by Nash, Layla
“You all are nice,” I said. “You’re too nice. Don’t make me like you.”
“But –“
“It’s fine, Hazel. Let’s go eat. We have to start early tomorrow.”
She didn’t budge. “You know, you say ‘it’s fine’ a lot. Enough that I’m starting to think it’s not and you’re just trying to convince yourself. I’m not going to push you, Luckett, and I’ll even call you by your last name, since that’s another way for you to keep people away. You don’t know me, but I know more about you than you’d like, I think. I grew up with a lot of girls like you, and I recognize when someone is hungry for more than just the hand life dealt them.”
Everything felt out of control, and not just the conversation. Somehow the magic was still silent about whether these people posed a danger to me, and I wondered if something else had gone wrong. The ley lines didn’t rise to buoy me up, to make everything okay, and instead I had to confront all the hopes I’d let go the moment Aunt Bess died and consigned my sisters and me to short lives in a very small town. And when we died, there was no telling what would happen to the town, what would be unleashed from the Crossroads when the bindings keeping everything under control failed. The ripples might end up felt across the country, not just in the prairie.
“Great,” I said, and stuffed down all the regrets and rage that seethed right below the surface. “I’m glad you got out. This is different.”
Hazel shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m going to hang back and take care of some business, but I’ll see you at the fire.”
“Right.” I started walking. “Be careful which leaves you use.”
The grasses rustled as she wandered around and flicked on a headlamp so she could see, and I shook my head as I steeled myself to face the fire and my own thoughts. She brought back a lot of things I’d struggled with, growing up, and finally closed the door on after Aunt Bess lost it. I knew my days were numbered, since the more magic we used the more likely we were to get sick in the head, and with only three of us left in the family, we used more and more magic every day just to keep things close to normal. With the number of dire wolves showing up, it was pretty clear that something had gone wrong at the Crossroads and would probably need a great deal of work on our part to fix. Depending on what it was, it might drive all three of us into catastrophic magical fits at the same time – which would make Aunt Bess’s episode look like a spring morning.
Some days, it was really tough to remember why we stayed in Rattler’s Run.
Chapter 11
Eddie handed me a bowl of pasta with sauce and a couple of meatballs, and I took a spot in the circle around the fire after setting my rifle down against my saddle. I hadn’t been settled more than a few seconds before Mason stretched his feet out closer to the fire and glanced over at me. “We’ve been trying to get Eddie to tell us more about this Crossroads place, but he’s kind of fuzzy on the details. What’s the big deal with this place? Why do we have to have a guide, and why are you the only one who can take people up here?”
Nothing like cutting right to the heart of things. I took a few bites of pasta, chewing thoughtfully as I pondered ways to get back at Eddie. He could have at least made something up.
Lincoln half-reclined against his saddle, across the fire from me and next to Eddie, but concentrated on a knife and a small chunk of wood. Whittling. I never would have thought his enormous hands would have the dexterity to manipulate something so small. Even if they looked strong enough to really grab hold of... Well. Hips. Or breasts, maybe.
I leaned closer to the fire so the heat might disguise the ridiculous blush that no doubt turned my whole face red. I stirred my pasta to buy some time, wishing Hazel would reappear and distract all of them. “Well, there are different theories.”
“Top three,” Nelson said.
I looked up at the stars, as if I needed to sort through a variety of stories, and instead desperately tried to think of something to say that wasn’t just “it’s magic, stay away.” Since that was the only true explanation.
Eddie just grinned at me, helping himself to more pasta. Maybe he’d already told them it was magic, and they were just hunting for more stories.
Maybe there was something to do over by the horses. Or maybe I could pretend to hear wolves out in the distance, so I could spend most of the night wandering around by myself in the dark.
Good grief. Maybe Hazel was right about me keeping people away.
“Well, the rangers seem to think it’s something to do with a tectonic plate under this part of the country, and geothermal activity that creates hot spots and unpredictable water activity down below. They brought a bunch of geologists and fancy scientists out to do surveys and stuff last year.” I frowned down at my spoon, debating whether I wanted to actually finish the half-cooked pasta. Maybe tomorrow night I’d make sure Hazel was the one who supervised dinner, since apparently Eddie couldn’t manage it. “But there haven’t been any earthquakes in generations and we don’t have any geysers or hot-pots, so that’s probably not it. They tried to measure magnetic fields, but no one got anywhere with that, either.”
Mason and Nelson nodded along, clearly eager for the other theories, and I glanced up as Hazel appeared to take her spot in the circle to my right. She wrinkled her nose as she took the last bit of pasta from the pot and tasted the sauce.
“The local tribe says it’s a sacred place,” I said. “That there’s a direct connection from the Crossroads to the deities that ruled in the beginning times. Even though those deities are weakened now, there is still a mark in the earth that draws them back here, again and again. When we get thunderstorms or strange howling from the wolves out this way, it’s just the spirits trying to reclaim their rightful place.”
Mason’s eyebrows rose. “So we’re going to wander around on an ancient Indian burial ground?”
I frowned. “No. They didn’t bury anyone out there at the Crossroads. But it’s still a sacred place, so be respectful.”
