On the Edge, page 6
“Grandma?” Amy emerged from the house, wiping her hands on the corner of her apron. She ran over on pudgy legs. “What’s the matter?”
Elsie pointed with her shuddering fingers at the dark thing. Amy brushed her curly blond hair from her face and squinted at the shrubs. “What?”
“It’s trying to get me! It ruined everything!”
“The bush? The bush ruined everything?”
“Not the bush, the thing!” Elsie pointed straight at the creature.
Amy bent to look in the direction of her finger. “Grandma, there’s nothing there but an old crape myrtle shrub.”
Elsie slapped her cheek. “Stupid girl!”
Amy drew herself to her full height. “Now that was un-called for. Into the house with you. Looks like you need a pill.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
Elsie tried to scratch, but Amy was stronger and outweighed her by a hundred pounds. She was lifted to her feet and guided firmly inside the house. She twisted her head and saw the dark thing slink to the table. She shrieked, but Amy just wrestled her forward.
A huge maw split open beneath the four eyes, revealing jaws seeded with wicked teeth. Elsie could do nothing but scream as the monster bit into Mr. Bana, ripping the small body of fur and stuffing in half.
ROSE heaved a large service vacuum into the back of the Clean-n-Bright service van. Latoya and Teresa were still inside Kaplan Insurance. Latoya was chatting up Eric Kaplan, while Teresa finished the bathroom. Eric was a handsome fellow, and he did a very good impression of a happy-go-lucky, none-too-bright type of guy. Latoya thought she could wrap him around her finger. Rose had her doubts. It was Eric’s job to get people to like him and buy his insurance, and judging by the swanky office, he was rather good at it. He had succeeded where his uncle Emerson had failed. Unfortunately, his uncle Emerson also ran Clean-n-Bright, which made him her boss, and he wasn’t half as pleasant as his nephew.
Rose leaned against the van. Worry sat in the pit of her stomach like a big heavy clump of lead. Dread had plagued her all morning, and she just couldn’t get rid of it. Usually she could figure out the cause of her anxiety—money worries, more often than not—but today she just worried in general. It wasn’t enough she’d run into a wold; now there was a blueblood to deal with.
She’d mentioned the wold to Latoya and Teresa, who made shocked noises, and then Teresa reported she’d run into Maggie Brewster the other day. Maggie, a gentle cross-eyed girl, had the foresight. According to Teresa, Maggie said something bad was coming. She couldn’t say what exactly—Teresa didn’t think she knew—but she could tell that feeling it scared Maggie out of her wits.
Maggie had been wrong before. She had predicted a hurricane last October and was convinced they’d all be blown away. Instead they got clear skies and June weather.
But Maggie had been right before, too. And that worried Rose. She felt as if an invisible storm was gathering and she was on the edge of it.
Rose shut the van door and jumped. William stood right next to her.
“Hi,” he said.
She gulped. “God, you scared me.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” He leaned against the van. “I was just driving by on my way to a job, saw you, and thought I’d say hi. How are you?”
“I’m good, thank you.” Here he was, handsome and willing, yet she didn’t feel anything romantic. Her heart didn’t “flutter.” The realization was kind of freeing. Rose smiled. She was right. She didn’t need to go on a date with him.
“How did the first day of school go?” William asked.
“It went fine.”
He grinned. “They didn’t have to tie Jack to his chair? He doesn’t look like he could sit still for longer than five minutes.”
She laughed quietly. “He’s a good kid.”
“Both of them are good kids.” He nodded. “Is there any way I can talk you into lunch?”
She shook her head, smiling. “I don’t think it would be a good idea, Will.”
“Why not? It’s not like I’m going to maul you.”
She looked into his eyes and caught a glimpse of the same thousand-yard stare he’d trained on Peter Padrake back in the comic shop. He hid it right away, but it was there, waiting inside him. Rose hesitated. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Sometimes two people meet and there is a connection of sorts. An instant attraction. You look at somebody and wonder what it would be like. I don’t wonder that about you. You’re a nice handsome guy. And I want to like you in that way, honestly I do, but there’s just nothing there.”
