The Left-Hand Path

by Barnett, T. S.

  ***

  Cora woke up with her cheek pressed against warm skin, and a smile crept onto her face as she curled in a little closer. She let herself lay with her head in the crook of Thomas’s shoulder and her arm across his waist, not quite willing to wake up yet. When she felt him begin to stir beside her, she opened her eyes to find him staring at her as though he didn’t know how she’d gotten there. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t seem to make words come out, and then he let his head drop back to the pillow, his free hand pressing into his eyes as he squeezed them shut.

  “Fuck,” he sighed, the rare curse on his lips startling her into a soft laugh.

  “You okay there?” she asked quietly. She let his arm free from under her head as he moved to sit up on his elbow, staring at her in disbelief.

  “I—we—” he began, a flush rising in his face and his hand moving automatically to draw the sheet up over her half-exposed breasts. “I...shouldn’t have—that is, the—the ritual and the—my fast, I’ll have to start the fifteen days over, and we...we shouldn’t have...” He trailed off, looking down at her with those dark, suffering eyes, and he softened, reaching to tenderly cup her cheek. “Cora, I don’t want you to...someone like me, I...”

  “What I’m hearing,” she cut him off, lifting up onto her hands and forcing him back to the mattress as she laid her weight on his chest, “is that today is a wash as far as demon restrictions go.”

  Thomas hesitated under her teasing smile, but then he chuckled, his thumb brushing the skin by her ear as she bent down to kiss him.

  25

  Elton had not ever pictured himself having to drive an RV the wrong way down the interstate at a speed that made the engine whine, red and blue lights flashing in his rear view mirror and Nathaniel Moore hanging out the open side door with laughter falling out of him that was just a little too gleeful—but here he was. He supposed it shouldn’t really have been a shock at this stage in his life.

  He came close to slamming into oncoming traffic so many times he lost count, jerking the wheel so that he only barely scraped the side of the vehicle against the median strip and daring to glance back over his shoulder at Nathan.

  “Are you going to do anything about them?” he shouted over the roar of the open door and the cacophony of sirens and angry honks surrounding them.

  He caught a flash of Nathan’s smile as he pulled his head back in the door to yell an answer. “But then they won’t catch us!”

  “God damn it,” Elton growled to himself, and he snatched the wheel as hard to the side as he dared, crashing the RV through the barriers between lanes and slamming his foot to the floor to heave the massive vehicle back up onto the asphalt on the other side. He wasn’t going to be able to outrun police cars—not in this sluggish rig. If Nathan had actually listened when Elton had suggested just the slightest bit of reconnaissance, they wouldn’t be in this situation.

  The actress’s house itself had seemed quiet enough—the wide gated courtyard leading to the front door was empty, and only a few lights shone through curtained windows. There wasn’t even much real security. Elton was able to pick the lock and break the few wards without difficulty, and the house was peaceful as they made their way up the stairs. The woman they wanted was sitting at a broad vanity in the bedroom, leaned close to the mirror to touch up the makeup around her eyes. Nathan bound her before she could rise from her stool and kept his eyes on the hallway while Elton worked. She played innocent at first, asking what they wanted, offering them cash from a safe in the closet, promising to keep quiet if they wouldn’t hurt her—but Elton saw the change come over her face when he crouched down to look her in the eyes.

  “You know why I’m here.”

  From then on, she practically spit fire, swearing at him and calling him a number of creative names—mostly insulting his erectile function—so loudly that Nathan put up a barrier to muffle her voice. Electricity shocked Elton the first time he laid hands on her, almost knocking him off his feet, but his gaze went immediately to the ogham-carved pendant around her neck, and he broke the chain as he snatched it free and tossed it aside on the plush carpet.

