Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Blood Creek Phantom - Chapter 1

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About the Author

Immortal

Immortal Works LLC

1505 Glenrose Drive

Salt Lake City, Utah 84104

Tel: (385) 202-0116

© 2019 Jay Barnson

http://rampantgames.com/blog

Cover Art by Ashley Literski

http://strangedevotion.wixsite.com/strangedesigns

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For more information email contact@immortal-works.com or visit http://www.immortal-works.com/contact/

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-7324674-8-4 (Paperback)

ASIN B07NJZQVLD (Kindle Edition)

To my mom, for life and legends. To Ellen, for the history.

Jack Parsons stood with his John Deere hat on his head and “Grandma” Annie’s sword in his hands. He guarded two powerful witches as they bolstered the magical seal on the crossroads between his temporary home “Around the Bend,” and his home in Maple Bend, West Virginia. Whoever was on the other side had been tearing the seal down at record speed. Jack stood as a last resort in case Jenny and Annabelle Rose failed.

Annie wiped the sweat from her forehead as she and Jenny finished the old song together. She ran her hand through her silver waterfall of hair, which only bore a hint of the red that matched her granddaughter’s. “I reckon that’ll do for now. But we got ourselves another problem. Normally, I’d expect that seal to last a few years. Even Evelyn shouldn’t be able to tear it down in less than four months, but it’s only been one. It’s hard sending magic across worlds. She must have a whole gang of witches wearing it down.”

Jack asked, “How long can you keep doing this?”

“Until they give up, or we run out of the makings for new witch-bottles.” She raised the bottle they had just replaced and inspected it in the sunlight. The contents were shriveled, and a powdery ash that hadn’t been there a week earlier lined the bottom. “I don’t see any cracks. We might be able to reuse this bottle one more time if we have to. Still, at this rate, I’m going to need new supplies within a month or two.”

Jenny sighed. “At least that gives us some time.”

“Not really, it doesn’t. We’re old-school around these parts, and we can’t just shop at Food Lion or mail-order what we need. We need to send someone we trust from Hobbfield to get what we need from the larger towns. Jack, do you remember how to get to Branton?”

Jack nodded. “Of course.”

“Could you get there without a road?”

“I reckon I’d just follow the creek.”

“That’s what I do.” She turned down the path to the house, and the other two followed. “Hobbfield is the village where Branton is in our world. I’ll write y’all up a list to give to a friend of mine who lives there. She can make the supply arrangements. If you and Jenny leave before noon, y’all ought to get there before nightfall.”

Jenny’s jaw dropped slightly, and she asked, “What do you mean? Won’t you come with us?”

“I can’t tell you how much I want to, hon. I don’t feel safe leaving right now for even a couple of days. I just can’t figure why Thadeus has such a bug up his butt now. The portal’s been here for decades, and it ain’t been protected by anyone but our family.” She lowered her eyes. “I ain’t done such a great job at that. I’m sorry, kids. I should have been better prepared. I should have kept a better eye on the witch-bottle on the other side. I should have tried to find someone to help while there was still time.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Jenny said.

“I should have. I know the ol’ family stories well enough. We’ve been keeping an eye and a witch-bottle on the crossroads ever since Colette went ‘Round the Bend, even after we knew she was dead. My mama might not have been so vigilant, but I should have been. Especially after that son of a bitch in the white suit killed Debra.”

Annie wiped her cheek with the heel of her hand. “Anyhow, no use crying over spilled milk. Just gotta clean it up. I’ll take care of the list and give y’all the money you’ll need. We’ll work it out.”

Jenny scanned the treetops as they walked. Jack saw her lips move, mouthing the words to the old song that served as a protection spell. She was probably unaware she was doing it. Jack knew how she felt. While they hadn’t seen a trace of giants or other monsters in four weeks, these woods still didn’t feel safe and inviting. He doubted the woods back home in Maple Bend, eerily similar but far from identical in this parallel world, would ever feel safe again. He knew too much about what could lurk there.

That was okay. Safety was an illusion. So much of West Virginia had been mapped out, marked off, and connected by paved roads. What thrilled him now was what he didn’t know. It felt so familiar, but everything was new. So much of this place might never have been seen by human eyes. What was out there, where the familiar towns and cities should be?

“Thadeus mentioned a crossroads in Morgantown when he was talking to Evelyn,” Jack said, breaking the silence. “He said it was one-way. Why haven’t they tried to rescue her through that one?”

Annie shook her head. “Who knows? Maybe they have. I ain’t got anything to go on but family stories and village rumors.”

Jack mulled this over for a moment. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but I’ve got a question.”

Annie looked sideways at Jack. “It’s ma’am now, is it? That must be some question.”

Jack shrugged. “I was just thinking about when folks booted Thadeus from this world in the first place. They cut him off entirely and shut down all the crossroads. He can’t come back even through this one. So how’d he know about his daughter? How did he know she was imprisoned?”

Annie sighed. “I can only speculate. I know our little crossroads is special, but it ain’t the only way here. Maybe it ain’t the only way back, neither. As far as I know, they’ve got themselves a telephone wire between worlds.”

Jack grunted a semi-response, and remained lost in more questions he knew Annie wouldn’t have answers to for the twenty minutes it took to return to Annie’s house. It was really not much more than a shack, most of it built by Annie’s own hands with materials brought up from Hobbfield. She lived so far from the village to keep an eye on the crossroads, and to avoid drawing attention. Annie said she hadn’t planned for houseguests when she built the place. She and Jenny slept inside, on the same tiny bed, and Jack slept in a makeshift extension to the house created by canvas and boards. It felt like camping every night. Jack liked it. Still, he missed his bed in his own home. As tiny as the trailer house was, it was a mansion compared to this. He never let Annie suspect he was anything but appreciative.

While they gathered blankets and food in backpack-sized cloth sacks, Annie prepared a short list of supplies. She handed it to Jack with a small bag of coins. “Y’all take the list and the money straightaway to Vanya. Just ask for her. Everybody knows everybody there. She’s a good friend, and she’ll make all the arrangements. She also knows about me and where we’re from, so you can speak freely with her. Now, I’ve given you more money there than she’ll need. Make sure she accepts a fee for herself, then you two enjoy yourselves some spending money. Take your time. Spend a couple of extra days in Hobbfield. Y’all ought to get to know people other than me around here.”

“Do they speak English?” Jenny asked. It was a practical question. Jack hadn’t even thought of it.

Annie nodded. “Yes, but the dialect is different. They have a strange accent and use different words for some things, but y’all should be able to get along fine. Just don’t mention the crossroads or our world. They’ll know you ain’t from around here, but if they knew you come from the world where they exiled the greatest evil in history, they might get a bit unpredictable. Better to let that sleeping dog lie. Otherwise, just be safe. We ain’t seen hide nor hair of them giants since our fight with them, but that don’t mean they are gone, or that there ain’t other deadly creatures in these woods.”

“Like unicorns,” Jack said.

“Right. Y’all know. Take that ol’ sword, Jack, just in case, and be careful. Keep your wits about you, and don’t take off those amulets. If something goes wrong, those might give you a chance to survive and run away.”

Jack fingered the small handmade pouch hanging at his neck. It was like the one Jenny had made him when they came Around the Bend the first time. Annie had made this one, and while the construction seemed more solid, Annie claimed it was no more powerful than Jenny’s. As far as Jack was concerned, Jenny’s magic was better than a bulletproof vest. But then, a bulletproof vest wouldn’t be much help against a giant.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Jenny said. “Don’t worry.”

They embraced. Annabelle Rose hugged her granddaughter first, and the two spoke quietly for a minute. Then Jenny stepped back, wiping her cheek. Annie wrapped her arms around Jack. She spoke quietly to him as well. “I know you’ve been champing at the bit to get exploring. I kept you cooped up with me too long. I meant what I said. Y’all should take your time once you’ve met with Vanya and get to know folks down in Hobbfield. I’ll be fine for a few days, so don’t let Jenny convince you otherwise. She needs to socialize, too, whether she believes it or not.”

* * *

“What did you and Grandma whisper about?” Jenny asked after they had left sight of the shack.

Jack shrugged. “She told me not to let you bring us back home too fast. She thought we should to get to know Hobbfield.”

Jenny was quiet for a moment, and then said the word, “Home.”

It took Jack a moment to realize what she’d said, and he stopped in his tracks. “Hey, I’m sorry, Jenny. I meant Annie’s place.”

She smiled thoughtfully back. “I knew what you meant. I only just realized that this place is more home to me now than Maple Bend. After all, I was only there about a week.”

“Oh,” Jack said, resuming his stride along the thin, grass-hemmed game trail along the side of the creek. The trickling water bore the same coppery hue of its twin back in West Virginia. How could something feel so familiar and so alien at the same time? Adjusting his hat, he said, “I mean, I worry about Mama. And Jessabelle, and Hattie. Sean, too. But, especially Mama. She’s not been good for a long time. If I knew for sure they were all okay, I think I’d rather be here, too.”

Jenny squinted at him for a moment. “Why? You don’t have family here.”

He shrugged. “I got a whole world. Hardly anybody back home has ever seen this place. It’s all new, waiting to be discovered. I wish we could have come here a couple of years ago. No man in the white suit, no Evelyn, just a new place to explore.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow. “This is all just an adventure to you, isn’t it?”

He grinned. “Well, yeah! I mean, I wish it wasn’t so dangerous, but I’m glad to be here. Isn’t it an adventure for you, too?”

Jenny grinned. “I suppose it is.”

* * *

They followed the creek along a shallow ravine for a half-hour. Jack took off his John Deere hat and wiped the summer sweat off his forehead with his arm, staring up the tree-veiled hill.

“What’s going on?” Jenny asked. “Do you see something?”

He flipped his hat back onto his head, covering hair that had been overdue for a haircut before he got stuck in this world. Between that and a month’s uneven facial hair growth poorly trimmed with Annie’s scissors, he would probably scare himself if he stumbled across a mirror. “I think so. Follow me.” He pushed his way up the hill.

“We should follow the creek so we don’t get lost,” she said, but she followed him up the slope of the ravine anyway.

Jack shrugged and said, “I’m sure we can find it again.” He was mostly sure. Even though the geography mirrored that of their world, and the woods he knew better than his own bedroom, much of it was different. The trees, in particular, didn’t form the familiar patterns that had grown and changed only slightly over the years in Maple Bend.

They topped the ridge to a plateau and Jack strode purposefully forward the length of a football field. The insect sounds felt familiar, although the constant drone of the cicadas he’d left behind weeks ago weren’t present. They’d probably died down in his world, too. A gentle breeze rustled the forest down the mountain. Trees surrounded them and covered them with a canopy of leaves that admitted only shifting spotlights of sun. Somewhere nearby, a woodpecker drilled in a rapid staccato.

Jenny stood beside him. “Okay, what did you see?”

“Do you recognize this place?”

She looked around, taking in the curtain of brown and green. “It’s pretty, but everything up here still looks like everything else to me.”

Jack pointed a short distance away. “Your Aunt Hattie’s trailer should be right here.”

Jenny’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“I reckon so.”

She stared at the overgrown forest that could have been what Hattie’s property had looked like two hundred years earlier. Then she looked over at Jack, and asked, “What do you mean, ‘you reckon so?’ Does that mean you are sure, or that you aren’t sure?”

Jack chuckled and shrugged. “I reckon it means I’m mostly sure.”

Seconds passed, filled with the pleasant drone of insects and the whisper of a breeze through the treetops. Jenny broke the relative silence. “Jack, are we ever going to see Hattie again?”

“I hope so.”

“I worry about everyone else, too. I wish I knew they were okay.”

Jack nodded. Jessabelle and the others had done plenty to earn the wrath of Evelyn and her boss, Thadeus. Since they were still trying to break through the barrier between worlds, Jack’s friends on the other side were in a lot of trouble. He reminded himself they’d proven more capable of taking care of themselves than he was.

“Let’s go check out the church,” Jack said.

“What’s to check out? Look, I know you’re excited to see your hometown turned into a forest and stuff, but we really need to get to Hobbfield.”

“It’ll only take a few minutes. I ain’t gonna look for my house or anything, but I really think we ought to check out the church.” He started walking.

Jenny made an exasperated sound, but followed. “Why?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Duh. I could tell you that.”

“No, I mean…” Jack looked over his shoulder at her and waved in the direction of where the church would have been in their world. “When I overheard Thadeus and Evelyn talking that once, he said that the crossroads was originally where the church is.”

“So?”

“I thought maybe it only got closed on one side. Just like Annie said…some go only one way.”

“Closed on one side?” Jenny responded. “I don’t have any idea if that’s possible. We only seal off one side at a time, so I guess it’s worth checking out.”

They continued their hike toward the old church. It took a bit of guesswork because the terrain didn’t offer any clear natural markers. No bulldozers had come thirty years ago to build roads or prepare for development that would never happen. Jack felt like he was making his way through his own house in the dark.

At first, he didn’t notice the rocks. Covered by decades—maybe centuries—of dirt, moss, and vines, they blended smoothly with the forest and hills around them. As he gradually determined that the church could have stood nowhere else, the tall, strangely symmetrical nine mounds came to his attention.

He pointed them out to Jenny as they explored strange twenty-foot circle. Her mouth opened slightly, and she stared in what seemed like real fascination. “It’s like a smaller version of Stonehenge!” she exclaimed.

“A stone what?”

“Stonehenge. A circle of stones in Britain. They think druids put them there thousands of years ago.”

“Huh. Were they building a fort or something?”

“Nobody knows. Whoever did it is long gone and didn’t leave any records behind.”

“Then how do folks know it was…what did you call them?”

“Druids. They don’t. It’s just a fun mystery.”

“Were they giants? ‘Cuz these look like something a kid would do, but it would have to be a giant kid.”

Jenny shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

They drew closer. A shift in the breeze brought an odor…something rotten and horrible. It was the smell of death under the hot July sun. Then the wind changed again, and it was gone. While Jack tried to figure out the source of the smell, Jenny moved to the center of the mounds, heedless of the weeds grasping at her ankles. She leaned forward, peering into the distance as she turned in place, searching for something in the air. Finally, her shoulders dropped, and she shook her head.

“I reckon it was worth a shot,” Jack said.

Jenny nodded. “It certainly looks like where…huh…” She walked past the mounds, toward the creek.

“What do you see?” Jack asked. He lost sight of her past one of the mounds. He circled around it and then heard her stifle a shriek.

Jack dropped his sack, yanked the sword from the scabbard, and charged forward. Jenny stood near thick brush, one hand covering her mouth as she stared at the ground, backing away. Jack drew close, looking into the thick vegetation.

The dead man lay tangled in the weeds, twisted in a pose of agony.

Jessabelle-the-cat double-checked the surrounding forest before changing back into the girl. She had to be twice as careful these days. Once the discovery of the dead ogre and snallygaster corpse on the Casto’s property had made the news, the trickle of new faces in Maple Bend had turned into a flood. The population of the little unincorporated community had doubled over the course of a week, and many of the new residents sought things out-of-the-ordinary—monsters or supernatural creatures.

That would be her.

The King family, which owned most of the vacant properties in the area, were hiring everyone they could to fix up houses for rent. That meant that at least some visitors planned to stay awhile. Or maybe the King’s meant to turn Maple Bend into a tourist attraction. Jessabelle imagined the signs. “Come see the remains of the Maple Bend Dragon!” Maybe they’d change the name of the community back to the original—Blood Creek—for the sake of advertising. The locals assumed most of these new residents were journalists, scientists, or government workers. Now that Evelyn, the witch, was dead, Jessabelle was sure one of them was Evelyn’s replacement. But which one?

Jessabelle couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched, but as far as her feline senses could tell, there was nobody nearby. She’d feel safer changing after dark, but with the deaths and disappearances of the last several weeks, her mama demanded that she be home before sunset. Tonight she’d been unusually specific about Jessabelle being home by 6:00. In July, that meant broad daylight, even in the thick forested mountainside where the sunlight only hit the ground in isolated shafts.

Overcoming her paranoia, Jessabelle changed. With the change in form, she thought of herself differently. Now she was Jessabelle-the-girl. She didn’t know where her clothes went—or where her human body went—when she changed. In a way, she thought of it as a closet where she’d hang up Jessabelle-the-girl, and put on Jessabelle-the-cat, or Jessabelle-the-panther. On the inside, she felt like the same Jessabelle, but each body was a profoundly different experience. Her abilities, perceptions, and even emotions were different. It was so exhilarating that she felt sorry for normal cats and people who couldn’t change.

She also feared the day when she could no longer change for fear of discovery. Which form would she take? She always assumed she’d remain Jessabelle-the-girl, because that was how she’d been born, but since Jenny and Jack became trapped Around the Bend, being a girl hurt too much. She loved the strength and predatory instincts of Jessabelle-the-panther, but in the world of people it was too dangerous a form to take for long. Lately, she felt most comfortable as Jessabelle-the-cat. Her heart still felt like breaking no matter what form she took, but the cat cried less. Nobody wanted to ask the cat any questions. They ignored the cat.

But now, her mama expected Jessabelle-the-girl home at 6:00. Jessabelle checked her watch. 5:57. She would be late. Her mama would have to deal with it. Besides, she had never explained why she needed Jessabelle home so early, anyway.

Jessabelle-the-girl made her way back to what counted as “town.” A relatively flat, relatively clear area acted as the residential hub of Maple Bend. Several homes, many of them mobile homes as old as her mama, stood close to each other: A bald dirt-patch of human habitation in the middle of the wilderness.

She caught the movement of a curtain in the window as she grew close. She was only ten minutes late, yet her mama had been staring out the window waiting for her? Jessabelle released an exasperated sigh, and she steeled herself for the tongue-lashing she was likely to receive. What did it matter, anyway? With an intake of breath, she opened the door and stepped inside.

“Surprise!” the small crowd in the living room cheered. Little streamers decorated the walls, and a sheet of butcher paper hung over the couch that said, “Happy Birthday Jessabelle.” Her mama, Hattie, Sean, her classmate Emily Church from Branton, and a woman Jessabelle assumed to be Emily’s mother were all there, wearing silly striped pointed hats. Sean raised a similarly decorated party blower to his smirking lips and blew, the paper unrolling with an annoying noise.

Once she recovered, Jessabelle shook her head. “What’s going on? It ain’t my birthday.”

Linda Rose grinned. “You think I don’t remember the day my daughter was born? It was six-oh-two in the evening of July the second, sixteen years ago.”

Jessabelle looked around at everyone in confusion. “Today’s the second?” she asked.

Hattie chuckled and smiled at Linda. “Ah, to be young in the summertime.”

Jessabelle’s mama leaned forward and in a stage-whisper said, “I wanted to invite your cousin and Jack Parsons, but they ain’t around. Hattie said your cousin is off with another relative right now.”

Jessabelle nodded, biting her lower lip to prevent her mama from seeing any emotion. “Thank you, Mama.”

Her mama smiled. Her hair had only a tiny streak of gray, and otherwise remained the natural dark, dark color of Jessabelle’s own hair. She had more wrinkles and a few more pounds now, but she had been a stunning woman when she was Jessabelle’s age. Her father had been rugged and handsome, too, before he’d been killed in Afghanistan. How the two of them ended up with someone as plain as herself, Jessabelle couldn’t guess.

“Anyone up for some birthday cake?” Linda asked, to a round of agreement. She disappeared into the kitchen and then emerged with a cake lit with sixteen candles. She held it in front of Jessabelle. “Better blow this out in a hurry. Make a wish.”

That was easy. Jessabelle wanted Jenny, Jack, and Grandma Annabelle back. Jessabelle held back a rising sob, forced a smile, and blew on the candles. Four of them stayed lit. Jessabelle took another breath and finished them off. Everyone laughed.

“You get three strikes, right?” Hattie said with a laugh. “I’m sure your wish will come true.” Mama went back to the kitchen to cut and serve the cake. Hattie followed her and dished up ice cream.

Jessabelle spoke with Emily and Emily’s mother. “Thank y’all coming. I really wasn’t expecting this.”

Emily stared at the floor and then back at Jessabelle. “Did you really forget it was your birthday?”

Jessabelle nodded. “I did. Things have been so crazy around here. I didn’t even know what day it was!”

“Crazy. There’s no way I’d forget my sixteenth! But it ain’t until October. Can you believe we’ll be juniors this year?”

Jessabelle smiled. She decided she liked Emily. Anyone who would come all the way up from Branton to Maple Bend for a birthday party had to be decent friend material, right? “No, I can’t. It seems like we are barely out of junior high!”

“I know, right?”

And then that was it. They had nothing more to talk about. They both glanced awkwardly at the kitchen and wore similar expressions of relief when Hattie and Linda came out with the treats.

“I ain’t even had dinner yet,” Jessabelle said.

“It’s a party,” Sean said. “Dessert comes first!”

Jessabelle ate, and the adults made small talk. Jessabelle still felt a clawing at her heart over the people that should be here. Their tiny house would feel crowded, but the feeling of home she was enjoying would be complete. Sometime soon, they’d get the man in the white suit, and it would be safe for everyone to come home.

Hattie set her bowl down. “Should we do presents?” Everyone looked to Jessabelle’s mama, who gave a smile and nod of approval.

Emily handed Jessabelle a small box wrapped in paper that could double as Christmas gift-wrap. Jessabelle carefully undid the wrapping and opened the box. Inside were two silver flower-shaped earrings. Jessabelle stared in surprise, and then looked up at Emily and her mother. “They are so beautiful. Thank you. I ain’t pierced my ears yet, but I can’t wait to wear them!”

Hattie said, “With your mama’s permission, I can take care of that for you.” She glanced over at Linda.

Jessabelle’s mama nodded enthusiastically. “You’re sixteen, now, Jessabelle. It’s time to get your ears pierced. Once they are healed, you’ll have some beautiful earrings to wear.”

Jessabelle looked awkwardly at Emily. After a moment, they shared an equally awkward hug. Any more awkward, Jessabelle thought, and they’d be acting like boys. “Thank you so much! I can’t wait!”

Hattie’s gift came next, also in a small wrapped box. Once again, Jessabelle carefully opened the wrapping and box, and found a silver pendant inside. At first she thought it was a Christian cross, but it was symmetrical with flowery designs like knot-work along it. Hattie undid the clasp and helped her put it around her neck.

“This was your great-grandmothers. I don’t know where she got it. But it ought to go to you now.”

“Thank you, Hattie. What’s the pendant supposed to represent?”

Hattie shook her head. “Honestly, I really don’t know. I just remember admiring it as a little girl.”

Jessabelle smiled.

Sean shrugged at her. “Sorry. I didn’t know it was your birthday until last night. I ordered you something off of the internet. Hopefully it’ll be here in a couple of days.”

“It’s okay, Sean. You don’t need to get me anything.”

“Too late.”

“Thank you, then.”

Her mama gave her a large box, wrapped carefully in red tissue-like wrapping paper. The box was heavier than Jessabelle expected. It was impossible to unwrap it cleanly, so she did her best to remove the paper in one piece and place it neatly folded on the table. Then she opened the box.

The black leather glistened in the sunlight coming through the blinds. Jessabelle lifted the jacket out of the box and held it up to get a better look at it. It looked familiar, but it was beautiful. The motorcycle jacket was cut in a feminine style for someone of her build, with a scattering of silver studs. It didn’t match her style, but then her style was little more than sweats and a hoodie. Nevertheless, she was in awe.

“I saw your light jacket no longer fit you last year. This was your daddy’s jacket. I have a friend who works leather down in Branton, and she fixed it up and made some alterations so it might fit you better. The lining is all new, too.”

“This was daddy’s?”

Her mama nodded. “It’s all yours now. New and improved. It might not fit perfect, but it won’t look like a man’s jacket.”

Jessabelle rushed forward and embraced her mama, still clutching the jacket in one hand. They held each other for several moments. Then Jessabelle ran the back of her hand across her eyes and said, “Thank you. I wish it was colder weather now.”

Hattie chuckled. “Careful what you wish for. We’re supposed to get some rain ‘round these parts in the morning. Might be a break for this heat.”

They laughed and talked. A part of Jessabelle’s heart wouldn’t heal, wanting so badly to have Jack, Jenny, and Annabelle with them. But the rest of her felt good. She felt very good. She had a home and still had friends and family who cared about her. For the moment at least, all the things that went bump in the night seemed far away and inconsequential.

All too soon, Emily and her mother announced they had to leave. They wanted to get down to Branton before dark because there were only a few lights along that road. A few minutes later, Hattie and Sean left as well. Jessabelle went outside to see them off.

“Thank you for coming,” she said.

Hattie smiled. “You think we’d miss this? Especially knowing the others who you’d have wanted to be here?”

“Have you been to see Jack’s mama?”

Hattie nodded. “Yes. She’s convinced he took a job down in Parkersburg. I feel bad about lying to her, but I really didn’t know what else to do. Better she believe that than believe he’s another victim. She knows he helped kill that ogre. She tells the reporters and anyone else that will listen that Jack killed it single-handedly.”

Sean whistled. “That’s a good thing, if they believe her.”

“I don’t know if they do or not. It doesn’t matter. Less attention on us.”

Jessabelle considered Sean and then pointed to the spot on his chest where she knew an amulet was hidden beneath his shirt. “Any sign of your ghost, yet?”

“No. Neither of them.” He looked down at the shirt, and said quietly, “If Hattie’s charm is working right, there won’t be a sign of either of them.”

