by R. T. Lowe
“I wasn’t worried about Harper catching you in a lie. I’d just found out that no one knew where you were and I was scared shitless. It just… slipped out.”
“Great,” he muttered sarcastically.
Just as they turned onto a country two-lane—and before Felix had time to dwell on the revelation that Harper was mad at him—Allison’s phone beeped.
“It’s Caitlin,” she said, looking down at the screen.
“And…?” He was nervous. He knew he shouldn’t be, but he needed confirmation—he needed proof of life.
“She says, ‘Flight was fine. At home. Harper’s staying for dinner. Already bored to death. Miss school so much—even that idiot Lucas. Call me later.’”
“Harper’s staying for dinner?”
“That’s what it says.”
“So she’s there?” he said hopefully. “At Caitlin’s?”
Allison nodded.
Felix breathed a double sigh of relief. The first for Harper. She was alive. He hadn’t killed her. Good thing—very good thing. He reserved the second for himself: Now he could stop worrying about the possibility that Riley had catfished him on a supernatural level.
“Crazy though, huh?” Allison was leaning forward in her chair to check out her eye in the visor mirror. It wasn’t getting any better. She needed ice. “What’d that kid say? He adopts the way people look? Just what the world needs—Sourcerors who can take the appearance of anyone they want. That’s scary on so many different levels.”
“No shit,” he agreed. It was actually terrifying. Too terrifying to contemplate at the moment. Felix swerved the car around the remains of a dead animal in the middle of their lane—maybe a deer?—that looked like every scavenger in the state had snacked on it. “That list Riley was talking about—you think the Faceman had one too? He knew about me and Lucas. Must be the same list, right? But why are we all on it? You think it’s random?”
“No idea.” Allison snapped the plastic cover over the mirror and flipped the visor back in place. “We’re going to have to tell them, you know.”
Felix had been thinking the same thing. “Tell them what though?”
“Everything,” she answered simply.
“Bill’s not gonna like that.”
“Screw Bill! What do you think would happen if one of Lofton’s minions kidnaps Caitlin and tells her to move a brick with her mind?”
“Nothing good.” He imagined Caitlin cowering in the shadow of the Faceman, a brick on the floor between them. It made him shiver almost as much as Allison—even though he was starting to feel a little warm. “I can’t let that happen. I’m just not sure how I can…” Felix left the rest unsaid, the sentence without a conclusion, not wanting to verbalize something so obvious: Lucas was in Minnesota; Harper and Caitlin were in California; Allison would be spending the break in Coos Bridge. How was he supposed to protect everybody—even assuming he could—when they were spread out across half the damn country?
Allison seemed to sense what he was worrying about. “We’ll figure something out,” she assured him. “We just need a plan. And we need to be smart.”
“Yeah,” Felix snorted. His planning skills needed some sharpening. The only thing he was planning for now was how to get cleaned up before they got back to school. The gritty surface of the parking lot had scraped away most of the skin on his hands and everything from the knees down. It didn’t hurt, but the intense itching sensation was annoying. He thought if he could scrape the blood off it might help. “I’ll pull over if I see a rest area. We need to change out of these clothes.”
She nodded, looking out the window. She opened her mouth in a huge yawn and said, “More sweaty gym shorts?”
He grunted. He didn’t think Allison was going to like the available options in the duffel bag.
* * *
Thirty miles down the road, Allison looked over at him and cleared her throat. “What are you thinking about?”
He shook his head and shrugged tiredly. He could still hear the roar of the wind in his ears. The inside of the car smelled like the ocean. And blood. He’d been driving in the slow lane along Highway 30, trying not to draw the attention of any state troopers. He felt her eyes on him but kept his on the road, staring straight ahead at nothing.
“Felix…?”
“I’m just wiped out. You wanna listen to a different station?” He hit the preset button a few times until he found a satellite channel playing an Imagine Dragons song he knew Allison liked.
“C’mon,” she said, her eyebrows drawn in. “What’s on your mind?”
