Crack the Spine, page 13
The leshy charged at Leif. He leaped back and was stuck between two pits on the other side. The leshy swung its antlers at him, trying to knock him into one of the pits as it inched closer. If it got close enough, its branchlike arms could easily topple Leif into the trap.
Leif fended off a swing of the leshy’s arm, chopping away at the bark.
Rushing forward, Kendall jumped onto the leshy’s back. She had to maneuver it back to the center of the cave. Its rough skin scraped and pinched her arms as it bucked against her and careened its head, trying to strike her with its antlers. But she held firm. Grabbing her machete with both hands, she brought the blade up under its chin.
A split second of stillness warned her. She dropped the machete and clasped her hands over the leshy’s mouth. The erupting blare made her hands quake and hurt her ears. It cut off. Knowing another could be coming, Kendall grasped the deer skull and pulled.
The leshy panicked. Spinning, it bucked wilder than before. The skull cracked as the bark around its edges broke away. The leshy dropped on all fours and rolled, knocking the wind out of her. She lay there under the feral fae. Its head twitched. It drew its arm back for a swipe.
Kendall braced herself.
But the leshy stumbled forward, nearly stepping on her. She rolled out of the way as the fae careened under Leif’s weight on its back. Leif’s fingers rammed into the skull’s eye sockets. He growled as he tried to pull it free. All the while, the leshy scratched at his arms. “Kendall!”
She picked up her machete and dashed forward. With all her strength she sank her blade into the leshy’s knee. It toppled forward and rolled.
When it rose to gore them, its true face showed. Long and narrow, its soft bark had been exposed. Leif teased the leshy by twiddling the skull. He dropped it on the ground and smashed it under his boot. The leshy drew in a deep breath.
Kendall swung the machete, cutting through its face. It stumbled back as its mouth hit the ground. Sap dripped from the wound. She swung again, nicking its head despite the fae’s attempt to block her with its arm.
Running past her, Leif picked up the other machete and flanked it. He aimed high for the antlers. She aimed low for the knee she had already clipped. It swung at her and turned back to fight Leif. Every other strike, they managed a chop to its face. Between the two of them, it didn’t take long to whittle it down enough for a final blow.
Kendall did the honors, chopping at its neck until its head came free. Chunks of antlers and bark littered the ground around its body. Still, it wasn’t enough to kill it. Nothing would until its connection to the girl had been severed.
Breathing heavily, they flanked the pit she was in and started the same approach. Each time they clipped through a root, the white light extinguished from it. Fortunately, the roots were so desperate to bring the leshy back to life, they clung to the girl and didn’t defend themselves.
“Jesus,” Kendall said. “We should have brought a saw.” She cleared enough on her side to drop down into the pit for better leverage.
Leif hacked around the edge of the dirt, splitting the roots well away from their victim. As they diligently worked, the light dimmed. With a final chop, they expunged the fae magic.
A howl louder than a foghorn erupted from the leshy’s severed mouth. Kendall jumped even though she knew it was coming. Slowly, the noise tapered into a rattle, then silence.
Balancing on the roots next to the girl, they tore and snapped the coils, working their way outward now.
“Five other pits,” Leif said. “They are all dark.”
“I noticed. After we get her out, I’ll check them.”
Groaning in her effort, Kendall snapped the thickest root encircling the girl’s throat and around her jaw. Satisfied she could hack at the others safely enough to avoid harming her, Kendall set to work on freeing the girl’s limbs while Leif dealt with the braided knots over her chest.
In the other five pits, only corpses lay in the tangles, two occupied one.
It took both of them to haul the girl free and to carry her to the mouth of the cave. They set her down for a short reprieve and to get a better grip.
Panting, Kendall asked, “How pissed would Jian be if we drove Bandit down here?”
Leif chortled before he lost his smile. “Put her on my shoulders.”
“You sure?”
He nodded but answered, “Nei. Come.” He squatted over the girl and lifted. They held her up on her feet. He raised her arm. “One. Two. Three.” Leif crouched and pulled her onto him. He stumbled back a few steps but stabilized himself.