“I’m sorry. About Debbie, I mean.”

He shrugged. “She’s not going anywhere. I’m just glad I’m not dead, too. We’ll fix things sooner or later. I’m more worried about which of our visitors is Thadeus’ new agent.”

“She’s named Cheryl,” Jessabelle said.

Sean wiggled his head and shrugged. “If she’s even using that name. We could see who goes up to the crossroads.”

Hattie frowned. “No. We don’t know that Evelyn reported where it was. As far as we know, the witch might be watching us to lead her to the crossroads.”

Jessabelle wrinkled her nose. “All they need to do is follow the smell. There’s still a dead giant up there.”

“And a live one hiding somewhere,” Sean said.

They looked at each other in silence for several seconds, then Jessabelle asked, “So what do we do?”

Hattie gave Jessabelle’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “We need to proceed carefully. The man in the white suit is a nasty piece of work, and he plays a long game. Our best bet right now is to stay off his radar.”

“Are you sure we aren’t already on it?” Sean asked.

“Then we hope we aren’t at the top of his ‘to do’ list. We stay out of his way so we don’t become—what do they call it?—targets of opportunity.”

“I’m real good at not getting noticed,” Jessabelle said.

“Don’t rely on that too much, honey. Remember, he knows what you are. Be careful.”

Jessabelle smiled. “I promise.”

* * *

The thunderstorm hit in the dead of night, the kind of storm locals called a gully washer. The lightning crashed, and the power went out as some errant tree fell over the power line leading to Maple Bend. Not enough generations had passed since heavy rainstorms brought with them the threat of flash floods due to the strip mining in the mountains, and the big storms brought with them a nearly obsolete tribal fear.

Jessabelle awoke with a start, gripped by that vague, nameless apprehension. Consciously, she loved the sound of the rain and thunder. Subconsciously, it unsettled her and made it impossible to relax and return to sleep. The lamp by her bed didn’t light when she pressed the switch, leaving her with nothing to do but to lie in bed and listen to the storm passing overhead, and think night-thoughts that made sleep even harder to come by.

Somewhere out in the night, a deadly giant lurked. A terrible, murderous phantom hunted Sean. The man in the white suit schemed plans that might involve the murder of those Jessabelle held dear. Her cousin, her grandma, and Jack were trapped on the other side of a gateway they dare not open again, perhaps ever. And yet more evil, terrible things might prowl for victims around Maple Bend.

Within an hour, the worst of the storm had passed, replaced by a constant drizzle and the faintest pre-dawn glow outside her window. But Jessabelle’s dark musings had left her keyed up and unable to return to sleep. After a few more minutes of frustration, she got up and hunted clothes from her drawer. Even as Jessabelle-the-girl, she saw well enough even in near-total darkness. It was one reason she feared seeing a doctor. They might give her an eye exam and learn her secret.

In spite of her excellent night-vision, she had no idea what color shirt she pulled over her head. She saw the dark lump of the cross pendant Hattie had given her on the dresser. On a whim she put it on. Throwing on yesterday’s jeans, fresh socks, and the only pair of sneakers she owned, she was almost ready.

Instead of grabbing a raincoat from the hall closet, she put on her father’s leather jacket. It was a little large on her. She liked it that way. She padded out through the living room to the front door and opened it slowly to avoid causing noise. The door behaved itself with only a faint creak as she stepped through and closed it behind her.

On the tiny front porch, Jessabelle took a deep breath, the petrichor scent dispelling the dark, stubborn thoughts that had held her. She considered going back inside and trying to go back to sleep, but couldn’t resist the thrill of the darkened morning. There were not many trees close to her house to screen her from view of her neighbors, but at this hour nobody would be up. No one could see her in the darkness, anyway.

In a flash, she became Jessabelle-the-cat. Her clothes and the girl-body vanished to wherever they went, and she became surrounded by luxurious black fur. Even her jacket transformed with her, much to her satisfaction, unlike a bulky winter coat she owned. An instinctive cat part of her recoiled at the idea of her fur getting wet in the remaining drizzle. The girl couldn’t wait. She bounded off the porch and out into the morning.

Jack had seen his share of dead animals over the years, but a human corpse still shocked him. By his best guess, the body hadn’t been dead long in the July heat—a day or two at most. Bloated, stinking, and swarming with flies, it was difficult to see who the man had been in life. His mouth was open with his arms drawn up over his head, curled in something like a fetal position.

Jack held the sword in front of him, scanning the forest for any sign of an attacker. In the back of his mind, he knew whatever had done this was likely long gone, but that didn’t stop his heart from racing, or his animal instinct from telling him to flee.

Jenny regained her composure first. “I’m sorry. It surprised me.” She bent down to peer at the body. She kept her mouth covered by her hand, and Jack saw that she was pinching her nose between her thumb and the base of her index finger.

“Careful!” Jack said. “I ain’t seeing no injury. He might have been bit by a snake or something!”

Jenny shook her head. “There’s magic on him.”

“What?”

“It’s very faint. I had to look close. He was probably hurt by magic.” She pointed to one of his hands. His clenched fist gripped a wad of cloth. “What’s that?”

Keeping his distance, Jack reached forward with his sword. After several tries, he pulled the bundle loose and dragged it along the dirt with the sword tip. He stifled a shudder as he picked up the dead man’s cloth and opened the knotted wad. Inside, he found three coins, and a small glass bottle containing a white material. Two of the coins gleamed silver in the daylight, their inscriptions nearly rubbed flat with handling. The third was a darker-hued gold coin like the three Annabelle had given them to pay for supplies.

“Money. And this.” He held up the bottle. “Is it magic? Like a potion?”

Jenny took it from him and looked the bottle over. Turning slightly, she held it up to a spot of sunlight in the green canopy and shook it. Satisfied, she lowered the bottle, removed the top, dipped a finger into the substance, and then licked her finger.

“What are you doing?” Jack cried. “Maybe that’s the poison that killed him!”

She looked up at him with a surprised expression and then laughed. Shaking her head, she replaced the top of the bottle. “It’s salt, silly.”

“Salt?”

“Yeah.” She handed the bottle back to Jack. “I saw bottles like this at Annie’s house. I asked her if they’d be useful to make witch-bottles, and she said no, but they are good for holding spices.”

Jack shook the bottle, confirming Jenny’s explanation by feel. “Okay. Do you think he was coming up to see Annie? Maybe we should split up. You could take it back to Annie, and I’ll head down to Hobbfield. I’ll get the supplies ordered and ask about him. Someone should be told, at least.”

Jenny stared at the corpse as if expecting the dead man to register his opinion. Shaking her head slowly, she answered, “No. We stick together and head to Hobbfield. Still, I don’t feel right leaving the body here like this.”

Jack scratched at his shaggy, uneven beard and glanced around the site. “If we can find rocks to cover him with, that might help make sure he don’t get et up by critters. Maybe there’s something smaller than these great big stones around here.”

They spent two hours hunting rocks and using them to cover the body. It was nasty work. Jack glanced over his shoulder and under around every stone before pulling it up, expecting to find a venomous attacker. They ran out of rocks before they ran out of body, but convinced themselves it was good enough. “That ought to keep it safe enough until someone comes back to get it,” Jack said.

Jenny nodded, her red hair now filled with bits of leaves and dirt, parts of it matted to her face with sweat. She glanced at her watch. “Uh-oh. How long until we get to Hobbfield?”

“From here? As the crow flies, ain’t all that far, but we don’t got a road. We probably ain’t a third of the way there yet.”

“It’ll get dark in about four hours.”

“I don’t reckon we’ll get there in four hours. Maybe if we push it.”

“I’m not sure I can hike for four more hours straight. Burying him took a lot out of me.”

Jack shrugged. “We can push on a little farther until we find a good place to camp for the night. I know a place that might work if it’s still there.”

“Okay. I can do that.” She inhaled deeply and straightened her posture. “How much more dangerous can it get out here after dark, anyway?”

Jack took half a step forward before her words registered. He turned to respond, but nothing came out of his mouth. So he just stared at her. She maintained a straight face for five seconds and then snorted. Rolling his eyes, Jack couldn’t help but grin.

They retrieved their equipment and headed back toward the creek. As they walked, Jenny said, “Grandma has been teaching me a spell to frighten creatures away. We can be the scariest things in the woods tonight.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “That sounds like a great spell if we run into any more giants.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t work on giants. Or at least, I’m not strong enough to use it against them.”

“How about people?”

“Probably not.”

“Bears?”

“Eventually, I might be able to make it work on predators. If they aren’t already attacking.”

Waving his free hand, Jack asked, “So what does it work against?”

“Um…animals that are easily spooked?” She shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve frightened away a whole tree full of birds.”

Jack laughed. “Okay. So if we encounter any birds that are giving us the hairy eyeball…?”

She stuck her jaw out and placed one fist on her hip. “Then you won’t have to worry about them, Jack Parsons. I will save you.”

* * *

He didn’t want to admit it, but within an hour Jack had almost reached the end of his endurance. Jenny wasn’t showing fatigue nearly as badly as he felt. He told himself there was no shame in being tired. He’d pulled up and carried more rocks to cover the corpse, and she could probably knock him on his butt in an unarmed fight from martial arts training. Still, as he’d spent most of his youth hiking up and down anything resembling a trail around Maple Bend, he should be able to make this kind of hike without breaking a sweat.

They found the spot he’d had in mind. It didn’t exactly match his memory’s picture, but it would work. Steep slopes protected the wide, flat ledge along the side of a ravine on three sides. The creek was only a short scramble away to refill their canteens. They did little to set up a camp. They pulled out the blankets and food Annabelle had provided and moved around on the ledge trying to find a comfortable place to rest. Jack finally settled on a spot where he couldn’t feel too many rocks. He was too tired to keep experimenting.

The sun wasn’t yet below the peaks. Jack’s body was exhausted, but his brain wasn’t quite ready for sleep. In spite of the dangers, the exhaustion, and a bit of boredom, he felt good. Even if it resembled his home, going somewhere new was what he’d dreamed about for years. He watched the bits of sky through the trees turn from blue to yellow to red. Sleep could wait until dark.

Jenny whispered, “Jack, are you awake?”

He rolled over to face her. She was turned toward him, using a flat section of her bag as a pillow. Dirt smudged the bottom of her right cheek. She reached out with one hand to touch his blanket. “Don’t worry, Jack. Whether we find a new crossroads, or finally stop Thadeus, we’ll get you home. I promise.”

You? Not us? “Oh, I know. I ain’t worried about that,” he said, flashing her a quick grin.

“I know you aren’t too happy at Grandma’s.”

“Oh, I’m alright. I just ain’t much use around there, ‘cept for chores and such. I want to make sure you and Annie are safe. I wish we could close that thing forever and not have to worry about it.”

She sat up and tilted her head to one side. “Don’t you want to go home?”

“Of course I do. I want to make sure my mama is okay. And there are folks I’d like to see again.”

“But…” Jenny prompted him.

“But.” He propped himself up on one arm and motioned at the thick forest around them. “I reckon this is the greatest adventure I ever hoped to have. A whole ‘nother world. New people. Creatures nobody believed could exist. Not that anybody back home would believe it, but I’m used to that.”

“People might believe you now, you know. Everyone saw the ogre, and what was left of the snallygaster.”

Jack shrugged. “That was really important to me when I was twelve. I wanted folks to believe me. I decided I wouldn’t ever tell a lie. That way when I told them I saw that giant, they’d believe me. It didn’t matter to them. And now, it don’t matter to me none, either. People can think what they want to think.”

She stared at him for several seconds, her face softening again. “My parents were always trying to explain to me when and how it was good to lie. It never made much sense. You are a pretty smart guy, Jack.”

“Me? No. I’m just a hillbilly. I ain’t smart.”

“There. I knew you could lie,” she said, and then she rolled over to face the other direction.

Jack rolled onto his back and stared at the darkening sky through the leaves. He fumed. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t smart. Over the course of several minutes he came up with some clever retorts, but it was too late and Jenny was asleep. Somewhere along the way, he fell asleep, too.

Homes that had once sat practically abandoned, but for occasional maintenance from the King family, now hosted multiple cars along the sides of their overgrown driveways. Just outside the cluster of homes that made Jessabelle’s ‘neighborhood’ a lone white utility van with the telltale folded dish antenna of a News vehicle sat at the side of the road with the windows fogged up. The crew, or at least the driver, must have slept in the van to keep out of the rain. Clearly, Maple Bend as Jessabelle always knew it was changed forever.

Good riddance.

Only the lightest sprinkling of rain remained although the trees would continue to drip for at least another half-hour. A faint glow penetrated the overcast sky from the hidden dawn, a hint at the end of night in the mountains. It was more than enough for Jessabelle’s cat eyes. She prowled around the neighborhood, trying to find any clue from the dozens of strange cars in town which belonged to a servant of the man in the white suit. She didn’t know what she was looking for, and nobody had the courtesy to have a vanity plate labeled “EVLWTCH” or a bumper sticker proclaiming themselves to be part of his coven. The cars were wet and slippery, so she didn’t leap on the hoods to get a closer look at their contents.

Maybe it would be enough to monitor the comings and goings of people from her secret identity as a cat. Nobody paid stray cats much attention, and over time she could narrow her focus down to those people who stayed after the initial wave of thrill-seekers lost interest. That sounded safe. She could avoid confrontation and pass her discoveries on to Hattie and Sean.

Her plans to keep things safe and quiet fell apart when she heard the horrible cry. It was not quite human, but close enough to the sound of a girl’s scream to give Jessabelle a shiver. She’d heard the sound, of course, but never from this side of it. It was the howl of a panther.

Deep inside her, Jessabelle-the-panther was certain that she was the only one of her kind anywhere near Maple Bend…panther-girl or panther-cat. That part of her knew at an instinctive level that there were neither invaders nor mates—the latter freaking Jessabelle-the-girl out more than the former—in the area. It wasn’t something that came from any sort of logical deduction, just the lack of signs and smells that the panther’s brain clued in on.

This cry meant this had all changed. Somewhere out there was another panther, whether natural or an enchanted person like Jessabelle. Either way, she wanted to find them. But she’d do so incognito, staying in the form of a housecat, for as long as possible.

The cry came once again, and Jessabelle followed it. Both the cat-brain and her human mind told her to flee and hide from the sound of this predator. Curiosity killed the cat, she warned herself, but the curiosity still prevailed. Could the new witch be like her, a witch who could take the form of a panther? Could someone be both? Could it be a panther that came here from Around the Bend through the crossroads? Maybe some endangered, long-lost creature from deep in the backwoods of West Virginia had found its way here?

She crept toward the noise, alert and ready to shift in a heartbeat to defend herself. The droplets falling from the trees camouflaged all other sounds, but it worked both ways. Even as a housecat, her animal mind was that of a predator, and the human part of her used that to see the world through the predator’s senses.

The scents were wrong. The air filled with the smell of spoiled meat, but it smelled wrong. Stale. And there was something else in the odor she couldn’t figure out. It didn’t smell like a predator, exactly, but it was wrong. She couldn’t detect where it came from. She sniffed again, comparing it to the smells of monsters she’d encountered weeks ago. Nothing matched. The cat in her did not register it as a threat.

The stale, spoiled meat smell was another matter. She followed it farther, and then saw the form lying on the ground, surrounded by grass. The cat was baffled by the figure, but the girl noticed that the motionless form wore clothes.

In her mind’s eye, she saw the snallygaster strike from nowhere, and envisioned the ogre charging out of the woods to reclaim its kill. Even her feline senses, not yet triggered by a sense of impending threat, warned her that something was not right. As her anxiety grew, Jessabelle shifted into panther form in the next heartbeat, watching for a predator. The beast in her was intrigued by the smell, especially due to the increased hunger caused by shifting form. But it was also spooked. Nothing felt right. Why would a predator attack and leave the meat to spoil? Why did it smell stale? She crept closer, carefully placing each paw in the wet grass, her tail low and flicking at the tip.

Something made a popping sound near the trees, and her senses registered a sting in her back. She leaped, snapping at an invisible attacker. She saw nothing. It was not the right weather or time of day for wasps to be out. She thought of the giant mosquitoes that had attacked them near the crossroads, but those were dead, and a long hike away.

Not perceiving a threat or whatever insect had bitten her, Jessabelle took several careful steps toward the victim. She needed to learn if it was anyone she knew. Then she’d run. That was the safe approach. Switch form, go home, and take a nap. Her lack of sleep was catching up to her.

The figure’s hand seemed waxy, not like something alive. Of course not, as the victim was dead. She, or maybe he, had been dead for hours. But even so, whoever it was didn’t smell right.

A sound came from somewhere in the trees, near where she’d heard the popping noise. Jessabelle froze in her tracks, staring up at the branches. She couldn’t see anything, but she’d distinctly heard something. A voice. She found the source—a man in camouflage on some kind of platform lashed into the tree. She tried to back away. For some reason, her hind legs didn’t move right. She stumbled.

The man in the tree spoke again, into a radio also camouflaged with greens and browns. “Send the truck. We’ve got her.”

She ran. As the great cat, she could outrun the wind. Now, it felt like she was running through several inches of mud, in slow motion, and it was exhausting. She slowed to a walk. Her world spun. She fell over, and couldn’t find the energy to get back up. Something was terribly wrong. Jessabelle had one last conscious thought that she should change back to Jessabelle-the-girl, but by then it was too late. The world went black.

* * *

Jessabelle awoke to the sound of a metal door opening. She fought lethargy to open one eye, peering through steel strips and wires at the dim gray daylight entering what seemed to be an office. A figure stepped through a doorway into the room, and the floor shifted slightly toward them. Her brain processed this phenomenon, shaking off the cobwebs, and figured she was in the back of a large truck. Electronic equipment and video monitors loomed over a narrow desktop with mounted folding chairs.

Her cage dominated the back of the truck, made of steel wires reinforced by thick bars. Jessabelle was still in the form of a great cat. She opened both eyes and struggled against the remainder of the poison from the tranquilizer dart. The urge to shift into human form was tempting, but until she knew it would do her good, she resisted. Unless her life was in danger, she didn’t want to reveal herself to these people, assuming they didn’t know already. Besides, she was already hungry. Another shift or two would leave her famished, and she had no idea when or if she’d get her next meal.

Another figure stepped in through the open doorway, but she couldn’t see past the array of video displays over the desk to view anyone clearly. A man’s voice said, “While you can’t see the colors with the infrared cameras, you can plainly see the transition on your own porch this morning.”

Jessabelle’s mama answered. “Number one: why would y’all watch my house with hidden cameras, and number two: why would y’all expect me to believe this crazy story? I’ve done seen better special effects in old made-for-TV movies.”

Even her own mama didn’t know what she could do. Jessabelle was pretty sure her mama knew something was unusual about her daughter. But now a stranger was telling her mama the truth about her. This was not the way she wanted her mama to learn.

The man continued. “We were investigating reports of a wild animal attacking and killing humans in the area. This is our job. And while this is an unusual case, we’ve dealt with similar situations before. I know it’s hard to believe, but this is your daughter.”

A stranger and her mother stepped around the desk into Jessabelle’s view. The man was in his early fifties, clean-shaven with a full head of mostly silver hair. He had an electronic tablet in one hand. Her mother stood behind him with her arms crossed, shaking her head. He touched the screen and showed something to Jessabelle’s mother. “Here’s a video of the smaller cat changing into this creature. We can’t prove the creature was responsible for what happened next, but the evidence is compelling.”

Her mother turned away from the image on the tablet with a revolted expression. “Why did you show me that? Whose body is that?”

“We haven’t identified it yet. We wanted to show this to you before the authorities get here.”

“Why? What y’all are showing me makes no sense. If y’all think this thing hurt those people, y’all ought to put it out of its misery right now.”

“You have no objection to us taking it away?”

Linda Rose stared straight at Jessabelle-the-cat, and said, “Yes, I’d rather y’all kill the beast right now. I’d rather know for sure that it ain’t going to hurt anyone ‘round here no more.”

Jessabelle’s heart froze. This was her personal nightmare, not something that could happen in real life. Her mother couldn’t possibly be telling them to kill her only daughter, could she?

The man nodded. “If you can’t be convinced, fine. I understand the downed power line has been cleared from the road, so we can take her immediately. But…”

Jessabelle transformed into Jessabelle-the-girl. “Mama?” she said quietly.

Jessabelle’s mother reeled backwards, bumping up against a console on the other side of the truck. “No!” she shrieked. “No, it’s not possible! What did you do to Jessabelle?”

Jessabelle could swear that she saw the ghost of a grin appear on the man’s lips. “I’m sorry to have to bring you this terrible news, ma’am. But as I said, we have experience with this sort of thing, as have certain divisions of law enforcement. They are not going to bat an eye at the idea that a shape-shifter—your daughter—could be involved.”

Jessabelle cried out. “I didn’t hurt nobody, Mama! They’re lying.”

Linda’s voice quivered. “Did she kill that person in the woods?”

The man shrugged. “We don’t know. But the authorities—those who are familiar with these unusual cases—will reach the same conclusion we did. They won’t treat her condition the way we will. We’ll give her the care she needs, keep her safe, and remove her from consideration as a threat here. You’ll be able to visit her after a few months, and once she completes the program, she’ll be free. You all will be free. It’s her only chance, Mrs. Rose, but we don’t have much time.”

Jessabelle pleaded. “Don’t let them take me away, Mama! I didn’t do anything!”

Tears rolled down Linda’s cheeks. “What do I need to do?”

“We’ve got some papers for you to sign, granting us power of attorney and so forth. We need to act fast, before the police get here. We can get the paperwork started now while we take her to safety. I’ll explain everything as we go.”

Linda stared at Jessabelle. Her eyes held fear and disbelief behind the tears. Linda Rose might as well be looking at a dangerous stranger.

“It’s me, Mama!” Sobs welled up within Jessabelle. “It’s me! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But it’s me! Don’t let them take me.”

The man scowled. “Mrs. Rose? Mrs. Rose, I know you have a lot of questions, and there’ll be time to sort all this out later. But we’ve got to get going and remove your daughter from the scene as quickly and as quietly as possible. Can we do that? Ma’am?”

Linda still stared, and her lips moved without words coming out, almost like a prayer. Jessabelle made out the mouthed words, “I’m sorry,” but that was all. Linda turned her back on Jessabelle and the man guided her out of the truck.

Jessabelle wailed as they shut the door with a heavy thud that didn’t belong to thin aluminum. Seconds later, the truck lurched, the great wheels struggling against the accumulated mud from the night before. Jessabelle prayed the truck would get stuck, and this whole impossible nightmare would end with the bad guys unable to leave Maple Bend. But then the truck rumbled and found its traction.

Jessabelle screamed. Nobody heard.

At dawn, Jenny and Jack ate a quick breakfast of nuts and hard bread.

After shaking their blankets clean and packing their bags, they set back out along the creek. For the first few minutes, they walked in silence. Then they talked about high school and favorite movies, and everything seemed right enough to Jack. He was still sore from moving rocks the afternoon before, but after the first half hour the pain blended into the background. The next three hours passed quickly as they followed the creek, although the terrain was sometimes nearly impassible. The game trails Jack used to follow back in Maple Bend were like paved roads by comparison.

It was almost a surprise to Jack when they came to a clearing along a valley in the outskirts of Hobbfield. His mental picture of the village had come from bad fantasy movies and cartoons, with Tudor style walls and bucolic fields. He’d never admit to it, but there were probably princesses singing to small animals in his imagination. Instead, Hobbfield seemed to be out of the state history textbook from the late nineteenth or early twentieth century. Those pictures were in black-and-white, but the scene before him popped in vivid color. Granted, most of the buildings were white, but the shutters and doors were brightly painted. Men and boys gathered along the dirt road through the middle of the village wearing pants and vests of browns and dark blues, with long-sleeved shirts and wide-brimmed hats. The women wore even more colorful clothing, mostly with long-sleeved blouses and skirts of several colors. They wore hats and bonnets with simple patterns, not always matching the rest of their clothing.

The villagers had gathered around two carts filled with barrels and sacks. A man with a long gray-blond beard stood on one cart with a board with paper in one hand and a quill pen in the other. His voice was raised at another man, and the rest of the crowd murmured among themselves. No one noticed Jack and Jenny as they approached.

Their accents were strange, sort of a blend between the accents of the West Virginian old-timers, with maybe a bit of a Scottish accent like he’d heard on TV. The man on the cart pointed with a quill toward another man standing on the ground and said, “Silas, we aren’t even at two-thirds yet. You’ve contributed less than half of your share.”

The man being addressed had a handlebar mustache, and wore no vest over his suspenders. A woman, presumably his wife, stood behind him, holding an infant. Four other children ranging in age between two and twelve, Jack guessed, huddled around the woman. The man with the mustache shook his head. “At the end of harvest, maybe I could, but not today. Y’all talk about starving at wintertime, but if I pay any more, my family won’t make it to winter.”

“If we don’t meet their demands, none of us will make it to winter!”

The man on the ground crossed his arms. “Then we explain. Maybe they’ll be reasonable.”

A woman, whom Jack couldn’t see called, “And how reasonable have they proven to be so far, Silas?”

The grumblings from the rest of the villagers grew louder, until the man on the cart raised his hand. The volume dropped, but the conversations didn’t end. The man on the cart said, “Look, Silas, we’re all in this together. We’ll make sure your family won’t starve.”

