Crossroads Burning

by Nash, Layla

  “But if it’s a curse, then surely it can be removed,” Lucia said, frowning more as she watched Lincoln. “Sass mentioned you all just killed the ones you found at the Crossroads, and she didn’t see any magic on them.”

  “This is where things get out of control,” Hazel said slowly. “And where magic gets strange. A cursed individual can spread the condition like a virus, and the ones who are bitten by the cursed werewolf won’t have magic on them. The curse behaves like a virus at that point, and there’s no real way to help anyone thus afflicted.”

  “But—” Olivia juggled a tray loaded with snacks along with some napkins and plates and things and tried to set it down on the rickety table we kept on the porch while she made eyes at Mason. “That’s insane. How have werewolves not overrun the world by this point, if there’s no way to stop them and they just keep spreading the virus?”

  “Because we kill them before they have the chance to create more,” Lincoln said quietly. He didn’t sound happy about it, at least. “We spend a good deal of our time making sure werewolves don’t get the chance to spread the curse. Thus you can see why it’s disturbing that so many were roaming around the Crossroads for an unknown amount of time. There’s really no telling how many people they may have bitten.”

  I sighed and finally picked up a mug to fill with hot chocolate, sinking a little lower in my rocking chair as Liv handed around warm bread with melted butter and popcorn and some more random snacks she found in the pantry. “You haven’t figured out a way to track them?”

  “How do you think we knew to come out here?” Hazel smiled to take some of the sting out of her words. “We have tracker spells that look for the signature of magic that comes along with strong curses, so we know when and generally where they occur. That helps us narrow down the location, and we start searching from there.”

  It made me pause, the mug close to my nose so the steam could thaw out my face. “So that means someone here did the curse? But there’s…there aren’t any other witches around here to make werewolves.”

  “I know,” Lincoln said. He met my gaze evenly and without fear, even though my heart sank and my toes curled slowly in my boots.

  “That’s why you wanted me to take you out to the Crossroads and why you asked about my sisters,” I said, slow and low as a cold realization dawned. Of course. “In case you had to kill me for creating the werewolves.”

  “It’s standard procedure,” Mason said. He at least looked a little apologetic. “But it wasn’t you. We could tell that pretty quickly once you used magic. You’ve got the wrong kind of magic.”

  Liv and Lucia looked back and forth between all of us as if they only understood about a third of the conversation. I didn’t blame them; I felt that way a little myself. It hurt like a sucker-punch, and just made me relieved I hadn’t told them we’d managed to fix Frank. “Well, at least I know where I stand.”

  Hazel sighed. The witch actually looked like she regretted what had transpired. “You’ve got to admit how it must have looked for us walking into the middle of this town, knowing something was afoot, and then having all the locals talk about the resident witches. We’ve done this a few dozen times, Luckett, and the guilty parties are always the odd ones in town. The locals might not know they’re witches, but they know when something isn’t exactly right. Rattler’s Run is the first place where they call you all witches to your face and seem to know that something like that is possible, even if they refuse to admit it.”

  “Well, it wasn’t us.” Lucia’s face lost what little friendliness it had. “Clearly. So how are you going to find the one responsible?”

  Hazel and Lincoln traded looks, and after quite a silence, Lincoln took a deep breath. “We’re not sure. We’re hoping that you might be able to help with that.”

  “Oh, that’s rich.” Lucia sat back, her eyes narrowed. “You’re accusing us of doing truly dark magic, and now you want our help? If we’ve got the wrong kind of magic, like you said, why the hell would you think we’d be able to—or even want to—help?”

  “Because you’re responsible for this town and you can’t let it be overrun with werewolves,” Lincoln said. He didn’t rise to the bait or react to her tone. I wanted him to get mad, at least a little, or show at least some emotion. “Or because you don’t want innocents ending up dead because they happened to be bitten. Or maybe even because you’re good witches who don’t want to see magic used for evil purposes.”

