Crossroads Burning

by Nash, Layla

  “Then maybe we need to start over,” Mason said. He had all his clothes on once more and started to lace up his boots. “We’ll go back to town and try to keep Heathrow from causing any trouble, and you and your sisters sort out whatever you’ve got to sort out. We meet up tomorrow and come up with a plan for hunting down the werewolf that started all of this, using all of our strengths together, and then we’ll be out of each other’s hair that much faster. Deal?”

  The three of us looked at the three of them, then I looked at my sisters. Lucia didn’t seem happy about working with him, and Olivia didn’t seem happy about the “out of each other’s hair” part, and I didn’t like any of it. But I still said, “Fine.”

  Lincoln rose to finish drawing on his dry jeans, and finger-combed his hair back from his face. “We’ll meet you up here at the house, if it’s okay. I’d rather not have this conversation in public at the diner, or in town where Heathrow might overhear or sense any magic we’re working.”

  “Will his witch know what’s going on and come out to investigate?” Lucia folded her arms over her chest, eyes already narrowed in challenge as if the witch stood on the porch in front of her.

  “Maybe,” Hazel said. She clapped Lucia on the shoulder, hard enough to knock her sideways a step, and headed for the stairs down to the lake in our front yard. “I’d like to see you take on old Newton. Might be fun to see the fireworks. The stick up her ass is almost as long as the one up yours.”

  Olivia giggled but rolled her lips together when Lucia shot her a dirty look. My older sister picked up the tranquilizer gun and swung it around in Hazel’s direction. “Sure. And I’ll have a surprise waiting for you when you come back.”

  Hazel just grinned and waved, unperturbed by the weapon pointing in her direction or by the rain still splattering down. She jogged to their truck and jumped in the driver’s side, starting it up and driving closer so the boys wouldn’t have as far to walk in the rain. Mason nodded to the three of us and loped across the yard to jump into the cab of the truck, no doubt so he didn’t have to ride in the bed like before.

  Lincoln hesitated on the porch, gazing at where his team waited, and after a long silence, I made a shooing motion at my sisters to try and get them inside. Olivia went quietly, carrying one of the trays in with her, but Lucia lingered in the doorway with a disapproving look. I glared at her as the tranquilizer gun swung slowly in the direction of Lincoln’s ass, but she finally disappeared inside, rolling her eyes.

  When I was sure she wasn’t eavesdropping on the other side of the door, I approached the rail where Lincoln waited and leaned my elbows against the weathered wood and the peeling paint. We really had a lot of chores to get done around the house, although fixing the shed had moved to the top of the list.

  He didn’t look at me, and his voice was so quiet I almost missed his words in the soft patter of rain against the roof. “The other challenge I don’t know how to address, Luckett, is my wholly unprofessional behavior when it comes to you.”

  I blinked, my eyebrows drawing down as I watched the pickup truck idle in the yard. Hopefully all the water didn’t drain into the cellar or we’d really be in trouble. But Lincoln’s words left my heart cold with fear and worry. “What do you mean?”

  “I kissed you,” he said, looking down at his hands and the railing, where my arm rested next to his. Close enough to touch but still a universe away. “Multiple times. Multiple days. And I grew... overfamiliar with you when you were still a subject of interest in this particular case.”

  A subject of interest. How very... prosecutorial. Clinical. Aloof and disinterested, like a federal agent should have been. He hadn’t ever spoken to me with that voice before, with that demeanor. I almost didn’t recognize him. I cleared my throat but still didn’t trust my voice. “Sure. Don’t know what you were thinking.”

  “I know exactly what I was thinking,” he said under his breath. “That you drive me crazy but I can’t get enough of you.”

  “I drive you crazy?” I snorted and shook my head, though a touch of heat gathered in my cheeks. I hadn’t imagined he would just go ahead and say he liked me, but there it was—he couldn’t get enough of me. “Come on. You’re at least as infuriating as I am, probably more so.”

