Gathering Black (Devilborn Book 2)

by Jen Rasmussen

  Cooper passed yet another exit. Then he punched down on the gas, swerving at the same time into a hairpin turn that left him driving the wrong way down the shoulder. We lurched through some tall grass and into a ditch, which we thankfully, miraculously made it up the other side of, before we finally teetered up onto the ramp.

  The SUV followed.

  Cooper, you idiot, it’s an off-road vehicle! It’ll handle that ditch way better than we just did!

  And no doubt it would have, if it had made it that far. But as Cooper told me later, he was counting on the fact that older model SUVs like that one were especially ill-suited to tight turns.

  His gamble paid off. The SUV tipped. Then it rolled. Providentially, it went off the side of the road instead of back into traffic.

  Cooper let out a little whoop as he drove off the highway, but I was aghast.

  “How can you be cheering? Somebody could’ve gotten hurt!”

  He laughed. “Let’s hope somebody did.”

  “No, I mean someone innocent. What if he’d hit another car, rolling around like that? He could have taken out a minivan full of kids, or something!”

  “He didn’t,” said Cooper with a shrug. “What can I tell you? Car chases are dangerous, haven’t you ever seen a movie? All we can do is our best.”

  “You seem awfully casual about it.”

  “What do you want me to say?” He gave me a confused look. “What do you want me to do? Just let him catch us instead?”

  “No, of course not. I guess I’m still not used to all this, that’s all.”

  What did I sign up for?

  I just want to go home.

  A cowardly thought, maybe, but there it was. We’d been gone for two weeks that felt like two months, and I’d much rather have been ensuring families had pleasant stays in my hotel, than endangering their lives on highways.

  Half an hour later, we stopped at a car rental place near an airport, to turn in our car and rent another. The license Cooper presented identified him as Malcolm O’Malley, a name that for some reason struck me as so hilarious, I had to struggle not to burst into laughter right there at the counter. Gone was my post-chase melancholy. Clearly I was getting loopy.

  We paid for everything in cash, which made the rental agent suspicious. I scrambled to think of a cover story, but finally settled on keeping my mouth shut. Cooper had told me just the week before that explaining yourself only cemented you in people’s minds. Cash was weird enough to make the guy remember us, but minimal conversation would help ensure that he didn’t remember us accurately. Most people made errors when describing strangers later.

  I’m learning a lot on this trip. If hotel-owner-slash-witch-slash-defender-of-the-world doesn’t pan out, I might have a future as a spy.

  I bit back another surge of laughter, and resolved to get some rest soon.

  But that wasn’t to be. We thought there was a very good chance we’d managed to injure another Wick or two badly enough to sideline them for a while. (I didn’t want to outright hope they’d been killed, but I couldn’t have truthfully claimed to mind, either.) But just to be safe, we decided it was best to put as much distance between ourselves and our erstwhile pursuers as possible. So instead of stopping for the night, Cooper and I took turns napping while the other drove.

  We made it to Cayuga Lake in New York by morning. The vineyard where we hoped to pick up Alex Blackwood’s trail was near the western shore, and several miles from the nearest town.

  The small parking area was deserted—not just quiet, but entirely devoid of other cars. That seemed strange, for a business on a weekday, but it was early yet. Maybe the owners had a private driveway on the other side of the property, or there was a separate lot for staff. Or maybe they parked in the barn; there were definite tire tracks in the dirt road that led to it.

  In any case, it was difficult to regard the place as sinister, pretty as it was. Although it wasn’t quite the autumnal perfection we’d passed through in Vermont, the gently rolling fields and vibrant woods beyond were splendid, nonetheless.

  A lovely place to escape to. But escape from what?

  Despite how eventful our travels had been, I hadn’t forgotten Alex’s last communication to his clan. His strange words still weighed on my mind.

  I can’t be safe any other way. My love to my mother.

  It could have been a suicide note, it was so bleak. I didn’t know how much of what Dalton had told us was true, but if those words had been reported accurately, one thing was certain: Alex Blackwood was afraid.

