by Lish McBride
It was Olive who answered. “We drag him out from his hole. We find out everything that he knows, by whatever means necessary.” He eyes were hard. “Then the drove destroys him and everything that he ever loved.”
“We,” I corrected. “We destroy him and everything that he ever loved. It’s not just the drove on this, Olive. We’re a team.”
She shrugged. “I don’t care who does it as long as it’s done.” There was absolute steel in her voice—I believed her. Olive was going to be one hell of a terrifying adult.
Sylvie clicked her seat belt closed. “To the houseboat. And step on it.”
Everyone in the van turned to look at her.
“What? I’ve always wanted to say that. The step on it part, not the houseboat part. That would be weirdly specific.” She shooed us with her fingers. “Now drive.”
There was a chill in the night air as we barreled down the road, waiting for the van to slowly warm up. “What I don’t understand is why,” Katya said, her face an outline in the darkness. “Why would Thomas do any of this?”
Everyone was quiet as we tried to work it out, but again it was Olive who piped up. I wasn’t surprised. Olive paid attention. She had a tactician’s brain when you could get her to slow down long enough to use it. Her first thought was always to smash her way through, and I couldn’t fault her for that. It was always my first thought, too. Talking is great, but sometimes a well-placed uppercut is really more efficient. If you give Olive ten seconds to think things through, however … well, I’m pretty sure she was in line to replace Les when he was no longer able to lead the drove. Yes, Olive was only a kid. But I was learning from Alistair’s ability to recognize talent in whatever form it takes, and I wasn’t about to brush off a useful resource just because of age or anything like that.
“Whoever is doing this, what’s their end goal? If it was happening in Boston, I’d say destabilization. That they want to weaken Alistair’s hold so that they, or someone they choose, can come in and replace him. But it’s not in Boston. It could be a mistake—an experiment gone wrong.” Olive steepled her fingers, like a tiny Machiavelli. “I don’t think that’s right, either, though.” She squinted, her face pinched in deliberation. “After meeting Thomas, my best guess would be that he’s a self hater. No, that’s not right. I can’t think of the word for what he is besides asshole.”
“While colorful and correct,” I said, “it’s also vague.”
“Do you remember how he was around the sweaters?” Olive asked.
“He’s a sweater hater?” Ezra asked sleepily, his head on my shoulder as he catnapped.
To Olive’s credit, she’d become so used to Ezra that she didn’t even get irritated or respond. “I mean how he kept trying to argue with Sylvie without even listening? He didn’t actually want to help the kelpies.”
“He fears us,” Fitz said.
“Then why did he have me help in the first place?” Sylvie asked.
Olive twisted in her seat to stare out the window. “I’m not sure, but it wasn’t out of altruism. Sylvie, you said he seemed nice at first, but by the time we met him at the bookshop, he wasn’t even trying to pretend to be nice anymore.”
I considered this, with Ezra’s comforting warmth at my side. I’d have to remember to check for my wallet when we got out. “The sweaters did get the kelpies out onto land more, making them a more available target. Maybe it was just the first part of the plan?”
“There could also be something wrong with the sweaters themselves,” Lock said. “I’m going to text Alistair and let him know we need to get another witch to examine them as soon as we can. We shouldn’t trust anything from Thomas.”
The area we were in didn’t have any streetlights, and the limited visibility prevented me from seeing Fitz’s face, but his voice had an edge to it. “Thomas’s time on this earth is quickly dwindling.”
“I don’t think the fungus was on purpose. It’s too much.” Olive waved her hands in frustration as if trying to think of the words. “It’s too hard to control. You can’t tell it to stop. Even if the jackass has a cure all lined up, that would mean he’d have to be able to get it to everyone. And some creatures are hard to track down. Some are mobile and might have wandered off. It’s too likely to spread out of control. Wouldn’t he realize he’s putting himself in danger, too?” She huffed. “It’s stupid and dangerous. And it’s not right. He went after Fitz’s people. So what if the kelpies are dangerous? They’re also part of the what-a-system. The one Lock always talks about.”