  “Agree to disagree,” he said, smiling for the first time since they’d arrived behind Heathrow’s team. His expression sobered before he went on. “I would be fired for this, Luckett. Maybe even prosecuted. We are supposed to remain objective and impartial during an investigation, and since we haven’t closed the case yet, my objectivity is certainly compromised.”

  I studied my hands and dug the toe of my boot against the rotting wood under the rail. “Are you supposed to arrest me for killing the werewolves?”

  “Probably,” he said with a sigh. “Since you’re not a deputized agent or in any way conducting official business. Normal supernaturals can’t go around killing other supernaturals, even uncontrolled shifters like werewolves. So you should be rooting for my team to figure out the werewolf question before Heathrow does, because I’d be willing to deputize you after the fact, and I’m reasonably sure he wouldn’t.”

  A long, hot shower and then a long, comfy nap. So I’d have plenty of time to think about all the ways Lincoln could screw me over before he left town – some of them less pleasant than others. “Great. I’ll take that under advisement.”

  “If you reported my behavior to Heathrow or my supervisor back at headquarters,” he said, turning to face me before I could run away again. “I’d be fired. In a heartbeat. Here.”

  “What’s this?” I looked down at the stiff card he handed me, a name and phone numbers printed on the heavy paper, and frowned at him.

  “My supervisor’s business card. His name and number.” His hands curled into fists at his sides and then relaxed. “So you know I mean what I say. I’m not trying to threaten you, Luckett, I swear. There are certain realities that we have to deal with in our job, and I realize what that can look like to others. Rather than continue to make promises that you have no way of knowing I’ll keep, this gives you more power in our conversations.”

  “Mutually assured destruction,” I said, still studying the card. Montgomery Whitehouse. Sounded like a real pain in the ass. “Clever.”

  Lincoln smiled again, and started to amble toward the stairs so he could jump in the truck with the rest of his team. I wondered where Nelson was, if Nona still had him cornered on the reservation. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

  I held the card by the edges so my pruney, waterlogged fingers wouldn’t smudge the ink. “What happens to me if I call your boss and tell him what happened?”

  “Knowing Whitehouse, he’d try to have you checked into the looney bin. Then he’d probably want to recruit you.” Lincoln stepped into the rain. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Luckett. I’ll call before we head over.”

  “Invite Luke over, too,” I called after him. I didn’t know why I said it, but as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew they were the right choice. Luke needed to be part of the conversation, that was for damn sure. The werewolves ran on his territory as well as the Crossroads, and some of his tribe members certainly could have been victims.

  Lincoln waved as he jogged to the truck and jumped in, squishing Mason over until he almost pushed Hazel out the driver’s side door, and I shook my head as they argued and tried to close both doors while all three of them squeezed on the bench seat. I pressed my fingers to my lips to hold back a laugh; so that was why Mason rode in the bed of the truck from the reservation. With the shoulders on both him and Lincoln, there definitely wasn’t enough room unless one of them wanted to sit on someone else’s lap. Which also explained why Hazel volunteered to drive, since I had no doubt who would draw the short straw.

  I waved and walked into the house, not wanting to see how things resolved, and marched straight up the stairs to my room before Lucia had a chance to open her mouth. Shower, then clean clothes, then a long nap. Everythi
ng else could wait.

  Chapter 38

  I remembered Frank about halfway through my shower and the third shampoo. I stepped out of the scalding hot water as soon as I rinsed my hair but before I really wanted to, though I didn’t go downstairs and instead texted Lucia to see whether the former werewolf was still human and still in his room.

  Not that I knew what we’d do if he wasn’t either or both of those things, but I figured it was the right thing to ask since I’d brought him into the house. She texted back that he was human, in his room, and sound asleep—snoring loudly enough to rattle the windows.

  That was a small comfort. I braved the hallway in a towel and made it back to my room before I hollered down the stairs that I was out of the shower, and Liv muttered something about waiting two hours for the water-heater to get to work. I shut my door so I didn’t hear any more of it. I’d been sleeping rough for two weeks and change, and I deserved a relaxing shower. Soon enough I’d have to figure out what to do about Lincoln and Heathrow and even Frank, but at least I could buy myself a few minutes of peace and quiet.

