“How many creatures does he have?” I asked.
“Ccoa five, cadejo fifteen, and Gualichu one.” The teeth showed again, not in a grin this time but in fear. “One is enough.”
“Gualichu,” I mused. “That’s a spiritual being per folklore. He has no body. I assumed, then, that he might be a myth.”
“He has body. Very large, like spider with a thousand legs.” The dull eyes sharpened and looked out the window with unease. “We go now. Home.”
“May as well,” Cal grunted. “Looking in the dark for a giant cobra centipede that I can’t even pronounce might not be the brightest of moves.”
“We fight many creatures whose names you can’t pronounce, but point taken.” I started the car. Cal, more lazy than safety conscious, hadn’t bothered to take his seat belt off as we’d sat parked. I began to fasten mine when something landed on the roof of the car, hitting so hard the roof caved inches under the pressure. I let go of the belt and threw myself sideways at Cal as I heard a familiar sound—the sound of metal under tension, a sharp twang. An arrow of black metal as big around as a quarter punched through the roof and impaled the driver’s seat I’d just vacated. Oshossi had gone from machetes to a weapon typical of a hunter. A bow and arrow—the kind that could actually kill cars.
Impressive.
One of the backseat doors was flung open and I saw Mickey slither out and disappear into the white-out with a speed that let me know this wasn’t a setup. He had every fear that one of those arrows could very well be reserved for him. Cal drew his gun as I moved off of him and slid into the backseat to draw my tanto knife.
“Forget Shaft.” Cal aimed up and pulled the trigger of his Glock. Six silencer-muffled shots punctured holes in the ceiling. “I think Oshossi’s got the title of mean motherfucker nailed.”
Too many old movies; too much bad TV—the thought was just forming in my mind as I started out of the car. I didn’t make it. The world was suddenly revolving in an explosion of glass and the scream of metal against asphalt. I hit the ceiling, the backseat, the floor, and when the car came to rest from the rollover, I was halfway between the front and the back.
It wasn’t over. There was a massive force heaving us up and the car flipped end over end. How many times I don’t know. I hit upholstery, a door, and then the back window. I didn’t feel it so much as recognize the crunch of safety glass spiderwebbing.
And I was free. There was no metal or glass, only the fast whirl of a carnival ride. It spun you in circle after circle until there was nothing left but free fall. But falling is never free. It always has its price. If not now then later.
Now . . .
I didn’t know much about now.
There was the smell of snow with a coppery taint. The ground hard and cold under my cheek. The rest of me . . . Was there a rest of me? Hard to say. I could still see. Strange things. A huge metal shape crumpled and compressed against a tree, wheels spinning lazily up at the sky. There was a figure all in black . . . long black coat, black hair, black titanium bow, half a head taller than . . . taller than . . . the other one. The familiar one. Leather jacket, black hair in a ponytail, a gun—a gun that was fired. Soft muffled explosions. Barely audible as the snow crept down thicker and thicker. “You son of a bitch”—savage and hoarse. “You goddamn son of a bitch.”
He staggered under the shots, the first one—who, Shossi? No. Not right. That wasn’t right.
He stumbled but didn’t fall. Instead he turned and vaulted over the car, because it was a car. Mangled, barely recognizable, but a car. There was dark skin, harsh angles and planes like stone, gleaming gold eyes, black hair short and sleek as an animal pelt, and then there was only white as he melted away. Into the storm . . . into the park. Gone.
And the snow kept coming. It was peaceful. Calm. Quiet.
Then there was a cry, distant. A child . . . Cal?
No. Cal was fourteen. Not a child. And Cal was gone. The Auphe had taken him and he was gone, pulled through a hole in the world. But I would wait, because he would come back. He had to come back. They took him right out from under me, and he had to come back. I couldn’t have failed that badly. I was his brother. I was supposed to keep him safe. I . . .
Was that a siren?
But that wasn’t right. The Auphe had burned the trailer to the ground, and the fire department didn’t come. Too far in the woods. No one saw the smoke or flames at night. No one saw Sophia burn like a torch, or her blackened corpse. No one saw because no one cared. It was only Cal and me. Always. Only the two of us all our lives, and he couldn’t be gone.
“Oh, God, Nik. Shit. Oh shit.”
There was a hand under my shoulders and one under my neck turning me carefully from my side to my back. A face swam into my vision. Black hair nearly white with snow, a straight slash of dark brows, gray eyes, pale skin, sharp chin. He looked like . . . someone. A cold hand wiped at my face and came away dripping red. Snow? When had the snow turned red?
“Jesus.” The pale skin went even paler. “Hold still, Cyrano, okay? Don’t move. Let me get them.” There were hands brushing over me, at my ankles, my waist, tugging at cloth. A knife appeared and slid between my chest and a snug band. Something long and stiff was eased from under my back. Suddenly against the white there was gray, a hideously hungry gray.
A hole in the world.
That had just meant something minutes ago, but now the meaning was lost.
The hole was swallowing things now. Guns, knives, leather and metal. And when they were gone the hole swallowed itself. I wished I could’ve swallowed myself too. Out of nowhere, the pain came. My head, it throbbed until I could barely see. But pain was only pain. It could be conquered. It could . . .
Where was Cal?
The sirens were wailing louder. I heard the murmur of distant voices. “It’s a car wreck.” “They’ll never see it.” “Wave them down.” “Where’s the driver?”
“Nik, it’s done, okay? The weapons are gone.” This voice was closer. The black and gray smearing into the white like a melting candle. Cloth wiped my face and then pressed against my temple. It was soft and warm and smelled oddly good . . . like coconut and chicken.
“Thai,” I murmured.
“Yeah, sorry.” A laugh, shaky and determined all at once. “At least it’s clean. I borrowed it from you this morning.” The voice raised, along with others. “Over here!” Then softer. “The ambulance is here now. We’re going to the hospital, okay? The hospital. We were in a wreck, all right? If they ask, we had an accident.”
To the hospital. No. Cal.
“No.” I closed my eyes and the darkness was as peaceful as the snow. “Can’t. Waiting for my brother. They took him.” And I wasn’t leaving until he came back. I wouldn’t leave, I wouldn’t move, I wouldn’t sleep . . . although I was tired.
So tired.
There was a pause, and I felt a grip on my wrist squeezing hard. “Don’t worry. He’s here. He’s back. I promise. You’ll see him at the hospital. I swear. You’ll wake up and he’ll be right there.”
I wanted to believe him. He looked so much like Cal, only older than fourteen, and I wanted to believe. Then I forgot what I wanted to believe. I was waiting for someone, but I forgot who.
Sleep, I just wanted to sleep.
Other voices came. Loud and then fading until I could hear only one. The same one. “I’m right here, Nik. These guys are on our side. Do me a favor and don’t punch any of them out, all right?” Joke, but not a joke. Very much not a joke. Don’t hurt. Don’t kill.