  Which probably means we should be afraid, too.

  But not yet. As travel-weary and ready for our adventure to end as I was, I knew better than to hope we would find the wayward Blackwood here. Unlike Cooper, Alex didn’t have the advantage of a sanctuary spell to protect him. He surely would have run the second he realized that his location had been compromised, and that the clan—or Dalton—would be coming for him.

  “Do you know what his job was here?” I asked as we got out of the car. “Even if they can’t give us any leads on where he went next, maybe we could get some ideas from whatever kind of work he was doing.”

  Cooper tucked his gun into his jeans, then looked out across the vineyard and shook his head. “I have no idea. Dalton didn’t say. I don’t know that Alex would be cut out for manual labor, though. I remember he was scrawny.”

  I nodded. “You mentioned that.”

  “And shy. I think he might have gotten picked on some. I’ve been trying to remember him. He was a couple of years younger than me. Probably closer to your age.”

  He looked sad. I reached for his hand. “He’s not a kid anymore,” I said. “Whatever happens, whatever we find or have to do, he’s a big boy who’s made his own choices. Remember that.”

  “He won’t be here anyway,” Cooper said, echoing not only my own thoughts from a minute ago, but a dozen conversations we’d had while driving. Sometimes, like now, he sounded hopeful when he said it. I’d never known him to shy away from confrontation before, but I knew he dreaded coming face-to-face with Alex.

  I also noted that he’d just made sure he was armed, nonetheless.

  Either we couldn’t trust Dalton, or we couldn’t trust Alex. Possibly—probably—we couldn’t trust either of them. No matter what, it would have to come down to Blackwood versus Blackwood, in the end. And that meant that some Blackwood was bound to get hurt.

  As long as it’s not mine.

  “Well,” I said, “let’s go find a manager, or whatever they have here, and see what they can tell us.”

  Nobody answered at the wooden shack marked Office, and the door was locked. We made our way up a white gravel path to the cheery yellow farmhouse that sat on a little rise in the distance.

  I caught a whiff of decay as we climbed the porch steps, and glanced over the railing at a dead patch of garden along the side.

  “That’s weird.” I nodded at the brown, tangled weeds as Cooper stopped to see what I was looking at. The ground beneath was muddy, like buckets of water were routinely disposed of there. “The rest of the place is so well maintained.”

  “Maybe Alex was the gardener,” he suggested. “And they haven’t replaced him yet.”

  The front door stood open, a screen door the only barrier to entry. Cooper banged on its metal edge, then rang the bell. He was immediately answered by great booming barks, preceding two Rottweilers rushing up the hallway inside, their nails scrabbling against the weathered hardwood.

  They were followed, at a more sedate pace, by a dark-haired man wearing jeans and a work shirt. He padded barefoot up to the door and pulled one of the dogs back by its collar, murmuring something I didn’t catch. Both dogs stopped barking and sat, looking up at their master, waiting.

  The man, who up close looked like he wasn’t really much more than a boy, gave us a stoic nod. As their eyes met, Cooper tensed, then sighed, as if resigning himself to a challenge he couldn’t win.

  “Cooper,” the
man said, in a voice too deep for his youthful face.

  It seemed we were wrong. Alex Blackwood hadn’t run, after all.

  Alex showed us inside, with much slobbering on the part of the dogs, who didn’t seem to be the sort you had to beware of. Much like Cooper, he had the air of someone bracing himself for something unpleasant, an onerous chore, maybe, or a root canal. But he didn’t give the impression of fear, or of shyness.

  Nor was he scrawny. He was lean, but muscular, and he moved with the grace of the physically confident. Given that he was a vital too, and therefore capable of healing himself, I couldn’t help but wonder whether he might be a match for Cooper in a fight. Cooper had an inch or so on him, and was broader.

  And of course, Cooper had a gun. But then, maybe Alex did, too.

  But he hasn’t got a witch. Or at least, he probably doesn’t. Even if this business about Lily Wick is true, she’s a feeder. She can’t do magic without sapping a victim first.