  The pristine white carpet went red in seeping pools, the stains growing and darkening along with the woman’s weakening voice. Elton left her bound by the wrists with a spare belt and kneeling at the foot of her bed, balanced so that she remained upright with her head fallen back and her dress torn down the center. The fabric below the opening in her chest was saturated with blood, and the exposed muscle glistened around the periphery of the blackened remains of her charred heart. Elton left a smear of blood from his own hand on the stomach of his shirt, though it didn’t help his appearance much to have clean hands.

  Nathan had led the way back through the house, but the sound of voices near the front door had forced them to take the exit through the back—where they had found themselves faces to face with at least a dozen garden party guests holding wine glasses, each pair of eyes focusing on the intruders with surprise that blossomed into horror at the fresh blood staining Elton’s front. The house was so large, they hadn’t had a chance of hearing their polite conversation through Nathan’s barrier.

  That was how they’d ended up with photos taken of them both and police cruisers wailing a few feet behind them, and it was likely how they were going to end up on the news. Because Nathan had been positive it was going to be easy.

  The police easily gained on them, four cars forming a phalanx behind the RV as the highway split, the oncoming lane disappearing behind the tall hills. The street ahead of them became clearer the farther they went; it must have been closed for some distance ahead of them.

  “Do you have any kind of a plan?” Elton called, but he got only laughter in response. He heard Nathan’s hurried footsteps in the back and turned just in time to see him hanging from the open door with one hand, his other trailing a mist of fine powder from his fingers to the road.

  From the tall rearview mirror, Elton saw faint sparks erupting from where the mist made contact with the front of the nearest cruiser, and the metal slowly began to deteriorate, red edges creeping back across the hood like a hole burning into a piece of paper. The hood disappeared into ash, exposing the engine beneath, and then the axle crumpled as the rot reached it, knocking the tires out of place and scraping the front of the cruiser into the asphalt. The car fishtailed, knocking the vehicles beside it with heavy thuds, but they pulled ahead and left their half-decayed partner trailing behind in a stream of smoke.

  “I think we should stop,” Nathan shouted back into the cab of the RV. “I have an idea.”

  “Stop?” Elton snapped. “Are you serious?”

  “Don’t you trust me, darling?”

  “No!”

  “Good choice,” Nathan laughed. He ducked back into the door as a bullet shattered the nearby window, burying itself in the microwave in a burst of sparks. “You see, darling?” Nathan called. “They’re shooting at me! You know how I feel about being shot at!”

  “Maybe don’t hang out the door, then! Fucking idiot,” he added under his breath, glancing back into the mirror at the flashing lights of the approaching cars.

  “Just pull over! I told you I have an idea! Unless you’re hoping to make it to Mexico before they crash us!”

  “Jesus Christ,” Elton sighed. He let the gas pedal pull away from the floor and looked out the window as the RV slowed and a cruiser drew close to his door. The officer inside brought the microphone of his car’s loudspeaker to his mouth, commanding them to pull over, and Elton obeyed. He rolled the vehicle to a stop at the side of the highway and turned off the engine, then retreated from the vulnerability of the windshield to join Nathan in the back.

  “So what’s the plan?” he asked in a low voice, and Nathan paused as more speaker commands warbled from the surrounding cruisers, demanding that they exit the vehicle with their hands raised.

  “This was it,” he answered with a bright smile. “Now it’s more fun.”
>
  Elton took a deep, steeling breath, his hand unconsciously moving to the other man’s shoulder and creeping toward his neck as though it might strangle Nathan all on its own.

  “Your idea,” he said, “was to get us closed in by a squad of mundane police and arrested?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Nathan scoffed. “No one’s getting arrested.” He brushed Elton’s hand from his shoulder and slapped the blond’s folio of talismans against his chest. “Now get a move on—the last thing we need is news crews and helicopters and whatnot.”

  “If I die by getting shot on the interstate because of you, I’m going to come back to life just so that I can turn you in to the Magistrate myself.”

  “Don’t talk so sweetly to me, darling; I’ll get excited,” Nathan purred, straightening the taller man’s stained collar before stepping down out of the open RV door.