  Lucia didn’t look away, nor did she smile or even blink. At least my sister being a capital-B bitch worked in our favor this time. “Nope. Not enough.”

  Hazel leaned forward, trying to catch Lucia’s attention. “And what happens when the town turns on you? All it takes is a couple of kids disappearing or ending up dead, or someone’s grandma turning into a hairy beast, and the only people they’re going to blame is you.”

  “Wrong again,” Lucia said. She gave Hazel a withering look. “They’ll blame you. The strangers who came to town and dragged the friendly witches away, threatened them, and then disappeared, leaving behind frightened witches and a pack of awful beasts who run around biting someone’s dear sweet grandmother.”

  Lincoln looked at me, but I refused to react. I wasn’t going to undermine Lucia’s stance, at least not in front of them. We could argue within the family until we were blue in the face, but when it came time to present a united front, there weren’t any cracks between us. Lucketts stood together. I folded my arms over my chest. “We didn’t have any problems with werewolves until you all showed up.”

  Mason lurched to his feet to pace the length of the porch, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. “You’ve got to be kidding. If you want us to leave your town and get out of your hair, then you should help us get rid of the werewolves.”

  “And to add insult to injury,” Lucia went on, once more giving Lincoln her best disinterested ice queen look. “You also brought a second team of feds into town, and they physically accosted my sister, destroyed our property, and threatened all three of us with arrest or worse. You may have helped back them off a little, but without our tranquilizer gun, there’s no telling what kind of damage they would have done to us or... our cousin. So how are you going to account for that, in addition to the werewolves you brought to our town?”

  “You can help if you want,” Lincoln said. “Or not. I clearly misunderstood the role you all pretend to play in this town. Just know that the longer it takes us to find out how to deal with the werewolves, the longer we’ll be here and the longer Heathrow and his guys will be around. If you can keep yourselves from working magic or otherwise drawing Heathrow’s attention for weeks or possibly months, great. I’ve agreed to keep as much as I can about the Lucketts out of my report, but Heathrow made no such promise. I can’t control what he chooses to report to headquarters.”

  “And headquarters is pretty touchy about undocumented witches practicing magic.” Hazel matched Lucia’s posture with her arms folded over her chest. “Particularly when regular humans could find out about it or might already suspect. Headquarters expends a lot of effort to prevent humans from figuring out the rest of us exist. The fact that the town assumes you’re witches might require additional... intervention.”

  “This is not the way to get them to cooperate,” Olivia said. She rested her chin on her fist as she studied Lincoln and Hazel, shaking her head. “Believe me.”

  Lucia got to her feet, and for a split second she looked so much like our mother that I went lightheaded. “I’ll just go check on the dryer before I say something that can’t be unsaid.”

  She walked serenely back into the house, and as Lincoln and his team watched her go, Olivia stared at me. “That was way more mature than I expected.”

  “Hush,” I muttered. I scrubbed my hands over my face and tried to figure out how the hell we got to where we were. My elbows balanced on my knees as I stared down at the warped boards of the porch, shivering more as the cold clammy shirt stuck to my back. “Look.
You weren’t upfront with me about anything, so from where I sit, there’s a bit of catching up to do to figure out how much effort we want to expend to fix the problems you seem to be creating. I already took you to the cave, which I shouldn’t’ve done and Looch is pissed about, and you know far more about the Lucketts than anyone else outside the family, ever. So we’re feeling a little exposed, and I’m still trying to justify what I did to my sisters.”

  Hazel seemed way too comfortable in only a bra and what looked like jogging shorts as she leaned back in her chair. “Luckett, I’m sympathetic, but you didn’t exactly trust us right off the bat either. You still don’t. But right now we’re the better option over Heathrow, believe me. All he wants is a promotion.”

  “And what do you want?” Olivia asked, twirling her hand around to indicate all of them. “What do you get out of this?”