  Not that I was a much more practical ally, without either ink to write spells with, or trees to speak to. I really did need to work on becoming more useful in battle.

  Alex showed us into an old-fashioned kitchen—black and white tile floor, powder blue appliances—and gestured at a scrubbed pine table with benches on either side. “Beer?” he asked.

  I declined, what with it being well before noon, but Cooper nodded. Alex smiled at his cousin (or whatever they were) as he handed him a bottle. “I’ll only give you sealed beverages you can open yourself, how’s that?”

  Cooper chuckled, although I could tell he wasn’t really at ease.

  Alex sat, and we took the bench across from him. The big dogs plopped themselves down under the table, crowding our feet (and drooling on them).

  “So.” Alex opened his beer and took a sip. “This is bound to be an awkward conversation. Who wants to start?” He had the same easy charm Cooper did. It was hard not to be drawn in by it.

  “Might as well be me,” said Cooper. “Where’s the East Seed, Alex?”

  Alex tipped his bottle to him. “Straight to the point. I like that. Obviously I’m not going to tell you. But I like it.”

  “And why won’t you tell me?”

  “Because the fact that I’m the only one who knows is the reason I didn’t answer that door with a shotgun in my hand.”

  “Is that why you’re still here, where you knew we would find you?” Cooper asked. “You figure keeping the seed hidden protects you?”

  “It does protect me. I notice you haven’t attacked me yet.” Alex shrugged, but his eyes got a little less animated, his expression a little more closed. That might have been one reason he’d stayed at the vineyard, but it wasn’t the only one.

  Interesting. What are you hiding, Alex? Something besides the East Seed?

  “As for running,” Alex went on, “all that does is put off the inevitable. Some Blackwood or other is bound to come knocking on whatever door I’m behind, eventually.”

  “And here we are,” said Cooper.

  “Here you are.” Alex looked at me curiously. “But she’s not a Blackwood.”

  “No,” Cooper agreed. “Dalton wanted her to come with me.”

  “He’s testing my loyalty,” I added.

  Cooper and I had already talked about this, and decided that we would be as open with Alex as we possibly could. He might already know some of our story anyway. The clan wouldn’t have named either the seed or its carrier, when they took up the vote to allow a sapwood seed to be protected by a sanctuary spell, but once Cooper showed up with a human (well, half-human) witch in tow, Alex might put it together. And we agreed with Dalton that we might be able to use our rogue status to our advantage, outlaw-to-outlaw.

  Alex laughed. “Best be on your toes, then,” he said to me. “My own loyalty has been found wanting, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

  “Mine too, as a matter of fact,” said Cooper. “Hence the testing.”

  “Well, good for you,” Alex said. “I suspect I’m beyond redemption, myself.”

  “And how did that happen, exactly?” asked Cooper. “I’ll admit, I find this story about Lily Wick a little hard to believe.”

  Alex gave him a level look. “I’ve never met anyone by the name of Lily Wick. Have you?”

  “No,” said Cooper. “Never even heard of her, until Dalton briefed me on this situation.”

  “I’d be surprised if she existed,” Alex said. “They don’t go for the flower names, generally. Animals, or sometimes seasons? I know there’s an August Wick, right?”

  Cooper considered this as he took a sip of his own beer. “There’s a Lavender Wick, who was trying to track me down three or four years back.”

  “Is that really a flower, though?” Alex asked.

  To my surprise, Cooper seemed prepared to argue the point. I decided to jump in. “If you’re saying you don’t even know a Lily Wick, then what’s the real story?” I asked Alex. “Dalton tells us you said you weren’t safe.”

  Alex waved his hand in a so-so gesture. “Having control of the East Seed protects me, as far as that goes. But nobody is safe in this clan anymore.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Cooper.

  “There’s a mole,” Alex said. “I don’t know who it is. But they found Crawford. They’ve found things out. Things only a Blackwood could know.”

  Cooper and I were both nodding. This was familiar territory by now.

  “We were thinking that mole might be you, to tell you the truth,” said Cooper.

  “You mean Dalton was thinking that,” Alex said.