Again, Silas shook his head. “I appreciate that, Barnaby. I know all y’all mean it today, when your children’s bellies ain’t empty. When that day comes, charity and old promises will fail. I’m sorry, I’ve given more than I have to spare as it is. Besides, my portion wouldn’t make a difference. Y’all know that. We don’t have enough.”

“What other choice do we have?” The man called Barnaby looked around the crowd with a pleading gaze. His eyes settled on Jack and Jenny, and his jaw dropped. “Why have y’all come so early? We’re only working out details now. Tell Zainus not to fret. We’ll have the delivery ready by nightfall.”

Jack glanced at Jenny, who looked equally clueless. While Jack didn’t relish the gaze of the crowd, Jenny wilted under the sudden attention. Without thinking, Jack stepped partly in front of her and said, “Sorry, sir. I don’t know who Zainus is.”

Barnaby rubbed his chin. “Oh, ah, sorry then, strangers. I hope I didn’t offend y’all with my presumption. Where do y’all come from?”

Jack shrugged. “Just up the mountain. We’re staying with Annabelle Rose.”

The man’s eyebrows nearly launched themselves off his forehead and the corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly from their neutral, slack-jawed position. “Granny Annabelle sent y’all to us?”

Jack shrugged again. Of course she had. “Yes, sir. We came with a list of a few things…”

The people cheered. Jack raised his voice to finish, “…a few things that we need to get for her.”

Barnaby nodded. “Of course, of course, anything she needs. She always deals fairly with us. She never spoke to us of you, however, Mister…?”

“Oh, I’m Jack Parsons. This is Jenny Morgan. Jenny here is Annabelle’s granddaughter.”

“We’re pleased to meet you, Jack, and Jenny. Jenny, do you share your grandmother’s gifts in witchcraft?”

Jenny nodded, drawing closer to Jack. “Some,” she said.

Barnaby raised the paper and the quill toward them as people surrounded them. “She must have great faith in y’all to entrust y’all with this errand.”

Jack said, “It really ain’t a big deal. She’s just busy with some important matters on her end.”

Barnaby looked at the crowd and said, “This changes nothing yet. But we should attend to our guests immediately. They must be tired and hungry.”

A woman with gray-streaked raven hair stepped beside them and announced, “I’ll take care of them, Barnaby. I’ll make sure they are readied with everything they need.”

Jack looked at the woman and asked, “Are you Vanya?”

She smiled. “I am. Come with me.”

Jack breathed a sigh of relief that things had gone so well, in spite of the villagers being in an obvious state of crisis. They dressed strangely, and their accent was unusual, but that would describe just about everyone more than fifty miles from Jack’s hometown. They were just folks.

Vanya took them to her house, a two-story building with muted yellow walls and brown trim. To deal with the uneven ground, half of the house was supported by stone piles. The windows were covered by wooden shutters closed against the bright summer sun. The inside of the home was dark, but surprisingly cool even at mid-day. “Can I get y’all something to eat? I have plenty of beans in the pot. I can get them for y’all right away, or I can heat them up if y’all don’t mind waiting.”

Jenny said, “On a day like this, I don’t think we need it warmed.”

Vanya smiled. “I’ll be right back. Will last night’s cornbread be okay?”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Jack said. “We have money…”

“I ain’t taking it for beans and cornbread. ‘Specially not as Annabelle sent y’all. Have a seat there.” She pointed to a room with a couch and three stuffed chairs. “There’s a basin in the next room if y’all want to freshen up a bit. I’ll be out back in the kitchen if y’all think of anything else you need.”

Vanya left out the back door, careful to close it behind her. Jack and Jenny looked at each other, the dim room becoming easier to see as their eyes adjusted. The furniture was obviously hand-crafted out of solid, heavy wood, built slightly smaller than most modern furniture. Two paintings of landscapes adorned the walls, as well as a black-and-white photograph of a couple. The photograph was printed on a thin metal plate instead of paper, dark around the edges and corners. While it looked vintage, the woman in the photograph could easily have been Vanya twenty years earlier.

Jenny peered through the window, moving her head up and down to peer between the slats of the shutters. She sighed and gave up. “What do you think is going on out there?” Jenny asked.

Jack shrugged. “Sounds like they owe someone, and are having trouble paying.”

“I wonder if that means they won’t have enough supplies for my Grandma.”

“I reckon I could ask if there’s anything I can do to help out. Annie sent extra money with us. Maybe we can give it to them, and see if that might make some difference.”

Jenny stared at him for several seconds. She pursed her lips, but couldn’t stop the smile from coming through. Jack wiped at his nose self-consciously. “What? Do I have a booger hanging out or something?”

She laughed and shook her head. “No. I just… You’re a good guy, Jack. Don’t change.”

“Me? No, I ain’t…”

“Hey, don’t lie, Jack!”

Vanya reappeared, summoning them into the dining room. Two places were set on a small, heavy wooden table. The plates were filled with black beans, vegetables, and cornbread. “Vittles!” she said. “It ain’t much, but it ought to help you get your strength back after your trip. Now, Annabelle usually comes with what she calls her shopping list. Did she send you with one?”

Jenny nodded and produced the list from her bag. “Jack’s got the money to pay for it.”

Vanya nodded, taking the list and the payment. “I’ll get on that right away. Once Zainus is out of our hair, I’ll be able to send someone out to the city. It will probably take only a couple of weeks, if there’s nothing too strange on the list. Anyway, eat up. Let me know if y’all need anything more.” Before Jenny or Jack could say anything else, she was gone again, bustling through another door.

Jack and Jenny ate quickly. The food was plain compared to what they were used to in their world, and even compared to Annie’s dishes, but it was still tasty and satisfying after their two-day trek. A pitcher on the table was filled with cold water, which they poured into clay cups. It probably came from Blood Creek, just as the water from their canteens, but somehow it tasted better.

They’d barely finished when Vanya returned, brightening the room with her broad smile. Jack stood. Vanya gathered up their plates, cups, and utensils on a tray, like a waitress. She set the tray on the table and said, “Now, I’ll go set up a room for y’all for tonight. Or rooms. I’m sorry. Are y’all two married?”

Jenny snorted.

Jack stammered. “Um, no, ma’am. We’re just friends. And we’re too young to be married. I’m only seventeen. At least for a few more weeks.”

Jenny turned to Jack with an exaggerated pout. “You weren’t going to tell us your birthday was coming up? We would have missed it!”

Jack shrugged and leaned back in the sturdy wooden chair. “It ain’t that important. I’ll be turning eighteen. I reckon I’ll have to start acting like an adult or something.”

“I’ll be seventeen in August. You’ll be an old man.”

Jack grinned.

Vanya raised an eyebrow. “Y’all don’t look that young. Jack, you look at least twenty. Around here, women are often married before they turn eighteen. Sometimes as young as fifteen.”

Jenny gave Vanya a sour look. “That’s creepy.”

“I married my first husband when I was sixteen.”

Jenny covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, I’m so sorry, ma’am! I didn’t mean to… I mean…it’s just considered too young where we’re from!”

Vanya laughed. “Don’t fret. Annabelle has told me a great deal about y’all’s world. Folks around here who remember and believe in it call it the Dark World. Things there probably sound as strange to me as ours do to y’all. Still, I apologize for taking y’all to be so old. I’ll fix up separate rooms, then. Is there anything else you need to, you know, prepare?”

Prepare? Unsure of what she meant, Jack had something else to get off his mind. “Yes, one thing. I guess there ain’t a good time to mention this. We found a body on the way here.”

“A body?”

“Yes, ma’am. He was carrying a gold coin, two other coins—maybe silver—and a container of salt. We thought he might have come from here.”

Her bright expression collapsed. “Yes, that would be Oliver, my late husband’s nephew.”

“Oh, no!” Jenny said, again covering her mouth.

Jack bowed his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We should have said something right away.”

“It ain’t like I gave you a chance to get a word in edgewise. We warned him not to follow the creek, because the bandits would be watching. I s’pose that explains why he didn’t come back with you.” Her eyes widened. “Wait, does that mean he never made it to Annabelle’s?”

Jack shook his head. “No. He looked like he’d been dead a couple of days. We did our best to cover him up with rocks. We can take y’all up there to show you where he is.”

Vanya’s brows furrowed as she stepped toward the window, peering through the shutter slats toward the town center. “So if he never made it, how did Annabelle know to send y’all?”

Jenny answered. “She needed supplies and can’t leave right now. She sent us down to get them.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

Vanya braced herself on the table. “Oh, no. I have to warn everyone, then. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” Jack asked.

“We sent Oliver up the mountain to get Annabelle’s help. We all assumed she sent you to save us from Zainus and his bandits!”

Jessabelle wanted to sleep, to fall back into tranquilizer-induced unconsciousness, but sleep wouldn’t come. There was no way to get comfortable inside her cage. Even ignoring her hunger, she wouldn’t give these bastards the satisfaction of changing into an animal again. Unless they had ice-cold hearts and zero morals as human beings, they had to feel bad about abusing a human girl. And if they were so heartless and cruel, maybe they’d at least get sloppy and forget about what she could do. Instead of sleeping, she made herself feel better by fantasizing about the revenge she’d take on them when she had the chance. She didn’t actually believe she could do it, but the fantasies made her feel better.

They’d been on the road for almost two hours. She didn’t think the truck could go very fast, especially around the steep switchbacks she felt them taking from time to time so they couldn’t be that far from Maple Bend. Finally the truck stopped, and the engine rumbled off. The lights dimmed as the electronic equipment switched to low-power mode running off batteries. The hiss of air from the climate system, which she hadn’t noticed before, ceased. She felt more than heard the sounds of the cab doors opening and closing. They’d soundproofed the walls of the truck well.

Jessabelle didn’t have to wait long. Before the temperature of the trailer could rise to uncomfortable levels, the latch on the back of the trailer clanked and the door opened. Only dim light came through the door, so Jessabelle assumed they’d driven inside a garage or warehouse.

A man stepped up and through the door, touching a light switch. The LED illumination came to life immediately, gleaming off of the man’s clean white suit, and the bald spot on his head wreathed by a crown of gray hair. A snapshot of him, revealing his slight paunch and his disarming smile, would convince almost anyone that he was nothing more than a kindly grandpa. Anyone who didn’t know who, and what, the man in the white suit really was.

Jessabelle knew, and she caught her breath in terror.

He strolled along the narrow isle between tables of electronic gear toward her cage, and flipped a recessed seat into position. He sat down and flashed his deadly grin. “Hello Jessie. May I call you Jessie? I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Thadeus.”

Jessabelle said nothing. She made her best effort to remain silent and motionless, but her body betrayed her by trembling all over. She’d seen this man snap a woman’s neck from ten feet away. She was sure the cage provided her no protection.

“I’ll take your silence to mean you don’t mind if I join you.” He leaned back and looked at her. “You’re a beautiful young lady. Lots of potential. I look forward to seeing how you blossom.”

She would have glared at him, but she was so terrified it was all she could do to keep herself from hyperventilating. He could kill her. He would probably kill her. Why not? She’d helped destroy his plans to seize control of the crossroads to Around the Bend, and stopped his servant, Evelyn, from bringing his equally dangerous daughter back across. She knew he wasn’t one for mercy.

Thadeus spoke quietly. “Tell me, who do you think I am?” She didn’t answer, and he continued. “Please, be honest. And don’t be afraid of insulting me. I promise you, nothing you could say right now would cause me to harm you.”

He was silent for an entire minute, waiting for her answer. He looked ready to wait the rest of the month. Finally, she muttered, “You sent Evelyn to kill us.” Her voice betrayed her, cracking as she spoke.

He shook his head. “I did no such thing. I told her I didn’t care what she did, so long as she obtained results. What else do you think you know about me?”

Again, he waited. She wasn’t about to answer that she’d seen him kill Evelyn. She’d rather keep that a secret. She answered again, “You killed Jenny’s parents.”

“Ah, I hoped you’d bring that up! What would you say if I told you I didn’t personally harm them? I was there, of course, as they died. I was sad to the see them go. But I didn’t kill them. I didn’t even specifically order them killed.”

“It don’t matter. You were responsible.”

He raised his eyebrows, and took on a surface expression of amusement. There was no humor in his flat eyes. “You know, I am relieved to hear you say that.”

Jessabelle tilted her head back. “Huh? Why?”

“I’d say you and I are in agreement. Yes, I didn’t personally kill them. But still, their deaths were my responsibility. It hurts me to say that, because Amy Rose, once upon a time, was a good friend of mine.”

“So you don’t deny it.”

“No. I’ll tell you the truth today, Jessie. Now, I’m known to tell a few fibs here and there. That manufactured body that lured you into a trap was a deception I taught my people to do. It gets harder every year to fake a death, you know. Not that I expect you to appreciate that. I’m rarely very honest with people, but I try and honor my deals. Did you know that?”

She stopped herself from shaking her head.

He nodded patronizingly. “I do. I try very hard to keep my promises…that way people always know where they stand with me. I don’t want anyone to have to guess as to whether I might follow through. I gave a promise to Hattie Rose that I’d leave you alone if she stayed out of my affairs. And I also promised her that if she did not, I’d take you. While she might not have directly interfered, I’d say she was still responsible and provided you with material support in your efforts against me. The reason you and I are here together is because we both believe in that responsibility.”

Jessabelle shook her head. “It wasn’t Hattie’s idea! It was ours!”

“Are you saying that after her injuries, she never once gave you advice or recommendations, access to training, or shelter during your activities?”

“None of that counts!”

“Doesn’t it? Are you changing your ideals simply because it puts you in an uncomfortable position?” He shook his head. “I just want you to know this isn’t any kind of revenge against you. Actually, it’s really lucky that this opportunity came up. There’s a vacancy you can fill almost immediately!”

Now Jessabelle gained enough courage to glare. “I ain’t interested in working for you. Ever!”

“I hope you’ll change your mind. But whether you do or do not, willingly or not, you will provide us with sorely needed aid. It’s ironic. If you hadn’t set Evelyn back like you did, we wouldn’t have pursued plan B and wouldn’t have needed you at all.” He stood up and re-folded the chair to its recessed location.

“The man promised my mama that she could come see me. When can I see her?”

“That depends on how well behaved you are. I certainly hope that she can come here before the end of the year. Would you like that?”

Jessabelle couldn’t help herself and sobbed. While it might make her look weak in front of Thadeus, she didn’t care. She was weak, he had won, and he terrified her.

Thadeus walked out the back door, and spoke just loud enough that she could hear it over her own sobbing breaths. “She’s all yours. Treat her gently, but remember what she’s capable of. I think she’ll be a fine addition, one way or the other.”

* * *

Three armed men escorted Jessabelle out of the truck into an underground parking area. One man used a security badge to open a reinforced steel door. They took her through the door into something that looked like a cross between an office building and a jail. They descended a ramp and entered a hallway. A reception kiosk protected by thick glass and two more guards stood across from them, next to yet another sturdy door. While one of her escorts filled out paperwork, a guard inside the kiosk spoke into a microphone. “Code 7. Receiving.”

Two minutes later, a young woman in her early twenties arrived, trailed by a statue of muscle on a six-and-a-half foot frame with close-cropped blond hair. Her beefy shadow carried a handgun on his hip in addition to a stun gun. “We’ll take it from here,” the girl said to the group surrounding Jessabelle.

The kiosk buzzed, and the door popped open. The woman held the door open for Jessabelle and motioned her inside. With one look back along the ramp to the parking garage, which seemed to raise the tensions of the guards, Jessabelle stepped inside the door. The woman and the big guard followed, and the door shut behind them.

The woman introduced herself as they walked. “I’m Susan. I’m your chief attendant during your stay here. Let’s take you to your new quarters.” She led the way, and the guard followed behind Jessabelle, herding her with one hand on his stun gun at all times. They turned twice through the halls, and came to a door that really did look like it belonged to a prison. A small window with thick metal threads crisscrossing on this side of the glass. A monitor on the wall with a keypad below it showed a distorted, wide-angle view of the room. Jessabelle noted that there was really no place to be private from that camera or the glass window.

Susan held her security badge up to a spot below the keypad, and then tapped a sequence on the buttons. The door opened with an audible buzz. Susan stepped in and held the door open. The assistant behind Jessabelle stepped closer, encouraging her to enter by his proximity.

Jessabelle followed Susan inside. The room was twice the size of her mother’s bedroom. A small two-person couch and a stuffed chair faced a wall-mounted wide-screen television, as if she would have visitors. An open accordion-style door led to a spacious bathroom. Paintings even adorned the walls.

“This will be your living quarters during your stay here,” Susan said. “Please don’t hesitate to ask me or one of your other attendants if you need anything.”

Jessabelle mumbled a response. Susan turned to her and asked, “What was that?”

“I said I need a ride home.”

Susan chuckled humorlessly. “Within reason, of course. The phone on the far wall is a direct line to the office down the hall. We’ll have meals brought in three times a day, as well as a snack. Do you have any special dietary concerns?”

Jessabelle shook her head, bewildered. “So this will be my cell?” It wasn’t anything like she’d pictured. While the walls were white-painted cinder-block, it was nicely carpeted and furnished. The wood of the bed, the writing desk, and a chest-of-drawers all matched.

Susan bobbed her head. “It’s a secure facility, for your protection and ours. Cooperation will earn additional privileges, including the opportunity to eat in the cafeteria with other people, or the chance to use the computer lab.”

“What would I do in a computer lab?”

Susan hesitated. “Um, if you wanted to browse the web or anything. Naturally, we will be disallowing any use of social media during your stay here, or any other direct contact with the outside world.” She waved toward the bathroom and the furniture. “There’s an assortment of toiletries in the bathroom, and some simple changes of clothing in your chest-of-drawers. Let us know if you have any favorite brands you’d prefer.”

“You bought me clothes? Like prison clothes?”

“No, normal clothing. This is not a prison.”

“But I’m a prisoner. You ain’t letting me leave.”

Susan sighed. “You could call it that, for the time being. But we want to make your stay pleasant. That covers the basics. Do you have any other questions?”

“Yes. Where are we, and who are you?”

“I’m not at liberty to tell you where we are. And I assume you aren’t just asking about me.”

“No. Who do you work for? Thadeus?”

“Indirectly. We’re the Coven, of course. As are you, now. Welcome!”

Vanya held up her hands. “Y’all stay here. I’ll go explain to Barnaby and the rest. It was all a misunderstanding.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jack said.

“You don’t have to do that, Jack. It ain’t your fault, and ain’t your problem. It might be better to let this all blow over.”

“Blow over? No, it ain’t your fault, either. I’ll go face up to it and see if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Jenny stood. “Me too. I admitted I’m a witch, and that maybe led to them thinking what they did. Besides, I’m not the witch that Grandma Annabelle is, but I can at least stand by in case there’s trouble.”

Vanya raised her hands in surrender. “Y’all got a lot of courage, I’ll give you that.” With that, they left her home and made their way back to the center of town. The July sun blazed, and Jack checked the time on his watch. It wasn’t yet 2:00 in the afternoon, so they had a lot of time before sundown. He didn’t know what he could do in a few hours to help, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

Most of the crowd had dispersed. Barnaby stood by the carts, with his board and quill pen, and a bottle of ink sitting precariously on the sideboard. Barnaby turned and smiled as they approached. “Welcome back! I thought you’d be resting up, or making preparations!”

Vanya shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid there’s been a terrible mistake. Oliver is dead. Annabelle never got the message. These two youth were sent here only to obtain supplies.”

Barnaby’s smile collapsed into open-mouthed horror. “You…you aren’t here to fight off the bandits?”

Jack shook his head. “We didn’t really understand what was going on until Vanya explained it to us, sir. I’m very sorry.”

“I am too, lad.” He looked at Vanya. “People have already started taking their contributions back. There’s no way we’ll fill the quota by sundown.”

“Can you fight them?” Jenny asked.

“With what? They took what few weapons we possessed on the first day and gave us three days to gather ‘tribute’. They threatened to take everything by force if we don’t meet their demands.”

Jack asked, “Is there anything I can do to help? I know it ain’t much.”

Barnaby sighed. “Can you contact Annabelle and get her here before sundown?”

Jack looked at Jenny. She looked down and shook her head.

A villager asked, “What do we do now, Barnaby?”

He shook his head. “We’ll do what we can and try to negotiate.” He looked at Jack and Jenny. “It would be best if the two of you went and hid in the woods until this is over. Come back in the morning. If we have anything left, we’ll spare what we can for Annabelle. Maybe she’ll be able to help us recover.”

The other villagers argued over options. While he couldn’t make out the details, Jack heard them talking about who might be able to spare more for the carts, or how they might pad out their tribute, or who could send their children to stay with relatives over the winter. Jenny muttered to Jack, “I feel terrible about this.”

“Me too. I wish there was something I could do. The only things I can think of would be stupid and dangerous.”

“But…you aren’t going to do anything like that, are you?” She asked it as an honest question. Jack considered. She’d have his back if he could come up with a decent plan. But, at the moment, he had none. He had a sword he barely knew how to swing. His natural resistance to magic was handy against witches, but not so useful against a bunch of bloodthirsty bandits. Annabelle’s amulet might help him survive a few blows, but it wouldn’t stop him from getting overpowered by numbers.

Maybe an opportunity would present itself. But for now, he had no good ideas. “No, I don’t think so,” he answered. “I reckon it’d be best to lie low and cause as little trouble for these folks as possible.”

She nodded. “We’ll get Grandma Annabelle. She’ll know what to do.”

Just then a man ran along the dirt road toward them. “They’re here!” he cried as he drew closer. “The bandits are here!” Before anyone could react, horses appeared over the rise behind him, ridden by bandits with drawn weapons.

“What do we do?” a woman cried.

“Nothing,” Barnaby said. “It ain’t sundown yet. We’re still gathering their tribute. Vanya, take our friends to your house.”

“They already saw us,” Jack said.

Jenny nodded in agreement. “We don’t want to attract their attention. Let’s stand with the others.”

Vanya whispered, “Y’all’s clothes might attract their attention.”

Jack removed his John Deere hat. He still stood out, especially surrounded by people in hats and bonnets, but he was at least slightly less noticeable. Someone behind him put a wide-brimmed hat on his head. He wanted to look back to see who it was, but the bandits had already overtaken the runner and were nearly to the carts. There wasn’t much he could do about the sword at his side. He stood in the middle of the crowd with Jenny, and avoided eye contact with the approaching bandits.

Jenny gave him a brief, reassuring smile, trying her hardest to blend in with the crowd as well. While much of her clothing came from Annabelle’s homemade wardrobe, she wore modern jeans and sneakers. That alone made her stand out among the skirted women.

Nine bandits fanned out as they approached. Six of them made a show of raising their crossbows, not aiming at anyone in particular, but making their threats clear. The other three wore leathers with buckles, and fine riding boots, but they didn’t take their swords from their sheaths. The obvious leader was a bizarre-looking figure, appearing to Jack’s eyes like a cartoon character made flesh. Out of his saddle, he couldn’t have stood five feet tall on his tiptoes. His head was too big and his skin too smooth over his face. If Jack didn’t know better, he’d think the man was wearing an extremely well-painted rubber mask.

Barnaby nodded toward the leader. “We were not expecting you until sundown, Zainus.”

The strange-looking man raised his eyebrows. “Indeed. We did not expect you to send a man to get aid from that witch in the mountains. Yet you did, and we were forced to kill him.” The man’s speech patterns were strange, melodious, with precise diction but a somewhat uneven rhythm. It was an accent Jack had never heard before, and it grated on him. Zainus continued. “We also did not expect you to receive new visitors to town today, and yet you did. This week is just full of the unexpected, do you not think? Besides, we knew you would be anxious for us to depart, so we came to take our leave early. Is that okay with you?”

“We haven’t assembled the full tribute yet, Zainus.”

The bandit leader nodded. “A pity. Tell me, Barnaby, would a few hours make a difference?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do not know? Or do you not wish to admit it? Let us be honest with each other.”

Barnaby closed his eyes and lowered his head. “I don’t believe we can. It’s my fault.”

Zainus smiled in a way that seemed as artificial as the rest of his face as he leaned casually over the neck of his horse. “Come now, Barnaby. Let us not argue over who is to blame. We are not unreasonable bandits.” He looked up at the rest of the crowd and said, “Who is that girl? The one who wears britches like a man?”

Barnaby glanced at Jenny, and then clenched his eyes tightly shut. “She’s just one of us. Lives up the road a bit, sir.”

With a flicker of movement, Zainus drew his sword and held it under Barnaby’s chin. The older man’s beard draped over both sides of the blade, and his eyes snapped wide in fear. Zainus made a clucking noise. “Come now, Barnaby. Do not lie. My scout saw her come into this village only two hours ago.”

Jenny stepped forward. “Don’t hurt him. I’m Jenny. I’m just visiting.”

Zainus lowered the blade. “Ah, that is more like it. Well, Jenny who is just visiting, you are a very pretty girl. And you have convinced me not to hurt dear Barnaby. In fact, Barnaby, I am inclined to take these two carts and call it a complete tribute.”

Barnaby was breathing rapidly now. “You…you will?”

“Certainly. As I said, we are not unreasonable. And, as this girl is not of your people after all, she won’t even be your loss. But she will be worth a considerable sum to us.”

