Chapter Nine
At the first possible exit, Silas turned south, rolling into West Virginia with the sun setting on their right.
“Is this going to throw us off schedule?” Stacy asked.
“Betty’s fast,” he said, running a hand over the dashboard. “’Sides, I’ve got an idea on how to put some people following us in check.”
“Following us? How?”
“It seems hard to deny that you or the card deck are being tracked. I’ve got some friends who will help throw the dogs off the scent.”
“Off my scent?” Stacy folded her arms, sending angry vibes at Silas.
“I’m not saying you stink, I’m just saying people are finding us somehow. There is just a whole lot more going on here than I initially believed. I thought I was gonna be delivering a black box. The bookie said nothing about you, nothing about magic cards that everybody would want. What’s so special about these cards, anyway?”
Stacy furrowed her brow and said, “How about I tell you something if you tell me something? Only fair, isn’t it?”
“How about you tell me something and I grunt?”
Stacy flared her nostrils and bared her teeth like she might bite him.
“I’m just funning you. Yeah, fair’s fair. You first.”
“All right, I’ll go first,” Stacy said. “What do you want to know?”
“What’s with the deck? Where does it come from? What does it do?”
“I got it from my father, like I said. It had been in a kind of private collection, where it was being kept safe. He left me hints that it was dangerous. Now you. How did—”
“Whoa, pump the brakes, sister, I asked what does it do.”
“I answered one of your questions, you asked a couple and you haven’t given me any answers yet.”
“All right, we’re gonna be like that, then?” Silas said. “I can give you the shortest possible answers right back.”
Stacy sighed. “Okay. I’ll answer your questions like I want you to answer mine. I never knew my mother. My parents separated when I was very young, just a baby, I guess. My father raised me and he was a good man. But I always knew there were things he was keeping from me. Visitors he wouldn’t talk about, rooms he wouldn’t let me into, unexplained absences. I thought he was a junkie, at one point, he was keeping so many secrets. He didn’t want me to be involved with magic at all. When I was twelve years old, I accidentally discovered I had…abilities, and it was only then that he started to open up.”
“What happened when you were twelve?”
“That’s a lot of questions,” she said.
“Humor the short guy.”
“Nothing dramatic. I was cutting a class at school and the resource officer came looking for me. She should have seen me, but I was crossing my fingers and praying she wouldn’t notice that I was standing against the wall in the hallway…and she didn’t. She walked right past. It freaked me out so bad, I had to run home and tell Dad.”
“Who started to admit things.”
“Started,” she agreed. “He was himself a very powerful warlock, but he walked away from the coven he had been involved with because my mother wanted to…sacrifice me, he said. He taught me to begin unlocking my powers.” She wiped away a tear. “My father was a good man and he wanted to protect me. He had powerful spells that shielded me from the coven and the other witches my mother associated with.
“After he died, I found secret rooms in the house. I found old letters between my dad and Bianca Contarini. They might have been lovers, I think, you know before my mother came into the picture. I can’t be sure but that’s what I think, judging by some of the sweet nothings in the old letters. Anyway, I found letters talking about the deck. They were vague but it seemed very valuable. I couldn’t find out anything more on my own, so I reached out and contacted Bianca. She told me it was a very powerful relic and that if I would deliver it to her, she would help me continue to expand my powers. She said I was her niece.”
“Bianca Contarini? Of the West Coast Contarinis? The woman they sometimes call ‘the Contarini’? She’s like an Italian countess or something?”
“Yes, so?”
“That’s who this transport job is for?”
“Yes.”
“She’s your dad’s friend? Kissing cousin? Your kin?” That was who lived in Il Palazzo in Miramar, Silas now remembered. Bianca Contarini, a reclusive socialite, as far as the ordinary world knew.
“I’m not sure exactly how they knew each other,” Stacy said. “Maybe she was a distant cousin from the old country. I guess he changed his name as part of his secretiveness.”