“Ecosystem,” Lock said. “And, yes, creatures like the kelpies are important. People might not like predators, but they are a part of a delicate balance. They keep the other creatures in check.”
“See what I mean? He’s dumb as a sack of hammers. And I don’t particularly like being beat by a stupid opponent.” Olive zipped her hoodie up and settled in for a good sulk.
Sylvie leaned forward, straining against her seat belt to put her arms around Olive’s neck and hug the young hare. I’m sure she tensed, and Sylvie was lucky she didn’t get stabbed for her effort, but Olive was able to rein in her instincts.
“That deserves the last whoopie pie,” Sylvie said. “You get it when we get back to the cabin.”
“Why does she get the last one?” Ezra sat up, startled, his eyes wide.
“Because Olive helped me understand a little more that this isn’t all my fault.”
“But … but…” Ezra sputtered.
Sylvie sighed. “I can make more, Ezra.”
*
THE DROVE VAN was built to carry a lot of people, but our number was pushing it. So by the time we swung by to have a chat with Gwenant, my legs were already feeling cramped. Ikka had driven, since it was her van, and Olive was riding shotgun, but the rest of us were squished into the back. We weren’t quite sure where the kelpies were now, though Fitz had a general idea. He wouldn’t tell me how he knew. Kelpie secret, I guess.
Fitz directed us to a parking lot closer to parkland than the one we’d been using. The entrance was gated and padlocked, but Ezra and Olive took care of that. Ezra had also been helping her with her lock-picking skills, in addition to her thieving skills, and he wanted to observe her work on this one. So he just supervised. Once we were through the gate, Fitz had us park, and then he disappeared into the brush. He felt he could persuade the rest of the kelpies better on his own.
We got out to stretch but stayed near the van, leaving the door open to let in a breeze. An owl hooted in the distance, followed by other twittering birds, which should have been asleep. Fitz had been gone for twenty minutes. Considering that I was left with a bored Sylvie, it was twenty minutes too long.
“So, that whole business with Ryan, which sounds awful … have you seen him since then?” Sylvie leaned on the back of the seat, her eyes alert. Katya was at least pretending she wasn’t interested and wasn’t listening, I think out of misguided politeness.
When I didn’t answer right away, Sylvie continued. She knew how to wear me down. “Rumor around town is that he’s in rehab. I bought it, thinking that was maybe why you two were splitsville. You wouldn’t stand for a drug habit. But now, after all of this, I’m thinking maybe the rehab thing was a lie.”
“I still say we should have just killed him and buried his body in a bog somewhere,” Olive muttered.
“Why a bog?” Ezra asked.
“Who hangs out in bogs? No one.” Olive dug a candy bar out of her pocket. “Good place for a body.”
“You really should be packing better snacks,” Ikka chided. “Nuts. Granola bars. Dried fruit.”
Olive rather pointedly stared at her and kept eating the chocolate bar. “This has nuts in it.”
Ikka gave up. “You know, we should see about making some sort of deal with the kelpies. See if they’d take our bodies. Do you think they eat carrion?”
“It’s worth exploring,” Lock said.
Sylvie, of course, was still staring at me, waiting for my re
sponse, because not even the discussion of hiding bodies could deter her. “I don’t really want to discuss it,” I said finally.
“I don’t see why you don’t want to discuss Ryan,” Ezra said from his new perch in the passenger seat up front. He’d decided that he needed to ride shotgun for the rest of the trip. “It’s such a funny story. I especially like how it ended with me in a bear trap. And Ava almost dead.” Sylvie gasped, and then Ezra narrowed in on her soft spot, really going in for the kill. “And Lock. Need I remind you that he was pretty banged up, too?”
The expression on Sylvie’s face was pure fury. Her nostrils flared and she balled her fists. “That … oh. No whoopie pies for him! Ever! That is just—gah! And I hope he gets … really dehydrated! Because that is uncomfortable and dangerous.” Then, apparently deciding that wasn’t enough, she sputtered a few more vague and outlandish scenarios of comeuppance.
Katya folded her arms on the seat, resting her head. “He got your friends hurt, some of them nearly killed, and the best you have is ‘really dehydrated’?”