Kendall stayed close behind him as they traversed the slick hill up to the woods. By the time they reached the old graveyard, Leif’s face and neck had paled from raspberry to coral with some deeper red in his cheeks.
“Look who finally showed up,” Kendall said.
The sheriff’s white Bronco had been parked directly behind Bandit, which he boldly inspected. Other than a tan Stetson and cowboy boots, the man wore denim. But Kendall kept her eyes on the holster next to the badge on his belt when she yelled, “Can we help you?”
His hand never went for his weapon. “Is that Claire? Stay there!” He backed up his Bronco and drove it down the slope. When he got out, he tossed his Stetson onto the hood of his vehicle and rushed to open the back passenger door before helping Leif ease his load. Kendall stood dumbstruck, captivated by how closely he resembled Ben’s celebrity crush. His brown eyes never really met Kendall’s, too busy ensuring Claire’s comfort and safety in the back.
“Wow,” Kendall said quietly to Leif. “Now I understand why Rita stays here. He looks just like—”
“Sheriff Calhoun,” he yelled from inside the Bronco. The sheriff climbed out backwards. “Sorry for the rude introduction. I hope you’ll understand if I make it quick.” He closed the door and grabbed his hat. “We have a mutual friend. The kind who’s gonna wanna chitchat about the minutiae of what happened out here for hours on end. Why don’t y’all do me a favor and get that process underway? I’ll do you one in return and leave you out of my report.”
“Sure,” replied Kendall, “once we salt and burn something first. Do you want us to leave the other bodies where they are, or . . .”
He straightened and stared toward the distant woods as he considered her unspoken offer. He gave her an appreciative nod. “I reckon I owe you more than one, then. Kindly do what needs doing with that beast. I’ll deal with the bodies once I figure out how to do that exactly. Don’t want forensics to lead back to you two.”
“Neither do we,” replied Kendall.
He tipped his hat and got in the Bronco. It furrowed a path to the road, then sped off.
As Leif retrieved the burn kit from the trunk, he said, “He is worthy of eggplants.”
“Keep it in your pants, big guy. Can’t have you distracted and setting the forest on fire.”
He blushed brighter than he had carrying Claire. “I am not Diego.”
“Fair enough.”
Sans a surgeon and any real knowledge for harvesting leshy bark, they dropped the fae beast into Claire’s old pit piece by piece and cremated the entirety of its remains, roots and all. For a while, they enjoyed the floral scent before setting out. It didn’t feel right leaving the other six victims behind. So, silly as it was, Kendall went around to tell each the sheriff would be back for them.
When they reached the fortune-teller’s abode, Rita was waiting in all her Endora splendor. She threw open the screen door, hurried down the steps, and stood in the driveway before Leif killed the engine. She peppered them as soon as they got out. “It’s a cool day. Was he wearing a jacket? The denim one?” Her fingers drew a lapel’s outline over her chest.
“Ja, Sherpa,” Leif answered, mimicking the motion.
Rita swooned and swatted Leif’s chest. “Ah, that man. He knows the fire he stokes! What about his Stetson, gray or tan?”
“Tan.”
“Interesting. I would have guessed gray. It’s a Tuesday, isn’t it? Maybe he didn’t have court. Did he say anything about me? Tell me everything. Did you get a picture?”
Kendall passed over the phone. “No photoshoot, sadly. I think he was in a hurry to get Claire to the hospital. She did survive. We’re fine too. Thank you for asking.”
“Oh, don’t look at me like I don’t care. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have saved her in the first place, so you just remember that and be charitable to this old fool. Give me something worthwhile.”
“All he said to us was a friend sent him.”
With a scowl, Rita repeated, “A friend?” Slowly a grinned crossed her lips. She clapped. “I’m wearing him down! Let’s have margaritas to celebrate!”
In the kitchen, Jian had nearly as many questions for Leif about Bandit.
Frankie had set her computers up to run and, from the sounds of it, reluctantly had left Diego to oversee their performance while she bathed and slept. Small favors.