He just kept smiling, his grin plastic on his face.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s harsh, and I feel bad about it, but I don’t want to lead you on.”
“Rose Drayton.”
The voice stopped her in mid-word. She turned on her heel, her hands clenching into fists. “Brad Dillon,” she said, her voice dripping with venom.
Brad looked just like he used to look in high school, when they’d dated. He had picked up a couple of new tattoos and his nose was now pierced, but other than that, he was same old Brad. Still the same hot brown eyes and handsome face. Still looking like he wanted to punch somebody, the arrogant prick. She used to think that smirk was sexy. Now she wanted to slap it off his face.
Her gun was in her tote inside the van, and Brad wouldn’t exactly let her get it. Without her gun, out here in the Broken, Brad had an advantage. He was bigger and stronger, and Rose had seen him fight enough times to know she couldn’t take him by herself. But she would make it expensive for him.
Brad fixed his gaze on William, sizing him up. “Don’t know who you are and don’t care. Just want to know what you’re doing with my leftovers?”
Rose braced herself. In a second William would slug him, and when he did, Brad would come right back at him. William looked strong, but Brad was no pushover and he fought hard and dirty. She tensed, ready to jump right in.
William looked at Brad with a slightly bored expression.
“She’s a lousy fuck,” Brad said. “I feel sorry for you.”
William said nothing.
Brad tried again. “I’d wear two rubbers if I were you. If you go bareback with that whore, your cock might fall off in the morning. You don’t want what she’s got.”
William’s stare gained a harsh edge, but Rose couldn’t tell if he was pissed off or scared. “This thing you’re trying to start isn’t worth my time,” William said. “Are you done?”
“No.”
“Get on with it. I’d love to chat, but I’m getting kind of hungry.”
Brad looked slightly confused. “Screw off, asshole.”
William shrugged. “Anything else?”
Brad glared at the two of them. She tensed, expecting him to leap at them, swinging. He hovered on the edge of violence, muscles playing along his jaw. Come on, she thought. Bring it. She almost wished he would.
“Your new man’s a pushover.” Brad sneered.
He was backing down. Rose waved her hand, trying to hide relief. “Keep on walking, Brad.”
Brad turned on his heel and stalked off. Must’ve decided the odds were against him.
William smiled, looking nice and pleasant, that same flat smile glued onto his lips. “Old boyfriend?” he asked.
She nodded. “Something like that.”
“Back to what we were talking about,” he said. “I appreciate that you leveled with me. But I think if you gave me a chance, I’d change your mind.”
“I doubt it,” she murmured.
The door of the office swung open, and Teresa emerged into the sunlight. Short, stocky, and dark, Teresa took one look at William and stopped, drinking him in.
“I have to go,” Rose said.
“Till next time then.” William took a step back and strode off.
Teresa raised her eyebrows at her. Rose shook her head and climbed into the van. She had enough trouble as it was. She needed to get through the day, get home, make sure the boys were okay, and think up some challenge for the blueblood. She felt bad about cutting William’s wooing short, but it was best this way. It wouldn’t go anywhere between them. Concentrate on important things, she told herself.
THE day slowly cooled down to evening. Jack slipped outside the door and sat on the porch. The old wood was warm under his legs, heated by the late afternoon sun. He squinted at it, a bright yellow coin in the sky. Shiny.
Rose said to stay inside, but inside was boring. He stayed inside the whole day, in school, and he was good and didn’t fight with anybody, didn’t even scratch Ayden when he tried to steal his eraser. He ate the nasty fried fish sticks without complaints, even though they tasted like dirt mixed with some kind of mystery meat. He didn’t get any warnings or yellow tickets, and now he wanted to be outside. What’s the point of going to school if you can’t go outside after? Besides, it was only four, and Rose wouldn’t be home until five-thirty or even six.
