Chapter 14
Fourteen
Bex
Booker decides to return to Gravers Junction with us.
We help him fortify his home, locking his two hound dogs inside to protect his belongings.
Booker insists they’ll be safe, and that they’re not completely cooped up.
They have a way to get inside the barn, and then from there there’s a small door that leads to a caged outdoor pen.
After saying goodbye to his furry companions, he tosses his saddle up on the roof of the stagecoach, ties his horse to the back, and sits with me inside the cabin. It’s nice to have company rather than sit here in silence for four hours.
A few hours into our trek home, I’ve learned more about the laws of this land.
Besides werewolf packs, there are also vampire clans, bug people, and a small group of demons that have taken residence in a mountain range on the far west side of Graveyard Territory.
Booker explains that mostly, each kind keeps to its own land, but occasionally there are the drifters that enjoy stirring up trouble.
I have so many questions. I don’t even know where to begin.
After my encounter with the Spirit of the Land, a newfound confidence was unlocked alongside the knowledge of how to call upon the dustslinger powers and physical strength.
I recall how easy it was to get out of the hot spring knowing Garrett was there, watching me.
That was something I wouldn’t have considered ever doing until the Spirit of the Land empowered me with this level of confidence.
I feel like a whole new woman, and I can’t wait to tell Nina all about it!
Booker continues to share his experiences and lessons about life in Graveyard Territory, and with each story, I’m both wary and thrilled to explore all of it. There’s so much to know, not just about the beings that live here, but about the rules of engagement.
He’s just finished telling me about an encounter with an entomonian. One of them had strayed too far from its home in the canyons down in the southwest region of the Graveyard Territory.
“So, have you ever visited these bug people?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “They’re not really the welcoming kind.
Skittish and all. Out of all the aberrants out here, they’re the ones you’ll encounter the least. They’re harmless, mostly annoying.
” He drags his hand over his dark beard.
“They have no sense of humor. Everything is strategic and with a purpose. They sleep, eat, mate, and go about their underground city lives. Honestly, I have no idea what they do. I do know they hate cold weather, so that’s why they keep to the south. ”
I would never force Nina to stay, not in a place with such dangers, but I think I might want to stay. I also don’t want to let go of my farm. There’s a lot my sister and I need to talk about.
“You know, I can’t recall the last time I saw Persephone in a dress,” Booker points out, nodding toward my dress.
The bottom hem is soiled up to my knees from being wet and dragging along the cave floor while I slipped it back on.
The top and sleeves are smeared here and there with red dirt from the fight with the werewolves.
I can’t even imagine what my hair must look like.
I’m looking forward to soaking in the copper tub.
“Where you from again?” Booker asks, tapping two fingers lightly on one knee.
“From Billingsworth County.”
“Oh, that’s right. I think you did mention that. Are you familiar with Seymour Heights?”
I was familiar with it. Levi sometimes picked up extra work there.
It was one of the larger towns in Billingsworth, not the closest one where Nina and I usually went for our weekly supplies.
On special occasions, though, we would travel there just to window-shop and admire the hustle and bustle.
The sidewalks were always crowded, and the streets alive with horse-drawn carriages and riders.
Levi once promised that one day he’d earn enough to spoil me with more than just a copper tub.
He took that promise, and that life, with him into the afterlife.
“I am familiar with it.”
“Have you crossed paths with a man named Ambrose Redding. He’s a banker—or works closely with the banks.”
The name tastes sour on my tongue. Lifting my chin high, trying to act as if the name doesn’t make me want to curse, I say, “I am also familiar with Mr. Redding. He arranged the loan for my husband to build our home and farm.”
Brows pinching, he tilts his head and asks, “You’re married?
” Then, looking over his shoulder, toward the front of the carriage, he laughs and shakes his head.
I know he’s wondering about the connection between me and Garrett.
He sighs, composing his amusement, and says, “I assumed you were unmarried.”
“Well, that would be an accurate assumption, because I was married. My husband was killed four years ago.”
Booker leans back in his seat. “My condolences. Seems fate knew you were due for a fresh adventure.”
I offer him a small smile, because yes, he’s right, but also a part of me longs to return to that simple life. “It does seem that way.”
“I think you’ll do just fine”—he points to my hands—“with dustslinging. Plus, the people of Gravers Junction are the best people you’ll ever meet. They know how to take care of each other—treat everyone in town like family.”