“We will be,” Lincoln said, before anyone else could speak. But he still looked at his little carving, attention on the knife point he used to gouge a tiny sliver of wood away from the whole. I had no idea what it was supposed to be, but it looked detailed and deliberate.
“Good,” Eddie said. “The reservation is on the other side of the Crossroads. Sometimes the tribe is out there to conduct ceremonies or attend to other business. If they’re out there, we’ll have to come back another time.”
Hazel didn’t look convinced. “Surely they won’t mind if we’re there to pick something up and then leave again? It’s not like we’re going to take pictures or join in.”
“Their business is their business,” I said. “And I doubt they’d take kindly to having a drone crash on a sacred place.”
“Point taken,” Mason said. He rubbed his hands together and leaned forward, peering at my face through the gloom. “That’s two theories. What’s the top one?”
I hesitated, uneasy with talking about it even though I knew they would laugh and dismiss it. Magic didn’t exist for people like them, doing research and flying drones and working for the government. But somehow hearing them laugh about magic, maybe belittling it, would hurt more than when others did it. I set the bowl down and sighed. “Well, everyone else says it’s magic. That it’s a magic place and always has been and always will be. Some people can feel it when they walk through there, and every now and then we have to chase hippies away from it when they start trying to build a sun circle or a Stonehenge or something.”
Nelson didn’t look convinced. “Magic? Like, hocus pocus and wands and shit?”
“Not exactly.” Eddie took over, though he tossed me a bag of trail mix as an apology for his cooking. “It’s a feeling when you’re out there. The air feels different. The wind moves differently through the grasses. There’s a... connection. Storms kick up out of nowhere, with no warning, and tear through here with massive destruction, and the weather warning systems never predict t
hem, never spot them even when we’ve got the clouds right in front of us.”
“So you believe this, too?” Hazel’s doubt shone through, though I could tell she was trying to be respectful rather than dubious. “Does everyone around here believe this... magic?”
“I didn’t at first,” Eddie said. “I thought it was bullshit the locals told us just to keep us out of there so they could run stills and meth labs and God only knows what else.”
I hid my smile behind my canteen, since there had been a couple of stills out that way that we’d passed and he hadn’t seen. They wouldn’t dare start distilling in the actual Crossroads, but the prairie was fair game. We weren’t quite as capable in our moonshinin’ as the folks in Appalachia, but we were smack dab in a dry county and needed to get the hooch somehow.
The park ranger caught the expression on my face and his eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “You’re shitting me, Luckett. Is that what they’re doing?”
“No idea what you’re talking about, Ranger.” I studied the trail mix and picked out more of the chocolate pieces. “But you were just about to tell them about your experience out here.”
He shook his finger at me. “We’ll talk more about the illegal activity later, young lady.” Then he looked back at Nelson, who appeared delighted with the exchange. “Anyway. I figured it was just bullshit. Luckett tried to warn me against going to the Crossroads on my own, but I was a fool and figured I would be fine. So I went out in my truck to do some surveys and prove everyone wrong.”
He paused, and when the silence stretched, Mason leaned forward. “And?”
Eddie glanced over his shoulder, like he expected someone to be sneaking up on him, and even I started to get the shivers. It was like being a kid around the campfire and telling stories about ghosts and having a real ghost sneak up on us. “Everything was fine during the day. The truck kept breaking down, but I couldn’t find the reason. I’d be driving and the engine would die, and nothing I did would fix it. Then an hour or so later, it would start up again as if nothing had happened—all by itself. The closer I got to the Crossroads, the more frequently it would die, and the faster it would start back up. I was a fool and figured it was an electrical issue. I tried to radio back to the fort, but the signal wouldn’t carry, and I couldn’t get a cell signal either.”
“I warned you,” I said under my breath when he paused once more. But the park ranger’s expression grew pensive and he paled just slightly, even in the flickering red light of the fire.
“You did,” Eddie finally said. “To this day I can’t really articulate what happened. Things were chasing me through the night. I knew I was hallucinating—I had to be hallucinating. There were wolves and spirits and... and the stuff of nightmares. A pressure wave knocked me down and pinned me to the ground and I couldn’t move. I just had to wait to die. It was… humbling. Very humbling. And the moment I surrendered and accepted that what would happen, would happen ... the wind died down, and the animals retreated and... I don’t know. I left. I left as fast as I could. I just drove, and as I headed east again, the truck didn’t die. It drove.”
Silence reigned as he trailed off, and only the cracking and popping of the fire disturbed the night air. The park ranger shook himself and attempted a smile, though the eerie shadows made him more frightening than reassuring. “So that’s my story. Luckett told me I happened to be out there on a powerful night, which made it a lot worse. I don’t think we’ll have the same issues this trip, but that’s why she’s here—to at least show us the way out, if things take a left turn.”
Hazel swung her attention to me. “Why are you immune to all that? Do you know what happened to him? What the hell causes all of this?”
More questions I didn’t want to answer for skeptical government folks. I shrugged, tossing the rest of the trail mix back to Eddie. “We’re not immune. The Lucketts have been here in Rattler’s Run since... well, since before there was a town. We came out here with the very first settlers, and something happened between the Lucketts and the local tribe, and now we’re tied to the land. Attuned to it. Paying for it, I guess.”