“That’s Sylvie,” Lock said, squeezing Sylvie close. “Even when she’s being mean, she’s too nice.” It was too dark to see, but Sylvie was probably blushing.
There was a rustle in the undergrowth, and Fitz appeared. He climbed into the van, taking his seat back and clicking the belt. “Ready to go,” he said.
“Where are the kelpies?” Olive asked. She’d been hearing stories, and I could tell she was dying to meet something more deadly than she was. In Olive’s mind, that was not to be missed. I mean, think of what she could learn. Sure, she’d already met Fitz, but the opportunity to meet an entire deadly herd of creatures? She was there with bells on.
Fitz chuckled, and the malice in it gave me gooseflesh. “Oh, they’ll meet us there. We’re going on a hunt. Kelpies cannot resist a lovely bit of chase.”
It was about an hour to Portsmouth, so those of us not driving or navigating tried to nap. I tried to get comfortable, but I couldn’t seem to find a good place to rest my head. Finally fed up with my tossing and fidgeting, Lock twisted me in my seat and pulled me against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder. “Cut it out and rest, okay?” Apparently his familiar scent and the comforting warmth of him were all my restless self needed. I fell asleep a few minutes later.
*
FITZ HAD PLANNED to meet up with the herd at Sagamore Creek Headlands, though we beat them there. But only by about ten minutes, which meant that the kelpies could swim almost as fast as we had driven, which was a terrifying thought. Gwenant came out of the water first, shaking her mane. She transitioned to her human form, followed by a handful of the others. Only some of the herd had come. From the way Fitz and Gwenant acted about it, I got the impression that they thought five was plenty. None of them were wearing their sweaters. Until we were sure they were benign, they weren’t putting them back on.
“Did Fitz explain about the snails?” I asked. When the kelpies nodded, I continued. “The doctor would love a few live samples. We don’t want you to get too close, because they will steal magic and we don’t want you hurt. If you see one, wave Sylvie over. She has some bags, and she can collect them.” Being human was an advantage in this case, since it meant Sylvie was probably the only person who was immune.
“Understood,” Gwenant said. Then the kelpies disappeared back into the water, searching for snails and any traps the witch might have left.
Fitz stripped down, folding his clothes and handing them to Sylvie. “I will swim with them for now. That is where I will be the most help. His brow furrowed, and his eyes became dangerous black pools. “While I am gone, you will protect Sylvie.” He eyed all of us, like the second his back was turned we were going to chain our friend to a rock and sacrifice her to a kraken.
“She’s been our friend for a long time,” Lock assured him. “We’d do that anyway.”
Fitz stepped up and took Sylvie’s hand, holding it in front of Lock’s face. “Perhaps. But she has no claws. No teeth to tear.” He dropped her hand. “She is not a green man, a hare, or a fox. She can’t send fire or ice to do her bidding, and she cannot heal. Her strength is only human.” He returned to scowling at Lock. “She has a wonderful mind, but it will not protect her like these things. Those who are used to mighty claws forget what it is like not to have them. So when I say that you will protect her, I am reminding you of this. And you will do so diligently, or fire will rain down upon you, the earth will taste your blood, and you will never know water again.”
And with that Fitz turned on his heel and dove into the water.
“That sounded a lot like the speech my dad gave to my last date,” Katya said.
“Huh.” I watched as the ripples from his plunge eddied out until they dissolved. “I think I’ve made that speech. I should have been a kelpie.” I nudged Sylvie. “Seems like you’ve made a friend.”
Sylvie clasped her hands and held them in front of her mouth, her eyes wide. For a second, I thought she was going to cry. Then she turned to Ezra and said, “You turn into a fox?”
Lock snorted. “Out of all of that, that’s the only part she hears.”
Ezra tilted his head. “What else would I turn into? Come on. Fox is clearly the only option that makes sense. I am perfection.”
21
THAT’S GOING TO LEAVE A MARK
I KNOW HOUSEBOATS come in all shapes and sizes, but entering someone’s evil lair, I expected something a little more lavish. Or at least seaworthy. From the looks of Thomas’s boat, it wouldn’t make it ten feet if you unhitched it from the dock. Even in the faint moonlight, the algae growing along the waterline was visible. The wood I could see needed a good varnish or it would rot into oblivion. Cushions and a lobster pot had been tossed around haphazardly.