It was time to do something stupid. Jack launched himself at Zainus, drawing his blade clumsily as he charged. Zainus grinned gleefully and the six crossbowman fired. Jack didn’t flinch or even feel the impact as the bolts bounced off the protective spells around him.

The bandit leader’s grin fell as he raised his blade again. “Sorcerer!” he yelled as Jack swung at him. Zainus easily avoided the blow, but Jack’s sword struck the horse. It made a terrible sound and leaped away, tossing Zainus into the air. Zainus landed lightly upon the ground but his injured horse fled.

Jack charged at the little man, swinging the sword like a machete. Zainus spoke words in a foreign tongue, and the air around Jack seemed to compress, but Jack ignored it. Zainus dodged backwards, and recited some other short phrase, but aside from the making the hairs on Jack’s arms raise, nothing happened. Twice more the little man dodged Jack’s blows while speaking quick sing-song phrases.

Suddenly, the rest of the horses went crazy. Four dumped their riders onto the ground as they fled, with one bandit screaming as his foot caught in the stirrup and was dragged across the field toward the treeline. One lieutenant in fine leathers howled when Vanya hurled a rock into his head, but clung on the saddle of his fleeing horse. Three other bandits tried and failed to regain control of their mounts as they scattered in different directions.

Zainus turned and ran at a speed that rivaled the horses. Jack couldn’t keep up. After a few seconds of giving chase, Jack gave up and returned to the group. One fallen bandit escaped into the woods on foot. Three other bandits lay on the ground surrounded by angry villagers holding rocks and sticks.

Jenny was all smiles. “I used Grandma’s spell to scare enemies away. I didn’t know if I could make it stick to the bandits, so I frightened their horses instead.”

Jessabelle ignored the lunch they brought to her chamber, but by dinner time, she was ravenous. Hunger trumped her despair, and she devoured the cheeseburger and fries. When she finished, the guard came to take her dishes and asked, “Would you like ice cream or something?”

Jessabelle didn’t feel like talking, but she looked at the guard in confusion. “Ice cream? Y’all don’t do nutrition around here?”

“Yes ma’am, but for now we’ve been instructed to bring you any food you want.”

She didn’t answer. After a minute, the guard said, “If you do want anything, just call our office on the phone.” He took her dishes and left.

Jessabelle barely slept the first night. She hid in the bathroom where the camera couldn’t see her, and cried. She had run out of tears before Susan and two armed guards arrived to bring her breakfast. It was somewhat more nutritious: an omelet with fruit and orange juice. An hour later, they returned to take her from her cell.

Jessabelle went with them reluctantly. She didn’t see the use in fighting. “Where are we going?”

“The infirmary,” Susan answered. “It’s standard procedure for processing. We need to run some baseline tests. We want to make sure you stay healthy and safe while you are staying with us.”

They went past the security checkpoint they’d passed through the previous day. After Susan used her security badge, the guard buzzed them through. Instead of heading up the ramp to the parking garage, they turned right down the hallway and into a room that looked and smelled like a hospital.

Jessabelle hated hospitals, especially once she had discovered her ability. She was always terrified they’d learn her secret and keep her for study. As she entered the infirmary with its hospital-cleanser smells, depression crashed over her. It had all happened as she’d feared. She didn’t resist as they weighed her, took her temperature, and sat her down to take her blood pressure. When the security guards moved closer to her chair, she grew alarmed. When the nurse appeared with a needle, panic hit.

“We’re just getting a blood sample,” the nurse said in a soothing voice. Jessabelle shrank back in the chair, looking at the flanking security guards. As the nurse came closer, she pulled her arms back and hugged herself. The guards grabbed her and forced her into position.

She fought the urge to transform, but couldn’t resist screaming as the nurse forced the needle into her vein. Somewhere nearby, Susan spoke in her calm, businesslike voice, trying to reassure her. Jessabelle couldn’t hear anything over her own screams.

* * *

Tears were harder to come by over the next three days. At first, she expected Hattie or her mother to appear, demanding her release. Or maybe Jack, shotgun in hand, boldly taking on the entire Coven with his ability to shrug off their witchcraft, protected by Jenny’s magical shield. Never mind that he was trapped, in another world, probably fighting giants and witches and whatever they did out there. He wouldn’t be her knight in shining armor.

On the third day, she lost hope that anyone would come to her rescue. She was alone and trapped, maybe forever, at the whim of a madman who had killed one of the most powerful witches Jessabelle knew at a glance. The tears stopped entirely, though not from lack of despair. She had nothing left to cry.

Susan checked on her twice a day, always accompanied by the big guard. Jessabelle hated Susan.

Elise, the other girl who came by to check on her, was good company. While Susan was professionally courteous, professionally attentive, and professional everything, Elise was younger and more unprofessionally sociable. Jessabelle was on guard against deceit, and Susan gave off cues of being full of it. However, Elise seemed genuine.

On the fourth night, Elise brought her dinner. Like all the meals served at the Coven, it looked like it had been prepared for a photograph, and it smelled and tasted delicious. As Jessabelle sat the food down on her desk, Elise pointed to the stuffed chair. “Is it okay if I join you?”

Jessabelle shrugged. She plopped down in the desk chair and waved her fork at the plate. “I reckon. You want some of this?”

“No, thank you. I just finished my dinner break.” Elise sat down on the edge of the chair. “You know, if you promise to behave, you could have dinner with us in the cafeteria. I could get permission.”

“Aren’t y’all afraid I’ll turn into a panther and tear y’all apart on my way out of here?”

“Yes, we are. You wouldn’t succeed, though. There are too many guards. Do you know we have a chart of all the guests here? You are the only one in red.”

“I ain’t a guest. I’m a prisoner. What does red mean?”

“It means you are considered both hostile and very dangerous. We haven’t had a red guest since I started working on this level. I’m pleased they trust me enough to work with you.”

Jessabelle stabbed her food with the fork. “Or maybe they don’t like you.”

Elise laughed. “Well, maybe there’s that.” She quieted her laughter when Jessabelle didn’t join her. Did Elise realize that this wasn’t a joke? “I’ve worked for the Coven for two years. I wasn’t much older than you when I started.”

Jessabelle grew grumpier as she took another bite. Why did evil people have to have such good food? Between mouthfuls, Jessabelle asked, “What made you work for the man in the white suit? Did they kidnap you, too?”

“Oh, wow. Him? Mr. Longrave? You know, I’ve never really met him. I know he’s the founder and principal owner of the organization, and we’re not that big, but I don’t really think of myself as working for him. Susan Hirsch is my direct boss, and then there’s her boss, and then the site manager, and then the director of operations, and then there’s Mr. Longrave.”

Jessabelle took in this information. It was a little like being a spy. Could she do that? Could she work inside the Coven and sneak the information out to…whom, exactly? Who would be able to do anything with that information and bring it down? Who would be able to kill or arrest the man in the white suit? Certainly not Hattie. Even if her grandmother was still here, she’d be no match against him. Again, there was no hope. No rescue. Jessabelle squeezed her eyes shut against the returning despair.

“I’m sorry,” Elise said. “What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”

Jessabelle shook her head. “No. No. I just want to be alone right now.”

Elise nodded. “I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have…you know…”

Jessabelle opened her eyes. In her imagination, the whitewashed cinderblock walls crushed in toward her. “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “I appreciate the visit. I know you’re trying to be nice and all, but I just lost my family and everyone else I care about.”

“I’m sorry.” Elise stood up and walked to the door. The guard stepped to the side to let her use her card and punch in a security key. The door buzzed and unlocked, and the guard opened it, keeping one hand near his weapons as he did so.

Elise stopped before stepping out and turned to face Jessabelle. The guard immediately half-shut the door, bringing his free hand to touch the end of the stun gun. Elise ignored him and said, “I never did answer your question, did I? My mother is a witch. She’s worked with the Coven since she was my age, too. I don’t have her talent, but she prevailed upon them to hire me anyway.”

Jessabelle nodded. “Thank you, Elise.”

“Don’t mention it. I know you probably hate them for what they did, and maybe they deserve it. But if I could suggest, try giving this place a chance. They aren’t all bad. We’re all just people.”

Jessabelle felt a tiny smile appear for the first time since her birthday. She couldn’t say anything or make any promises, but she offered a non-committal shrug. Elise smiled back and waved, and then she and the guard left.

* * *

The following evening, Susan entered the cell with two guards. Wearing her pasted-on smile, she said, “Elise has prevailed upon us to invite you to dinner in the cafeteria this evening. I told her we would do so if you would agree to return to the infirmary for tests without raising the sort of scene you did last time. What do you think?”

“Will there be people there?”

“Of course. Elise thought you might like to socialize.”

Jessabelle considered. She’d thought they’d completed all their tests on her first visit, in spite of her freak-out. Could she control herself next time? Did she even want to meet anyone else? They would do the tests with or without her cooperation, as they’d demonstrated. “Okay,” she said slowly, drawing out the last syllable. It felt like a commitment and surrender. She mentally calculated when she had last bathed. “Can I clean up first?” she asked.

Susan nodded. “Of course.” She kept smiling. If the guards approved or disapproved, they didn’t show it. “We’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

When Susan and her guards left, Jessabelle entered the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Her black hair was a mess, and her pale skin seemed even paler in the fluorescent lights. She was well on her way to looking like a feral child. In school, she rarely worried about what the other kids thought of her. That had only changed in the last year. Was that something that came with turning sixteen? Did the self-consciousness fairy hit her with a magic wand and make her start caring about her appearance, even among her enemies?

In a flicker, she transformed into Jessabelle-the-cat. She hadn’t transformed since she’d arrived, and she’d almost forgotten how good it felt. It was liberating, which felt much sweeter to her now that her life was about the absolute lack of liberty. She wanted to stay in cat form forever. After several seconds, she regretfully changed back to Jessabelle-the-girl. Her clothes remained rumpled, but her skin was clean and her hair straight and orderly. She ran the brush through her hair a few times to give it a touch of style.

When Susan and the guards arrived, Jessabelle waited for them in fresh clothes with a fresh appetite. Transforming did that to her. It healed her, cleaned her up, and made her hungry. She assumed it burned up a ton of calories, but she was baffled as to how. It was a tiny piece of a much bigger mystery.

“It looks like we’re all ready,” Susan said.

“I reckon so,” Jessabelle said.

The route to the cafeteria went past another security checkpoint where a woman in the same drab-gray uniform of the other guards required Susan to run her security card through an electronic reader before she’d open the steel-reinforced door. Once outside the secured area, the hallways were decorated with plastic plants and paintings on the walls. Jessabelle saw no windows, which suggested they were still underground. Before they reached the corner, Jessabelle heard the clinking of plates and silverware. The smells of an amazing array of food couldn’t hide from both of the cat-Jessabelles inside her. Her stomach growled.

From one of the dozen round tables in the clean, brightly lit cafeteria, Elise waved at her. Jessabelle mustered a smile and waved back. Susan pointed out the location of the trays and silverware and what was served at different stations. “Get whatever you want. I’m sure you must be quite hungry.”

Jessabelle hesitated. It was a strange comment. They’d fed her well over the last several days, and this was earlier than they’d normally brought her dinner. Ordinarily, she’d not be that hungry. Susan’s comment suggested the woman knew how Jessabelle had cleaned up so quickly without leaving her hair damp, and what that did to her appetite.

Jessabelle turned and faced Susan. “What do you mean by that?”

Susan’s mask cracked. In that instant, Jessabelle didn’t see embarrassment over having been caught in a faux pas, but actual fear. Then the mask snapped back into place, and Susan forced a laugh and waved her hands in the air. “Just making chit-chat. I’m feeling a bit hungry myself.” She walked off. The guards stayed with Jessabelle.

Jessabelle grabbed a tray, napkin, and utensils and chose some lasagna from one of the stations. Susan had known not only that she’d transformed to get ready so quickly but also that she grew hungry after changing. How would she know that? Jessabelle piled on some meat loaf and some weird bean dish from another station and found some chocolate milk to drink. Her mother would shriek at her food choices. But then, her mother had given her up to the Coven, hadn’t she?

She sat down across from Elise. One guard stood a few feet away, and the second took a position near the wall. Jessabelle glanced at them and frowned.

Elise gave her a sympathetic smile. “You are still considered a red-level threat, Jessabelle. Protocol requires at least two guards outside of the security zone, plus at least a beta-class witch on duty.”

Jessabelle looked around the cafeteria. Twenty other people were in the room, and although they all cast furtive glances at her from time to time, none seemed to be paying that much attention. “Who’s the witch?”

Elise shrugged. “Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you. She—it’s usually a she—is probably in the security office. There are cameras everywhere. Someone is always monitoring us, making sure we are safe.”

Jessabelle glanced around the room. She was used to looking for organic threats in the woods and watchers from windows in town, but not cameras. Getting caught transforming on video humiliated and infuriated her. Modern cameras could be hidden anywhere. How could she possibly avoid them? She stared at her food, her appetite fading. She didn’t want Elise to see her face while she regained her composure. This time, instead of hiding tears, she hid her rage.

Jenny prodded the scorched grasses with her foot where Jack had been attacked by Zainus. “Are you sure you aren’t hurt? I saw him launch some impressive magic at you.” Jenny could see magic. It was part of the “Sight” that she and her grandmother shared.

“Nope. Hardly felt a thing. I just figured he wasn’t nearly as powerful as you witches.”

Jenny shook her head. “The colors were totally different, but what I saw was much brighter and stronger than anything I’ve seen before. I was worried about you. You aren’t completely immune to magic.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I think I done scared him pretty good, though.”

“Yeah. You did.”

“Not as good as you scared them horses, though.”

Her grin widened. “I did, didn’t I?”

Barnaby approached them. “Do y’all think they will they be back?”

Jack shrugged. “He’s a bully. I reckon it depends on whether or not he thinks he can get a cheap shot in and get revenge. He might try and spring his buddies, too.”

“At least we have their weapons,” Barnaby said, shading his eyes with his hand and staring at the forest where the remaining bandits had fled. “If he does come back, it won’t be openly next time. I fear we need your continued protection.”

“We ain’t really protectors. We need to let Annie know what’s going on.”

Lowering her voice so only Jack could hear, Jenny said, “She’s got to watch the crossroads.”

“Can you do that?”

Jenny hesitated, wrinkled her nose, and shook her head. “I think we’re better off right now if I assist Annie.”

Turning back to Barnaby, Jack asked, “Can you contact the police? I mean, the authorities? Whoever?”

“The sheriff in Dane’s Point can deal with the bandits and take the three we captured back to face judgment. But Dane’s Point is a day’s travel down the road. We have no one to spare.”

Jack shrugged. “I’ll go.”

“That’s brave of you, young Jack, but what about the rest of the bandits?”

“If I hurry, I can be on my way before they find each other. Can I buy any of this food from you?”

“Buy?” Barnaby laughed. “You can help yourself to my contributions, and I’m sure most of our village would say the same.”

“Thanks. Jenny, can you recharge my amulet with your protection spell?”

“You know that recharging these things doesn’t work as well as making a new one, right?”

Jack nodded. “I reckon we ain’t got time for you to make a new one. You and I ought to get going quick before the bandits regroup. Think you can find Annie’s place without me?”

“I’ll follow the creek. Hand me the amulet.”

While Jack negotiated some dried meat and fruit from the villagers, Jenny recited her protection spell into Jack’s amulet. As she handed it back, she said, “I guess this is it, huh?”

Jack nodded. “I reckon. We ought to take advantage of the daylight. By tomorrow, that Zainus guy will have plans. Now, I ain’t seen anyone heading upstream, but you be careful on your way back, okay?”

Jenny looked him in the eyes and nodded somberly. “Jack, I haven’t had many close friends in my life. I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but you are already one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”

“You too. I ain’t had many friends neither.” He was going to say something else, but something caught in his throat. He finally managed, “I’ll see you in a few days.”

“You better.” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Be careful out there, Jack.”

* * *

Jack never worried about going off-trail in the woods near his home, but this world was unfamiliar territory. There were no power lines or roads to find if he got lost, and the woods were far more dangerous than anything near Maple Bend. He took to the road and hoped that the bandits were too busy with their own problems to bother him.

Even the most crumbling paved roads of West Virginia were better than the road leading out of town. Generations-old ruts marked the path, and it was clear of larger growth. However, traffic was infrequent enough that grasses and weeds grew around and sometimes even inside the ruts. It remained shaded by overhanging branches of trees on either side of the trail, although frequent breaks in the canopy allowed the afternoon sun through.

Jack adjusted the brim of his John Deere hat to shade his face. Maybe it was the stretches of uninterrupted sunlight, but the road seemed hotter than the game trail the day before. As sweat trickled beneath his shirt, he discovered how much he missed nice, warm showers. He had always considered himself more of an outdoorsy sort of guy, but there were some conveniences of modern life that he had trouble doing without.

After twenty minutes, he spotted the blood. A fresh spray covered the grass and part of a tree. He drew close to investigate, ears alert. A stone bigger than his fist lay beside trail, also bloodied with bits of hair stuck to it. Jack bent down to examine the stone. The hairs looked too coarse to be human. Perhaps they belonged to a horse?

A small trail of blood led off the road into the forest. A boot-shaped footprint disturbed the blood, smearing it. By his best guess, the boot was at least half again as big as anything he could possibly wear, and Jack wasn’t endowed with particularly small feet.

Even a small giant was more than a match for Jack in a fair fight, regardless of the magical amulet protecting him from the first couple of blows. He’d rather face the bandits again. He backed away from the blood and resumed his travel down the road, picking up his pace. He resisted the urge to run. He’d just tire himself out, and he couldn’t outrun a giant.

Something thumped into the bag slung over his shoulder. Lowering it, he took a moment to puzzle out where the projecting crossbow bolt had come from. Realization hit him, and he ran for the nearest trees to take cover, dropping his bag as he went.

The surrounding forest was silent for several seconds. He didn’t know exactly where the attack had come from, or who had shot at him. The bolt wasn’t the size of a giant’s arrow, but that made it no less deadly. He peeked out from behind the tree, trying to spot his enemy. He saw nothing until the blur of another bolt streaked into his shoulder. The feathered shaft snapped in two as it struck. Jenny’s barrier held.

Hidden somewhere in the forest nearby, Zainus laughed and mocked him. “So, sorcerer, how long can you keep those protective spells around you? I suppose we shall find out. It’s been over a year since I gutted a sorcerer. I don’t mind taking my time on you.”

Jenny was wrong about Jack being smart, but when times required it, he could be clever. Unfortunately, nothing particularly clever was coming to mind right now. All he could come up with was to hurl insults right back. Bullies like Zainus hated to be mocked. “Take all the time you need, Zainus the Anus. You ain’t much of a sorcerer yourself. I fought a witch half your age, and she packed much bigger wallops in her spells.”

“I am no sorcerer or witch!” The voice had moved. Jack was already diving for better cover before the next shot fired, and the bolt missed him by a hair’s breadth. “I’m one of the spirit folk, an exile of the Dogwood Clan. I am more powerful than any witch. I am older than your grandpa’s grandpa, and I’ll be around for decades after the worms are done eating the rotting flesh off your bones.”

“And you ran like a scared little mouse when you didn’t have your buddies to back you up.”

This elicited another shot, which flew wide by several inches. Jack saw the strange little man now, scowling and furious as he dodged between the trees to get a clear shot. Jack drew his blade and moved to better cover as the bandit reloaded his crossbow. If he could draw the man—or dogwood spirit thing, whatever he was—close enough, Jack could charge while Zainus was reloading.

Zainus called, “You must have powerful magic to resist my best spells like you did. Perhaps if I make a stew out of your guts, I’ll gain that power. That’s why I was exiled from my clan. Eating humans. Killing you was fine when it was warranted, but eating you was forbidden. My clan elders were stupid that way, and now you’ve bred far and wide. I’ll tell you what: surrender now, and I’ll make sure you are good and dead before I chow down on you.”

In spite of Jack’s best efforts to ignore the taunts, they rattled him, if only for a few seconds. A mental image of Zainus chomping down on a villager came to him. Before he could dismiss the distraction, the evil bandit leader sprang from behind the trees and shot him. Fortunately, Jacks magical protection held, and the bolt ricocheted harmlessly off his head.

Sooner or later that protection would give out.

Jack shook off his shock and charged, catching Zainus with an unloaded crossbow. Zainus raised the weapon as a shield against Jack’s attack. Jack’s sword thudded against the wooden stock, and Zainus lunged, knocking Jack backward, pinning the blade with the crossbow. Jack stumbled and fell. In a flash, Zainus was on top of him with a knife out. Jack grabbed the creature’s wrist, but Zainus was stronger, and bore his weight down on the weapon.

“This is exactly how I killed the last sorcerer,” Zainus said, spittle spraying from his mouth on the last word. “The knife took only three seconds to go through his shield.”

Jack pushed back, but the knife tip descended ever so slowly toward his throat, and his strength was failing. Zainus grinned in victory.

Jack was too focused on the descending knife to hear the earth-shaking footfalls at first. He squirmed under Zainus’ weight, trying to twist his way out of danger, but the knife continued its slow-motion descent.

Zainus glanced up, and his elation collapsed into a look of stark terror. He dove away from Jack and ran down the road at inhuman speed. A shadow flew over Jack, a form he couldn’t make out properly from flat on his back, but whatever cast the shadow was huge. The creature landed on the other side of him and continued its pursuit of the bandit with a bellow of “YEE-HAW!” Zainus’ velocity only barely matched that of his long-legged pursuer.

Jack shakily got to his feet, recovering his sword where he’d dropped it. At the bend in the road, the monster—clearly a giant, though not a large one—hurled a stone at its quarry. It peered into the distance and shook its head. It turned around and strode confidently toward Jack.

Jack stood firm and raised his sword toward the giant. It was futile, but unlike Zainus, he couldn’t outrun a giant. Maybe he’d give it a nasty cut or two before it pounded him into goo.

The monster stood just over ten feet tall. It wore a shapeless wool tunic that hung on it like a barber cloth. Below the tunic, it wore a skirt of poorly stitched together animal hides. Its boots were ragged and tied around the monster’s ankles. It grinned with industrial-sized pointed teeth that could snap through human bones like popcorn and stared down at Jack through great brown eyes.

Jack stared back, his sword shaking in his hands. Maybe Jenny’s spell had one more hit left to protect him. Maybe he could get a lucky shot into one of those eyes, or stab its throat with enough force to pierce skin. Maybe he could chop at its fingers and cause it enough pain to let him go.

Probably not. The giant, even unarmed, would overpower him. But that wouldn’t stop Jack from trying.

“You!” the creature bellowed.

If it was interested in talking for a bit, Jack was more than willing to delay his inevitable death for the purpose of conversation. “Me,” Jack answered.

“Is you the one called Jack?”

Jack hesitated. How would it know his name? “Um, yes? Why?”

“Is you one of them humans with Witch Annabelle? You fought our brothers an almost-moon ago?”

This didn’t sound like a conversation that would end well. While technically the creature was probably interested in eating him and therefore fell under Jack’s exception for telling the truth, he didn’t think lying would earn him much of a reprieve. “Yes, that was us. Me.”

“What done happen to Arrogat?”

“Who?”

“Arrogat the Hunter. He ain’t never returned from the battle.”

“Sorry. I can’t really say. If he was one of those who chased Jenny, then he might be dead. He ain’t coming back. I’m, uh, sorry?”

The creature roared something like a throaty laugh or a cry. Jack couldn’t tell which. “He was my ‘troved! He ain’t never returnin’!”

Jack gripped his sword more tightly and shifted one foot back to prepare for the attack. “Um, ‘troved?”

The giant looked up to the sky, made the throaty noise again, and then snapped its head down to stare at him. “I’s s’posed to be his mate! I owe you, Jack!”

Jack’s muscles tensed. “They attacked us. We did what we had to defend ourselves.”

It grinned. “Ain’t you modest? Arrogat ain’t never comin’ back! Thank you kindly!”

This was not what Jack had expected. His shaky sword-tip lowered two inches seemingly of its own accord. “Wait, what?”

“Is that right? Thank you? You done saved me!” The giant grinned and did something that resembled a jig. “I ain’t never going to have to make his babies!”

Jack lowered the sword a bit more and stared at the creature. “You’re, um, a woman giant?”

The giant smiled and touched its chest, the cloth of the tunic pressing against breasts. “Yes! I be Rumela the giantess, of Clan… That don’t matter no more. My clan done left without me. They all afeared of Witch Annabelle’s revenge!”

“How did you know my name?”

“Witch Evelyn said names. I’s good at remembering names. Jenny, Jack, Jessabelle, Sean. Witch Evelyn say not to kill the boys less’n we got to.”

“Okay. So you ain’t going to try and eat me?”

“Me? Eat you? No! Never! Besides, I ain’t hungry. I done ate a chunk of horse just a bit ago. I got plenty left over. You hungry?”

“No! I mean, no, thank you. And thank you for saving me from Zainus.”

“You done looked like you be in trouble.”

“I was. So, thank you. I guess that makes us even?”

She grinned wider. “You think so? Okay. Where you off to now?”

“Um…a town down yonder a days’ walk. I need to send the sheriff to arrest more bandits.”

“You scared that Zainus feller might come back?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe I tag along for a while? Me an’ you?”

Jack shook his head. “You saved my life once today. I ain’t gonna say no.”

