Widdershins (49 page)

Cassandra Washington

Cassie was tired of the hotel room
with its folk art paintings on the wall, the gingerbread moldings, the hooked rug on the floor, the quaint bedspreads, the decorative basin and pitcher on the dresser. It was all so
Country Living
, which was fine for those who liked it, she supposed, but too much of it put her teeth on edge. She didn’t care much for the view out the window either, all that forest running up into the Kickaha Mountains. Very picturesque, but she was a city girl. Too long away from the city’s urban sprawl and its familiar background noise of traffic and sirens, and she always started to get antsy.

But what really wore on her was having to listen to the remaining members of the Knotted Cord as they worked through the thorny issues of having to see the world through this new view that had been forced upon them by Lizzie and Jilly’s disappearance. It wasn’t that she disliked the three musicians—they seemed nice enough and were actually taking all of this rather well. And she certainly couldn’t blame them for their endless conversations circling around what had happened, what might happen, how could any of this be real? It would have been stranger if they
hadn’t
been so caught up with all these questions.

But it wore on her. It really did.

And she was worried about Joe—more worried than she’d care to admit. She should be with him, not cooling her heels babysitting these musicians. She knew that wasn’t the real reason for her staying behind. It just felt that way. It made complete sense to have her here in case Lizzie or Jilly returned, or if some fairy or cousin showed up making ransom demands, but she didn’t think either was going to happen.

It wasn’t that she believed their friends were dead—she shuddered to think of what Joe would do if that was the case. But she doubted they’d be coming back on their own. If they could have, they would have by now. Especially Jilly, because she’d know how much they’d all be worrying about her.

After awhile, the musicians finally fell silent. Siobhan sat by the window, staring through the pane, her eyes bright with unshed tears. The two men were on the other bed—Con leaning against the headboard, Andy sitting on the end, leaning on his elbows, his gaze on the floor.

Cassie considered pulling out her cards and taking another run at what they might tell her. She’d already done it once since Geordie and Joe had gone off with Walker, but the images on them hadn’t changed and there was no reason to think they would have by now. That was just how the cards worked. When you asked a certain question of them, they’d only give the one answer, it didn’t matter how many times you asked. She knew that. But that hadn’t stopped her from trying anyway.

“This
so
sucks,” Siobhan said out of the blue. “Did I say that out loud?” she added when everybody turned to look at where she was sitting by the window.

“Loud and clear,” Con told her.

Siobhan sighed. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

“Well, it does,” she said. “I feel so useless. And don’t anybody make any jokes about how’s this different from any other time.”

“I wasn’t going to say a word,” Andy said.

Con gave her a half smile. “Although you’re very good at the merch table.”

“Oh, shut up.” Siobhan turned to Cassie and asked, “Is there any news?”

Cassie blinked in surprise. “I’ve been here with you the whole time. How could I have any news that you don’t?”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe there was some magic way of talking in your head or something.”

“There is. But no one’s contacted me so far.”

“Crap.”

“I hate this waiting, too,” Cassie told her.

“How about those cards of yours?” Con asked. “Can’t you check with them again?”

Andy nodded. “So that we can at least know that everybody’s still okay.”

“The cards don’t work that way,” Cassie said without bothering to go into why.

“Figures. That’d be too easy.”

“I don’t know that it’s a matter of easy or hard. It’s more the innate capricious nature of any and everything that comes out of the dreamlands. The otherworld,” she added at their questioning looks. “The place has a hundred names. I often think of them as dreamlands because it’s where we go in our dreams.”

“We go to a real place?” Con asked.

Cassie nodded. “Except, usually,
we’re
the spirits there. And most of us don’t remember the trip, or at least not clearly.”

“I have some really weird dreams,” Siobhan said.

“There are some really weird parts to the dreamlands. Joe says that anything we can imagine exists there, and more. Lots more.”

“So,” Con said, “anything can happen there—just like it does in a dream? There’s no structure or—I don’t know—natural laws?”

“There are both, but they’re not readily apparent. Which is why it’s so dangerous for humans like us to go there.”

The three of them fell silent for a long moment, but Cassie could see where their thoughts were taking them. Andy was the one who started to voice the question.

“So then Joe,” he began.

Cassie nodded. “Isn’t like you or me.”

“Who isn’t?” a familiar voice asked from the middle of the room.

“Jesus!” Andy cried.

He fell back onto the bed and banged into Con’s legs as he tried to get away from the man who’d suddenly appeared in the room with them. Siobhan and Con just stared wide-eyed, but Cassie jumped up from where she was sitting and flung herself into Joe’s waiting arms.

“You aren’t,” she said into his shoulder and hugged him tightly. “You’ll
never
be like anybody else.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

She gave him a harder squeeze. “I’m glad you’re back. I was getting so worried.”

He pulled back, the trace of a smile touching the corner of his mouth.

“And bored,” he said.

“That, too.”

It was only then that she realized Joe was on his own.

“Where’s Jilly?” she asked, stepping back to look around the room. “And the others?”

“It’s complicated,” he told her. “And right now we’ve got bigger problems.”

“But—”

“See for yourself.”

He opened up a view of the between and the rhythmic sound of drums and stamping hooves filled the room, loud as thunder. Cassie and the musicians could see the massing buffalo, facing a glow that Cassie knew was how the city manifested in this place between the two worlds. Standing on the plain, between the buffalo and the city, was a lone figure, the many tines of his antlers lifting high from his brow.

“Is that . . . ?”

“Walker? You bet.”

Joe did something to the opening he’d made into the between so that the roar of sound was gone, but they could still see.