He turned off the windshield wipers. The drizzle had thickened into a soft pattering rain, then went back to being a drizzle. But now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen a drop in a while. “I don’t know. I guess, it’s just that, back there, at the Cliff Walk… it’s… nothing.”
“Felix!”
“I just killed five people, Allie. Five!” He held up five fingers in case the word five didn’t do justice to the enormity of the number when the subject was how many people have you killed today? “And that one big guy…” He hesitated. He couldn’t tell Allison that he’d tortured Parni to death. If he hadn’t died on him before he was done (whatever done might mean), he could still be out on the Cliff Walk listening to his blood-curdling screams. And liking it. “I… burned him alive.”
“He nearly landed on me on the way down,” Allison said. “When’d you start doing… that?”
“Doing what?”
“Controlling fire.” Her voice sounded cautious.
“I don’t know. A month ago, I guess. But I never used it to, you know…”
A frown hovered on the edges of Allison’s lips, then her face went blank. “So you can just burn things? With your… just your mind?”
He nodded, but didn’t elaborate. Neither of them spoke for a long time. He glanced at her, but couldn’t make sense of her expression.
“But you thought he killed me, right?” Allison finally said. “You must’ve been pissed. I’d be pissed if I thought someone had killed you. I don’t know what I would do.”
For a moment, Felix relived the terrible pain that had ripped through him when he thought Allison had died and a deep ache spread from his chest, tightening his throat. “But there’s… there’s more.”
“More?”
“The Faceman. I killed him too—remember. And Riley. And I killed… my… my parents.” He took his eyes off the road and looked at her, blinking back the tears, fighting them off. “I’ve killed eight people since last summer. That can’t be a good thing.”
She nodded, and stared out her window in silence.
Three miles later, and still no response, he turned his head toward her. Her expression hadn’t changed. Still unreadable. “I thought you’d try to cheer me up,” he told her.
“Sorry,” she said a little absentmindedly. She tried to smile but it turned into a wince. “I was just thinking that… this is only the beginning.” She looked down at her hands, brow creasing, while Felix fidgeted with the steering wheel, waiting for her to continue. When she did, she sounded calm, almost sleepy.
“What happened to your parents wasn’t your fault,” Allison went on. “You know that. But you killed the Faceman, the Protectors and that Riley kid—who was a Drestianite, by the way—because you didn’t have a choice. They were trying to kill you. If you hadn’t killed them, you’d be dead. And so would I. You understand that, right?”
“I don’t want to kill anyone,” Felix said quietly.
Allison smiled, but the effort just made her wince again. She dragged a finger over a bottom lip that would probably need a few stitches. “I’m glad it bothers you. I’d be a little worried if killing people didn’t prick your conscience. Especially with what… what you can do. I mean, you can do some pretty incredible shit. But I think it’s just going to get worse. There’s going to be more: more Protectors, more Facemen, more Drestianites, more whatever the hell’s out there. And if you don’
t kill them…”
“They’ll kill me. I know. I get it. But it still sucks.”
Her shoulders lifted and fell in a stiff shrug. Then she made a fist, running her fingers over her bruised knuckles.
“When’d you become such a badass, anyway?” Felix asked, forcing a grin. “You were kicking the shit out of Riley and that huge Parni guy.”
Allison’s voice was still calm, but her eyes were dark and focused. “When I was fighting with Parni—and Riley—it was like I was watching myself from above. I was punching, kicking and dodging punches, and doing all these things, and I don’t even know how I was doing it.” She unclenched her hand.
“You ever take boxing, or an MMA class, or anything like that before?”
Allison shook her head, then took a fistful of hair with one hand, and with the other rolled the tips between her fingers as though she was checking for split ends. “Maybe it’s a Croix thing.”
That gave Felix a jolt. “A what thing?”
“Croix. My real name. The name I was born with, anyway. C-R-O—”
“I-X,” he finished quickly. A strip of skin that ran right down the center of his back began to crawl. “C-R-O-I-X. Croix?”