He sat silent, watching the woods with wide-open eyes. Listening. So many little sounds. A bird, somewhere far to the north, screaming at an intruder to its tree. Angry, feisty squirrels swearing at each other in their squirrel chatter. He watched them play chase up the blue spike pine. The skin between his knuckles itched, wanting to split under his claws, but he sat still—the pine’s branches were too skinny. He couldn’t climb them. He’d already tried twice, and they’d broken under him both times, leaving him scratched and smudged with sticky tar.
A big bug landed on the board next to him. It was dark blue and glossy. Jack held absolutely still.
The beetle waddled along the wooden plank on black chi tinous legs. Jack tensed, following it with his gaze. Pretty, shiny bug.
Footsteps approached from inside the house. Georgie, about to ruin the fun.
The beetle’s back split, releasing a light fan of shivering, gently unfurling wings. The bug waddled on across the porch. Jack crept after it, soundless and slick.
“Jack, we’re supposed to stay inside,” Georgie scolded through the screen door.
The bug stopped at the end of the wooden plank, as if considering the plunge to the green grass below.
“Go away!” Jack mumbled through his teeth.
The beetle’s wings trembled again. The two halves of its back rose, like another pair of hard blue wings above its insect shoulders.
“Jack, get back inside! Rose said . . .”
The beetle’s wings sped into a blur, and it launched itself into the air.
Jack pounced.
He cleared the porch in a single leap, snapping at the beetle with his fingers, and landed in the grass, empty-handed. Missed!
Georgie jumped out onto the porch. “Come back here!”
Jack chased after the beetle. It flew left, then veered right, a fat bright buzzing thing on a whirl of cream wings. He leaped, so high for a second he was flying, and caught the beetle between his palms. “Gotcha!”
Sharp legs pierced his skin. He laughed and peeked between his fingers.
“Jack!” Georgie’s voice rang like broken glass.
A stench lashed his nose, bitter and harsh, followed by a creepy feeling that something cold and slimy had dripped on the back of his neck. He whirled.
A beast stood on the grass. Five feet tall, it balanced on four skinny legs, its body turned at an angle, its head facing Jack. Its chest was deep, and past it, its body slimmed down, each of its ribs clearly visible, before terminating in powerful hindquarters. It looked like a racing dog. At first glance, the beast’s hide seemed almost black, but when the sun touched its spine, the thick skin stretched over the beast’s back turned a dark smoky purple tinted with black and green, like a bad bruise. It had no fur, only a row of short, sharp spikes running down the backs of its legs and along its spine.
The beast’s head was long, very long, but without any ears. Two pairs of long slanted eyes stared at Jack with dull, weakly glowing gray, like fog backlit by headlights.
In his adventures in the Wood, Jack had looked into the eyes of a dire wolf, a fox, a bear, and countless other things for which he had no name, but none of them had eyes like that. They were cruel eyes. Cruel and merciless like the eyes of a gator.
The wards would keep it away. The wards . . . Out of the corner of his eye Jack saw the lines of ward stones—several yards away.
Jack froze.
He was vaguely aware of Georgie on the porch. His brother took one small step back. The beast raised its front leg, with a huge paw made of long clawed fingers, and stepped forward.
“Don’t move!” Jack breathed.
Georgie became still as a statue.
The beetle slid from Jack’s open fingers and crawled up the back of his hand to take flight. Jack didn’t move, didn’t even blink. His every instinct screamed at him that to move was to die, and so he stood petrified, caught in his terror.
The beast opened its mouth. Its lips drew back, revealing black jaws filled with terrible bloodred fangs. The gaze of the four eyes pinned Jack in place.
Jack swallowed. The bracelet on his wrist grew hot, but he knew that if he took the bracelet off and changed shape, the beast would get him for sure. He had to get behind the wards. That was his only chance. If he ran, the beast would chase him. He knew by the way it was built, lean and long-legged, that it was fast. It would catch him and rend the meat off his bones.
