Last Call at the Doghouse, page 8
Until a large bird slammed into the windshield.
Duncan swerved a little, but soon gained control. “What the hell?” he muttered, then he laughed. “You never know what you’ll run into on these country roads.”
Armi’s heart had started pounding on impact, but the bird had gotten the worst of it and had been left behind on the side of the road. One feather was stuck in the passenger side mirror, flapping in the breeze until it finally came loose and drifted away. She sighed and gave a little laugh herself, but it didn’t last.
Another bird dove straight at the windshield. Then two. A large bird, maybe a hawk or a buzzard, struck the top of the pickup hard enough to make a dent.
“Stop!” she shouted. “Pull over!”
Duncan shook his head. “That’s not a good idea.”
“I thought you had to take orders from me!”
“My first priority is your safety; that outweighs everything else.”
“We should be safe enough in the truck until whatever this is passes.”
He looked at her. “And if it doesn’t pass?”
The number of birds in their path grew until they blocked out the sun. The winged creatures came from everywhere, from nowhere. All she could see was beaks and feathers, claws and beady eyes. The swarm became one being somehow, working in concert, undulating, squawking, coming for her. The windshield cracked once. Then again. If it gave and those creatures flew into the cab…
She thought about an old movie she’d seen not too long ago. Birds. Lots and lots of birds. It was supposed to be scary, but she’d just found it ridiculous. Right now, not so much.
There was nothing natural or normal about this.
Suddenly she wondered if Duncan had been wrong about Carlton being killed by a werewolf. What could a swarm of birds like this do to a man? Those beaks, the claws. She’d once watched a hawk beat a squirrel to death in her Knoxville back yard then dig in. Afterward she’d gone into the back yard, determined to clean up whatever mess the hawk had left behind. There had been nothing. All evidence that the squirrel had ever existed was gone. A hundred hawks, a defenseless Carlton…
Duncan floored it and laid on the horn. If there was another vehicle ahead, they had no way of seeing it. Crows, robins, hawks, buzzards, and a collection of perfectly ordinary birds worked together to… to do what? Destroy the car? Destroy them?
Get the book? Armi clutched the book more tightly than before. A particularly large crow seemed to lock eyes with her and scream. It happened so fast she dismissed the feeling that the crow was deliberately looking at her to imagination.
Nowhere in her imagination could she have come up with any of this.
A particularly large bird—this time she was certain it was a buzzard—slammed against the top of the truck, denting it again. Once, twice, three times. The windshield cracked again, splintering. Duncan’s hands tightened on the wheel. A bead of sweat ran down his face. He leaned forward, concentrating on moving forward and staying in control.
Armi felt whatever control she possessed slipping away. Her heart raced. Her hands trembled. She wanted to scream, at the birds, at Duncan, at the damn book. A good scream would surely release some of the tension in her body, but she pushed the urge down.
At once, the birds all seemed to scream for her. Had they read her mind or were they releasing their own anger and frustration?
And then they were gone, the flock of birds breaking up and out until the road ahead was clear once again. There was one final assault by a blue jay. It was too small to do much damage, but hit the windshield with attitude and flew away unsteadily, leaving one blue feather stuck in the passenger side windshield wiper.
The road ahead remained clear. The sun shone into the truck cab once more. Armi’s heart pounded so hard, she figured Duncan could hear it.
“What the hell was that?” she shouted when she was capable of speaking again.
Duncan was silent for a long moment, as he studied the road ahead and then the skies above. “It started with Carlton,” he said. “It’s not going to stop.”
His words froze her for a moment. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Not stop? It had to stop, somehow. Those were the most alarming words she’d heard in… well, in her entire life.
“Do you think those birds killed him?” She pictured it too clearly, the poor man in the open as the birds swarmed him, tearing him apart with beaks and talons.
“Maybe,” Duncan replied.
Armi made up her mind then and there with the mental picture of Carlton all too clear. “I can sell the bar and move. Back to Knoxville, maybe somewhere else.”
Duncan shook his head. “There’s nowhere you can go that this evil won’t follow.”
A tingle walked down her spine. Evil. The book she clutched felt warm to the touch. Not warmth from the sun that once again poured into the truck cabin, it was more than that. She hadn’t read more than a few words back in the Mystic Springs library, but this book, this inanimate object, spoke to her.
She’d been trying to deny what Duncan had told her, but how could she dismiss it now? Armi grabbed her phone from her purse and called Stella. In a voice she worked very hard to keep calm and even, she imparted instructions. Stella and Mary would be in charge of The Doghouse for a few days. Her bartender and friend pushed for more information. Why? What happened? Is everything okay? Armi just said it was “personal business.”
And boy, was it.
Stella was surprised by the request, but they both knew she could run the place in Armi’s absence, especially with Mary’s help. She didn’t assault Armi with more questions, as she might’ve, but she must’ve sensed that all was not well. Stella ended the call with a solemn, “Be careful.”