* * *

The road remained clear as they continued the journey. As evening approached, the air grew thicker and oppressive as clouds rolled in overhead. Jack hoped for a reprieve from the hot sun, but it made little difference. Now it was hot and muggy.

Rumela carried a pair of torn-off horse legs wrapped in rags with her as a snack. Occasionally, she’d ask Jack, “You sure you ain’t want none?”

Jack shook his head. “No, not really.”

The third time this happened, she said, “Oh! Right! Y’all humans like meat all cooked first!”

Jack shrugged. “Yeah, raw meat don’t set with us so well, especially if there’re germs.”

“What is ‘germs’?”

“Um, little…bugs. Kinda.”

Rumela’s mouth opened into a wide smile of comprehension. “Bugs? They give meat extra flavor!”

“No, not those bugs. Well, them too, but they’re even smaller, and can make us sick.”

“Oh. You get achey-belly. Meat comes back out the wrong end, right?”

“Among other things, yeah.”

“Yeah. That sometime done happen to giants, too. Giants cook meat when we have lots of extra, make it last longer, yeah?”

“Yeah, I reckon.”

“Me an’ you make a fire, and I cook for you.”

“Nah, you can keep the horse. You are a lot bigger’n me, so you need it more.”

“You’re a lot smaller’n me, so I reckon you ain’t gonna eat much.”

Jack laughed. Rumela wouldn’t have been his first choice of traveling companions. However, she was much better than no one at all, and not just because she scared Zainus.

“It’s gonna get dark soon,” Jack said, noting the position of the sun’s glow through the clouds. “We ought to find ourselves some place to bed down for the night.”

“What do you need to find? A house?”

“No, just a place to camp.”

“Oh, okay. I ain’t knowed what humans need. Some place me an’ you won’t be seen, you mean.”

“Right. And preferably near water. My canteen will need refilling soon.”

“You need to hunt?”

“Um, no. I’m good until we get to Dane’s Point, I think.”

“Who?”

“That’s the name of the town we’re heading to.”

She nodded. “I reckon I ain’t needin’ to hunt for a bit. The rest of this here horse will keep me for a couple of days.”

If he were so inclined, the meat she carried would probably keep Jack for a couple of weeks.

After a short search, aided by Rumela’s height, they found a relatively flat, secluded clearing near a brook. Jack wasn’t sure if it was part of Blood Creek or somehow connected with it, but the water seemed clean. Jack had been warned about parasites in untreated water, but that was all they seemed to have in this world.

He refilled his canteen after drinking his fill to replenish what he’d lost in sweat along the road and then sought the best place to sleep. He brushed away rocks and debris and set his blanket down as a makeshift mattress. After making a dinner of fruit and dried meat, he turned his pack into a serviceable pillow and tried to get comfortable.

Rumela sat down beside a tree, leaned up against it, and was asleep within moments.

Jack awoke as raindrops hit his face. He checked his watch. The tiny glow of the watch’s light was, to his eyes, all the light in the entire world at two in the morning. Even in remote Maple Bend, there was enough light pollution to reflect off the overhead clouds that a night like this would never be so utterly dark.

The forest echoed the white-noise static of thousands of tiny raindrops striking the leafy canopy above. In the dark, he couldn’t find a better place to shield himself from the rain. He settled for rolling one corner of the blanket over his face and hoped the light drizzle wouldn’t turn into a torrent.

He lay quietly in the dark. With the rain’s noise, he couldn’t hear Rumela’s breathing, and for all he could tell he was alone in the world. There were threats all around him, and he couldn’t be certain Rumela wasn’t one of them. He thought of his own bed, a world away, and expected a wave of homesickness. It didn’t arise. For all the dangers and discomfort, he felt strangely at peace. Before drifting off to sleep again, he had the thought that if he had to do it again, he’d make the same decisions that led him to this place.

Jessabelle ate in the cafeteria for every meal after the first. Two guards always accompanied her, plus Susan, Elise, or an older lady named Harriet who didn’t speak much. Jessabelle treasured the times with Elise the most. Elise was reluctant to speak about herself, but she did reveal that she went to high school in New York—upstate, not the city—and was attending college part-time.

“Where are you going to school now?” Jessabelle asked at breakfast on the tenth day of her incarceration.

Elise shook her head. “You know I can’t tell you that, Jessabelle.”

A dark-skinned young man sitting near Elise laughed. “Oh, we’re keeping schools a secret? It that because Susan is watching?”

Jessabelle glanced off to the corner of the cafeteria. Susan spoke to another woman who was dressed far more casually than most of the staff. As far as Jessabelle could tell, Susan wasn’t paying obvious attention, but what she’d learned in the last week and a half was that Susan was always paying attention. Her first impressions of Susan had only grown worse over time.

Elise rolled her eyes. “Jessabelle, have you met Gabe? He just transferred here.”

Gabe smiled and extended his hand across the table. His teeth were brilliantly white, and his eyes gleamed. Jessabelle had to admit, he was one good-looking kid, for a minion of evil. “I’m Gabriel Arends,” he said. “Expert paper-pusher, filer, and coffee-getter. Also attending grad school.”

Jessabelle shook his hand and couldn’t help but smile. “Jessabelle Rose. Prisoner.”

Gabriel’s eyes danced between the two. Settling his gaze on Jessabelle, he smiled more broadly and said, “Ah. So you’re the one?”

Jessabelle frowned. “One what?”

Gabriel shrugged and smiled it all away. “I was told we had a dangerous guest.”

The Coven still thought she was dangerous. That satisfied Jessabelle on some level. “Where did you transfer from?”

“Another site. I probably can’t tell you that, either. I’m starting school near here in the fall, so they let me transfer.”

Gabriel seemed much more relaxed than Elise. There was some kind of tension, more obvious in Elise than in Gabriel. Whatever cat-senses remained to her as Jessabelle-the-girl could almost smell Elise’s anxiety. Did it have something to do with Gabriel, or maybe with Jessabelle?

Gabriel looked like he was about to launch into another line of conversation, but Elise jumped in as he took a breath. “What about your plans, Jessabelle? What would you like to study in college?”

Jessabelle tilted he head back. “College? I ain’t thought about it. I ain’t finished high school, and my mama sure can’t afford it.” With that, she felt the sorrow and anger return. Her mama didn’t want anything to do with her anymore, did she?

Elise said, “You know, the Coven will bring in the best tutors for you. You can graduate, and they’ll even pay for further education.”

“Why would they do that?”

Gabriel jumped back in. “It’s a benefit for employees.”

“I ain’t…”

“You could be.”

Elise cast her eyes down at her food. That was it. While Gabriel might be the new guy, he somehow outranked Elise. He was more than just a part-time intern while going to school. Jessabelle liked him, but more importantly, she found herself wanting to like him. This, as much as anything else, set off her alarms.

Not long ago, the witch Evelyn had convinced Jessabelle not only to turn against her friend, Jack, but to disbelieve her own eyes. It had made perfect sense at the time. Jessabelle forced herself to remember what the Coven was and what it did to her. They’d been treating her nicely and more like a guest than a prisoner over the last week, but she was still here because of their doing. They wanted something from her. Jessabelle focused her attention on her food.

Gabriel shrugged, gesturing in the air. “I mean, maybe I’m wrong. Elise, am I wrong? I don’t know how things work down here yet.”

Elise stabbed her spoon into her yogurt. “No. It’s possible. Nobody intends to keep you here forever, Jessabelle. Once things are resolved, and you are rehabilitated, I expect they’ll come to you with a couple of great offers. One will probably be an offer to stay with the Coven, especially considering your special abilities. The other would be to sign a non-disclosure agreement in exchange for a stipend which also might be enough to pay for school.”

Jessabelle frowned. “Why would they pay me? Do all this and pay me? I may be from Maple Bend, but I ain’t stupid.”

Gabriel answered. “That’s part of what the Coven does. It keeps the world safe from scary, supernatural things, like cat-people and witches. Or monsters. That’s part of its funding.”

“Sounds like a protection racket to me. Especially since I was set up.”

Gabriel opened his mouth, still smiling, but he didn’t have an answer. He turned it into a shrug and a hand-wave. Elise came to his rescue, and said, “Look, Jessabelle, I don’t know what happened to bring you here. I can’t say it’s perfect.”

“Our bosses are literally witches,” Gabriel interjected, with a broad grin.

Elise nodded. “Yeah, but we do some good in the world. On the whole, we’re the good guys. Plus, there are some great opportunities here.” She leaned over the table, and Jessabelle caught the flick of Elise’s eyes toward Susan, who still appeared to be ignoring them. “All I’m saying is that as if you are given a choice, try to keep your options open. The Coven does a good job of taking care of its people.”

Jessabelle mumbled, “Tell that to Evelyn.” Neither Gabriel nor Elise understood her, but as they asked what she said, she shrugged and filled her mouth with another bite of food.

As she finished breakfast, the talk turned small. Elise acted like the closest thing Jessabelle had to a friend down here. Gabriel was friendly and funny and treated her like he might a classmate, not like the most dangerous prisoner in the Coven’s secret underground base.

Later, alone in her room paying no attention to the television, Jessabelle stared at the ceiling and found herself looking forward to lunch. Every few minutes, she’d derail her train of thought by reminding herself that she hated these people.

* * *

After dinner the following night, as Elise and the two guards escorted Jessabelle back to the room, they were stopped halfway to the security checkpoint by the blare of an alarm. “All security personnel to the D wing!” a voice blared over the intercom system.

The guards looked at each other, and then at Elise. “Escort Miss Rose back to the cafeteria,” one guard said, and then they were gone, hands on their weapons.

“What’s this about?” Jessabelle asked.

Elise shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Jessabelle’s senses told her differently. Elise was a poor actress. Her body language was wrong. The cat in Jessabelle smelled something wrong. Or maybe she was being paranoid. “Does this happen a lot?”

Elise shook her head. “No. It’s probably nothing. We should head back to the cafeteria.”

Jessabelle followed Elise down the hallway when the alarm blared again, and the lights went out. For a split second, the entire complex was pitch-black, before the sparse emergency lights, white and red, snapped on. Elise pushed on ahead, leaving Jessabelle several steps behind. It seemed strange, but panic made people act strangely. Whether conscious or not, Elise gave Jessabelle an opportunity. The guards were gone, the complex was poorly lit, and Jessabelle was outside the security checkpoints.

In the space of a heartbeat, Jessabelle became the panther. The darkness between the pools of emergency lighting grew more visible. The scents became vibrant, full of detail and additional information. She raced around a corner, trying to double around into the general direction of the parking garage. Around another corner, she smelled the reek of motor oil, gasoline, and carbon monoxide fumes. She was closer. She could follow the stink all the way to the exit.

Somewhere behind her, Elise called her name. Jessabelle ignored her.

One more corner, and she was within range of the garage. Jessabelle-the-panther ducked her head down low, outside the nimbus of the emergency lights, and stared down the hall. The garage exit was down the hall, but the big fire doors were shut. A lone security guard stood watch with his stun gun in his hand. Jessabelle crouched, waiting. After a few seconds, his radio squawked. He keyed the mic and muttered something. While his attention was diverted, Jessabelle dashed down the hall, barreling toward him at full speed. She hit him full force in his chest before he realized what was happening. As he collapsed, he flailed with the weapon and made an instant’s contact. The electric shock stung like a hundred hornets, enough to cause her to lose control and slam against the doors, but not so bad it stunned her. As for the guard, she’d felt him hit the floor hard with their combined weights. He was hurt, but hopefully she’d done no permanent damage.

Hopefully? Why was she worried about these horrible people?

In a move uncharacteristic of a true predatory cat, she stood on her hind legs and pushed the crash bar. The door unlatched and opened enough for her to spring through. Before the metal door closed behind her, she heard the security guard speak into his mic. “Unit 15, down. The cat is loose!”

The parking garage was not full, but there were plenty of cars to use for cover to make her escape. Jessabelle-the-panther looked to the open ramp. Jessabelle-the-girl looked at the unguarded stairwell. Her best chance to remain unseen was with Jessabelle-the-cat. Going with experience and caution, she transformed. The world grew larger around her, and Jessabelle-the-cat hid under a black Malibu.

She wanted to hide under here forever, but sooner or later, they’d come looking for her. She had to move while the crisis split everyone’s attention. The guard at the door had gotten a warning out, so someone already knew where she was. She had seconds to escape.

As she prepared to bolt, she saw the blood trickling down the ramp. She followed the trail with her eyes. There was a great deal of blood. She froze. Fear nearly drove her back into the building, back where there were guards, and security checkpoints, and witches who would keep her safe in her comfortable prison. Up the ramp, death stood between herself and freedom.

Several weeks ago, she’d have made a different decision. But she thought of Jack and Jenny, and what they’d have done. She darted out from under the car, toward the rivulet of blood. A man seized her by the scruff of her neck. His clothes looked and smelled like they belonged to a homeless person. How he’d moved up to the car without her noticing him, she had no idea. She struggled, but he held her firm.

He hissed at her. “Quit squirming if you want to get out of here alive, Jessabelle Rose. I knew your father. I’m helping you escape.”

Jessabelle-the-cat froze. The man who held her stank, or more particularly, his clothes stank. She strained to get a good look at him as he tucked her securely in his arms. He was a pale man, with close-cut hair and a growing bald spot above his forehead, but he had plenty of hair covering his face. The muscles that held her were strong and spare. He was in good shape in spite of his appearance.

He moved quickly through the shadows of the parking garage. Rather than taking the stairway or the ramp, he took her to a beat-up Chevy pickup truck. The man slowly opened the driver’s-side door, which still creaked. He set Jessabelle down in the passenger’s side and said, “You might want to change and buckle yourself in. That, or hold on. We’re going to crash. Then you need to be ready to run!”

Jessabelle stared at him as he produced a key and started the engine. She jumped behind the seat and braced herself, digging her claws into the fabric. This man was crazy, but he seemed to know who she was and he’d said he’d help her escape. At least he might provide the Coven with another target and distraction.

He floored the engine and the truck roared up the ramp. He circled twice, tires squealing. Twice, she heard gunshots. Her strange savior laughed as he ducked down. “Here we go!”

The truck struck tire spikes and made a horrible noise below her, and the man spun the wheel while howling with laughter. Jessabelle found herself flattened against the back of the seat, and then hurled to the left, barely hanging on with her claws. The man pushed the driver’s-side door completely open and jumped out of the car. Jessabelle recovered from her surprise and bolted out the door, pausing as she hit the pavement to get some idea of what was going on.

Concrete barriers had risen from the exit to the parking garage. The man had driven their pickup through the entrance, across the tire spikes, and spun it so it stood sideways across the exit, a vehicular blockade beside the concrete-and-steel beams.

The crazy driver raced across the street opposite the parking garage. Jessabelle bounded after him while shouts and a pair of gunshots rang out behind her. They ran around the side of a laundromat, through a slender side parking lot, between a gap in a chain-link fence, and through someone’s overgrown back yard. When they reached another street, an SUV waited at the curb with both passenger-side doors open and the engine running.

“Get in,” the man said to Jessabelle. She leaped through the door onto the floor of the SUV, and from there to the back seat. The bearded man slammed the back door shut behind her and then jumped into the front passenger side. The moment he pulled the door closed, the driver—an older woman with tanned skin and huge sunglasses—accelerated smoothly, but quickly, to something not much faster than the posted speed limit.

The man ripped his shirt off and tossed it to the floor and then peeled the beard off his face. In less than a minute, he had strapped on a stuffed bra, a woman’s blouse, a blond wig, and sunglasses. “You might want to stay in that shape, Jessabelle,” he said, adjusting his wig in the mirror on the back of the passenger’s side visor. “Just keep low in case anybody is looking for a black cat. We don’t want to make their job easier.”

Jessabelle wanted to ask him a million questions, starting with “How do you know my father?” and “How did you know what I was?” But, it would have to wait. Men with guns were only a few minutes behind them, if that, so she dropped down to the floor of the SUV.

“How are we doing?” the woman asked.

“I don’t know yet. I wasn’t expecting the guards to fire at the gate. I’m glad Mickey still hides his spare key in the same place. I feel sorry for smashing up his truck, though. He loved that truck.”

The woman snorted. “That ought to learn him not to hide his spare key under the floor mat.”

“It might just. Hopefully it’ll take them a couple minutes to clear the truck to pursue us. We need to get to the freeway.”

The woman checked her side mirror. “None of them will be following us on a broomstick will they?”

The man laughed, but checked the mirror on his side. “Lucky for us, their top talent are in Maple Bend right now.” He twisted his head to look down at Jessabelle. “You doing okay back there? Just hiss at me or something if you aren’t.”

Jessabelle wanted to hiss. She wanted to scream. She wanted to jump out of the vehicle and run off into the woods where she knew she would be safe. Assuming she would ever be safe again. Was it a mistake to run away from the Coven? Would she ever be able to see her mama again, now that she was some kind of fugitive?

“You sure that’s her?” the woman asked. “We didn’t do all that just to run off with somebody’s pet, did we?”

The man laughed. “It’s her. We’re good. Jessabelle, my name is Leon Poulson. This is my friend, Josie. I knew your dad in the Army. I’m like you. I change into a big cat, and I’m also an escapee from the Coven. You and me, we got a lot to talk about.”

* * *

An hour later, it was still far from dark, but the shadows of the Appalachians had grown long. After driving along the freeway and innumerable tiny little roads, Josie finally pulled through an overgrown, hidden driveway up to a tiny trailer-home on a foundation of old cinder blocks. Once upon a time, it had been white, but years of neglect had stained the paint yellowish and covered it with a layer of grime.

They got out of the SUV. Leon removed his disguise and tossed it into the passenger seat. Reaching under the seat, he pulled out a license plate and a screwdriver to replace the plate below the rear bumper. Josie motioned for Jessabelle to follow her into the trailer.

The inside was much better kept than the outside, although it still had the feel of a rarely used residence, and the air was sweltering. Except for a bedroom and tiny bathroom, the entire trailer was one continuous space. Josie said, “You can change into girl-shape if you want. I should probably get your size if I’m going to go into town and get you some clean clothes.”

Jessabelle hesitated. For so long, she had avoided transforming in front of people. Now it seemed like everyone knew her secret. Josie ignored her, and rummaged through the cupboards, repeating their contents to herself as she took inventory.

Leon stepped inside, removing the rest of his disguise. He turned the window-mounted air conditioner unit on and grunted, “If the Coven doesn’t kill us, the heat will broil us alive. How are we doing on food, Josie?”

“If you want to live on crackers, dry cereal, and a couple of cans of tuna that look to be right at their expiration date, then you’re golden. I ain’t looked in the fridge yet, but I don’t reckon there’s much in there that’s still edible. Burke’s sister ain’t been here since the beginning of May.”

Leon collapsed on the tiny couch and turned to Jessabelle. “Okay, Miss Rose. I know you’ve got questions, but you are going to have to get over that shyness and change so we can have a regular conversation.”

Jessabelle became Jessabelle-the-girl in front of them. Josie whistled. Leon nodded and said. “It’s strange seeing someone else do that.”

“Thanks for rescuing me,” Jessabelle said. “Both of y’all. But, pardon me for saying so, how do I know y’all don’t work for the Coven? How’d you know to be there when I escaped?”

Leon grinned. “Good. You think it was a trick because it really was a trick, right up until the point I got there. The whole thing is a set-up, their standard procedure for any prisoners they think they can turn. If you rise to the bait, they recapture you, and they tighten your leash. If you play it safe and follow orders, they begin integrating you into their organization. There were six guards waiting to catch you in the parking garage. They weren’t expecting me.”

“So it was all a test?”

Leon nodded. “Yes. No one actually escapes.”

“That don’t explain why you were there.”

“They recruited me three years ago.” He held up his hands as she backed away. “I’m not with them anymore. I got out. When I can, I try to hurt them.”

Jessabelle found her lips pulling away from her teeth. The cats in her wanted to bare their fangs. She turned it into a scowl. “Nobody gets out. Not for long.”

He met her eyes and nodded. “I know that better than you do.” He glanced over at Josie. She shrugged and offered him a thin smile. He faced Jessabelle again and said, “I got a story to tell you. After you are done hearing it, then, if you want, you can go out that door and never see me again. That’s my promise to you. I will have discharged my debt.”

Jessabelle looked at Josie, who shook her head. “Don’t look at me. I’m just a granny-witch who knows some Cherokee medicine. I ain’t got nothing to do with the Coven, and they don’t know I exist. I like it that way.”

Leon continued, pulling Jessabelle’s attention away from Josie. “Several years ago, I was in the Army. One night, I was off-base, and got pretty drunk. I got stupid, had poor judgment, and changed into the cat. Even scared a couple of kids. I might have done something a lot more stupid, but George Rose found me, talked me down, stuck out his neck, and covered for me. He never knew it, but he probably saved my life. We became friends, and I wanted to pay him back somehow. Then he got transferred to the Middle East a month later, and I never got my chance.”

“George Rose,” Jessabelle said. “My daddy.” She found a cheap metal folding chair and sat down. She’d met someone else who remembered her daddy.

“It turns out that while he hid the truth from the military, the Coven investigated on their own and figured out what happened and who I was. When I left the Army a couple of years later, the Coven recruited me right away. They knew what I was, and didn’t care. They had uses for me. They paid well. Everything was going great. And yeah, I even helped them test prisoners just like you a couple of times.”

“You captured them?”

He nodded. “The one who took the bait, yeah. He might still be in that facility.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I already had some misgivings about some of my assignments. But I was moving up in the organization and directly assigned to work with an inner circle witch, so I ignored the warnings. Then I met the boss.”

“Thadeus.”

Leon nodded. “He scared me, and I don’t scare easily. He had us hunting down a witch who had left the Coven a long time ago. The woman had a family and a different life, a different name, and everything. She’d been running and hiding from the Coven for sixteen years.”

Jessabelle gasped. Her skin felt too tight. “You helped Evelyn hunt down Aunt Amy!”

Leon looked at the floor. “Yes. When I heard her original name, I did some digging of my own and found out she was George Rose’s sister. When Thadeus came to town to oversee things and Evelyn went out to meet him, I was supposed to keep Amelia under surveillance. Instead, I warned her Thadeus was on his way. Then I ran. I thought I’d taken care of my debt to George. I was wrong. The whole family was killed later that night. Now, I’m the one who is being hunted.”

Josie shook her head with wide eyes. She broke the silence by saying, “I think that’s more information than I wanted to know. I’ll get y’all some food and clothes. Jessabelle, will jeans and t-shirts do for you?”

Jessabelle looked at the floor. “Yeah. Sometimes I just wear loose sweats.”

“Is that easier for you to, you know, change in?”

Jessabelle shook her head. “Not really. They are easier to sneak in and out of the house in.”

Josie shrugged. “I’ll be back later, then.” As she left, the heat wafted through the door. The little A/C unit had cooled things down during the conversation better than Jessabelle had expected. At least that’s why she assumed she felt cold.

Leon said, “Since I discovered that George had family, I found out more. Even though I was hiding from the Coven, I still had sources. I found out about you, and learned that they wanted to use you for a ‘Plan B.’ I tried to stop them from taking you, but the Coven came to your town in force, and I was too slow. So I tried again when they tested you. I was almost too late again. I didn’t think they’d test you so soon. They must be moving quickly on their timetable.”

Jessabelle’s metal chair rocked on imbalanced legs. She considered what he’d said. She glanced up at the door. Josie had already left to get her new clothes and groceries, but Leon had promised she could leave after she heard his story. She looked back at him. “What is Plan B, anyway?”

“I don’t know for sure. It’s happening up near Morgantown. The compound you were in was near there. I know that your blood, like mine, is useful to make some kind of drug for their agents. Mercenary types, like me, only without the special abilities. I heard it makes them heal faster, among other things.”

“You know what Plan A was?”

He shook his head. “Only that they both had something to do with rescuing his daughter. When I originally heard about it, before I met him, it sounded like a really nice thing, something I could get behind. Help an old man get his daughter back. Then I found he only wanted her back to heal him and help him regain his power. I know he’s a more powerful witch than any three inner-circle witches combined. I hate to think of what he’d be like at full power.”

Jessabelle nodded. “You mean I can go now, if I want?”

Leon nodded. “Just like I promised. I’ll give you a lift to a bus station if you want. Ticket to anywhere. Just don’t go back to your home town. They’re still there, in force. Get far away.”

“What if I stay?”

“It’s not a permanent solution, but I’ll teach you how they operate, and how to stay hidden. They’ll be too occupied by me to come after you.”

“Why? What will you do?”

“I’ll hunt them. Anything I can do to disrupt them, expose them, and if I can, destroy them.”

Jessabelle couldn’t help but grin. “I want to help!” The words escaped her lips before she realized they were coming. That wasn’t what she did. She didn’t take stupid risks. She didn’t fight.

Except she did, didn’t she? She’d even fought an ogre and Evelyn, the witch. That was different, though. She’d been fighting for her family. That felt right and necessary. Was family only limited to kin?

“I know you do. You’ll learn. Right now, the best way to hurt them is for you to stay out of their hands.”

Jessabelle crossed her arms. He was right, and that was the smart move. It just didn’t feel very satisfying.

“Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“Thadeus didn’t kill all of Aunt Amy’s family. She had a daughter named Jenny. My cousin. She’s okay.”

Leon’s face lightened. “She got away? Where is she?”

“She also fought the Coven and won. Now she’s in the one place Thadeus can’t ever go.”