He shifted slightly, sliding a mere inch back along the grass.
“Right,” Georgie’s trembling voice called.
Jack turned a little, terrified to take his gaze off the four eyes, and saw the second beast padding slowly along the ward line. The second beast caught him looking and stopped to show him a forest of narrow red fangs. It would catch him if he moved. There was no escape. He was cut off.
Jack’s heart hammered in his chest, as if trying to break free. The loud beat of his pulse filled his ears, pounding in his head. The world turned crystal clear. Jack inhaled deeply, trying to keep from getting dizzy.
“Don’t move,” commanded a quiet voice.
Jack turned his head. A few yards away the blueblood stood at the edge of the lawn. The giddy relief that had filled Jack vanished. The blueblood was an enemy, too.
The man stepped forward. His fur cloak lay behind him in the grass. Smoothly he pulled a long, slender sword from the sheath at his waist. His eyes looked past Jack, at the two beasts.
“Back toward me very slowly,” the blueblood said.
Jack remained put. The blueblood wanted Rose. He couldn’t be trusted.
The beasts advanced.
“I won’t hurt you,” the man promised. “You must come closer. Now.”
A scent drifted down from him, a light, spicy aroma of cloves.
The blueblood was human. The beasts were not.
Slowly, as if underwater, Jack took a step back.
The beasts stepped forward in unison.
“That’s it,” the blueblood said. Jack clenched on to that voice and took another slow step.
The beasts moved closer.
A third step.
He saw the muscles bunch on their legs and knew they were about to charge.
“Run!” the blueblood barked and sprinted to him.
Jack dashed. He flew across the grass like there were wings on his feet. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the dark shapes veering to flank him. They would catch him, they would . . .
A hand grasped his shoulder and pulled him forward, past the man into the grass. Jack rolled, coming to a crouch.
The left beast leapt into the air. The blueblood slashed with his sword, and two halves of a dark body fell into the grass, twitching. The blade shone again like a sliver of moonlight, and the second beast’s head bounced off the lawn.
The blueblood raised his hand and sank a short burst of white into the left beast, first one half, then the other. Acrid smoke rose, scratching the back of Jack’s throat. The beast’s legs stopped quivering.
The blueblood put another shot of white into the head of the second beast, turned, and bent down. Jack felt himself scooped off the ground, and he clutched onto the man’s neck. Enemy or friend, he didn’t care. The blueblood was warm and human, and he had a big sword.
“You did well,” the blueblood said.
Jack held on tighter. His body shook and shivered, as if he were freezing.
Georgie ran off the porch and halted at the ward line, looking white enough to be dead.
The blueblood carried Jack to the line of wards and nodded at Georgie. “Move the rocks.”
Georgie hesitated only for a minute.
FRIDAY, Rose murmured to herself, striding up the road to the house. Tomorrow was Friday, payday. She’d get her three hundred bucks and put some gas into the damn truck. Kitty ears or not, she wouldn’t go without gas again.
All afternoon she had been plagued by anxiety. It started the moment she watched the kids board the bus and kept building and building, until it blossomed into a full-blown dread. The kids were well equipped to handle two hours at home by themselves. They knew how to shoot both the rifle and a crossbow, and they were safe behind the wards. But the worry spurred her on, and a mile from the house, she shouldered her tote and broke into a jog. She turned onto their narrow dirt path and ran past the bushes and into the yard.
Three dark stains dotted the grass, smoking, spreading foul magic into the air. The smell hit her like a punch to the gut: the thick rotten stench of greasy roast burned over a fire and left to rot. Rose gagged and sprinted up the steps to the house. She tore the door open, cleared the living room, and burst into the kitchen.
The boys sat at the table, watching the blueblood noble at the stove. He held a frying pan in one hand and a kitchen towel in the other.
Rose barely noticed as her tote slipped off her shoulder and fell to the floor, the gun making a dull clang.
The four of them stared at each other.
The blueblood flipped a pancake with a short toss of the pan.