A veritable deli had been set up on the counter for lunch. Opting to indulge herself, Kendall decided on a pimento cheese sandwich. She deserved it. She had saved a life today. “You know,” she said to Rita when the blender stopped, “Sheriff Calhoun’s resemblance is uncanny, if that’s the right word.”
“Resemblance to whom?”
Chapter 15: Eight of Wands
The clouds cleared away in the afternoon while Kendall napped. When she came downstairs, Frankie was working away at her computer in the kitchen. Kendall decided it was best to let her work in peace and went to the living room in her search for the others.
Dressed as Rita, their hostess came in from the front porch with empty wineglasses in her hands. Diego came in behind her. Rita beamed. “There’s our sleeping beauty! You missed Sheriff Calhoun’s visit. That girl you saved, she’s going to be fine. A few days in the hospital, and she’ll be right as a greasy breakfast after a thirsty Saturday.” She looked at her glass. “Speaking of . . .”
As she passed Kendall, she said, “I’m going to do a few more readings. Diego, dear, do you want to try? Your Auntie Rita can teach you.”
“Does Ryan Reynolds love Canada?” He chased after her through the beads for his refill.
“Marvelous!” Rita yelled from the kitchen. “Kendall, take a seat at the table. We’ll start with you.”
“Oh, I don’t need a reading. Thank you!”
Tapping her nails on her significantly full glass, Rita rattled her way through the beads and dropped her chin. “Nonsense, and you know how I feel about nonsense.” She smiled and took her seat at the fringe-lined table where she made her money. “Don’t dawdle! You’re doing it for Diego’s education. Education is so important these days. Between vaccines and racism—ugh, and don’t get me started on white privilege, or I’ll never stop!”
“You mean white privilege like flirting with a sheriff via text message?”
Rita’s face drooped in an unreadable yet clearly bothered manner. If Kendall had had to guess, she’d have said the expression was trapped somewhere between rebuttal and reprimand. Regardless, it vanished in an instant. “Oh! Where is that damn phone?”
With a grin, Kendall sank into the lush purple velvet chair. “Never mind that. Tell me my future, Miss Fortune.”
“Good girl.” Rita gulped from her glass and set it down. Wrapped in black silk, her deck of tarot cards received eight French tips. Rita’s long fingers stood there, displaying their hefty amethyst rings as Rita cleared her mind. Then she unwrapped the deck and considered Diego, who was dragging a chair over. “Your hands aren’t sweaty, are they? I have some gloves if you need them. Nothing personal, my darling. My cards are my livelihood, you understand.” She sharply eyed his opened hands. “Maybe you just watch this one. See how your auntie does it first. Let’s see, you’re a Pisces. I’ll get you a deck for Christmas. It’s sooner.”
Upon receiving the deck to cut, Kendall closed her eyes and tried to focus on a question of consequence. Tara’s location. How to avoid the Lyceum. Anything other than Lacey. She split the deck three times evenly, shuffled the cards, and passed them back to Rita.
Rita laid out the top ten cards. “You see, I prefer the Celtic Cross spread,” she explained to Diego. “It’s easy for the querent to follow. We start with the present.” She flipped the Judgement card in the center of the cross. “A reckoning, an awakening. All right. That’s not bad. Your challenge . . .” She laid the Lovers card askew across it. “Love.” Her bottom lip hung open. She tutted. “It’s bad. You see how it’s inverted. That means its bad. I see this too many times. Too many times, I tell ya.” She studied Kendall’s face. “But this you already know.”
Diego wisely stayed out of it.
“She’s just a friend.”
“Honey, how many times are you going to repeat that to yourself before you realize it’s true?”
“I’m there. Or I’m getting close.”
Pursed lips held back her auntie’s advice. “Your past . . .” She turned over the next card. The Wheel of Fortune. “There is something very special about you,” Rita said, shaking her head.
“You don’t have to flatter me. I’m not paying.”
“Cute. Every time, the Wheel of Fortune. Past is past, sure. But always? You got beef with Vanna White?”
“Is that bad?” Diego asked.
“Up to Kendall. My advice, figure out what’s got you stuck and deal with it. Could be a worse card. Still, the possibility that it alludes to an inevitable fate doesn’t sit well. And the way it keeps repeating. I could lay some offerings to Asteria if you like.” She noticed Kendall’s lack of concern. “But moving on to the new cards . . . The future . . .”