“You’re a Contarini, then.”
“So?”
“Bianca Contarini is not a woman to mess with.”
Stacy huffed. “No woman is a woman to mess with.”
Silas put up his hands in surrender.
“Well,” Stacy continued, “she has only ever been decent with me. She said she would pay me for the deck and also teach me.”
“What have you been doing to make a living?” Silas asked. “Not making things invisible, I guess?”
Stacy frowned. “I was a pool secretary at an insurance company. ‘Wizard’ sounds like a better job. And she said she taught my father.”
“I have no doubt she could teach you if she wanted,” Silas agreed. “And also, she is absolutely ruthless. I knew a courier who got on her bad side. He used to work for her, but he arrived late one day. She raged, said he’d taken his foot off the gas, swore he’d never do it again.”
Stacy shrugged. “Everyone gets angry when they get bad service.”
Silas nodded. “Apparently, she made sure he kept his foot on the gas after that.”
“What do you mean? Like a speed spell?”
“She had his foot nailed to the floor.”
Stacy’s eyes got big. “I don’t believe you. Nobody does things like that. Nobody…in real life. No modern person.”
“Perhaps you have forgotten how Don Gargolio and his boys are so eager to tear you and me apart.”
“Yeah, but he’s a mob boss, isn’t he? And a gargoyle.”
“And a not-especially-fearsome denizen of Other America.”
“Are you saying the Contarini is a gargoyle?”
“No,” Silas admitted, “but she is part of the Other World, whatever she is.”
“What do you mean, ‘whatever she is’? She’s a woman.”
“Don’t assume,” Silas said. “She could be a fairy, or some kind of elf. I don’t think she’s a ‘modern’ person, at least. She might be a medieval sorceress who’s lived on into the twentieth century. In any case, she’s not someone you want to be doing business with, father’s friend or not. She’s bad news. And I can’t get out of the job now, or she’ll have it in for me. Damn the bookie! He should have told me.”
“Huh.” Stacy stared out the window for a moment. “Well, now that we’ve gone over that, I get to ask you a question.”
“I just told you about the Contarini. Isn’t that an answer?”
“I didn’t ask about her, you volunteered that. I want to know how you got involved in all of this. What’s your connection?”
Silas stifled a laugh. “I don’t have the sight or the gift of hexing or a single magical skill. I drive a car.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I’m getting there. I saw this and that in my childhood because I’m from Alabama and my grandmother was a Granny Witch. She was a water witch, a dowser, and she knew all the herbs for healing and such. She was benign, she only ever helped folks, and she didn’t do it for money. She told me I didn’t have the sight and I think I’m grateful for that. As a kid, I didn’t think I needed to know about the holler haints and all the other small-g gods that are out in the world. I was content to race cars. Did pretty good, too, for a while. Anyway, that’s how I found out about the Other World and Other America and the Seeming. My gran told me about it and I knew she didn’t lie, even if it wasn’t me she taught. Later, when the car…developed abilities, I guess, I saw that my grandma had been right all along, and I had to rethink my career.”
“Who did she teach?”
“My sister.”
“Where is she?’
Silas hesitated. “Gone. Is it my turn yet?”
“Sure.”
“What does that deck do?”
Stacy hesitated. “I am not master of the deck’s magic.”
“Does that mean it doesn’t make illusions?” Silas asked.
“I think that’s right,” she said. “And I think it’s very old. I suppose I could have asked Bianca more questions, but she said she would explain it in person once I’m there with her and the deck in person. Just easier that way. It doesn’t feel right to talk too much about magic over the phone, if that makes sense. She talked like it was quite a boon that I had found it and contacted her.”
“The fact that Bianca wants it is consistent with the fact that the trolls and gargoyles both seem to sense and want it,” Silas mused. “This all suggests that the card deck is very powerful.”
“So more people will follow us.”
Silas grunted. “It ain’t the people I’m worried about.”
Stacy nodded. “Right. We’d best keep moving, then.”