Soggy, but remarkably rested, Jack awoke to the sounds of forest chatter. While the morning remained dim and overcast, the rain had stopped. Rumela had a breakfast of horsemeat that had begun to ripen, but she seemed not to mind in the least. Jack stayed upwind of her and had his own breakfast of dried meat and fruit, which had stayed dry in the night’s drizzle.

An advantage of the overgrowth on the irregularly traveled road was that it hadn’t turned to mud overnight. The morning remained overcast, and the air grew hot and muggy as it approached noon. Seeking a distraction from the oppressive heat, Jack asked, “So your clan, the other giants…they left?”

Rumela made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. “They up and high-tailed it out, yep. Witch Evelyn done talked our strongest and stupidest brothers into hunting y’all. She ain’t wanted Sean killed, so she done described y’all. After all, y’all kinda look alike. She said Jack was the one with the green hat. That’s how I knowed it was you. Y’all beat my clan.”

“Why didn’t she want Sean killed?”

She shrugged. “We never ask. I figger my clan brothers had other ideas, though. I think they wanted to et all y’all. Some of my brothers got a taste for human flesh.”

“But you don’t?”

She shook her head vehemently. “Ain’t never et human. Don’t want to, neither.”

Jack nodded. “I am glad to hear that.”

“Witch Annabelle wouldn’t let us, anyway, when we settled in here. I was a little thing then, maybe your size.”

“Wait, how old are you?”

“Me? I reckon about eighteen years. You?”

“Eighteen? Really? So you are just a teenager, like me!”

“Mostly. That’s why they ain’t married me off to Arrogat before he disappeared. Our folk can’t usually have youngins until at least thirty, more ‘n likely fifty years.”

“Fifty? How long do giants live?”

“I dunno. We all likely die afore we get too old. But I reckon more’n a couple hundred years.”

Jack whistled. As he thought about it, he asked, “Why did they leave you behind, if you are just a kid?”

“Oh, that. I’m old enough. When the tribe scatters because of poor hunting or enemies, anyone older than twelve years or so is on their own. Without my pa, and Arrogat gone, I ain’t nobody’s responsibility but my own.”

“So you are eighteen and on your own. What are you going to do now, Rumela?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. I figgered I’d find y’all, since y’all are tougher than my clan. That been about as far as I thinked stuff up.”

* * *

They reached Dane’s Point in the early afternoon. They first approached a sawmill at the outskirts of town. Three laborers paused as they finished passing a tree trunk through the blade, watching Jack and Rumela approach. One ran off down the road ahead of them. The other two stared as they walked past. Jack waved at them. One half-waved back.

Few people were on the main road as they passed deeper into town. Those who they saw stared at them warily, keeping their distance as they crossed paths. The difference in their reception back at Hobbfield was marked. Jack grew more self-conscious, noting the glances at his hat, and at his traveling companion. He wasn’t about to get rid of the hat. Until he got back home, it was irreplaceable.

The single-story buildings gave way to two-story buildings as they approached the center of town. Jack tried to figure out what the buildings were used for. Few had any writing on them, instead showing placards with crude painted images. The ones with English writing read, “Feed Store” and “Wagons.” Few buildings had glass windows.

A building farther ahead had the look of something official and government-related, based on the fresh whitewashing, wood pillars in front, glass windows, and an overall style that differed from the more box-shaped buildings he’d seen so far. Before they could go any closer, three men approached them along the center of the road. They all wore wide-brimmed hats. Two carried loaded crossbows, and the one in the center casually held a double-barrel shotgun. “That’s close enough,” he said to Jack when they were within speaking distance.

Jack stopped and motioned for Rumela to do the same. “Y’all got to be kidding me,” he said. “Look, we’re here to see the sheriff or someone like that.”

“I am Sheriff Hodson, so that would be me,” the man with the shotgun answered. While Jack hadn’t quite gotten the hang of the accent of the village, Hodson’s accent was different from those. It was certainly unfamiliar. It sounded a little like someone from West Virginia trying to speak with a British accent from television.

Unsure of what to say, Jack spelled things out truthfully. “We just came down from Hobbfield about a day and a half up the northeast road. Y’all know the place?”

Hodson nodded slowly. Jack continued. “They were attacked by bandits, led by a real butt-head named Zainus.”

“A group of scofflaws has indeed been tormenting settlements around here. Did they kill anyone?”

“Huh? No. They tried. We beat them back and captured three of them. We need y’all to take them into custody or whatever.”

One man whistled, and Hodson cast him a dirty look. Hodson nodded toward Rumela. “Is this giant one of the prisoners?”

“Huh? Oh, no. She’s just traveling with me. She saved my life when Zainus caught me on the way here yesterday.”

One of the men exclaimed, “What?” while the other one said a word Jack had never heard. Hodson tilted his head sideways and said, “You mean to tell me this giant saved your life from a bandit? What, did she eat the bandit?”

Rumela made a face. “Ew, no. I ain’t never et people.”

The first man said, “It talks!”

The other said, “Of course they talk!”

Hodson silenced both of them with a glance. Then, looking directly at Rumela, he said, “If that’s true, I apologize. But your kind has a reputation.”

Rumela shrugged. “I ain’t blaming you. The witch threatened to do bad things to our clan if we try, so they ain’t et nobody in years.”

“That the witch who protects Hobbfield?”

“I reckon so.”

Hodson motioned farther down the road. “In Sanguine, I know there are tame giants.”

“Tame?” Jack asked.

“Not hostile,” the sheriff corrected himself. “They’re probably more accepting down there. I’m afraid you won’t find many here willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Twenty years ago a giant named Korak terrorized this town, and a lot of good folk died to stop him. Their kin still remember.”

Rumela grunted at the name, but said nothing. Jack asked, “How far away is Sanguine?”

“About two and a half more days, by foot.”

“We’ll need food.”

Hodson pointed to a building with a sign outside that simply read, “Hallicks.” Hodson said, “Hallick sells a little of everything, if you have the coin. We’ve got to saddle up the horses and get going if we want to reach Hobbfield before nightfall. Faran, you stay here and make sure these two don’t make any trouble.”

“We ain’t going to make no trouble, sir.”

“Look, young man. Just by showing up with a giant in tow is causing trouble. Faran will make sure you are both out of here before the trouble grows and pays you a visit.”

Faran’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t look like he was too excited about the prospect himself. The bearded young man removed the bolt from his crossbow, replaced it in his quiver, and worked a catch near the trigger. Hodson offered a little wave to his assistant. “You’re in charge while I’m gone. I expect to be back the day after tomorrow. Talk to Judge Arvet and see if we’ll need to send for a high judge from Sanguine.”

“Yes, sir,” Faran said as Hodson and the other man walked away. He motioned to Jack, keeping his head down so he didn’t look up at Rumela. “Very well, both of you. You want food, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“This way.”

The general store was only a short distance down the street. Rumela had to stoop to enter the store, squeezing between shelves of poorly marked goods. As they entered, the shopkeeper stared at Rumela with wide, terrified eyes. “Take whatever you want!” he cried. “Just don’t hurt us!”

Jack held up his hands. “We ain’t here to take anything. I just wanted to buy some food. My friend eats a lot.”

The shopkeeper turned to Faran. Faran shrugged and nodded. This seemed to embolden the man. “I don’t sell to giants. If you are here to rob me, then rob me. Otherwise leave!”

Jack said, “Look, you are selling to me, and I have money.”

“But you are friends with that monster!”

Jack sighed. “Look at it this way. As soon as we get our food, we’re leaving. You are getting rid of us as fast as possible this way.”

The man closed his mouth and waggled his head. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll take the giant outside, if that will help.”

Jack looked up at Rumela. She stooped and struggled to turn around without knocking anything off the shelves. Faran followed her outside.

The shopkeeper sighed. “She will eat you when she gets hungry.”

Jack frowned. “I don’t reckon so. But, I’d rather neither of us get hungry.”

The man’s hands shook as he helped Jack. Jack focused on dried meats and a basket of vegetables. He also found a huge sack with a strap like a duffel bag. He hoped Rumela would carry it because it was all more than he could handle.

“How much is it?” he asked.

“F…five dollars,” the man answered.

That sounded impossibly low. Jack couldn’t buy a single meal at McDonald’s in Branton for that little. “For all this?”

“Four dollars?”

“That sounds low.”

The man opened his mouth and turned his head to the side, hesitating a moment before saying, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Five dollars. That don’t sound like much. How much is five dollars anyway? Is that a coin or something?”

“Where are you from?”

“A long way from here.”

“Five silver dollars.”

“Oh!” Jack opened up Annabelle’s bag and fished out a glinty coin. “Like this?”

“Yes, sir.” The man added, “Four of those.”

“You mean five.” Jack pulled out four more coins that resembled the first and handed them to the fellow. “Is that good?”

“Y…yes, sir.”

Jack set the bag of coins down on the counter and loaded what he could into his own bag, and everything else into the large strapped sack. The shopkeeper watched him, wringing his hands together. Jack focused on loading everything quickly, anxious to fulfill his promise and get out of the store and out of the town. He didn’t notice the noise outside until he backed out the door, pulling the oversized and nearly full sack out through the threshold with him…

…And out to where an angry mob of townspeople surrounded Faran and Rumela.

Several people in the crowd held clubs and rocks. Some shouted, spittle flying as they encouraged others to make the first move. Most held back, watching, but none seemed eager to rush to the giant’s defense.

Faran had the bolt set in his crossbow again, eying the crowd and Rumela as if trying to pick sides. Rumela’s eyes were wide, her back to the wall of the general store, searching for an escape. Without thinking, Jack dropped the bags and stepped in front of her.

“She ain’t here to hurt nobody!” Jack yelled. “We’re just passing through. We’ll be out of all y’all’s hair in a bit!”

The murmuring died down as people quit talking among themselves to hear what he had to say. But the ringleaders wouldn’t hear any of it. One man with a club waved a meaty finger at Jack. “Is that what you’d have us believe? I’ll bet you are scouting for one of those bandits!”

Jack shook his head. “No, we fought the bandits!”

“You expect us to believe that? You think we are stupid? We know what giants do! We know why you are here!”

As usual, the truth wasn’t winning Jack any support. He couldn’t win an argument against the locals with their misplaced grudges. He needed a distraction, but that usually required a third party. He’d been the distraction in a battle against a witch not long ago. He’d been in disguise and recited old folk songs he’d learned from his grandmother, convincing the witch that he was casting spells. It worked because it had been what she’d expected. Only the unexpected would work here, but his grandmother’s dumb old songs might work once more. “You do? That’s awesome! I am glad you know why we are here!”

The man with the club paused, looking confused at Jack’s sudden agreement. Jack took advantage of the pause to keep going. “Y’all are in for a treat today, because we’re here to dance! This here is Rumela, the dancing giant, here to dance for your entertainment!” This quieted the crowd, out of confusion more than anything else. Jack continued, “Y’all ready to see her dance? Yeah? Of course you are!” A handful of people looked up expectantly. Even the shouters paused, wondering what they were about to see.

Jack wondered too. Rumela leaned over and whispered in his ear, “I don’t dance!”

Jack whispered back, “And I don’t lie. So follow along as best you can!” He turned back to the audience. “This here song is called ‘The Ugly Mug.’ Mug means face, here, if y’all didn’t know. Feel free to sing along once y’all get the hang of it. Here we go!” He held his hand in front of him and looked at Rumela. She did the same, looking as confused as many members of the crowd.

Jack sang, miming motions to the song as Rumela followed along.

I put my right hand in

I put my right hand out.

I give my right hand, shake, shake, shake,

And turn myself about!

He waved his hand and spun around, and Rumela did the same. For the next verse, he called out to the audience to join in. Nobody did at first, but by the time he got to the verse about putting feet in, people joined in.

A mob leader screamed for people to attack. He shuffled forward with a knife in his hand, followed by four stragglers half-heartedly moving forward with makeshift weapons, but Faran raised his crossbow to a ready position, and the group quickly backed away. By the time Jack got to the verse about “I put my ugly mug in, I put my ugly mug out,” almost half the crowd was laughing, dancing, and singing along. There was a contingent that stood fuming and scowling at those who participated, but it would take them a while to stir the crowd into a frenzy again.

As they finished, Jack took a bow, and Rumela did the same. She added a little flourish of her own with a wink at one of the young men in the crowd. People laughed. Jack said, “With that, we must be off, but thank y’all so much for your kind hospitality. So long!”

He picked up the big sack and handed it to Rumela and grabbed his bag. They waved as they made their way out of town, followed by Faran. As they passed the edge of town and the road became flanked by thick trees again, Faran stopped. “I don’t know how you did it,” he said. “I believed things were about to get ugly.”

“Jack is very clever,” Rumela said, nodding emphatically.

Jack shook his head. “We’re lucky they ain’t never watched the cartoon channel on TV,” he said. Rumela and Faran looked at him blankly. “Well, whatever, we were more lucky than clever. But I’ll take it.”

Faran once again returned the crossbow bolt into his quiver. “This is as far as I go. If I might offer a suggestion, the next time you come this way, you may want to go around the long way.”

Jack laughed. “You don’t think that trick will work twice?”

“Nope.”

“Thank you, Faran.”

“It was my job. Good luck to you.” He looked up at Rumela. “Good luck to you both.” With that, he turned and went back up the road toward town.

Rumela looked down at Jack. “You’re all brave and clever back there. I’s just scared.”

“I was plenty scared. Still am. It’ll be a while before my nerves calm down.”

“I reckon that Korak done something terrible here.”

“I reckon so. I reckon I know how they feel. A giant tried to eat me, too.”

“You want me to go away now?”

Jack scowled. “What? Just ‘cause some folks got a bug up their nose? No way. I wanted an adventure, and I sure am on one now. Let’s find that city the sheriff mentioned…Sanguine?”

“Pretty name.”

Jack shrugged. “It sounds like a word I ought to know. But I ain’t all that sharp with vocabulary.”

“You’n me both.”

* * *

The road from Dane’s Point was far busier than the one from Hobbfield. Travelers coming the other way moved off the road as Jack and Rumela approached unless they had a wagon trapped in the ruts of the road. Those with wagons stared in obvious fear as Jack and his companion passed. Jack took pains to greet them cordially, taking off his hat and offering a little bow. Rumela gave a bow of her own, which Jack admitted was a little frightening, as if she was bending over to take a bite out of someone. Instead he taught her to curtsy. Her clumsy attempt was more comical than courteous, especially in her crude outfit, but Jack wasn’t sure how to improve it. Comical was an improvement over threatening. Still, nobody seemed to be in the mood to have a conversation with them, or even confirm he was heading in the right direction.

They spent nearly two days on the road, passing several villages. The heavy forests of the mountains gave way to more clear fields of the valleys, but Jack and Rumela took advantage of the patches of thick woods to spend the nights.

Two days after their near disaster in Dane’s Point, Jack awoke to found the hiking had taken its toll. His muscles protested his every move as he got up and rolled the blanket.

“What’s ailing you, Jack?” Rumela asked.

“I loved hiking back home. I did it almost every day. But this is a lot more than I’m used to,” he said. “I’m having trouble getting my motor started this morning.”

“What’s ‘motor’ mean?”

“It’s the part that makes a car… I mean, it’s…it’s the part gets you going in the morning. Never mind.”

“Ah. Motor is belly. You need more food?”

Jack shook his head. The giant had gone through the dried meat a bit faster than he’d expected, but there’d been enough for the both of them so far. After a slow start, they began what he hoped was the final leg of their journey. Jack wasn’t moving as fast as he had previously, and the soreness wasn’t going away as completely as it had before. By lunch, the creek they’d followed from Hobbfield fed into a large river.

Jack paused to look over the river. Clear and brown with high banks, sparkling with the noon sunlight, it forced them directly westward after days of southwest travel. “Huh. I wonder if that’s the Elk River.”

Rumela shook her head. “Don’t know. It’s a river.”

“I feel like we’ve hiked a third of the way across the state already. If this is the Elk, then we practically did.”

“What is ‘state’?”

“It’s part of a country.”

“What is ‘country’?”

“It’s…um…” For the first time in his life, Jack regretted not paying attention in his middle school civics class. “It’s a large place with a common…um…you probably don’t know the word, ‘government,’ do you?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter. Folks like us don’t have much to do with governments anyway.”

Rumela shrugged. “Okay.”

They followed the river for two more hours. The valley around the river was dotted with settlements, and Jack felt conspicuous without the cover of the forest. Doubt crept into his mind about Faran’s advice. If these people had the same attitude toward giants as those in Dane’s Point, it would take a lot more effort to flee. Jack hoped he’d overcome his soreness for a good run if it came to it.

By mid-afternoon, the road met with two others at a stone bridge crossing the river. Two uniformed men wearing breastplates stood at each end of the wide, solid-looking bridge. A stone building on the far side of the bridge no doubt housed more guards. Three wagons waited in front of the bridge while a third guard looked them over. After a few seconds, he spoke to a driver who gave the guard some coins. The guard waved them through, and they crossed the bridge.

Jack and Rumela approached, and one guard moved his hand closer to the hilt of his sword. Even the guards on the far side of the bridge took interest and watched as the guard who had taken the money approached. “Heading across?” he asked, keeping his eyes on Rumela.

“I think so,” Jack said. “Is that the road to Sanguine?”

“That it is.” The guardsman looked up at Rumela’s face. “What is your intention with this giant?” It was strange, as he stared straight at Rumela, but indicated his question to Jack.

“That’s Rumela. She’s my traveling companion.”

“Is that so? You do realize you will have to report her.”

“Um, no. Is that a bad thing?”

The guard shook his head. “No, we just need to keep tabs on the giants within the borders. Is she for sale?”

At first Jack thought he hadn’t understood the question. “What? No, of course not!”

The man shrugged. “Suit yourself. I could offer you a good price and save you the trip and fuss.”

Jack glared at the man, who seemed completely unfazed. Jack kept his voice in check and asked quietly, “How much to cross?”

“With that giant? A dollar.”

Jack nodded slowly and reached for his coin bag. It wasn’t there. He opened his traveling sack and dug around until he was satisfied there was no coin bag to be found. The guards watched in silence as he turned to the giant. “Rumela, let me see your bag for a minute!”

She handed him her sack, and he nearly emptied it looking for the money. Finally, he repacked both bags.

“I take it you misplaced your money,” the guard said, voice neutral.

“I think so. In all the confusion, I must have left it with that merchant in Dane’s Point.”

The guard shook his head. “I am not interested in the reasons. If you don’t have the money, you’ll have to take the pauper’s trail.”

“What’s that?”

The man pointed westward, along the road they’d been taking along the river. “Around three miles that way is a decent crossing. The water doesn’t get too fast or too deep at this time of year. You’ll have to circle back on the other side. If you hurry, you might be able to make it to the city before they close the gates at nightfall.”

“All this because we can’t pay the fee to cross the bridge?”

The guard nodded, his face showing growing boredom after Rumela’s novel appearance. “That is how this works.”

Jack grudgingly thanked the man, and they continued along the road. The three miles felt like six, but they finally came to where the river widened and grew shallower to form a crossing. Jack squinted at the western horizon. The sun was only a little more than an hour away from touching the mountain peaks. “I need to rest. Do we camp on this side and cross it in the morning or cross now and sleep wet?”

Rumela shrugged. “Wet don’t bother me. I make sure you cross safe. Plenty of sun still left, reckon you and me cross now and yours and my clothes get dry by morning.”

Jack nodded, and they descended into the water. The shock of the chill water invigorated Jack after the long, hot summer hike. The river never came up above Rumela’s hips, though Jack found it up to his chest in spots, and he had to raise his sack over his head to keep the contents from getting soaked. Once they reached the other side, Jack set the sack and his hat on the ground. He waded out into the river and plunged in.

Rumela stepped back into the river and splashed beside him, face worried. “Did you slip, Jack?”

He laughed. “No. I realized it’s been a few days since I had a bath. Figured this was as good as anything else.”

“Oh. You wanted to get clean.”

“Yeah. I reckon I probably stink, even with the rain shower we had a couple of days back.”

Rumela took several steps back toward the center of the river and tried her best to immerse herself. It wasn’t quite deep enough to do the job, but she rolled over and splashed around enough to get most of the job done. Her wild brown hair looked darker and almost nice when soaking wet. Jack wondered how he looked, overdue for a haircut and with several weeks’ growth of beard, now sopping wet. He couldn’t see his reflection clearly in the water, but he was sure he must be a sight.

He submerged again and scrubbed at his hair and around his body, then made his way to the shore. Rumela followed him. He replaced his hat to keep the late afternoon sun out of his eyes. The main trail wound eastward again, probably rejoining the road from the bridge in a few miles. Jack chose to leave the trail and head toward a forested hillside.

Once inside the forest, they found a place to camp for the night. Jack stripped down to his underwear and hung his clothes on tree branches to dry. Part of him felt immodest doing that around Rumela, but she had never noticed nor cared for such things. She never seemed to understand why he turned his back when she decided to relieve herself. But mostly, he was too exhausted to care. He hoped it would give him a chance to feel clean in the morning.

He gave Rumela the last of the dried meat. They still had a number of apples left, and Jack enjoyed two of them for dinner. They needed to find more food soon, but without money, it would be a challenge. This thought, too, he pushed from his head. His muscles ached, and he could barely keep his eyes open. With the sun still in the western sky, Jack rolled himself into the blanket like a sleeping bag, and was almost immediately asleep.

Jessabelle-the-panther crouched behind the tree in the darkness. The moon was waning, but still bright enough for her to see by. Unfortunately, it went both ways. Her black fur usually made her seem like nothing more than a shadow. Usually, but not always. She’d never tested it against a cunning hunter who knew what he was looking for, like she was now.

But this was her strength. Over the last two weeks, Leon had taught her to how to shoot an old .38 revolver, how to pick locks, and several first aid techniques. She wasn’t good at any of them, and she could tell he’d gotten frustrated that she hadn’t learned faster. But hiding and sneaking, particularly as the cat or the panther, was as natural as breathing. He might be able to turn into a jaguar, and had military training, but Jessabelle thought she could show him a couple of tricks of her own.

“The Coven may center on a group of witches and their devil of a leader, but that doesn’t mean they are stuck in the fourteenth century,” Leon said out loud. He wasn’t far, but he wasn’t close enough for her to pounce yet. He knew she was close, and he knew she’d seen him, or he wouldn’t be calling out his position. Was he really that confident, or was he trying to sucker her out of her hiding place? They’d been performing these exercises for a week, as he’d taught her all kinds of tricks for dealing with the Coven. He usually won whatever game they were playing. But she won often enough that she could taste the excitement. Especially in panther form, the thrill of the hunt felt electric. She only wished her friends could be here, learning with her, and enjoying these games at her side.

Leon walked forward, holding a flashlight as if it were a handgun. He didn’t have it pointed at her, and he was walking diagonal to her, as if sensing her general direction. He wore a device like a pair of binoculars that fit like goggles on his head.

“Much of the Coven uses high-tech gadgets and computers. Skilled hackers and detectives. Night vision goggles allow them to see at night even better than you can. Cameras, bugs, you name it.”

He grew closer, but still didn’t look directly at her. She coiled her muscles for a spring, but it didn’t cause her to move a single dead leaf beneath her. Leon removed one hand from his flashlight and flipped up the binoculars. He was almost close enough.

Then he turned, blinding her with the flashlight beam, while shouting, “Bang! Bang!” Jessabelle reflexively jumped to the side and several feet away. Leon switched the light off, pulled the device back over his eyes, and then turned to face her.

“Infrared, thermal imaging, works even better than night vision for spotting someone who is hidden. In thermal, your body makes you light up against the ambient temperature. So while you normally work best late at night, with your black coloration, you’ll be the most visible with thermal when things have cooled down around you.”

Jessabelle shifted back into the girl. The night still felt warm, so she didn’t know how she stood out. “If they’ve got that infer—whatever, I can’t hide?”

“Not easily. You may be able to hide in dense underbrush, or behind trees or walls. I evaded a Coven hunter once by digging in under a fallen tree and covering myself with as much dirt as possible. It might not have worked in the winter, but it was good enough that time. More importantly, unless they have laser sights on their weapons, they can’t shoot straight while wearing night vision gear like this. That’s why I had to take mine off.”

Jessabelle shook her head in disbelief. “Did you say lasers? They can shoot people with lasers?”

“No. They shine a little glowing dot around where their shot will land.”

“Oh, okay. I’ve seen that on TV.”

He nodded. “Just remember, if you see people wearing goggles like this, your best bet will probably be to run. Even changing into a house cat won’t help, because the Coven knows you can do that. Change into your panther form if you can and run like hell.”

Jessabelle put her hands on her hips. “Give me another chance. I bet I can hide from you, even with those infer-glasses.”

“It’s getting late. Tomorrow. Actually, in two days. Tomorrow, we’ve got a mission.”

“Seriously? A mission? From who? What are we doing?”

He turned back toward the trailer. “Something really boring.”

“Liar!”

He laughed. “Actually, I’m not. I’m sneaking into a satellite office of the Coven to replace a recording device I’ve hidden there. I’ve done it a few times. It’s how I found out when they were going to test you. But I could always use a hand, especially one who can pose as a cat. Are you game?”

Jessabelle grinned. “I can totally do that.”

“I thought so.”