Sniffling interrupted the reading. Deflated, Frankie wandered through and out to the front porch. At the railing, she dropped her face in her hands. Her jerking shoulders gave away her crying.
Well, shit. Kendall considered whether Jian was right. Maybe she shouldn’t have gotten Frankie’s hopes up after all. They got up and went to her. Kendall put her hand on Frankie’s shoulder.
“That good, huh?” Rita asked, easing the screen door closed.
“I keep failing her.” Frankie put her back to the railing and slid down to sit on the porch. Wrapped in her arms, she verged on sobbing as her tears kept running. “To run the program outside their database, I need a key synced with a biometric scan from an authorized user. I’m not good enough to bypass both, no matter what I throw at it.”
Unwilling to let Frankie give up hope, Kendall considered their options. Everything that came to mind was more dangerous. Her teeth didn’t want to part for her to speak her suggestion.
At the far edge of the yard next to the house, Leif and Jian engaged in a macho woodchopping competition. That was Kendall’s guess from the posturing anyway. It made little sense to her. Besides, they’d be back for Thanksgiving before it got too cold. “Guys!” She waved them over.
Running up the porch stairs, Jian asked, “Did you do it? You have the guy?”
“No,” Frankie croaked. Her hands covered her face again. “Every second she’s slipping farther away.”
Kendall sat cross-legged next to her and draped her arm over Frankie’s shoulders. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I’ve been thinking. Arcadia is only a couple hours away.” The outlandish nature of the suggestion became more evident to her when even Jian remained silent. Everyone had raised eyebrows, Frankie’s out of curiosity. Not even Rita dared to speak. “We know someone else who could help.”
“Um,” Diego started. “I mean, I’ve never dealt with him, so maybe I’m wrong; but the Chronicler barters, right? What would we trade him?”
Kendall gave Rita a hopeful look.
But she shook her head. “I live alone, so I don’t harbor any temptations for thieves of the mystical or mundane. I’m sorry, my dears. I can’t help you this time.”
Then Jian spoke up. “Oh. Easy. We give him Diego.” Beyond Diego flipping him the bird, no one acknowledged the jest.
Finally, Kendall let her determination speak for her. “We’ll figure it out. Frankie’s right. The clock is ticking, so we should hit the road.” Again, she looked to Rita for an answer. “Why hasn’t Marcélite reached out yet? I get she doesn’t want to blaze any tech trails to us, but she could have projected to us, if simply to check in and let us know what’s happening.”
Rita’s lips smacked before she shook her head. “Magic isn’t anonymous either. It can be traced, if you’ve got the right tools, the right connections . . . anything is possible. There’s a good chance the Lyceum knows exactly how to do that.”
“I say we try it,” Diego said, raising his hand. “It is a way forward.”
“Dude,” Jian said, nudging him. “You haven’t even been there. It’s creepy AF, and Marcélite isn’t here to watch our backs.”
“Gatling . . .?” Leif asked. “Machine guns, ja? I recall machine guns.”
Jian backhanded Leif’s arm and gave Diego a silent I-told-you-so glare. “Oh, yeah, the turrets. We should mention the turrets in the hallways. Those are fun to round a corner on.”
Diego lowered his arm, which removed what little hope Frankie had mustered in her expression. He said, “Maybe this warrants more thought.”
“I don’t see another way forward,” replied Kendall. “What do you think, Rita?”
“Well . . .” Rita still held the next card from Kendall’s reading in her hand. She revealed it to them. In the illustration, eight Wands of assorted elements were racked on a wall. “Oh, honey. No. You have to. Whoever these hidden enemies are, you need to find out now. Right away.” She put the card to her heart. “I’ll make your dinners to-go.”
They packed in a hurry, though no one necessarily wanted to stand before the Chronicler. Kendall’s last run-in with the Chronicler had gone well enough, with Marcélite running the show. The idea of seeing him in person again . . . She shivered.
With their things loaded into Bandit’s trunk, they said their farewells to Rita.