  “Or wanted us to think he thinks it,” I added. Cooper gave me a sharp look, like I was showing too many cards.

  “Well, I hate to disappoint you,” Alex said, “but I’m afraid my story is simpler and less exciting than either the Romeo and Juliet thing or the spy thing.”

  “Okay,” said Cooper. “Let’s hear it.”

  “The bottom line is, I’ve got threats from all directions,” Alex said. “Wicks knowing things they shouldn’t, shooting carriers in the head. Someone planting false intelligence about me to set off Dalton’s alarm bells. It’s easy enough to see what they’re doing. Isolating me.”

  “You think they’re targeting you, specifically?” I asked.

  “I don’t know why they would. I think it’s more likely they’re targeting all the carriers. Sowing discord within the clan. It’s probably just my turn right now.”

  “So you just decided to drop out?” Cooper asked.

  “That’s about right,” said Alex. “Seems to me I’d be safer without either Wicks or Blackwoods in my life.”

  “But they’ll always be in your life,” I said. “You said it yourself, someone is bound to come knocking on your door.”

  “Someone just did,” Alex said with a laugh. “But this is as good a door as any. I like it here. I own this place, by the way. Bought out the old lady I used to work for a while back. I never mentioned that to the clan.” He looked at Cooper. “I’m sick of the old life.”

  “So you’re holding the East Seed hostage, as insurance,” Cooper said.

  “Neither side is going to try to kill me, not if they think they need me to get their hands on the seed.” Alex tossed his beer bottle into the recycle bin across the room, and one of the dogs under the table yelped at the sound of shattering glass.

  “The way I heard it, they didn’t stop to negotiate with Crawford,” said Cooper. “No questions asked. Just one bullet to the head.”

  Alex reached down to scratch the whining Rottweiler’s ear. “Take it easy, you big baby.” He looked up at Cooper. “Yeah, but they knew Crawford had the South on him. I wish I knew how. But since they did, I hope they also know, or can assume, that I know better than that now.”

  “Meaning you’ve hidden it someplace,” said Cooper.

  Alex grinned at him. “Are you going to scold me for disobeying orders, and not carrying it with me at all times?”

  Cooper shook his h
ead. “It happens that I’m a carrier, too. The West. And I don’t have it on me, either.”

  If this news surprised Alex, he didn’t show it. All he said was, “You’re a strange choice, to send after me. I was expecting Arabella.”

  “Well, I might be uniquely positioned to offer a solution,” said Cooper. “One that will make everyone happy.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You turn over the East Seed to me.”

  Alex burst out laughing. “Give you my only leverage. In exchange for what, exactly?”

  “In exchange for peace. You get to drop out, just like you want,” said Cooper.

  “Maybe you’re right,” I said to Alex. “Maybe nobody will kill you as long as you’re the only one who knows where the East Seed is.” I leaned forward and gave him my own smile. Maybe not as charming as a Blackwood’s, but I’d been told it had its attractions. “But if you don’t know where it is, nobody has any reason to want you, do they?”

  “You’re not a Blackwood,” Alex said to me, and for the first time since we arrived, his eyes were cold. “You don’t know our ways. They’ll never leave me alone. They will punish me for my disloyalty. I was doomed from the second someone spread that ridiculous story about me and a Wick.” He shook his head, then got up to go to the refrigerator. “I sure would love to know what evidence they planted to make Dalton actually believe that one.”

  “It won’t surprise you to hear that he didn’t share the details with us,” Cooper said. “Just told us he had good reason to believe it was true.”

  Alex came and sat back down, twisting open a fresh bottle of beer. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. The end result is the same.” He spread his hands, as if apologizing for something he couldn’t help. “And without the East Seed, I’m vulnerable.”

  “What if I can get you the word of the clan that they’ll leave you alone?” Cooper asked. “Forever, all of them. An oath. You know they won’t break that.”

  Alex narrowed his eyes, considering. “Even if you could do that, the Wicks might still hound me, thinking I have information they can use. And I’ll have no bargaining chip to use with them, either.”