* * *

The next morning, Leon gently shook Jessabelle awake before the sun had come up. Jessabelle looked around and said, “It it time to go? I can be ready in five minutes.”

The light from the hallway spilled onto his grim face. “We have a complication.”

Her muscles tensed. “They found us?”

“What? Oh, no.” He shook his head emphatically. “That would be a serious problem. No, do you remember Josie Ankrum?”

“The nice lady who helped rescue me from the Coven and bought me new clothes? She ain’t easy to forget.”

He nodded slowly. “She just contacted me. Her husband has gone missing. She wants our help to find out what happened to him.”

“What? How? What are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. Sniff around for clues as a cat, maybe? Get dressed, and we’ll talk on the way.”

He left her bedroom, closing the door behind him. She threw on a set of clothes—jeans, t-shirt, socks, and running shoes, all provided by Josie—plus her watch. When she left the bedroom, Leon was already starting the car. She jumped in, and he tossed a protein bar in her lap before she buckled her seatbelt.

“Eat up,” Leon said. “It might be a long day.”

As they drove out into the sunrise, he explained. “On Sundays, the cleaning crew at this satellite office arrives sometime between eight-thirty and eleven in the morning. They take about one hour. That’s my window of opportunity to replace the recorder. If the Coven is responsible for Burke’s disappearance, we need to find out as quickly as possible.”

Jessabelle nodded. “Are we going on the mission anyway?”

“I’d rather not. Josie is desperate, and we owe her. But the answer to her question may very well be on that recorder, and the sooner we find out, the better. Do you think you can help her out, at least until I get back?”

Jessabelle shrugged. “I can try.”

“That’ll have to do. Just poke around and see if you can find something. Josie’s a very capable woman, but she’s not a super-witch like some of the Coven. Burke has been missing all night, so she’s at wits end.”

He was quiet for several minutes. Jessabelle was good at noting body language and sensing people’s feelings, but not so good at interpreting them. Including her own. After several minutes of silence, she asked, “Would Josie turn us in if the Coven has Burke?”

After a beat, Leon nodded. “Yes. And she should. I wouldn’t blame her. This is not their fight.”

Jessabelle stared through the windshield at the sunlight creeping over the road between the trees. At length, she said, “It shouldn’t be ours, either.”

Leon grunted in agreement and continued along the twisty mountain roads. Twenty minutes later, they turned onto a short stretch of crumbling asphalt that took them to a tiny village called Narbin. A house visible from the main road advertised eggs and live chickens on a hand-painted sign. A barn nearby acted like a billboard, bearing painted words on the side advertising some pawn shop. Barbed wire surrounded the barn, and a zigzag fence marked the outer part of the field. She’d once been told that the zig-zag fences were from the old days, where assayers would measure property by those sections of the fence cut and angled to the right specifications. She didn’t know if she believed those stories or not, but they made a certain kind of sense.

Most of the houses in the community were hand-built, not the prefabricated mobile homes that were so common around the state. Leon parked outside a surprisingly large white house with brick-red trim, leaving the engine running. Little dream-catchers and wind chimes hanging on the porch swayed in the faint stirrings of a warm morning breeze. Leon knocked on the door. Jessabelle stood off to the side, wondering what to do with her hands. One nice thing about being a cat most of the time was that it absolved you of most need to worry about social graces. Just do what came naturally as a cat, and you’d be fine.

Leon knocked a second time. After ten seconds, Josie appeared at the door. Her eyes were bloodshot and set above dark, puffy circles. “It’s about time,” she said.

“You hear anything more?” Leon asked. “Anyone contact you?”

“You mean like a ransom or ultimatum?” Josie shook her head. “No. Nothing at all.”

“I can’t stay,” Leon said. “Jessabelle will be here to help you out until I get back.”

Josie’s face fell, and she looked like she aged five years in an instant. “Look here, I ain’t got time to babysit this girl!”

“That’s not why she’s here. She has skills and can help you. I gotta go and make sure it wasn’t the Coven.”

The fury in Josie’s face grew, but then she glanced over at Jessabelle and sighed. With forced evenness, she asked, “How long?”

“A few hours. I’ll be back this afternoon. But I’ve got to go now.”

Josie closed her eyes and tilted her head, lips pursed together. “Damn it, Leon. When I really need you…” She held up her hand as he began to protest. “I know. You’re right. I ain’t gotta like it though. Go. If nothing else, having another person around will keep me from going insane.”

Before Jessabelle could get too studious in her examination of her own feet, Josie invited her inside. With a mumbled repeat of his promise to be back soon, Leon hurried back to his car. He was already backing out as Josie shut the door behind Jessabelle.

All the lights in the house were on. Thick draperies covering the windows had been pulled back, filling the house with light—and growing heat. The furnishings were sturdy and old, bearing ancient dings and dents along their solid wooden frames. Most of the decorations seemed to be Native American or mountain-folk crafts.

Josie looked Jessabelle up and down, and then said, “Well, come on. Can I make you some tea or something?”

Jessabelle almost agreed by reflex. Instead, she stuck out her chin and said, “You ain’t supposed to babysit me. I’m here to help, remember?”

Josie chortled, something between a grunt and a laugh. She closed her eyes and bent her head, shaking it slightly. After a moment, she looked at Jessabelle. “Honestly, I don’t know if anyone can do anything. Leon was right to go after the most likely possibility. I knew the risks helping him out, but…” She sighed. “Okay, let’s see what you can do.”

Jessabelle shrugged. “I reckon I may as well try. Your husband’s name is Burke?”

Josie nodded. “Burke disappeared last night. We don’t sleep in the same bed no more on account of his snoring can wake the dead. I love him dearly, but the man saws enough logs to deforest the county. So I stay in the guest room. Now, around two in the morning, I wake up, because the upstairs is quiet, and a light is coming from the bedroom. I reckon he woke up. But then I searched the house for him, and I ain’t seen him. House was still locked up tight ‘n all. I checked with the neighbors right before contacting Leon. Nobody saw or heard anything.”

“Have you checked the roof?” Jessabelle asked.

“No. I don’t think he’d be up there.” Josie’s tone sounded only partly condescending, but mostly confused.

Jessabelle said, “It’s just…we had a thing not long ago. People getting snatched away.” She didn’t want to explain the snallygaster to Josie. If a snallygaster had taken Josie’s husband, then the man was long dead by now, anyway. “It ain’t important.”

“I’ll take you upstairs. Might as well start there.”

The stairs made comfortable creaks as they climbed. If someone was awake and alert, they’d hear anyone coming up or down by the creaks. The walls of the hallway bore the fake wood paneling that was popular back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth and was adorned with pictures of family members and framed paintings of landscapes. “We normally keep all the windows covered in the summertime, to keep the house cool,” Josie explained. The upstairs was a little warmer, but not yet uncomfortable. “I opened everything up this morning when I looked around. I didn’t see anything.” At the top of the stairs, Josie opened the door to the master bedroom. “Sorry about the mess,” she said.

The mess she complained about couldn’t compare to Jessabelle’s own bedroom. She felt a pain of loss, wondering if she would ever see her bedroom again. One more thing Thadeus and his minions had taken from her. Josie’s bedroom was cluttered, with stacks of magazines by the side of the bed for late-night reading. The bed was unmade. Most horizontal surfaces were covered with knickknacks. A master bathroom adjoined the bedroom, with an assortment of toiletries and medications on the counter. A walk-in closet neighbored it, with men’s clothes and shoes taking up the left side of the closet and women’s’ attire on the right. One pair of shoes hadn’t been put away in the closet and sat askew on the floor beside the bed.

To Josie, maybe that constituted a mess.

In the closet, the row of shoes left two empty slots. One was closest to the wall, and the other was in the middle of the row. Jessabelle pointed. “What shoes are missing right there?”

Josie waved to the discarded shoes near the bed. “That’s them. He normally keeps his slippers there, too. Huh. They ain’t there. I guess he left the bedroom.”

“Why?” Jessabelle asked.

“He might go downstairs and watch TV. More often he’ll get himself a late-night snack. That’s part of the reason for his being twice the man I married twenty-five years back.”

Jessabelle thought of her own late-night snack habits, especially after transforming. “Did he leave any dishes out?”

Josie shrugged. “Not that I noticed. Maybe he went down for peaches or something, but I looked down there.”

“Down where?”

“The basement. He likes peaches. We got a whole mess of ‘em sliced and canned down there. I get on his case about it, but they’re last year’s batch and really good peaches. I done searched down there already, though. It ain’t that big of a basement, and he ain’t down there.”

“Let’s look again. Maybe I’ll be able to see something,” Jessabelle said.

Half of the unfinished basement was devoted to a workshop, and the other half was packed with shelving and food. Josie pointed to the corner. “Peaches are in that corner. The one with all the jars pulled to the front in hopes I won’t notice the empty space behind them.”

Jessabelle wasn’t sure what she’d hoped to see. Footprints in the dust? A missing slipper? Signs of a struggle? A detailed note explaining his plan to run off in the middle of the night? The shelves looked perfectly ordinary. Perhaps Jessabelle-the-cat might detect more, but she wanted to make sure of what she was doing before changing forms. Even if Josie knew Jessabelle’s secret, she still felt uncomfortable transforming in front of people.

She made her way to the corner of the room, scanning the rows of jars, when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck tickle. It was a strange sensation, not caused by any draft of cold air. It just felt strange.

With a shock, she recognized the feeling. She’d felt it a few weeks ago, up Blood Creek where it emerged from a shallow pool. This was too good to be true. Josie and her husband had a portal to another world in their basement, next to the canned peaches.

Jessabelle froze, terror and hope mingling in a thrill through her body. Jack had reported Thadeus saying something about a one-way portal in Morgantown. Would this portal be a one-way trip to Around the Bend? Would it be impossible to come back? Did she care? Would she be able to find her way back to Blood Creek—the other Blood Creek—on the other side? Her mother had signed her away to the Coven. Jack, Jenny, and Grandmother Annabelle were on the other side, somewhere. And over there, she wouldn’t have the Coven hunting her down.

“You see something, Jessabelle?” Josie asked.

“Stay here. Whatever you do, don’t follow me,” she answered.

“Follow? Where?”

Jessabelle concentrated. It was unlikely, but far from impossible, to go through the crossroads on accident. They’d done it the first time they’d gone to Around the Bend, but then they had a witch’s spell on them that made it easy. Since then, she’d gone through three more times, making her the most experienced of her friends. She was a seasoned crossroads traveler. It sort of made her one of the world’s greatest experts on the subject, didn’t it?

She took a deep breath, and pushed forward, directly toward the cement wall. She concentrated on going somewhere. That focus, the intent to flee or to seek another place, helped guide one through whatever eye of the needle one needed to go through to walk the path. Maybe witches or those who could see the path could do it differently, but focus was how she did it.

Even so, she half expected to hit her head on solid concrete. Instead, she found herself plunged into near-absolute darkness.

Wherever she was, it was colder than the Ankrum’s basement. The dusty air smelled and tasted stale. It was a place that hadn’t been exposed to fresh air or sunshine in a very long time. Without light, she stumbled, and panic rose inside her that she might never find the way out.

This was a dungeon, a prison with no exits. What was lost here stayed lost.

A voice floated out of the darkness. “Hello? Who’s there?” The male voice quivered, terrified and hopeful.

“Burke?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s me! Thank the Lord! I’ve been here for days!”

She shook her head, but realized that nobody could see her. “No, it ain’t been days, just part of one day. Are you okay? Can you move?”

“Yes. I’m hurt, but I don’t know how bad. I tripped over something. I think it was a skeleton. I don’t know how bad I’m hurt. I’m so cold…”

Jessabelle heard the panic in his voice. She hoped she didn’t have a similar sound to her own. Would she be able to get either of them out of here? “Can you follow my voice? Can you come to me?”

“I can try, yeah. The sounds echo in here something fierce, but just try to talk normal.”

Jessabelle didn’t know what to say. She heard him shuffling, crawling in the darkness, and she needed to guide him. She wanted to go to him instead, but moving from this spot might take her away from the portal. So, she said whatever came to her mind.

“My name’s Jessabelle. My friend Leon and I came because your wife sent him a message to come help.”

“Leon’s here?”

“Not right now. He’ll be back in a few hours.”

“How did you know how to find me? I don’t even know where this is or how I got here. I must have fallen, but I don’t remember.”

Jessabelle looked around, trying to see some glimmer of light. Ghost images flickered in her vision as her imagination tried to make sense of pure darkness. “My grandma calls this place ‘Round the Bend.’ I been here before. Well, I ain’t been to this place, specifically. I don’t know where this is. It’s like a whole ‘nother world.”

“Is it all like this?”

“No, no, it’s just a regular place. We mostly just saw trees and stuff.”

“I hate it.”

“I have friends here. I want to come back. But, I don’t know how to get out of this particular place. When we get you back home, maybe I can come back with a flashlight or something.”

There was no response, but she heard the sounds of breathing and someone struggling to pull himself across the floor.

“You okay?”

“Yes. I’m just… Keep talking. Please.”

The air grew more oppressive around her. She couldn’t imagine being trapped here a single hour, let alone half a day. Not knowing if anyone would ever find out what had happened to you, let alone coming to rescue you. She shuddered. “I shouldn’t be too far from the entrance. We just gotta find it. You can’t really see it anyway, so we have to feel it out once you get to me.”

Burke Ankrum sounded closer now. He moved slowly. Then he stopped. She heard nothing but his labored breathing, but it seemed farther than he’d sounded a moment ago. Sounds were strange down here.

“Jessabelle?” he asked.

“Oh, sorry. I don’t usually talk much. Um, what can I say? Oh, besides my grandma, my cousin is here. Her name is Jenny. She’s really amazing. And then there’s Jack. He’s a boy who lives in my town. We didn’t really know each other until a few weeks ago. That’s kind of funny. He’s…”

She felt an icy hand touch and then grab her wrist, and she almost shrieked in terror.

“My leg really hurts,” Burke said. “I can’t really walk. Where is the way out?”

“It’s close. Somewhere behind me. Let’s find it.”

Holding Burke’s freezing hand, she turned and held her free hand in front of her, trying to catch the feeling she’d experienced minutes before. She felt nothing. Could it be a one-way door? Was she trapped here, just like Burke?

Before she could drive herself into a panic, she caught a sensation. The crossroads! “It’s here, I think! We’re almost there!”

He groaned. This could be difficult.

“I need you to come with me, and you need to concentrate. Think about home. Think about your wife, and crawl this way. Come on.”

“So tired,” he said.

“Just a little farther! You can do it! We’re almost there!”

He crawled next to her, shivering. She wrapped her arm around his and said, “Let’s crawl forward together. We can do this. Think about… Think about peaches! Those peaches on the shelf. You like the peaches, don’t you?”

He coughed. “Really good batch…”

“We’re almost there. The peaches are just a couple of feet away!”

She crawled forward, focusing on escaping this horrible place. As she pushed forward, she felt Burke start to slip away, almost like he was turning to sand in her arm. She cried out, “Peaches! You gotta get to the basement and get some of them peaches!”

The world exploded into light, and she found herself laying on the floor, next to the shelf. A heavyset, white-haired man in a tattered, filth-covered bathrobe lay beside her. A millipede crawled across his back, and his arms were marked with dozens of insect bites. His left leg was covered with blood, most of it dried, dark, and caked with dirt, but some was bright and oozing from a red, swollen gash along his thigh.

“Oh, my God! Burke!” Josie cried. “Jessabelle, take his other arm. We’ve got to get him to the hospital.”

Burke did his best to help, but the women bore most of his weight. His flesh was cold, and his lips under his filthy beard were white. He shivered and convulsed as they got to the narrow stairs. Jessabelle strained.

“Peaches,” Burke muttered and fell to his knees.

“You can get peaches after we get you up the stairs and not a second before!” Josie yelled. “Get to your feet!”

Jessabelle strained to lift the man. “You can do it! You came so far. We got out of that dungeon, we can go farther.”

Burke shivered, flailing with his arm draped over Jessabelle’s shoulder. His hand found the railing, and he struggled back to his feet. Jessabelle did her best to support him, but there was not much she could do on the stairs.

It took several minutes to get Burke up the stairs and out into Josie’s truck. Getting him inside the pickup was another effort. Jessabelle expected the man to get better and more lively in the morning heat, but if anything, he slowed. His shivering got worse. He stumbled trying to get in the truck, groaning and collapsing on the seat rather than sitting.

“How far is it to the hospital?” Jessabelle asked.

“About twenty minutes,” Josie said. “Or about ten the way I’m about to drive.”

Jessabelle got into truck, cradling Burke’s head in her lap as Josie gunned the engine and they roared along the broken road and onto the highway. She leaned down and spoke to Burke. “It’s okay. We’re home free. The doctors will get you all fixed up, and you’ll be as good as new. Then you can come back home tomorrow and have all the peaches you want.”

Burke coughed and then muttered so quietly Jessabelle barely heard him over the roar of the truck’s engine. “I don’t think,” he said, and coughed again. “I don’t think I want peaches anymore. I hate peaches now.”

The sun was already up by the time Jack awoke. He checked his watch. He’d slept for nearly twelve hours straight, and he was starving. He threw half the blanket off, and realized he was still in his underwear.

“You sleeped a long time,” Rumela said.

“I must have been really tired,” he said, sheepishly slinking into his clothes. At least they were perfectly dry. After discovering that his shoes were still on the squishy side, he rummaged through the packs for food. He found a bit of stale bread, which he split with Rumela, and several apples. He gave all but one to the giant, and ate the last for breakfast for himself. He didn’t tell her it was the last of their food.

“Me and you heading back on the trail now?” she asked, pointing to the trail returning to the bridge and the main road into the city.

“I ain’t sure that would be a good idea.” Over the western treeline, Jack spotted trails of smoke. His best assumption based on half-remembered maps of West Virginia was that Sanguine paralleled Charleston, and therefore would sit where the rivers met. While it would take more time, by following the strip of forest that bordered the river, they could escape further notice until they reached the city.

Then what? Other than the knowledge that there were already giants there, what would happen? The guard’s offer to buy Rumela as a slave made Jack feel like he needed to take another bath. On top of everything else, they’d need to find something to eat again soon. That would be a challenge without any money.

Moving with more confidence than he felt, Jack plunged deeper into the woods. The forest along the river wasn’t nearly as dense as much of what they’d passed through on their way to Dane’s Point, but it kept them hidden. For all Rumela’s size, she moved almost as quietly through the woods as Jack. After a few minutes, they found a horse trail and followed it west to a clearing.

Jack stopped at the edge of the clearing and ducked down. Rumela, following behind, did the same. Four men on horseback surrounded a young woman, also mounted. Jack only saw the girl’s back, but her long brown hair was painstakingly braided, and her clothing was clearly of higher quality than most of what he’d seen Around the Bend. Granted, most of that wouldn’t be good enough to sell on the rack of a thrift store, but her mint-green blouse had leather laces and ruffles unlike anything he’d seen since coming to this world. Or before, for that matter. The legs of her practical trousers were tucked into black leather riding boots. One hand held the reins of her horse, while the other gripped the hilt of the knife at her belt.

She was someone with wealth, which would explain the presence of the men. Jack recognized two of them-Zainus and one of his lieutenants. Clearly, the bandits had come to take advantage of the wealthy girl out for a ride. Whatever they had in mind, it couldn’t be good. As quietly as possible Jack slid his sword from its sheath and creeped closer.

Zainus raised his voice. “No, I insist,” he said, not even trying to hide his sneer. “You must come with us immediately.”

Jack charged toward them with what he hoped was a courageous battle-cry, holding his sword high as if he actually knew how to use it. Zainus stared incredulously as Jack closed the distance. The other three men drew their weapons. Halfway through his charge against mounted, skilled fighters who outnumbered him, it dawned on Jack what a terrible idea this was.

Behind him, Rumela shrieked her own rendition of Jack’s battle-cry, a sound that no human vocal chords could imitate. Even as her ally, the sound chilled Jack to the bone. Chaos erupted as men and beast reacted to this horror. One man’s horse reared up in terror, dumping its rider onto the ground, a hoof clipping the girl’s mount in the head. Her horse bolted away, and the girl spilled onto the ground as well, landing with somewhat more control. Both horses fled.

One man gained control of his mount and raced off in another direction. Zainus and his lieutenant fought their horses for a moment. Then, perhaps sensing the odds had turned badly against them, they fled before Rumela could reach them.

Jack sheathed his sword. “Rumela, I am lucky to have you as my backup.”

“Yep, you are,” she said, grinning.

The girl on the ground gasped as Rumela showed her teeth. Jack turned to the girl. “Sorry about that, miss. Let me help you up!” He reached down to help her.

She responded with a swipe from the gleaming dagger. Jack pulled back just before she would have chopped his fingers off. She sprang to her feet, holding her dagger in front of her, pale blue eyes darting between Jack and Rumela. One of her braids had come undone, and dirt from the trail marred her mint-green blouse. Some twig or thorn on the ground had scratched her cheek. In spite of all this, the girl was the most beautiful creature Jack had ever seen. She looked young enough to still be in high school, like a teen-aged Anna Kendrick with piercing ice-blue eyes.

The young woman bared her perfect teeth in a snarl and said, “Keep away from me or I’ll slice you open so fast you’ll trip over your own guts!”

Jack had spent enough time in the mountains to know that beautiful things were often deadly, so he kept his distance and raised his hands.

Rumela snorted. “Should I grab her, Jack?”

“What? No! No, we’re the good guys here! We’re here to rescue you!”

The girl blinked and wrinkled her nose. “Rescue? From whom?”

“From them bandits! Zainus is their leader, and he is one mean son of a b…one mean feller. He and his men were robbing a village near us, and we stopped them. Well, me and Jenny…it ain’t important. Anyway, we stopped him. And then he tried to take revenge on me by shooting me with a crossbow when I wasn’t looking. If it weren’t for my magic amulet, he would have killed me, too. And…”

The look in her eyes grew more incredulous as he spoke. The time for shutting up had long passed. Now she looked at him the way his neighbors had looked at him when he was twelve years old and had warned them that there was a ferocious giant in the woods. It didn’t matter that he had been telling the truth. He had gained a reputation as an outrageous liar. Jack shifted gears. “Anyway, he’s a bandit, thief, and probably a murderer. I saved you from being robbed.”

“He wasn’t robbing me.”

While she was probably right, Jack didn’t want to think about the bandit leader’s other intentions. They were too horrible to imagine. “Well, he had bad intentions, that’s for sure.”

“If you were trying to rescue me, why did you hurt Adam?”

“What? Who’s Adam?”

She pointed to the unconscious man who had been thrown from his horse. Jack had forgotten about him. “Ain’t he one of the bandits?”

“No, he’s my bodyguard!”

“Oh. Sorry about that.” He peered down at the man she called Adam. His clothing didn’t seem all that different from Zainus’ lieutenant, but maybe that was a common style. He was still breathing, although his eyes were closed, and he hadn’t fallen in the most comfortable position. “He ain’t done a good job protecting you from them bandits.”

“He’s new,” she started, and then shook her head. “Besides, those weren’t bandits. They work for my father.”

“Ma’am, I hate to break it to you, but I know for a fact they are bandits. And if they work for your father, then maybe your father is into some shady dealings.”

She chortled and lowered her dagger. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

“Nope. I’m new in town.”

“Your accent is strange. Where are you from?”

“Maple Bend, ma’am. My name is Jack Parsons. This is Rumela. I reckon your horses will find their way back home, if the bandits didn’t take ‘em. In the meantime, I s’pose we ought to make sure you get home safely. And your friend Adam, too. It looks to me like he needs some bodyguarding of his own.”

The young woman continued to stare at Jack and Rumela. Jack tried not to stare back, but he couldn’t help it. He really hoped she didn’t decide to stab him, because he’d never be able to fight back. He could run away, maybe, and always remember the beautiful, mysterious, and incredibly pissed-off girl he’d saved from bandits along a wooded trail—even if she never believed he’d saved her.

The girl carefully sheathed the dagger and sighed. “I’m Delcina. I may be a fool, but I think you are telling the truth. Regardless, it seems I have little choice at this point. I am no match for your giant.”

“I ain’t, either.”

“Wrong!” Rumela said. “Jack and his friends bested six giants of my tribe, and that evil witch. Jack, you told me you don’t lie.”

“I don’t! I was no match for them, either. I just got lucky. My friends did the hard part. Anyway, can you carry that man and the bag, or should I carry the bag?”

Rumela laughed. “Bag ain’t heavy now, and that man looks skinny. Besides, he’s playing ‘possum. I could toss him over my shoulder…”

Adam groaned. After a moment, he sat up, looked at Jack and Rumela, and then jumped to his feet and drew a sword. “Villains!” he cried. He staggered as he tried to get into a fighting stance. Adam seemed to be in his early twenties, and while not heavily muscled, he was wiry. He’d be no match against Rumela in a fair fight, but Jack wouldn’t want to have to fight him.

“No, the villains ran off,” Jack answered. “It’s just us. Y’all are fine, now.”

Delcina waved at Adam. “It’s okay, I think. They said they are going to escort us home.”

“Why should we trust them?”

She sighed and pointed at Rumela. “Would you rather fight them?”

Adam looked Rumela up and down. “I advise caution.”

Delcina snorted and then covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry, Adam. Of course. We’ll be cautious.”

Jack pointed down the trail. “Is it this way, ma’am?”

