Chapter 31 Fight in the Dark
Fight in the Dark
It warmed a few fractions and snow stopped briefly mid-morning, but the sky remained an even, depthless grey. Liv hitched the backpack strap higher on her shoulder and tried not to look like a kidnapped woman chased by murderous hell-squids and vegetable spiders.
Maybe it even worked, because a forest-green SUV pulled up to a crumbling curb in the Overlook Motel’s parking lot and Jake opened the front passenger door for her without missing a beat, as if he squired women into large cars every day. “Your chariot awaits, Livvie.”
God, I hate that. She clambered inside while Jake kept a hand hovering as if she were a child who might bump their tender head.
The door slammed, the engine roused, and the SUV pulled smoothly away.
The side mirror was empty, and when she craned to see out the heavily tinted windows, there was no sign of the blond man—just a parking lot, the tense, dispirited bulk of the motel, and sleeping snow-tinged cars placed neatly in painted spaces.
Erik had a fresh navy-blue T-shirt, but his jacket was just as battered as Jake’s and traces of moisture still clung to his dark hair. Long nose, thin mouth—his profile was severe as a Roman statue’s, and Liv’s throat was dry.
“So this is what you disappeared to do.” She searched for something else to say. “Is it stolen?”
Erik checked the rearview, a quick flicker of dark eyes. “Technically, maybe. We could carry you, but that’s not very comfortable.” No faint trace of a smile; he was all business. The shy man who had given her the necklace was nowhere in sight.
Was it a relief? She couldn’t tell.
“Do I want to know the technicalities?” Or how fast you can really move?
“Not really?” Now he glanced at her, obviously gauging her desire for details, before pulling out of the lot and into rumbling traffic. “Don’t worry, Father’s tough. He’ll probably meet us there.”
I wasn’t exactly worried. Ignatius was the least of her concerns right now—after all, he had a gun.
But it sounded like Erik was anxious, or just needed a subject change. “I’m sure he will.” When had it become her job to comfort him? Jeez. “Are we going to get pulled over if the cops run this license plate?”
“Spoken like a true paralegal.” No smile broke his expression; still, a ghost of amusement lingered in his tone. “But no, we won’t.”
Of course they knew she’d been working for a law office, but she was still irritated. “Why not?”
“Sorcery’s useful.” A flat, declarative statement. Erik touched the brake, nudged the SUV for a clear spot in the left lane, and his dark eyes narrowed. “They won’t even notice us.”
“What if they do?” And to think she’d been so focused on escape just a short while ago. Going to the cops looked like a childish fantasy at the moment.
What officer, no matter how determined, could deal with gigantic hell-squid? There wasn’t any precedent in all the law books of the world for that one.
“Then I’ll handle it.” Erik said handle it like it meant kill them, and maybe it did. “All you have to do is stay near me or Jake, Liv. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t try to bolt, though.”
“I thought about it.” Which was a lie. The only thing she’d been thinking about was screaming and possibly escaping the horrible, hellishly real monsters, with a heavy side helping of being glad someone else was fighting them off. “Except it doesn’t seem too good an idea now, does it.”
“Guess not.” The SUV rolled to a soft stop at a red light, spatters of tire-thrown slush dewing the windshield. The upholstery didn’t smell new; there was only that strange, almost musky fragrance of the shimmering energy Jake had used to clean them both of monster blood.
Magic. Sorcery. Nightmare creatures. All things considered, she was doing pretty well with all this, right?
Her hands shook, nearly imperceptible tremors.
Her body was a tired, hunted animal, and she hadn’t washed her hair at the motel.
Consequently, she felt greasy and unkempt.
She longed for a plain latte, for a giant cranberry walnut muffin, and for a good long bitch session with Mika.
While she was at it, she could wish for Gramma Poe to be alive again, for her father’s fatal car accident and her mother’s murder to be just a pair of bad dreams, and to top everything off she could ask for a pony, too.
One she didn’t have to clean up after.
“So you might have noticed the, uh, the oneiros does a few things.” His hands were precisely placed on the wheel, the ten and two o’clock position she remembered from ancient driver’s ed. “It’s kind of like a tool for lirai, and one of the things—”
Oh, God. Panic swelled under Liv’s breastbone. “Is this more magic?” If it was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it. Not right now.
“Kind of. Well, it’s sorcery. If you want to get technical.”
Oh, my God, if you start giving me a lecture on proper terminology I really might scream. “Can we get some coffee first?”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Now he was stealing small glances at her, as if gauging whether she was going to reach for the door and try to dump herself into traffic. “Sorry, lirai. I didn’t think about it.”
“We’re on kind of a tight schedule, right?” Now she felt even more ridiculous. If she was putting this in a day planner, how would she name it? Get up early for monster invasion. Remember breakfast. It’s leg day—run away from monsters! “I mean, if we don’t have time, I understand.”