“That’s crazy,” Nelson said, though he said it slowly and didn’t sound entirely convinced. “So you think you’re stuck here forever because of something that happened a couple hundred years ago?”
I started to reconsider my plan to wander around all night alone under the guise of scaring off animals. I might get more rest that way. “It’s a long story and a longer explanation. The only time the Lucketts tried to leave, during the Great Depression when everyone was suffering, a tornado blew through that destroyed every building in town and killed fifty people. The town banded together to make sure the Lucketts remained behind, including building onto our house and having a small stipend from the town so the family could pay for groceries. So we stayed put.”
Mason shook his head, spinning his cell phone around in his hands. “Come on. You can’t possibly believe that superstition. You’re never going to leave Rattler’s Run? Ever?”
“There are other reasons to stay,” I said. “But it is what it is.” When he opened his mouth to tell me more about superstitions, I held up a hand to cut him off. “Talk to me again about it at the end of the trip, and we’ll see whether you want me and my sisters to leave town.”
He grinned. “Come on. What kind of pranks can you pull out here?”
“No pranks, believe me.” I shoved to my feet and headed for the trees where I could get a little cover to take care of business. “I’m going to call it a night, if you’ll excuse me.”
Mason and Nelson argued quietly as I walked away, and I thought Hazel weighed in with an opinion as well. Maybe placing more bets on whether they would change their minds about magic before we ended up back in town. I shook my head as I used my headlamp to find my way through the undergrowth to the far side of the creek and a bit of peace and quiet. Sometimes magic flowed through water, the ley lines following the path of the streams, and powerful rivers tended to generate their own magic. I let the moonlight drape itself around me like a quiet blanket and crouched to push my hands into the dirt, closing my eyes until I could breathe easily and inhale the magic with each heartbeat. Calm returned eventually, but it felt too uncertain, too fleeting. As if Lincoln and his colleagues had shown up like one of the magic tornadoes, to blow through Rattler’s Run and set everything askew.
Chapter 12
The grasses shushed around me in a slight breeze, and the sky had the eerie yellow cast of a summer night when the lightning took over and made it bright as noon. The air felt heavy and crackled with tension or static or something else entirely, and when I walked, my fingers trailing over the tall prairie grass, I felt like I pushed through a wall with each step.
I was lost. I knew I was lost and the prairie stretched out endless around me in every direction. I couldn’t feel the ley lines or the magic in the air, and there was no bright spark of magic from the Mississippi river, far away in the east. I felt adrift, unmoored. Completely disconnected. As if I’d simply been cut away from the land and the magic and the Crossroads, and left blind and deaf in a land of uncertainty.
My heart sped up, a steady drumming that built and built as I moved through the grass, fighting to make my legs stretch and run. Something else moved through the waist-high grass, but I couldn’t see it. I could only hear it, breathing heavy and moving faster until the air behind me split and the fabric of the universe itself tore open and then a hot growl touched the back of my neck and a heavy weight hit my shoulders and I was falling face-first into the darkness.
I sat bolt upright in my sleeping bag inside my tent, panting like I’d just run a marathon and sweating like a runaway horse. Bell and Book. A nightmare. The creepy feeling of being pursued, of running away and failing, and eventually falling, still lingered, like I needed to remember to be afraid.
I tried to chalk it up to telling stories around the campfire, since I never dreamed at home. One of our ancestors had warde
d the house against dreams and nightmares, since apparently there were some witches who could visit you in your dreams and steal things from you while you slept, so I rarely woke with any memory of such things. Despite the fear sweat making me clammy in the well-insulated sleeping bag, I shivered and shook. Damn it all to hell.
Going back to sleep wasn’t an option. I checked my watch but didn’t really need to in order to know it was almost dawn. It was time to get up and do the chores, and since Lucia worked nights and Olivia always took the early shift at the fort, that meant I was the one who always did them. Eventually it turned into its own alarm clock.
So I got dressed inside my tent and crawled out to put my boots on after I checked them for critters, already creaking and sore. More of my joints popped as I stretched, trying not to make any noise, though I wanted to groan and grumble. We’d get plenty of that from the researchers when they woke up, I figured. But I wasn’t alone in the pre-dawn chill—Lincoln had already filled the coffee pot and started the fire, coaxing the flames back to life.
I went to take care of business before I checked on the horses, and turned them loose to graze more before we got started for the day. My horse followed me back to camp, looking for more peppermints, and I had to shove her out of the way to keep her from walking into my tent. Ornery old cuss.
When I’d finally chased her back to where the others grazed, I started breaking down my tent and packing up my bags and bedroll. Normally I would have waited for the caffeine to kick in, but when Lincoln took up so much space next to the fire... Well. I didn’t know if I could face his disbelief and derision from all the magic talk the night before. It was easier just to imagine the perfect world, where he fell in love with me at first sight and I was free to leave Rattler’s Run behind, and we moved to some place exotic and interesting and had sex all the time on the beach. I wouldn’t have minded one of those dreams during the night, instead of the running and falling one.