  “We serve because it’s the right thing to do,” Mason said quietly. “We all have personal reasons for doing this work. Shifters like Nelson and I have to fight the stereotypes of werewolves and uncontrolled animals, so the more we can do to eradicate the danger, the safer we feel. The safer our families and children are.”

  My sister’s eyebrows rose. “You have children?”

  “Focus, Liv,” I said under my breath.

  Hazel started to laugh, though she composed her expression into seriousness and went on before Mason had a chance to figure out whether he should answer Liv’s question or not. “I won’t lie and say I wouldn’t like a promotion. This is another way to learn, Luckett. I haven’t seen people work magic the way you do, and I want to figure out how the hell you do what you do. I can use that knowledge to help others in the future. It’s a great job. I want to keep doing it, and if we don’t figure out what the hell is going on with these werewolves, our team will be held responsible. We could get fired.”

  From the look on her face, she viewed that as a real possibility. I didn’t know what happened if they were fired. That was one good thing about freelancing with the Park Service and working for myself the rest of the time: no one could fire me. Not that that made a hell of a lot of difference when I didn’t get a paycheck or benefits.

  Olivia leaned over to me and said, “What does she mean, we don’t do magic right?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” I said. I turned my gaze to Lincoln, waiting for whatever declaration he intended to make.

  But he just looked at me impassively, that handsome face completely free of emotion. My heart cracked a little, even though I knew I needed to get over it and get over him and get on with my life. Whatever might have been between us wouldn’t survive the next day or two; I was surprised it had lasted as long as it had. But it still felt like I lost a bit more of myself with each second the silence stretched.

  Just as I’d given up completely, though, Lincoln sighed. The white undershirt he wore still clung to his skin and highlighted the massive muscles of his chest and shoulders and arms, and did very little to hide the dusting of dark hair across his chest. I wondered how Olivia could even see Mason, with Lincoln to look at right next to him.

  His voice dropped and he looked at his hands as he spoke. “There are a lot of reasons I don’t talk about who and what I am, Luckett. It is not easy to speak out loud what we’ve spent a lot of time and energy hiding, is it?”

  I nodded but didn’t speak, waiting. I wasn’t giving up any more of myself, not without getting something in return.

  “Lincoln—” Hazel said, her gaze flicking from me and Olivia to her boss and back. “Should—”

  “It’s fine,” Lincoln said. “It’s my choice. I’ll deal with the repercussions.”

  Repercussions? For admitting what he was? My heart beat a little faster. He already told me he was a druid, even I didn’t entirely know what that meant. What if it meant something awful? I managed to hold back all my questions, though, and hopefully looked as disinterested as Lincoln himself did.

  The door to the house swung open and Lucia reappeared with an armload of laundry. “It’s mostly dry. But don’t take this as an excuse to not say what you were about to.”

  Lincoln gave her a sideways look, not quite irritated but close enough that her eyes narrowed right back at him. Hazel took the armful of laundry and started handing out pieces of clothing to Mason and Lincoln as she sorted through it.

  Lincoln accepted his shirt but didn’t pull it on, instead making eye contact with me like I was the only other person in the universe. “You know I’m a druid.”

  A druid. He waited expectantly, just like I waited expectantly, and we both stared at each other—expectantly. He’d already told me that. There had to be more.

  Lucia was just catching up, though. Her eyes narrowed. “Like dancing around naked in blue paint at Stonehenge?”

  Mason laughed and Liv practically melted out of her chair. The shifter got up to put on his heavy khakis, still chuckling. “Lincoln at Stonehenge, sky-clad and covered in woad. That is something I hope I never see.”

  “There’s a long history of the druids,” Lincoln said, ignoring his teammate. “The tourists and new age spiritualists who gather at Stonehenge are not druids. But that’s a discussion for another time. The important part is that I come from a long line of druids who are charged with protecting some of the deepest magic in this part of the world. That responsibility is upheld with my work, as I am able to act as caretaker for that magic as I travel.”