“What’s done is done, but I sure ain’t gonna let grass grow under my feet. Or let ’em get nailed to the gas pedal, either.”
“Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t think any of this was going to be so complicated. Bianca said I had to get to her mansion on the coast before Sunday night, in five days, and I couldn’t fly. She said the Lords of Air would prevent me bringing the deck by plane. I suggested Amtrak, but she said it would be too easy for dark forces to waylay me if I traveled in a straight line. She told me a driver would be preferable, and she said she would arrange it. That’s why I was surprised you weren’t expecting me. She should have told you.”
“She knew you’d be attacked,” Silas said. “I’m not here as a courier, I’m the bodyguard.”
“Sorry.”
“It is what it is. We’re gonna get some rest not far up the road here and we’ll hit it real good tomorrow.”
“Is it safe? What about the trolls and gargoyles?”
“I’ve got friends who can give us some cover, at least for a night. Don’t you worry about that.”
Silas reached down between the seats and brought his CB radio up to his mouth. He flipped a discreet, unlabeled switch located on the unit’s underside. “Pickle Mike? You got your ears on? Come on back. It’s the Danger Man. You copy?”
The CB was quiet a long moment. Silas tried again, waited, then tried a third time. Finally, the radio crackled into life.
“This is Pickle Mike, what’s your twenty, good buddy?” The voice warbled with a tenor pitch.
“I’m cruising on through to Vandalia. I’ll be there soon.”
“Oh, you’re real close, Danger Man. What do you need?”
“I could use a blanket spell over a normie’s house, a good friend of mine name of Scooter. I was planning on spending the night and don’t want to attract any attention.”
“I hear you, Danger Man. A fella can get some of the red-cap boys to do that for ya.”
“And then if I could have a chat with you about transport tomorrow, that would be real good. I’ve got some good green to make it worth your while. It might be a tad dangerous and then I may need to call in a favor.”
“A fella will plan on that in the morning, then.”
“Much obliged.”
“You bet. Pickle Mike out.”
Stacy looked at Silas. “Was that a castrato?”
“Rude.”
“He sounded awful high pitched, like…”
Silas looked at her, daring her to say what she was thinking. “Like what?”
“Like an elf?”
“Have you ever met an elf? They don’t really get out to New York City much.”
“No, but with the way things are going, I almost expect it now.”
“Expecting the unexpected is a safe bet. But elves don’t live in trees, work for Santa or have high-pitched voices. In my experience, they mostly shout. Pickle Mike ain’t an elf, he’s a gnome. Maybe you’ll meet him tomorrow.”
“And his name is Pickle Mike?”
“No,” Silas scoffed. “That would be a ridiculous name. His name is Jocko Huggins; Pickle Mike is just his CB handle. Gnomes are concealers, the natural smugglers of Other America. Jocko and his friends’ll make sure no trolls or gargoyles can find us while we’re sleeping. My buddy Scooter’s place will be safe for one night.”
“It’s good to have friends,” Stacy said.
“Yes indeed. A pretty girl like you, I bet there’s a whole neighborhood of friends missing you today in New York. Bunch of lonely insurance brokers.”
“No.”
Stacy’s voice had such an immediate loneliness to it that Silas had nothing to say. He let the trees and hills roll by for a minute. He was driving circuitously, doubling back on his road to throw off pursuit, and the afternoon was fading into evening.
“I’m gonna see if I can raise my friend, let him know we’re coming.”
“Scooter. Is he a gnome, too?”
“No, this one’s a regular guy. He’s got an extra bedroom. You can have that, assuming it’s free. I’ll take the couch.”
“Thanks,” she said.
He took up the CB. “Scooter, you out there?”
It took a couple tries, but eventually he got an answer.
“Well, I’ll be. Silas, is that you?”
“It is, I’m a half hour away and was hoping I could crash on your couch.”
“Of course, but you can have the guest bed.” Despite his words, Scooter didn’t sound entirely welcoming.