  I found some of the fluffy pajamas I’d gotten for Christmas from Gran just before she passed, and kept my hair wrapped up in a towel so I wouldn’t get my pillow wet. I fully meant to roll up in my quilt and doze for a few hours, but as I moved my wet clothes off the floor and into the half-full laundry hamper, the blank book called to me from where I’d put it under my pillow.

  Before I picked it up, I thought about closing my eyes anyway, but the pull of the book grew stronger. So maybe it had something to say. Gritting my teeth and wishing I didn’t have magic at all and didn’t live in a world with werewolves and witches and druids who benefited from blood rites done a dozen generations before, I slid the book out from under my pillow and stretched my legs out under my quilt.

  I didn’t have any questions for it, even with curiosity about the druids swirling in my brain, so I flipped through the blank pages until something caught my eye. A smudge of ink on one page had me open the book wider, frowning down at the otherwise unmarked pages. That was odd. No writing, just a dollop of black ink like someone shook it out of a brush.

  My fingertip slid over the ink and I half-expected it to come back covered in black as well, but instead the paper felt smooth and dry.

  I closed the book and wondered if it didn’t work unless I asked a question, so I held the book tight and closed my eyes, murmuring, “What do I need to know?”

  I flipped through it again and found nothing but the same blotch of ink. Irritation rose in my chest and made my eyes narrow as I stared at the unmarked cover, darkened with age and beginning to crack. Damn thing wanted me to look at it and yet it wouldn’t tell me anything. Maybe I had to be desperate, working magic to try to save someone’s life or about to be hunted down by rogue federal agents, for it to tell me something useful.

  “Fine.” I set the book on the bed where I wouldn’t roll over it and made myself comfortable. “Wake me up when you’ve got something to say.”

  As soon as I shut my eyes, a hook in my belly button dragged me into darkness faster than I’d ever experienced. And I was aware of it the whole time, wondering how I fell asleep so fast, which should have told me it wasn’t really sleep.

  Chapter 39

  I was back in the cave but it was much darker, light flickering like it came from candles in a breeze. Something told me it was night and a full moon hung low in the sky, but there wasn’t any way to know that so deep underground. I didn’t touch anything as I stood in the center of the main room, looking around and wondering what the hell I was supposed to do. Clearly the book wanted me there, since none of it felt like a real dream or real sleep, more of a Seeing like Aunt Mabel used to have. She hadn’t been able to describe what happened during her foreseeing spells, but something told me it had been like standing in the cave and having no idea what the hell was going to happen.

  As I waited, the light shifted to the far side of the room—not exactly a spotlight, but enough of a path that I knew what the magic wanted from me. I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes and actually felt the pressure, which just made me more uneasy. We weren’t supposed to feel things like that in dreams. But it wasn’t really a dream.

  My stomach sank as I trudged over to where the light guided me. A book lay open on a small stand, like a lectern, while the light flickered around it. The pages were yellowed with age and looked like they would crumble to dust if I touched them, so I shoved my hands in my pockets to make sure I didn’t damage anything by accident.

  The old scrawled script at the top of the page said skin-walker and beside it in smaller script blaidd-ddyn and what looked like a bunch of Cyrillic letters.

  A blotch of ink in the margin looked like a man, and another smudge looked like a man’s head and shoulders on the body of a dog, and then... the third was definitely a wolf.

  Werewolf.

  My throat closed around a knot. Well, shit.

  I squinted at the page and the light brightened, but it didn’t help decipher the cramped, spidery script. It was a complex curse, that was for damn sure, and I wouldn’t have tried it without my sisters and probably several weeks of practice. Even the ingredients for the smudges had to be grown in specific soil and harvested at night during a particular phase of the moon. Someone would have to spend weeks preparing, building up magic and storing it somewhere and setting a circle and doing all kinds of complex fiddling. If one step went wrong, the whole thing would backfire. They’d have to really want to hurt someone to go to all that effort.

