastic menu from the stack beneath the counter and handed it to the girl. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Coffee and a shot of Irish, if you’ve got it,” the girl replied.

  Aspen smiled. “If I ask for ID, am I going to get a fake one that says you’re old enough to drink?”

  The girl arched an eyebrow. “Does it matter how I answer?”

  Aspen laughed. “No. Because I’m not going to give you booze. But the coffee is fresh and hot and strong enough to put hair on your eyes.”

  Aspen spun and pulled the carafe from the heater behind her. She plonked a cup and saucer older than she was onto the counter and poured the girl a generous cup. The girl perused the menu with a look of annoyance on her face.

  “Let me know when you decide,” Aspen said.

  The girl tossed the menu onto the counter. “I’ll take the cheeseburger. I want it dead, if it looks like that guy’s steak I won’t eat it. Double fries, no slaw.”

  Aspen nodded and turned to Creek, who had appeared over the grill behind her. She repeated the order and rang it into the cash-register before turning back to the girl.

  “It will be right up. Can I ask what brings you out here? You aren’t exactly our normal clientele,” Aspen said.