It was late, so no lights were on—either no one was home or he was asleep. We met the kelpies at the edge of the dock.
Gwenant, her coat almost glowing in the moonlight, popped her head above the surface of the water. “We have spied none of the giant snails.” Her lip curled. “And this boat—it is a disgrace. It’s poisoning the water. He should be ashamed of himself.”
I pulled my jacket closer. Once the sun had gone down, the temperature had dipped into the fifties. Not cold, but not particularly warm, either, and now that we were out of the van I was feeling it. “Did you smell Thomas at all?” I wasn’t surprised when she shook her head. “Well, I didn’t really expect to find him at the first place we looked. Hoped, yes. Expected, no.”
“But we did smell something else,” Gwenant said. “We couldn’t place the scent.”
The run-down houseboat sat off to my right, taunting me. “So you’re saying I have to go and investigate the death trap.”
“I am saying no such thing. What you choose to do with the information is up to you. Either go inside and decide if whatever is in there is enemy or food, or burn the houseboat down and go on your way. On second thought, don’t do that. I don’t want the debris in the water. Yes, go inside and investigate. That is the right course.”
Kelpies—always looking out for number one. Can’t say I blamed them. With the exception of Sylvie, no one else was going to look after them. Probably because most creatures want to live.
I didn’t think it was a great idea to have us all tromping around on the houseboat, so only Lock, Ezra, and I went in. Lock pulled out his small flashlight, waiting until we were almost to the door before he turned it on.
“I like this,” Ezra whispered, throwing his arm around my shoulders. “Us, getting the band back together. It’s been nice to see new faces, but the original team is the best.”
“Or you’re just stuck in your ways,” I whispered back.
Lock slid the door open with a grimace. “I prefer the old team, too, but I don’t like the smell coming out of the hull, or that the door wasn’t locked.”
He flashed the light in, but it was swallowed up by the inky murk. Cautiously, I lit fou
r flames and shaped them like sparrows, then sent them flying into the darkness. I was getting better at this kind of thing, my control having improved over the last few weeks. I thought again about what Sylvie said, and added this to the list of times my power had kept us safe. Someday I wanted that list to be longer than my body count.
The birds flitted about, coming to roost in strategically placed spots in the air. They cast a faint glow on the interior, showing us the ladder down into the hold, the small kitchen and table, and two doors, which I assumed led to the head and the sleeping quarters. Everything was in disarray, but I couldn’t tell if there had been some sort of altercation or if that was just the normal state of things. Maybe whoever had been living here was a total slob.
“Those are new,” Lock said, indicating the fire sparrows.
“I’ve been practicing my delicate work,” I said. “You know, in my copious amounts of downtime.”
“I approve,” Ezra said. “Though how you worked without me, your muse, I have no idea.”
“It was difficult, but somehow I managed,” I said drily. I climbed down the wooden ladder. Since I was directing the fire, I needed to go in before the others. Once we were all down, Lock crept around me and cautiously opened the first door. It was the head, and though it didn’t smell spectacular, it wasn’t where the odor that we were investigating was coming from. He covered his nose with his elbow and shut the door.
Lock twisted the knob of the second door, the one that led to the living space, but didn’t push the door open. Instead, he nudged it with his foot, leaping back as it swung open. The smell that wafted out had us all breathing into our elbows. And this smell I did recognize. I mean, really, there are variations on the theme, but once you smell one dead body, you’ve kind of smelled them all.
I have no idea how long the man had been there. He was spread-eagle on the bed, fully clothed, though his clothes were tattered like something had shredded them while they were still on him. Thin red welts covered his torso. His head hung off the bed, his eyes white filmed and staring at us. But that wasn’t what really caught my attention. No, the thing that really stood out was the silvery sheen of snail tracks. I realized that was what I’d spotted in the warehouse, what felt like eons ago. The snails had been here, and they had feasted well.