  And multiple warnings written across the bottom of the curse indicated it might not hold. If the person chosen to carry the curse had sufficient moral certitude or any sort of charm on them, including a strong faith in a deity, then the curse could backfire and afflict the witch who cast it instead.

  I rubbed my forehead as I stared at the book, and as I stood back to figure out what the hell this meant for the future of the Lucketts, a breeze drifted through the cave and ruffled the pages. One started to turn and revealed more writing on the tattered page behind it. I didn’t want to touch it but I leaned forward enough to see what that page would reveal. More drawings of wolves, including smaller wolves, big wolves, and a repeat of the werewolf drawing. Something about mixing the small wolves and werewolves created... dire wolves.

  “Shit,” I said, once more stepping back. Dire wolves descended from werewolves. We’d had a werewolf problem in Rattler’s Run for months, maybe even longer. At least since Aunt Bess died and all the dire wolves started showing up. They were just an extension of the curse, a way of continuing to punish the bearer of the curse. Either they mated with normal wolves and produced dire wolves, or they bit regular wolves and turned them. The half-foreign writing, faded and blotched with age, didn’t help me figure it out. I wished I had my phone with me so I could just take a picture and have Lucia work on translating it. She loved puzzles like that.

  The cave rippled around me again and I braced for more bad news. Maybe the dire wolves would lead us to the original werewolf.

  Pressure built around me and the steady dripping of water grew louder, more ominous, and I knew I wasn’t alone. Something malevolent lingered in the darkness, but no matter how fast I turned, I couldn’t catch a glimpse. I’d assumed one of the ancestors brought me to view the book as a way to help me end the plague of werewolves. Something else might have called instead.

  I gulped for air and retreated until the book faded and there was only darkness. Something growled and my heart beat against my ribs. Wake up. Wake up.

  A low growl echoed around me and drowned out the dripping water, and I froze. Flames flickered to my left, so inviting in the oppressive darkness that I almost cried with relief, and I headed toward them without thought. It wasn’t until I’d crouched to warm my hand that I looked through the smoke and saw a tiny, wizened woman seated next to the flames.

  “Nona,” I said. I should have been surprised, but it seemed perfe
ctly right that she’d save me from an awful nightmare or some kind of dangerous spell that dragged me into a dream-time. The relief knocked me back off my heels until I sprawled on the dark non-ground.

  “Be careful, Sass,” she said. Her eyes sparked bright as diamonds in the firelight, her face walnut-brown and sporting wrinkles as deep as riverbeds.

  I couldn’t look away from the warm comfort of her presence. “What’s going on, Nona? Everything is out of control and I can’t figure out what to do.”

  She nodded, running her fingers through the flames, and sat carefully with her legs tucked under her. She wore bright blue tennis shoes and lime track-suit pants, a day-glo beacon in the dark. “Old problems come back to us if they are not resolved. You think things come back times three, but you never know when they come back. How long do you think it would take for a truly great evil to be paid back? A hundred years? Two?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

  “I know you don’t.” Her gaze went to something behind me and the corners of her mouth quirked up. “But you will. Be careful, Sass. Call when you need help.”

  The malevolent energy from before roared back through the darkness and clawed at me, and Nona raised her hand and said something sharply in another language, and…

  The familiar scent of lavender and sage filled my nostrils and I sat up in my bed with a start, clenching my fists in the covers.

  My heart raced like I’d just run a marathon and sweat soaked through my clothes and the sheets besides. I stared at the ceiling and wished for once I could just get a good night’s sleep. When I rolled over, I found the book on my bed open to a set of pages that mimicked what I’d seen in the cave’s ancient tome. The memory of that awful energy and Nona’s warning made me shiver.

  I didn’t touch the book and instead rolled to face the wall, shutting my eyes. A little bit more rest wouldn’t hurt anyone, even if it meant facing that awful darkness again.