“Yeah,” she said, watching him.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. So? Why?”
“I never knew that,” Felix said.
“Why would you? I don’t think I ever told you. So what?”
“You ever hear of Agatha Pierre-Croix?”
“Agatha Pierre-Croix?” Allison repeated softly, her eyes narrowing in thought. “You mean PC’s founder?”
“Uh-huh.” Something told him it wasn’t a coincidence.
“What?” Allison gave him a sharp look. “You think she’s a distant relative or something? I don’t think the name’s that uncommon.”
What do I think? I think she’s a ghost who lives in the tunnels beneath St. Rose, he’d started to say, but caught himself. For now, he just shrugged and said nothing. The silence lengthened. Allison watched him, her eyes keen and questioning. They rode through a valley of blanketing ground fog that made the road disappear like a magic trick. Felix stared out at the swirling dragon’s breath, too tired to talk and too tired to think. He would tell Allison about the ghost of Agatha, the tunnels and the cemetery beneath campus, room 444 at Astoria, and that he was The Kid With The Hood—she would probably think that last part was hysterical—but not right now. That was a long story, and he was too exhausted to get into it. Later.
“Do you—” She broke off, paused for a second, then gave her head an adamant shake. “Where’s your phone?” She thrust out her hand. “I want to talk to Bill.”
Felix reached into the pocket of his baggy gym shorts (once a shade of pale blue, now dark red), brought out his cell, unlocked it, and handed it to her. She tapped, scrolled, tapped twice more, then placed it in a cup holder between the seats when she was done.
Bill answered on the second ring. “Hello?” The phone was on speaker. “Felix? Hello?” He sounded anxious.
“Yeah,” Felix said. “Hey Bill.” An oncoming car with lights on top sped toward them, closing the distance a little too quickly. Sweat was trickling down his sides—but that was because Allison had set the temperature to seventy-eight degrees. He eased down on the brake, even though he was already going a needle tick under the speed limit, but it was only a service truck from the Department of Fish and Wildlife.
“It’s really good to hear your voice,” Bill said, the relief in his voice thick. “Are you okay? Is Allison with you?”
“I’m here,” she said.
“Hi, Allison. I thought you guys might already be here.”
Felix glanced over at Allison, but she just looked back at him bleakly—his cue to explain why they were running late. “Yeah, we had a little… incident with the Protectors.” Then Felix added: “And a Sourceror.”
There was silence.
“You there?” Felix’s eyes flitted down to the phone.
“Was the Sourceror with the Order?” Bill asked hesitantly.
“No,” Felix replied.
Bill spoke in a rush: “Grab your passports and meet me at PDX. I have a safe house in—”
“Lofton doesn’t know,” Allison interrupted. “The kid was acting on his own.”
Another pause. This one longer.
“How can you be sure of that?” Bill asked.
“He told us,” Allison answered.
“But how—” Bill began.
“He was telling the truth.” Allison ran a finger over her swollen eye and grimaced in pain, her lips pulling back over her teeth.
Felix believed her. Maybe it was the unwavering certainty in her voice. Maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, Bill seemed to believe her too.
“Okay. Okay. So what happened? Are you guys okay? What happened to the Protectors? And the Sourceror?”
“We’re fine.” Felix’s knuckles tightened on the wheel, going white. “The kid um… um… I… the Protectors… they um… I didn’t have a choice so—”
“Felix took care of them,” Allison answered for him. Bill started to say something, and she blurted out: “We need to talk to you. Your office in forty-five.” She tapped the screen, ending the call.
Felix glanced over at her, surprised. “What’s up?”
Allison ignored him. She had her phone back out and was pecking at it with her index finger, searching for something.
The ground fog had returned. Reluctantly, Felix focused on the road, throwing sideways glances at her as she manipulated the display.
“…have you thought about exploring other challenges?” came a woman’s voice from the phone. A plucky broadcaster’s voice.