“What about those who don’t live in town?” Generally, I keep my inquisitive thoughts to myself, but this newfound confidence encourages me to speak more openly. “Like you.”
A half-smile curves at one corner of his mouth.
“There are those of us who share a mutual understanding with Maureen, like me. Sometimes, it’s the laws of the land that supersede the honors of friendship, and Maureen knows this.
Without rules, this place would fall into darkness.
No one would be safe from anyone.” He pauses, then adds, “The elders, the council, whatever they’re called in a given region, oversee their territory and keep their kind in check.
“I have no family or loyalty to anyone but me. I’m a drifter. Though, some sound advice—friend or foe, it’s good to keep company with all kinds of people out here. You’ll learn that well enough.”
I pocket that information for another day. And as of today, I consider Booker a friend more than a foe. There are so many secrets about this territory and its people. “Tell me more about the people of Gravers Junction. Why do they live out here with all this danger lurking about?”
He inhales a deep breath and slowly lets it out while glancing out the open window.
The flat plains haven’t changed since we departed his plot.
Nothing but open sky and tall grass. “I think that’s a question for Maureen.
I’m happy to talk about the monsters and the laws of the land, but the inner workings and the reasons behind Gravers Junction—well, that’s not my story to tell. ”
“Fair enough,” I say. “How about you tell me about vampires?”
He slides his tongue along his teeth, then sucks sharply before answering me.
“I’d avoid those bloodsuckers if I were you.
Even with your dustslinging powers, which I have to say that disappearing act you pulled last night on those wolves was impressive.
Persephone couldn’t do anything like that.
Even so, the red-fang monsters are the worst of the worst. I’d rather duke it out with a half-breed demon than face one of them slippery suckers. ”
“Geez, you make them sound like there’s no winning,” I say, folding my hands gently in my lap. “Persephone must’ve fought one or two in her time?”
“Oh, she did. And barely came out alive. Santana is the worst, and he knows it. Stay clear of that motherfucker and you’ll be just fine.
” He nods to the old leather satchel he gave me with Persephone’s journal inside.
“All her stories are in there. You’ll want to read and memorize every word she wrote. ”
I rest a hand atop the bag and think about how I should keep a journal with my stories, in case one day I’m gone and the next dustslinger needs references.
“You know I can’t quite place your age. You say you were married, yet you look awfully young.”
Another smile, appreciating his compliment. “I’m twenty-seven. Born on the autumn equinox.”
“I’ll have to remember your birthday come fall.”
“Oh, we rarely celebrate birthdays.” My attention drifts from him to out the window.
The sun is getting close to the straight line of the horizon.
I imagine Garret will make sure we’re back in Gravers Junction before dark.
But staring out at the sunset reminds me of my parents’ tradition of how we celebrated our birthdays.
“There is one tradition my family always did when I was a child whenever someone’s birthday rolled around. ”
“What’s that?” Booker asks.
“We’d go on a picnic. A day of laughing and talking, spending time with one another, leading up to lying under the stars.
” I miss those picnics. Distracted by the heartfelt memories, I rub my hand against the stagecoach door.
The wood is worn, showing age in spots where the dark stain has rubbed off.
Lifting my chin, I inhale a calming breath and say, “You know, I think I might revive our traditional birthday picnics.”
“Sounds good to me. Tell me when, and I’ll be there.
” He adjusts his posture, stretching his arms before picking up his hat and setting it on his head.
From beneath, his shaggy dark locks curl and stick out unevenly.
“I guess we’ll take it day by day for now, and see how you feel, being on a new adventure and all, come autumn. ”
“I guess we will,” I counter with a smile. “You’ll like my sister. She’s a year older than me and sees the good in everyone.”
“That’ll change quickly if you two decide to stick around. Trusting the wrong individual out here will get a person killed. And not just killed, but depending on who’s doing the killing, it could be a slow, torturous death.”
My mouth purses in tense realization. “I’ll make sure she understands that and keeps a better guard up.”
“I reckon that’s a good idea,” he agrees.
“Gravers Junction up ahead!” Murphy calls from the driver’s bench where he and Garrett sit.
“Oh, man. I hope Ruby has some of that frozen cream made. Man, that stuff is delicious.”
I laugh at how right he is. There’s a lot I’m starting to like about Gravers Junction. I stare up at the front of the stagecoach, where a certain someone sits up on the driver’s bench beside Murphy.