When the call was over, Armi turned her attention to Duncan. “We’ll swing by my place so I can pack a bag,” she said. “With luck, we can be out of there before Mary and Stella show up to open the bar.” She wasn’t ready to attempt explanations, though explanations would have to come eventually.
“And then?” Duncan prodded when Armi fell into silence.
“Back to your cabin.” She placed the crimson book with the gold shield in her lap. Instead of clutching it, as she’d been doing, she caressed it with gentle fingers. “We have a lot to learn.”
Luck had been with them. Armi had run up to her room, packed a bag, and headed out before Mary or Stella showed up for work. In a way she felt guilty for dumping the bar on them at such short notice, but Mondays usually weren’t busy. To be honest, the two of them could probably manage even a busy weekend if it came to that. They each had their strengths.
She’d tried to convince Duncan to leave his truck and drive her little car, but he was adamant in his opposition to that idea. Her sedan was too small, he said. When she mentioned his broken windshield, he insisted he could get it replaced quickly. She figured it was a man thing. He liked his big truck. His vehicle was manly; her little car was not.
Back at his cabin Duncan had shown her to her room, a sparsely furnished bedroom with its own attached bathroom. Neither had been decorated—there were no knickknacks or pictures—but both were clean. The bedspread and most of the towels were navy. There were no plants, no decorative pillows or fancy soaps.
Simple as they were, these rooms were much nicer than her apartment above the bar. She wouldn’t tell him so. Why bother? He knew. After she dropped her bag in the room and he made a few phone calls about his shattered windshield, they gathered in the main room to study the book more closely.
She’d fought for this book; she’d insisted on bringing it with her. But as she sat on the couch with Duncan at her side, she was afraid to lift the crimson cover and start turning the seemingly ancient pages. Magic existed; there was no debate about that. Until very recently she would’ve also argued that magic was not a part of her, or a part of her world.
Shield.
Crapola.
Duncan either sensed or saw her trepidation and reached over to take the book from her. He had no qualms about opening it. “Let’s get this over with.”
“So, you’re a rip-the-Band-Aid-off-quickly kind of guy.”
“While you agonize over how much it might hurt so you let the bandage stay in place until it’s dirty and wrinkled and falling off on its own,” he countered.
Not entirely true. Adhesive bandages were meant to be removed slowly, one potentially painful fraction of an inch at a time.
“After the fall of the protections…” he began.
“Stop!” Armi reached out and snapped the book cover closed over Duncan’s big hand. “Have you never seen a horror movie? You don’t read aloud from an old book, especially when you know it’s about woo-woo stuff.”
He smiled.
“You can’t tell me I’m wrong.”
He didn’t agree with her, she could see that much, but he did begin to read silently. Maybe he was humoring her. Maybe he’d taken her point to heart. Either way, she was able to relax. She leaned closer so she could read—silently—too. The new position put her in Duncan’s space, so close she could feel the body heat rolling off of him, but there was nothing to be done about it. She wasn’t waiting for him to finish before she had a look.
It was distracting to be so close to him, especially on the heels of the bird excitement. If she was younger, more foolish, more naive, she might figure a quick roll in the hay would ease the tensions. Maybe it would, but she wasn’t young, naive, or foolish. Still, it had to be an option.
That damn dream had her body in an uproar. If only it would fade, as other dreams always did. Well, almost always…
It might be simpler than she imagined. He was hot; she’d been without a man for a long while now. Sure, the dream hadn’t helped matters any, but even without it she might be tempted. She could not give into this temptation, so she returned her full attention to the book.
The first chapter was pretty basic. There was a bit of basic Mystic Springs history, followed by what had turned out to be an accurate prophecy. Magic escapes into the world like a wave, touching some, leaving others ignorant for a time. With the wave comes an awakening of dark magic, and in the ways of universal balance, warriors are also awakened to combat the darkness, to protect the innocent.
If Armi knew anything, it was that she was not a warrior. Shields, the book called these fighters. At least, she tried to tell herself that. She was an ordinary middle aged, divorced woman. Right?
With eyes that apparently occasionally turned to fire and an ability to grab flying darts out of the air. So far she hadn’t found any advantages to those oddities.
“I’m not the only one,” she said. The first chapter spoke of shields, plural. It spoke of an army. There was no army of one; it would be a collective. Maybe she could ignore…
“No,” Duncan said, “but you might be the first to awaken. If that’s the case, others will be drawn to you the same way you were drawn to this place.”
“How the hell am I supposed to know when someone shows up at my door if they’re a shield or a monster in hiding? I used to think my instincts were good, but lately I’m not so sure.” Andrew came to mind…
They reached a couple of pages that were stuck together. In the library they’d seemed to be held fast, but as she reached out and touched one of the pages, whatever was holding them together gave and the paper that had seemed so fragile earlier in the day seemed supple; new, even. The pages parted easily.
The words that were revealed were nonsense. Gibberish. They couldn’t even be called words! The letters were from some language she didn’t recognize, looking more like tiny drawings than any written words she’d ever seen. A quick thumbing through the book resulted in more of the same.