“He’s there,” Joe went on, “standing all on his own—the only thing between the Newford courts of fairy and way more pissed off buffalo soldiers than anybody’s got the time to count.”

“What does it mean?”

“War.”

Cassie shivered. “Oh, god. Why are they
doing
this?”

Joe shrugged. “What have they got to lose?”

Cassie turned to look at him.

“Everything,” she said, her voice soft.

Joe gave her a slow nod.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said. “Revenge starts out tasting sweet, but dealing in hurt is always going to leave a mark on your spirit. Still, I’ve got to tell you—if someone killed you to make clothes out of your skin, or just to cut a steak from your thigh, I wouldn’t be taking the time to worry about the state of my soul. I’d just be taking them down—any and everybody who had a hand in it.”

“And then?” Cassie asked. “It wouldn’t bring me back.”

“Then I’d deal with the fallout. But the thing is, at a moment like that, you don’t have time to work out the details of what’s wrong and what’s right, or how what you’re going to do makes you no better than them. You just want your payback.”

“Except they’ve had a lot of time to think about it.”

Joe nodded. “And maybe all that time just makes it worse. Makes it build up to a point where you just don’t care about anything anymore except bringing the hurt to those who hurt you.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

“Try to stop it.”

Cassie shook her head. “You know that’s suicide.”

“Can’t not try.”

“You’re not going without me.”

“Didn’t expect I would. Something like this, everyone has to make their own stand and we have to respect their decision, even if we don’t like seeing them put themselves in the line of fire. But I’ve got to tell you, I was hoping you’d stay someplace safe for the duration.”

“Then why did you come to me first?” Cassie asked.

Joe smiled. “I had to see my girl. Isn’t that what knights do when they go into battle?”

This was so Joe. Keeping it light when everything was so dark and pressing down on them.

“What about Lizzie?” Siobhan asked. “And Jilly?”

Con nodded. “And what happened to Geordie?”

Joe turned to the musicians. “They’re all some place I can’t get into. If this hadn’t come up, I’d still be there, banging on the figurative walls and trying to get in—you can put money on that. But this . . . “ He waved a hand to the window he’d made into the between. “This can’t wait.”

“You made it sound like you won’t survive,” Andy said.

“The odds aren’t good,” Joe told him, “but I’ve got enough Cody and crow in me that I’ve got a chance. And see, the thing is, we don’t deal with this, there won’t necessarily be a world for Jilly and the others to come back to.”

“But they’re safe enough for now, right?” Siobhan asked.

Joe couldn’t hide the unhappy look that came into his eyes.

“I won’t kid you,” he said. “It looks bad. But a friend of mine got in there before the place closed down on us, and if anyone can help them, it’s her. Honey got in,” he added, turning to Cassie.

“So, what do we do?” Con asked.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Joe said, “except sit tight, and if you’ve got a god, send up a prayer for all of us.”

Joe gave the musicians what he probably thought was a reassuring smile, but with the fierce light in his eyes, it was more like a wolf baring its teeth as it confronted an enemy. Except, Cassie thought, this enemy was made up of cousins. Cerva, but still Joe’s kin. He wasn’t letting on, but she knew that was the hardest part of this for him—maybe even harder than leaving Honey to look out for Jilly.

Joe could be as fierce as any predator, though in situations such as this, he was usually the mediator. But with the way those buffalo were revving themselves up, she doubted they’d even be capable of listening to reason anymore.

He turned and took her hand. But before they could step away into the between, Siobhan moved forward.

“I’m coming with you,” she said.

Joe and Cassie paused to look at her. Cassie expected Joe to argue with the fiddler, if he didn’t just shut her flat down. Instead, he nodded in agreement.

“This is going to spill over into your world,” he said, “so you’ve got a stake in it, too. But I’ve got to tell you, I don’t see us making much more than a statement here, and then we lose our lives.”

“But you’re going.”

He nodded. “My problem is I’m an eternal optimist. I always figure something’ll come up at the last minute.”

She smiled back at him. “Me, too.”

“Then let’s go and give it our best shot.”

In the end, they all went, leaving behind an empty hotel room.

Christiana Tree

“Remember those kids who asked
if they could use one of my stories for a film school project?”

Saskia and I were sitting on cushions on the floor of Christy’s study, leafing through an old photo album and smiling at all the pictures of the Riddell boys when they were young. At the sound of Christy’s voice we lifted our heads and looked over to where he was sitting at his desk, reading e-mail on his laptop. It was such a nice quiet day: the sun shining outside, the three of us in here, just hanging out like the family we’d come to be. I cherished moments like this.

So, why did I feel this sense of foreboding, creeping around under my skin, burrowing deep in my bones?

Saskia nodded in response to Christy’s question.

“I remember,” she said. “You told them it was okay.”

“I know. For a school project. Except now—” He pointed a finger at the screen of his monitor. “—Bernie tells me that they’ve made a DVD out of it and are selling it on the Internet. He found a link for it on eBay while he was doing a search on my name.”

“Your friends need to find better things to do with their time,” I said.

“Ha ha.”

“Or maybe it was really
you
doing the search.”

“This is serious, Christiana.”

Beside me, Saskia was frowning.

“They can’t just do that, can they?” she asked.

“Apparently, they think they can.”

“But—”

She broke off and I could feel her stiffen beside me, but there wasn’t much I could do because it hit me at the same time. I don’t know what it felt like for her, but for me it came like a sharp pain riding up through the back of my head, leaving in its wake a spreading wave of irrevocable loss. It was as though a little black hole had opened up inside me, sucking I don’t know what into itself. But whatever it was, it felt like it was gone forever.