“Who’s that?” Felix asked.
“I think I know what Bill’s been lying about,” Allison said distantly, preoccupied.
“What?”
A man’s voice: “…in public places. One day we will live without fear. When the people…”
“Is that Lofton—?” Felix started.
“Yes,” Allison said, aiming a hand at him: Be quiet.
A woman’s voice: “…all thought to be in the vicinity of Ashfield Forest at the time of their…”
“Is that—?”
“Yes,” Allison said, then she shushed him.
Lofton’s voice: “…hundreds of square miles of wilderness. Some of the most rugged and densely wooded terrain in North America. It’s also home to wild animals such as bears, mountain lions and wolves. The woods can…”
Allison tapped the phone, her jaw clenched. “Wolves. Did you hear that? He said wolves.”
“So?” Felix said. Then it hit him. “You mean—?”
“That lying motherfucker.”
Chapter 63
The Ten-Headed Beast
The peppering began as soon as Felix and Allison entered Bill’s office: “Where did you first see the Protectors? Cove Rock? How many were there? Did the Drestianite tell you anything? Any idea how they found you? Did anyone see what happened?”
“Why don’t you tell us about Ashfield Forest?” Allison countered.
Felix went over to the window without a word and looked out. He didn’t want to get into it with Bill. But he wasn’t going to stop Allison. It was raining again, and the sky, dark and foreboding, reflected his mood. The Yard was deserted. Other than a scattering of lonely stragglers still packing up or waiting for rides, everyone had gone home; the entire campus had assumed the same general air of ghostliness as the Old Campus.
“Sorry?” Bill looked startled as he sat at his desk with his laptop open in front of him.
“Ashfield Forest,” she repeated, slowly articulating each syllable. “Why don’t you tell Felix the truth? And if you say ‘wolves’, I’m going to slap your face off. You told us Lofton was protecting the governor because the governor had allowed the reintroduction of wolves. You said Lofton was keeping it quiet. So why would Lofton tell Connie Redgrave on national TV that there a
re wolves in Ashfield Forest? Does that strike you as somewhat inconsistent?”
Bill measured her for a moment, then sighed and shifted his gaze to Felix. “It’s not that simple.”
“Just tell him the truth!” Allison shouted. “Why’s that so hard?”
“I was hoping to do this at a later date,” Bill said with dismay in his voice. He looked over Allison’s shoulder toward the window for a moment, then half-snorted and shook his head as though the irony of some private joke was amusing him. He reached down with one hand and pulled open a desk drawer, and after a bit of shuffling, he came away with a sheet of paper, yellowed and rolled up like architectural plans. He got up from his chair and carried it across the office, then spread it out on the table beneath the window where Felix was standing.
Felix could see right away that it was a map of some kind. At the top, and centered, was the word WILDERNESS. Diagonal green lines filled up most of the map. But there were other colors. A fair amount of blue: a teardrop shape with the words CLEAR LAKE next to it stood out near one corner, with two smaller teardrops (unnamed) opposite it, and squiggly lines (some long, some short) that could only be rivers. There were portions shaded-in with browns (both light and dark), and heavy green lines that framed in large tracts of land within their boundaries. There were two prominent black lines too long and too straight to be anything other than roads, and several smaller lines (black but fading to gray) that wound their way here and there without any obvious start or end points. Most of the smaller lines had been highlighted with an orange marker. There were a few big numbers, which made Felix think they were elevations. And ten Roman numerals: I through X. I, II, III, IV and V were stamped, and evenly spaced, across the bottom, and VI, VII, VIII, IX and X were imprinted at the top directly above I through V.
Allison joined Felix and Bill at the table, squeezing herself between them. “Where is this? What’s that?” She pointed at four red circles (one with an X through it) that Felix had just noticed. Bill didn’t react when he saw her knuckles: pink, puffy and capped with bloody open wounds that hadn’t had time to scab over.