  Elton set his jaw and followed his companion out, a slip of paper already between his fingers.

  ***

  Sirens wailed in the distance, signaling the approach of additional cruisers sent to support the officers who now lay scattered across the road. Many of them were only unconscious thanks to Elton, but he didn’t hold the end of Nathan’s leash as securely as he liked to pretend he did.

  “We need to go,” he said. “We can’t be here when they show up. And we can’t take the RV anymore—not after this.”

  Nathan gave a dramatic sigh. “I suppose. Do you have a suggestion?” He perked up. “We could take—”

  “We are not taking one of the police cars,” Elton interrupted. He started back toward the RV and took the step up into the door. “Get your shit. We need to move.”

  With their hurriedly-gathered luggage in tow, Elton made for the red hills along the edge of the highway, but before they reached the end of the asphalt, Nathan put a halting hand on Elton’s shoulder.

  “Shouldn’t we destroy it?”

  Elton paused, glancing from the RV to the horizon to scan for any cars on the empty road. The sirens were too close—they had a minute; maybe two.

  Nathan leaned in to him and slipped a small wooden token into his palm, and as he whispered the word “dife” close to Elton’s ear, the grounding burned against his skin.

  “Go on,” he murmured. “Do it for fun. Just the once.”

  Elton looked down at the scrap of carved wood in his hand. Destroying the RV was the right thing to do—the circle burned into the floor was enough on its own to draw the kind of attention they didn’t want. And he didn’t have time to argue with Nathan. So he closed the token in his palm and spoke the word with his eyes on the weary-looking vehicle, sending a deep boom of flame from the undercarriage that licked eagerly up the walls to the roof. The metal siding of the RV wrinkled and drooped under the intense heat, and they had to retreat from the fire as the RV began to crumple and collapse in the center.

  Nathan watched him with anticipation lifting his eyebrows, but Elton only passed the wooden charm back to him and picked up his suitcase.

  “I don’t see the appeal.”

  Nathan sucked his teeth at him and shook his head as he slung his own bag over his shoulder, carrying his wooden apothecary case under his arm and following the blond into the steep hills beyond the road. “I thought you were coming along so nicely.”

  Elton ignored him. They needed to put distance between themselves and the scene they’d left behind, and there wasn’t even any forest to hide them. When the piercing sirens arrived behind them, Nathan took Elton by the hand and kept quiet as they slogged their way unseen across the dust, leaving behind the shouts of the police. Before long, they reached the opposing lane, and without consulting his companion, Nathan released him and snatched a passing car to a halt, its tires screeching against the spell and throwing up smoke as they were dragged across the road toward the shoulder.

  Nathan held the vehicle in place while Elton opened the door on a panicked driver and leaned down to look the man in the face.

  “Just get out,” he said. The man’s eyes went to the dried, sticky blood covering the front of Elton’s shirt, and he fumbled to unbuckle his seatbelt without taking his gaze from it. Nathan tossed their belongings into the backseat and let Elton take the wheel, leaving the driver standing alone on the side of the road as they merged back into traffic.

  They changed cars again as they passed through Santa Clarita, and then again on the outskirts of San Bernadino, finally ending up in a nondescript grey SUV as they headed into the Mojave. Elton frowned and stared at the emptiness ahead of them, ignoring Nathan’s insistence that it had been pretty fun, really, hadn’t it?

  ***

  It was late into the night and past the Arizona border before Elton felt convinced that they could safely stop. The motel they holed up in was cheap and barely clean, but it was enough for Elton to be able to finally change his shirt and get under a hot shower. He wasn’t even angry at Nathan anymore—it wasn’t the first time they’d had to escape the police, and it wouldn’t be the last. At least it was simpler than dealing with Chasers. He slept soundly, grateful for having more than two feet between himself and Nathan for the first time in months.