“About that. I’ve got company, a pretty gal from New York name of Stacy, and I was hoping you wouldn’t mind her having the bed tonight.”
Scooter paused a moment. “New York? Well, all right, if you say so.”
“It ain’t like that. I’m transporting her to the West Coast. It’s a job, so I will be needing that couch. I was also hoping you could take a look at Betty, I may have scraped her oil pan pretty bad earlier today.”
“Yeah, I can do that,” Scooter said, sounding rather sour.
“See you soon.”
Scooter sighed loudly. “See you soon.”
“You sure he’s your friend?” Stacy asked.
Silas ran his hand through his hair. “Sometimes you owe a friend an apology, but you’re still friends.”
Stacy shrugged. “Your friend the gnome, he’s gonna put a protective spell on Scooter’s house?”
“Probably done already. Pickle Mike probably placed his next call to the enchanter who did it. Gnomes are practical folk, get right on a thing when it needs to be done.”
“All this over CB,” Stacy marveled.
“Pickle Mike is a trucker by trade. Flannel shirts and baseball caps. If you were to see him, you probably wouldn’t think anything of him other than he’s real short.”
“Shorter than five foot six?”
“He’s four foot nothing. He wears blocks on his shoes,” Silas said, “and on the pedals of his eighteen-wheeler.”
“He drives an eighteen-wheeler?”
“Sure, loads of truckers are gnomes or dwarfs or whatever, and you’d never know it without being able to see through the Seeming.”
Soon enough, they were pulling through a small town without stoplights or sidewalks. Crumbling brick buildings and sagging stoops were almost overgrown by wild greenery, under the frowning gaze of silhouetted hills. Silas took them down a side road to a little white house with a big garage off the side. He parked Betty and they got out.
Silas stretched and yawned. Adrenaline had cramped his muscles.
Porch lights were on, welcoming them with a warm yellow glow. A man waited on the front porch. He was lanky, in his late twenties, with a boyish face and red hair peeking out from under his ragged Keokuk Indians ball cap. Hs face sagged in a serious expression.
“Scooter, this is Stacy.”
Scooter raised his cap. “Pleased to meet you. My old lady, Gina, will show you to the guest room. Silas, you know I don’t mind you coming at all, but I’m just letting you know we gotta talk in the morning.”
“I figured,” Silas said. “Price of admission, and fair enough.”
Scooter’s old lady Gina emerged to take Silas and Stacy and lead them into the house, Scooter following. She looked like she might still be in her late teens, and she dressed in jeans and an oversized flannel shirt, maybe Scooter’s. Gina led them upstairs.
“This is the guest room,” Gina said, opening a creaking door. “You want any dinner or did you two eat on the road already?”
“I could go to sleep right away,” Stacy answered.
“That’s fine. Maybe you could tell me about New York City tomorrow.” Gina nodded and disappeared into the house. Scooter led Silas downstairs into an irregularly shaped parlor.
Silas looked to Scooter. “Doing the real hillbilly thing, huh? She’s cute as a button. Is she fifteen?”
“Shut up,” Scooter said. “I met her at the county fair, and she needed a place to stay. We get on all right. She’s older than she looks.”
“So, she’s sixteen?”
“I said shut up, she’s of age. Nineteen, if you gotta know.”
Silas chuckled. “You got any bacon or eggs?”
“Do I look like a fry cook? You can make yourself a sandwich, you know where the fridge is.”
“Thanks, Scoot, I appreciate this.”
“Uh-huh. We’ll have words in the morning, and you ain’t gonna like ’em all. Good night, Sy.”
“Long as I like some of ’em. Good night.”
Silas stretched out on the couch under his own jacket. The spring peepers’ mating calls assured him that he was safe for the moment, that Huggins had got a hiding spell cast over the house and that nothing dark and slobbery was creeping up on him.
He took a deep breath and braced himself for the nightmares.