Was this the language Aunt Helen and her friends had uttered in order to reveal the secret library? There was only one way to find out, and she did not want to go back to Mystic Springs. Did what she wanted matter anymore?
Armi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was tired. She was seeing things.
None of this could be real. They’d gone to so much trouble to get this book, and other than a bit of prophecy—which they already knew from Duncan’s dad—nothing was decipherable.
Duncan took the book from her hands, gently, almost reluctantly. “I’m guessing you don’t have any experience in code breaking,” he said as he set the book on the end table.
“Is that what this is? A code?”
“As far as I can tell. What else could it be?”
A foreign language. An unknown language. Words hidden by a spell. Light magic. Dark magic… “Who knows?”
He put his arm around her in a protective and familiar way. She might’ve tossed that arm off and moved away, but she was too tired. Besides, having him close felt good. She liked it. She needed to know she wasn’t alone in this. After a long moment of wallowing in the comfort of that touch she was tempted to pull him closer, but she didn’t give in to that temptation, either.
“We need help,” he rumbled in a deep voice that held more than a touch of frustration, maybe even anger.
“Who you gonna call…” she began lightly, giving in to a slightly hysterical laugh.
Duncan gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze. “You’re not going to like it.”
“What else is new?”
“We need to go back to Mystic Springs.”
Didn’t that just figure…
CHAPTER 7
Armi had spent more than half her life trying to escape from Mystic Springs. Her infrequent visits, after her hasty exit at the age of eighteen, had been short and reluctant. Andrew had never visited and neither had her boys. Her grandmother had passed before their marriage, and after that Armi had done her best to forget that she’d had a life before leaving this small town.
They hadn’t been married long when Andrew had suggested making a trip to Mystic Springs to see where she’d grown up and meet her few remaining relatives. She’d told him he wouldn’t like it, that her home town wasn’t his speed, and then she’d changed the subject.
The truth was, she hadn’t wanted Andrew to see her here, to see who she became. An outsider. The one who didn’t fit in. The powerless one. She felt so awkward in her weird, mystical hometown; so out of place. There had been times during those early and rare visits home when she’d felt as if she were suddenly fourteen again, inept, out of step, an outcast.
She’d left it all behind to build yet another life where she was all too often playing a role, out of step with those around her, an outcast…
Things were different now, but there had been a time when she’d cared very much what Andrew thought of her.
Well, she sure as hell fit in now, if what Duncan had been telling her was real, and she no longer cared what her ex thought of her.
She wished that was entirely true.
While waiting for Duncan to pack his bag, Armi was happy to sit alone on the porch that faced the lake, enjoying the view, actually relaxing for a few minutes. It was peaceful here. She had a feeling she should grab whatever moments of peace she could.
They’d had to wait a while for the auto repair guy, a friend of Duncan’s who’d gladly made his request a rush job, to drive his van to the cabin and replace the windshield. The dents here and there would have to wait; that wasn’t going to be a quick job. Duncan paced while he waited, anxious to get going, eager to get back to Mystic Springs.
Armi would take this lakeside cabin over Mystic Springs any day, but it didn’t look like she had much of a choice.
It normally wasn’t much more than an hour’s drive, but on this night Duncan made it in just over forty-five minutes. Armi wished he’d slow down. She wasn’t eager—hell, she wasn’t even ready—to go home again.
It was well after dark when they arrived at the B&B. Walking toward the house like a woman condemned, Armi refused Duncan’s offer of help and carried her own duffle bag. He grumbled, maybe even growled a little, but he let her have her way. She also wore a large crossover bag over her shoulder that was big enough for her wallet, a lip balm, her cell phone, and the shield-embossed red book. For the duration, the book would stay with her, on her, in her hands or hanging from her shoulder. Maybe she couldn’t read it yet, but she knew she couldn’t let this book out of her sight until it was returned to its proper place in the library. Helen would never forgive her if she didn’t. Well, she’d forgive, but she would not forget.
Duncan wasn’t thrilled about reconnecting with his cousin, but there weren’t a lot of options for overnight stays in the small town. They could’ve found a couple of hotel rooms up the road in Eufaula, but he seemed determined to be within the boundaries of Mystic Springs.
Armi wanted to argue with him, but she didn’t have the heart for it. Not tonight.
At least they hadn’t been attacked by birds or something worse on their way back to town, though she’d sure as hell been on alert for surprises on the road. That was part of her job now, she supposed. Being alert.
Molly was cute, bubbly, and a little scatterbrained. As far as Armi could tell, she and Duncan had nothing at all in common; nothing but the same last name. They were related by blood, she knew that much, but they were, as he’d said, distant cousins. Even if they’d been first cousins, they might not have been close. There was a significant age gap, a huge difference in their personalities, and though they might’ve been in the same room at the same time briefly, they didn’t know one another. Duncan’s dad had run away from Mystic Springs the same way Armi had. That didn’t make for close family connections.
Many Springers had been running away from this place for a very long time. Sad that there was now no place for them to hide.