  In the morning, Elton had to wake Nathan up to get him going at a reasonable hour, turning on all the lights and jerking the blanket from him rather than fight with his drowsy complaints for half an hour.

  “We need to keep moving,” he said once Nathan had sat up and rubbed his eyes.

  “To where?” Nathan stretched his arms over his head and swung his feet to the floor, scanning the room for a coffee pot.

  “I think it’s time we head back east. Thomas will need us to deliver him a victim soon.”

  “I agree. I’ll be happy to see Cora again, as well.” He filled the pot from the bathroom sink and started the coffee brewing before bothering to pull on a pair of jeans. “I’ll find us some new transport,” he offered, already on his way out the door before Elton could agree or not.

  Elton tried to call Cora to let her know they were on their way, but the call went to voicemail, so he told her that way, instead. When they’d cleaned themselves up, disposed of their bloodiest clothing, and gathered their things, Nathan led the way through the parking lot and stopped in front of a silver-tanked motorcycle with leather saddlebags and an etched plate that read “Triumph” near the handlebars.

  “No,” Elton said immediately, and Nathan groaned at him.

  “Come on,” he said. “Look; it’s got a place for our bags. It’s good weather—don’t you want some wind in your face after being closed up in that thing for weeks upon weeks?”

  “I can’t drive a motorcycle,” Elton said flatly, but his protest only drew a slow, devious smile across the other man’s lips.

  “Lucky I can, then.”

  “I am not riding from Flagstaff to Boston with you on the back of a motorcycle.”

  “Well, then you can give driving a try somewhere near Missouri.” He took Elton’s suitcase from him and held up a finger when the blond opened his mouth. “Now darling, I feel that I’ve been very agreeable to your demands for several weeks now—don’t be unreasonable.”

  Elton pressed his lips into a dissatisfied line and sighed through his nose—but even if the ride meant his legs pressed into Nathan’s hips and his hands on the other man’s waist, he had to admit that the rumble of the bike underneath him and the desert wind blowing his hair once they got back on the interstate wasn’t as bad as he’d expected.

  26

  Cora had three missed calls on her phone by the time she checked it in the evening. She idly paced Thomas’s room while she listened to Elton’s voicemail, one hand holding together the unbuttoned black cardigan she’d thrown on. Thomas had insisted on showering by himself, claiming that he had already made it exponentially more difficult to keep his thoughts clean for the next two weeks without adding that imagery to his brain. He purposely averted his eyes when he returned to the bedroom to avoid getting too good a look at her in his sweater.
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  “Nathan and Elton are coming back,” she said, dropping her phone onto the bed. “They said they’d be here in three or four days since they’re driving. I guess they’re going to bring...someone? Do we just keep them here until you’re...you know, ready, I guess?”

  “I told Elton it wouldn’t be that soon,” Thomas sighed as he buttoned his pants and bent to take a fresh shirt from his drawer.

  Cora crossed the room to interrupt him, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head on his shoulder. He didn’t hesitate so much to return her embrace, though his hands still seemed ginger as they came to rest on her back.

  “It won’t be just us anymore,” she said into the crook of his neck.

  “That might be better for me getting this ritual done,” he said with a quiet chuckle.

  She leaned back from him with a smile, letting her fingertips linger near his collarbone. She traced the scar at the dip of his neck lightly with one finger. “How did you get this?” she asked, and he glanced downward as if he could see his own neck. “It’s in a weird spot. I noticed it back when we were doing the cleansing, and I meant to ask earlier, but then I got...distracted.”

  Thomas reached up to touch the scar just above the silver chain of his necklace, his expression softening. He moved back from her to pull his shirt over his head and looked at the floor rather than at her while he answered. “It’s from a tracheotomy.”

  “A what? Isn’t that the smoker thing?”

  “That too, I guess. But they also do it when you can’t breathe. Fluid in my lungs, they said.”

  “Oh,” Cora said with a sympathetic grimace. “Were you really sick?”