“I think we can swing getting some java.” His shoulders relaxed—maybe he’d expected her to start screaming or being difficult again.
“Okay.” It was going to take a while before she was up to presenting any difficulty at all, Liv realized.
All she felt was cold and shaky, with a giant blister of pure grade-A terror simmering underneath.
How many people in the cars around them, heading to work or school or errands or whatever, knew about the nightmare things creeping through the dark?
How many of them even suspected such creatures were possible?
Had anyone found the exploded SUV? Were emergency crews scratching their heads, wondering who’d been driving the car?
“Why doesn’t anyone know about this?” The words shook; her tough-girl facade was cracking bigtime.
“Mostly because they don’t want to.” Erik’s calm was maddening; she wished it were infectious instead. His dark stubble was ferocious; sorcery must not be good for shaving. “He has his servants, of course, but they keep a low profile.”
“Why? You’d think…” Her stomach was a ball of hot acid, but she wasn’t hungry.
Liv was thinking she’d never eat again.
“Well, if everyone knew, it wouldn’t just be us guarding the lirai.
Everyone else would too.” Erik glanced left, visibly considering a small, independent coffee drive-thru.
He’d have to turn a few times to get to it, though, and she almost felt him discard the idea.
“He wouldn’t be able to get through the cracks as well. ”
“And you guys don’t publicize it because—”
“Because if we did, without unveiling an easy enemy for humanity to band together against, they’d turn on the lirai the same way they do on anything different or strange.
” The light changed, Erik pressed the accelerator, and Liv’s stomach turned over hard.
“It’s equilibrium—neither of us wants the war to mushroom, but for different reasons. So we fight in the dark.”
“Oh.” She touched the gem’s hard, opalescent dome.
It was still vivid, glowing in the weak grey sunlight, colors following her fingertip.
The clouds were thickening, and even inside the car she could smell the iron tang of more snow.
The news would work itself up into a lather about a winter storm warning, and everyone who’d lived in this part of the world more than a few months would roll their eyes. “So what does this thing actually do?”
“Acts like a focus for a Dreamer’s power, mostly.
Some things can’t fool you with illusion when you’re wearing it; others have to assume their true form when its light hits them.
” His blunt, callused fingers twitched, one after the other, counting off the possible uses.
“And it… well, it’ll call me, if you need me. Or want me.”
Liv crossed her ankles. She didn’t even have a purse to put in the footwell—there was just the backpack she had never seen before last night, full of clothes that fit her and tiny trial-sized toiletries she might have liked using if not for the situation.
“I could just text you.” Except you took my phone.
He opened his mouth, shot her a glance, and realized she was joking.
“I guess. But an oneiros does lots of other useful things.” A disbelieving smile crossed Erik’s weary face for half a second before swiftly submerging.
He hit the blinker, pulling into the right lane—there was a Pilgrim’s Coffee dead ahead. “Doesn’t send pictures, though.”
“Technology wins again.” The trembling was getting worse, which was ridiculous. It was daylight, and those things were gone. She stared at the coffee shop’s sign, the funny buckled hat and secretive smile on the eponymous Puritan turning into a monstrous grimace. “Erik?”
“Yes?” At least he didn’t sound annoyed, or even distracted. He was, in short, just the same as he had been at the stone house, except significantly more unshaven.
At least he wasn’t covered in monster gunk. A casual observer might not even notice the rips in his jacket or the faint marks of bruising or scrapes healing in fast-forward. There was barely any evidence left of last night’s games.
She meant to ask where precisely they were going, what was going to happen when they got there, and maybe follow it up with are you sure you won’t let me go home? Instead, what came out was a wistful, completely ridiculous question. “Why am I shaking?”
“It’s normal.” The SUV took the bump up into the Pilgrim’s lot gracefully.
The coffee shops were everywhere, and at least they had good scones.
Erik shifted, reaching for a back pocket, and a knifehilt peeked out from between two rips in the leather jacket.
“Adrenaline crash. Fight-or-flight’s hard on the body; you’re tired. ”
“Oh.” It made sense. Her head was tender, and her stomach just wouldn’t stop rolling. No doubt he’d have an explanation for that too. “Okay.”
“We’ve got you, Liv. Me and Jake, we’re good at what we do. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll try not to.” But now she was thinking of Ignatius’s dry, quiet, precise tone.
You will never be left alone with only one of us, and all three of us will require examination once we reach our destination.
Except here she was, alone with Erik, and she didn’t even know their destination. Liv stared out the window, wishing the sun would pierce the clouds even for a moment, and Erik said no more beyond asking what kind of coffee she wanted, and if she was hungry.
Liv, far from trying to get the barista’s attention and signal her kidnapped status, simply asked for a plain latte and a cranberry scone, letting Erik handle the ordering.
He had a wallet, just like any other guy, and no shortage of cash.
Which was thought-provoking in its own way—just like the sense she had of being watched while she peered out the passenger window, wondering where Jake was.