  “I don’t know why that’s such a big deal,” I said, folding my arms over my chest. I was definitely taking the hottest shower I’d ever had as soon as this conversation ended, and I would drain the water-heater dry before either of my sisters had a chance to set foot in the bathroom. “You said that before, so what’s the big deal now? What would Heathrow and his pals tell us about you that you wouldn’t? Are druids usually evil? Do they sacrifice people for magic? How are druids any different from witches?”

  He hesitated and his gaze slid away, and my throat started to close around the possibility that they did sacrifice people. I’d read about blood and death magic in some of the old, musty books that Gran left in the attic, but I thought they were histories. I’d never dreamed that someone sitting on my porch would actually know how to do that kind of magic.

  I sat back with the horror of it, my fingers digging in to my thighs until I knew I’d have bruises even through the sodden jeans. “You’ve got to be shitting me. You were giving me a hard time about a secret cave and being tied to the Crossroads, and you…you kill people?”

  “Druids used to practice sacrifices like that,” he said, holding up his hands. “We don’t anymore. But the history of that... stains us in the eyes of many. Our magic accrues along the bloodline, so I am the beneficiary of the strength of my ancestors, some of whom drew their strength from the blood of innocents and warriors who died to feed their rites and rituals. As a result, some of our colleagues view druid magic as inherently corrupted. I work very hard to rise above that history and to prove that druids are capable of continuing our legacy with honor and goodness. That said, not everyone knows that I’m a druid.”

  “Does Heathrow know?” Lucia hardly blinked as she watched him. No doubt she remembered all the lessons from Gran and Ma about what was allowable with magic, and how all the work we did came back to us threefold. For good or bad, it always came back.

  Lincoln shook his head. “No. He does not. And his kind... He would not mind shouting it to the world that I am descended from blood rites and ritual sacrifices, and he might even try to kill me.”

  “Try?” Lucia’s eyebrow arched. “What is he, then? Are you saying he wouldn’t succeed?”

  Mason growled a little in his chest, lines gathering around his eyes as he scowled at my sister. All I could see was the image of Heathrow spreading his hand and disintegrating the rifle without any kind of effort at all.

  “It’s fine,” Lincoln said, waving his hand at the shifter until the grumbly noise stopped. But Lincoln’s demeanor cooled as he looked at
Lucia. “He’s a sorcerer, and no, he wouldn’t succeed. He relies on spells and rituals, alchemy and charms and crystals and things like that. He has some inherent power, but it burns out quickly until he can rebuild it. I could crush him if I wanted to. If I had to.”

  A sorcerer. I frowned a little, resting my chin on my fist as I watched him. “That doesn’t sound like a very useful thing to be. What if he doesn’t have time to set up his candles and crystals and junk? How the hell could he expect to survive a werewolf attack?”

  “That’s why we work in teams,” Hazel said. “He’s got a powerful witch with him who buys him the time to do whatever sorcery he wants to do. And a couple of shifters act as muscle. It’s not the best combination, but there aren’t a whole lot of people who want to work with him. Or any sorcerers, really. But that’s a conversation for another day when we’ve got a hell of a meal and a bottle of wine to split.”

  “So why not crush this guy?” Olivia asked. She’d managed to tear her eyes off Mason and his scowly good looks, her gaze flicking between Hazel and Lincoln. “Crush him now, send his team away. Problem solved.”

  Hazel’s lips twitched. “It’s not that easy, and it’s illegal, too. We can’t just attack other supernaturals because they’re assholes. We’d never get any work done.”

  I didn’t want to point out that she looked at Lucia when she said “assholes,” but my sister didn’t miss it. I cleared my throat and turned the conversation back to Lincoln. “Okay, so you do what you do to atone for what your ancestors did. Hazel does it to learn. Mason and Nelson do it to keep people from thinking all shifters are out-of-control werewolves. That’s all well and good. Why should I trust you? Why should you trust me? It seems like there’s just too much... behind us.”