“Yes. My…house is this way.”

Jack took position next to Delcina before Adam could. Adam fell in immediately behind them. Rumela hesitated, frowning at Adam before taking position in the rear of the group.

Delcina asked, “Where is ‘Maple Bend?’ I have never heard of it.”

“It’s…um…kind of a long way off.”

“How far?”

“That ain’t an easy question to answer.”

“Why not?”

It was Jack’s turn to sigh. He took a deep breath. “You ain’t gonna believe me, but it’s another world. We got here by going through a magical opening about three weeks back.”

She nodded. “I have heard of such things.”

“Really? You ain’t pulling my leg?”

“Pulling your leg? I don’t understand.”

“It means you are kidding. Or just saying what you think I want to hear.”

She laughed. “That is a strange expression. No, I am not ‘pulling your leg.’ I’ve been taught legends about such places since I was a little girl. I thought they were all gone now or sealed up.”

“The one I came through is sealed up now.”

She pursed her lips. “If it is sealed, then you cannot go back.”

“Nope. Least not for a while. So, I reckoned I’d explore a bit. Mostly I keep running into that bandit friend of yours, Zainus, who keeps trying to kill me.”

“He’s not my friend. I barely know him.” She sounded wounded by his comment. “He does work for my father.”

“So what brings you out to the woods?”

“I like to explore, too.”

“Find anything cool?”

“Cool? That’s why I do it before the sun gets too hot.”

“No, I mean, cool as in interesting.”

“Today, I met a young man from another world and a giant who claimed to rescue me. Does that count?”

Adam grunted behind them. Jack laughed. “Yeah, I reckon that would. I found something pretty cool today, too.”

“And what is that?”

“The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He regretted saying it instantly, even though it was the truth.

Her scowl confirmed his mistake. Before he could apologize, she said, “Are you attempting to flatter me then, Jack?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so… Look, I ain’t that good at talking to girls. I never know what to say, and I put my foot in my mouth as soon as the words come out.”

“Then you were lying?”

“No ma’am. It’s the honest truth. Just stupid of me to say to a girl I just met. That’s probably something I should only say after we have been on a date or something.”

“A date?”

If he had a third foot, he would have kicked himself to the point of being incapable of sitting. “It’s nothing.”

One corner of her mouth lifted. “If it’s nothing, then tell me.”

Jack couldn’t tell if she was furious, serious, or teasing him. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Like I said, I ain’t had much experience with this. I ain’t actually been on a date before. But it’s when two people, you know, go spend time with each other.”

“Like we are now?”

“No. I mean, maybe. Usually not with a bodyguard and a giant.”

“Without a chaperon?”

“A shappy-what-now?”

Her laugh was silver bells in the air. It was his turn to be confused. She pointed ahead. “We’re almost out of the woods.”

Less than a hundred yards away, the trees came to an abrupt end, and Jack could see the farms and city ahead. Buildings lined a hill with fortress walls along the top. They weren’t gray, dirty stone like he had expected from pictures of ruins, but white and gleaming in the mid-morning sun. Towering on the side facing the river stood an honest-to-goodness castle, also white and almost glowing in the sunlight, with colorful banners and flags stirring gently in the breeze. It seemed like a fairytale palace made real.

“Would you get a look at that!” he said to no one in particular.

Rumela stooped down to get a look below the tree cover. “Pretty,” she said.

Jack grinned and looked at Delcina. “I’ll bet you never get tired of that sight.”

“The castle?”

“Yeah! That’s amazing.”

“I guess so. You get used to it after a while.”

Jack whistled. “Not me. You are lucky to live around here. Where do you live, by the way? We can at least walk you to your house.”

She didn’t answer. Adam snorted. Jack looked back at him and scowled.

They left the cover of the woods, and followed the trail through fields. Jack tried to figure out a way to slow their pace, or come up with some excuse to see Delcina again, and didn’t hear the sound of approaching horses. Rumela turned first and said, “Jack? Horses. And soldiers.”

Jack turned. From either side of the trail, cutting off their retreat back into the woods, came two dozen horsemen. Some wore armor, and all bore crossbows or old-fashioned guns which they aimed at Rumela. Zainus and his lieutenant held back behind the cavalrymen. A dark-skinned man with a wide mustache and armor made of thick hide plates approached. He had a flintlock pistol in one hand, the hammer cocked back and ready to fire, while he held the reigns of his great black warhorse with the other.

Jack instinctively lifted his arms to shield Delcina behind him, although he knew it was useless. He’d underestimated the bandits in this world. There seemed to be a never-ending supply of them.

The man spoke, his voice a rich baritone. “Let the princess go and submit to arrest quietly, or we shall kill you where you stand.”

Jack blinked as the full weight of the man’s words hit him. Cold sweat broke out over his back at the words “arrest” and “kill,” but they were secondary. One word hit his brain with greater force than the others, and sent his mind wheeling in confusion. He looked over his shoulder at Delcina. “Huh? You’re a princess?”

Zainus laughed.

Jessabelle still hated hospitals. She sat alone in the waiting room while Josie was in with her husband. They’d had a difficult time explaining his condition, in his underwear and bathrobe, covered with insect bites and suffering from exposure as well as an infection. The important thing was to get him the treatment he needed, and fast.

On the way up, Josie had asked uncomfortable questions. But then, she’d seen the impossible. “What did you do? You went through the wall! How did you do that?”

Jessabelle didn’t know how to explain it, but that didn’t’ stop her from trying. “I went through a crossroad, like a path to another world across from ours. If you follow the sideways path, you go ‘Round the Bend to another place.”

“What is it doing in my basement?” Josie had almost screamed.

Jessabelle still didn’t know the answer to that one. A build-up of magic could help a new crossroads form, but this wasn’t new. If the geography of ‘Round the Bend was close to how it was here, then someone had gone through a lot of effort to seal up the other side and turn it into a dead end. Was that how the people on the other side “sealed up” the portals when they exiled Thadeus? Maybe they used witchcraft to block the crossroads like Grandma Annabelle had done, but the magic deteriorated over time. Someone on the other side had buried the crossroad as a secondary defense.

Maybe, with tools and manpower, they could dig it back out again. With Sean and Hattie’s help, Jessabelle could go through and rejoin her family on the other side, without the man in the white suit ever knowing. However, if he did find out about this passage, it would be a disaster. Thadeus could bring his daughter through to this world, so the two of them could begin their horrible, ruthless reign.

Jessabelle needed help. Hunger, fatigue, and worry warred within her for dominance. Worry had the upper hand for now, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Leon had no idea where they were, and Josie was distracted. Jessabelle once again felt lost and far from home.

A woman in a chair across from Jessabelle hung up her cell phone. Steeling her nerve and convincing herself that it was a good idea, Jessabelle stood up and crossed over to the woman. “Ma’am?”

The woman looked up at Jessabelle, offering a faint smile. “How can I help you, hon?”

“Could I use your phone to make a call? I’m here with…friends…and I need to call my aunt and let her know where I am.”

“Sure thing, hon.” The woman passed the phone over. Jessabelle didn’t have much experience using cell phones, as the lack of reception in Maple Bend meant almost nobody had one, but it didn’t seem so hard. It didn’t take long before the phone on the other end rang. On the second ring, a familiar voice answered. “Hello?”

“Aunt Hattie? This is Jessabelle.” She turned her back to the lady and moved to a corner of the room where she couldn’t be heard clearly.

“Jessabelle! We’ve been worried sick about you. Your mama said you had to go to the hospital, but wouldn’t give us any information.”

“No, I didn’t go to the hospital. I mean, I’m at one now, but it was Evelyn’s people that took me. They drugged me and told mama about me. They made her sign papers.”

“Oh, no. That’s what I was afraid of. Oh, sweetheart, I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I got away.”

“Just now?”

“No. About two weeks ago. A friend helped me escape. He knew my papa. I just wanted to tell you where I was.”

“Don’t tell me where you are! Two weeks figures.”

“What? Why?”

“They doubled their efforts two weeks ago. This line isn’t safe, honey.”

“It’s okay. I’m on a borrowed phone.”

“I’m not, and I’m pretty sure I’m being watched. Wherever you are, stay there. Stay hidden. I reckon they are looking all over for you. Maple Bend isn’t safe. I wish we could talk longer, but we can’t. Tell your friend you made this call.”

“He ain’t here. I…”

“I love you, Jessabelle. While you might hate her right now, your mama loves you, too. You understand why we can’t help you right now?”

In her head, she understood, at least in part. Of course the Coven would watch Hattie and her mama to try to find her. She didn’t know why they wanted her so badly. While she might be able to change form, she was nothing compared to someone like Jenny, Grandma Annie, or Evelyn. However, her heart and her stomach wanted to go home. Or, better yet, to go Around the Bend and be with her family there. Maybe she could take Hattie and even Sean with her. They’d all be safe. As safe as you could be with giants and killer unicorns.

“I understand,” Jessabelle said, but even as she said it her voice cracked.

They hung up. Jessabelle wiped a tear away before it could fully form. It streaked the back of her hand with dark-gray dust from the cave. She handed the phone back to the woman in the chair.

“You gonna be okay, hon?” The woman asked.

Jessabelle nodded. She didn’t dare speak, because her silence was the only thing holding the flood of emotions at bay. She collapsed in the chair and stared at her feet for several minutes, until fatigue overcame her and she slept. It was more of a string of snoozes, waking up to see the television turned to some daytime talk show. After some unknown number of minutes, Josie sat beside her.

“Sorry to wake you,” Josie said. “I wanted to let you know that Burke will be fine. They think they have the infection under control, but they’ll keep him under observation for a couple of days. You literally saved his life, you know.”

Jessabelle didn’t quite know how to respond. “I just helped him find the way out was all.”

“All? Another couple of hours, and he might never have made it. I don’t know how risky that was, but I want you to know you can always call on me if you need my help.” She handed Jessabelle a card. It read, “Josie’s Authentic Native American Handcrafts.” It had her phone number, address, and a web site. There was a folded twenty-dollar bill beneath the card. “You need something, anything, you call, okay? Now, in the meantime, why don’t you go get yourself something to eat in the cafeteria? I’ll try and leave a message with Leon letting him know where you are, but these things…ain’t always fast. He might not check until after he finds out we ain’t home.”

Jessabelle hesitated to take the money, but Josie pushed it into her hand and said, “Get yourself some lunch. I’ll meet you here once they’ve figured out what they’ll do with my husband. Hopefully, Leon will be back by then.”

They both stood, and Josie gave Jessabelle an awkward hug. Jessabelle returned it with a hunger that surprised her. It reminded her of being a little girl again, when Grandma Annie and both her parents were still there, and everything felt safe.

As Josie turned to walk away, Jessabelle said, “Y’all should be safe in your basement, Josie.”

Josie turned back to her. “Yeah?”

Jessabelle nodded. “Just tell Burke to pay attention to what he’s doing next time. It’s pretty hard to do what he did on accident.”

Josie’s smile wasn’t very convincing. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

Jessabelle followed the signs to the cafeteria. Another cafeteria. While she wouldn’t miss the one at the Coven, she had to admit that the food there had been incredible. Visiting the cafeteria and being around people had been bright points to her dismal days. That had probably been by design. The Coven had made her view her restricted freedom as a privilege.

She got lost twice, in spite of the obvious signs. She asked an attendant for directions, and the woman politely pointed the way down the hall, which of course bore a sign with an arrow marked “cafeteria.” Jessabelle made a snorting noise that she thought was self-effacing, but as she walked away she realized it probably sounded rude. She wasn’t used to these kinds of signs. Or hallways, for that matter, beyond her school.

She still hated hospitals.

The cafeteria was brightly lit and colorful, filled with the aroma of good food that almost covered the odor of cleansers. It wasn’t like the cafeteria at her high school, capable of handling a hundred or so students at a time. This place had a dozen circular tables, half that number of booths, and a bar area with stools along one wall. In addition to refrigeration units filled with sandwiches and other cold food, the ordering area included a grill.

“Good evening,” the girl at the cash register said. “Can I get you anything?”

Jessabelle froze with anxiety. She quickly searched over the menu and asked, “Can I get a cheeseburger, please?”

“Sure thing. Anything else?”

“Juice.”

“What kind?”

There were too many choices!

“Orange?” Jessabelle asked. The lady nodded and rang her up, and told her partner to begin fixing the burger. Jessabelle paid and felt vaguely satisfied with herself for having successfully navigated a strange new location. Then she chided herself for being confused and embarrassed in the first place. She was letting her small-town colors fly. She’d have to hide those if she was going to blend in and keep her head down.

She sat at a booth and drank the orange juice. The lady even brought over the hamburger when it was ready. The plate included fries, which Jessabelle didn’t remember ordering. Were they included with the meal? One tiny advantage to being the Coven’s prisoner was that nobody cared what she ate. But it meant being a prisoner. Freedom was a pain in the butt, but at least it was freedom.

Halfway into the burger, the chill of the air conditioning got to her. It reminded her of the terrible dark dungeon where Burke had been trapped. She considered the possibilities of digging through the space. Her next step would be to take some light with her to find out what the cave really looked like. Maybe it would be obvious where she should dig. Then, maybe she could take a pickax and shovel. Perhaps she could enlist Leon’s aid.

She poked at her fries. They’d cooled off quickly in the air conditioned room. She rubbed her hands over her arms. They had the air conditioning turned up far too high, even though it was probably sweltering outside. Maybe she’d go out for a few minutes to warm up. Maybe Leon was already there, waiting for her. He said he’d be done in the afternoon, and it was now early afternoon.

Something soft landed beside her. She’d been so lost in her own thoughts, she’d not paid attention as people had shuffled in and out of the room around her. Someone had dropped a jacket on the seat beside her. She scanned the tables nearby to see who might have accidentally dropped it by her seat. Then she examined the jacket. It was made of black leather, somewhat modified…

It was her jacket. She’d left it at the Coven when she’d escaped. She could almost hear the alarm bells from that place going off, only inside her head now. She jumped out of the booth, looking around the room.

Two booths away, Gabriel leaned out and waved at her. “Hello there, Jessabelle! Funny running into you here!”

She couldn’t see anyone who looked like the security guards from the Coven, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Maybe in a booth where she couldn’t see them, or maybe just outside the door to the cafeteria. Her heart beat faster, and everything inside her told her to panic, to flee, to turn into Jessabelle-the-panther and tear out of the hospital at incredible speeds.

“Hey, calm down,” Gabriel said. “We’re just here to talk.”

Jessabelle grabbed the jacket and held onto it as if it were a lifeline. She took a step toward Gabriel, and spoke quietly so only he could hear. “How did y’all find me?”

Gabriel grinned and shrugged. “That would be telling. But you’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”

“My call to Hattie.”

“Exactamundo. You even said you were in a hospital. That helped a lot.”

Jessabelle seethed, fear transforming into anger—at herself, and at the Coven. “You ain’t gonna take me back.”

“Don’t you want to go back? I thought we were developing something of a rapport, you and me.”

“I don’t want to be your friend. I want to go home.” She backed away.

He stood up and held up his hand in a temporizing manner. “Hey, it’s okay. Shhh!” They were making a scene, which was fine by her. Maybe it would be better if everyone knew about Thadeus and the Coven. Then again, who would believe her?

With a sudden change, she could make them believe, if she had to. But that sort of thing would go both ways, and there’d be videos of her all over the internet and news within hours. There would be a lot more people than the Coven looking for her.

He took a step closer and kept his voice low. “Look, we can arrange that. You can go home.”

“What? Liar!”

“I’m not lying, unless they are lying to me. We don’t need to take you back. You can go home. We’ll leave you be.”

“And what’s the catch?”

He shrugged and shook his head. “No catch. We’re not the bad guys, Jessabelle.”

Even with their voices low, others could hear them. Fine. “Yes, you kind of are,” she answered.

He looked around, distinctly uncomfortable. “Have a seat. Let’s talk,” he said.

“We can talk right here.”

He frowned. “Okay, fine,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “You tell us where Leon is, and you go free. It’s as simple as that.”

“I don’t know where Leon is.”

“Then you know where he will be.”

“Why do you care about him?”

Gabriel sighed. “If we had him, we wouldn’t need you. At least not as badly.”

That was it. They needed someone who could change into a cat. Or perhaps, as Leon had suggested, their blood. It would be easy. She could tell them about the trailer. Pretend she’d never seen them when Leon came to pick her up. If he hadn’t left, they’d never have come after her. She owed him nothing.

Or she could go with the Coven. The longer she looked at Gabriel, the less threatening he felt. She’d made progress. She’d made friends. The people were nice, and the food was terrific. And her room had been really nice.

She snapped her eyes shut and turned her head away from him. The calm thoughts fled, replaced by fury. While not as strong, he was just like Evelyn. “Witch!” she snarled at him.

Gabriel sighed. “You either work with us or leave with us, Jessabelle.”

She marched out of the cafeteria, her jacket clutched in her hands. Instead of going back to the waiting area, Jessabelle made her way to the nearest exit. On the bench, just outside the glass doors, two men sat and conversed. One looked up at her and smiled. She recognized him as one of the security guards from the Coven. They waited for her.

She turned around and went the other way. And the other end of the hospital wing, she found another exit. She was almost out the door when she saw two more men sitting in a car in the nearest parking stall, staring at her. They didn’t bother hiding. They wanted her to know she was trapped.

The setting sun shot a streak of warm orange light through the small, barred window above them, piercing the dank gloom of the dungeon cell. Jack felt his stomach growl and concealed the noise with a yawn. On the other side of the cell, Rumela sat on a bench with her head bowed. She had no choice, because her head would bump against the ceiling otherwise. The floor was cold, and she’d never be able to stretch out to sleep come nightfall. Jack’s discomfort was minor compared to the slow-burn torture for even a small giantess like Rumela.

All day he had maintained that this was a mistake, and the guards would come and release them any minute. Surely Delcina would explain the situation to her father and the guardsman, and they’d come down and apologize for the inconvenience. They simply had to finish up the paperwork, or something.

The sunbeam inched higher in their cell. In a few minutes, it would be gone.

“I’m awful sorry about this, Rumela,” Jack said. “This adventure hasn’t gone exactly as I’ve planned.”

Rumela looked up slowly, so she wouldn’t scrape her head on the ceiling. “It be okay, Jack.”

“I’m sure they’ll be here any minute to let us out.”

“Me, too.”

Jack stood up, but immediately felt guilty because that was a luxury denied his friend. He leaned up against the wall, gazing at the evening sky through their tiny window. The sky was clear now, so they wouldn’t have to worry about the rain tonight once they were released. Of course they’d be released. Then they’d have to figure out where to stay the night.

As if in answer to his silent demands, booted footsteps sounded outside the cell. He smiled and turned to Rumela. “Hear that? What did I tell you?”

She grinned. “Yup. You was right!”

Two guards appeared at the cell door. The big keys rattled against the lock, and then one guard pulled the door open while another stood with a spear set on the ground pointed at Rumela. The guard holding the door pointed at Jack. “You will come with me,” he said in his strange accent.

“Sure thing. No need to point that thing at us, we’re cooperating!”

Rumela stirred and the guard at the door pulled his sword and shook his head. “Not the giant. Just you.”

“What? But we’re partners!”

“My orders are to bring you. She must stay.”

Rumela raised her hand and made a shooing motion at Jack. “You go right ahead, Jack. I’s all tired anyhow. I’s gonna catch me some sleep.”

Jack glared at the guard for several seconds, but the man’s face was impassive. Jack sighed and turned back to the giant. “I’ll be back before you know it!” he promised.

“Take your time,” Rumela answered. “I reckon I will be here.”

The guard closed and locked the door behind Jack. He then marched Jack down a hall, up some stairs, and down another hall before they entered into a great chamber full of tables set with food. People sat, and ate, and talked, which seemed hardly unusual except for how they were dressed. The men all wore vests under their suit coats, with bow ties or fancy oversized ties around thin shirt collars that popped up around their necks except for the corners that folded down. The women wore all kinds of fancy dresses that looked like they belonged in a black-and-white photograph. Despite the cool breeze coming through the room, the clothes looked uncomfortably warm. Even though the clothing was unusual and old-fashioned, it looked to Jack like they all wore their Sunday best.

It wouldn’t be the first time Jack felt under-dressed. Several people turned and stared as he walked in alongside the guard. Some voices snickered. Having lived a third of his life mocked as “Lyin’ Jack,” he’d cultivated a disregard for the opinions of others, but it hurt when he saw Delcina at the head table. Even more finely dressed and beautiful than Jack remembered, with fancy dress sleeves that were poofy at the top and slender below the elbow, she stood out in a crowd of elaborately dressed, beautiful people.

Jack turned to the guard with the sword, hooked his thumb at the head table and said, “Hey, I know her! That’s Delcina. She can back me up!”

The guard scowled. “If you make any attempt to approach the table without explicit permission, we will kill you where you stand!”

Jack gaped, but the guard looked like he meant business. He closed his mouth and muttered, “Y’all are pretty harsh. Ain’t there any laws against that?”

The dark-skinned man who had arrested Jack approached. He still wore the same armor he’d worn earlier, but the uniform under it seemed more formal. As the officer grew close, he nodded to the two guards. “I’ll take it from here. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir!” they said in unison. With a crisp turn toward the door, they marched out of the room.

“Are you the feller I’m supposed to talk to?” Jack asked.

“No.” The man kept his baritone voice low, so that only Jack could hear him. “Do you know who I am?”

“The man in charge, I reckon.”

“No, I serve the man in charge. I’m Bachan, Captain of the Royal Guard. Do you know what that means?”

“You protect them royal folk, like Delcina?”

Bachan’s left eyebrow raised slightly, but he simply nodded. “Yes, I protect the princess and the rest of her family. To do this, there are certain protocols that must be followed when one has an audience with them. Violation of those protocols could mark you as a threat, which means the guard would strike first and ask questions later. Do you understand?”

Jack shook his head. “Um, not really. You mean if I sneeze or something, y’all are going to shoot me?”

“Potentially. However, you are obviously a foreigner and unfamiliar with our protocols, so I’m here to make sure you understand the basics before your audience with the king.”

“Thanks, I guess. I don’t mean to threaten anyone, especially not Delcina’s family. What is it I’m supposed to do?”

“First of all, you are not to approach the king closer than five paces. If he’s on the dais, then make sure you stand at least one pace away from the first step. There will be a guard standing in front of the king. In general, if you are out of that guard’s immediate reach, you’ll be fine.”

Jack nodded. “Okay. That sounds simple enough.”

“When you get there, you must bow, and keep your head lowered until he tells you to stand. Only speak when spoken to. Keep your hands at your sides or in front of you. Never reach into your clothing for anything unless you receive his explicit permission. Answer questions directly and keep your answers concise. Don’t go rambling on and on.”

Jack blinked and asked, “Would y’all really kill people for talking too much?”

“We haven’t yet, but it is very annoying,” Bachan deadpanned. He stared into Jack’s eyes with deadly intensity. “Do you understand what I have said? Can you follow those instructions?”

“I reckon I can, yeah.”

“Very well.” Bachan turned toward the head table. The man at the far end of the table was dressed in finer clothing than the rest, with a gold chain looped over the left shoulder of his suit coat. He glanced up at Bachan, and Bachan nodded.

The man with the gold chain made a motion with his hand, and guards wearing similar uniforms to Bachan’s appeared. One stood near the table, with his sword drawn with the blade vertical and resting against his shoulder. The other guard approached Jack and stood behind him. Bachan walked toward the table. Jack started to follow, but the guard behind him whispered, “Not yet!”

Bachan stepped past the guard at the table, bowed to the man with the chain, and said, “Jack Parsons of Maple Bend, your highness.”

The king nodded. Bachan turned and stepped to the side. The guard behind Jack said, “Now.” Jack walked forward, trying to gauge his distance and speed. He shot a look at Delcina, who stared back at him with what he took for an encouraging expression. Was this good? Did she believe him? Did she care about him and hope he’d succeed?

He snapped his attention back to what he was doing almost too late. The guard in front of him quivered with open eyes. Jack stopped suddenly and took a half a step back, bumping into the guard behind him. A wince flickered across Bachan’s face, and the guard behind Jack grunted menacingly before composing himself.

The king raised an eyebrow. Jack tried his friendliest grin, and then realized he was forgetting something again. He ducked down low, eyes toward the ground, and nearly put one hand behind his back before remembering that this, too, was forbidden. He locked both arms to his side. Then he felt himself start to tip forward.

“You may stand,” the king said quickly. Jack caught his balance, righted himself, and stood straight before the seated king.

“Thank y…” he started to say, and then shut his mouth, wondering if there were any other protocols he had violated, and if he’d actually live through this introduction.

The guard in front of him released his breath.

The king glanced at the woman to his left. Jack followed his gaze, but only for a moment. The woman, clearly the queen, was strikingly beautiful, and somehow vaguely familiar. He snapped his attention back to the king. The king was a stunningly handsome man, too. Now that he was close—and not looking at the floor—Jack could see many of Delcina’s features in the king’s face. Maybe it was the nose and the eyes. One had to respect someone with those eyes. The king’s waxed mustache and well-trimmed goatee reminded Jack of men in movies set in the early twentieth century.

Jack didn’t consider himself a person who impressed anybody. He certainly never sought to do so. For some reason, he wanted to impress this man. He thought of Delcina’s encouraging look and squared his shoulders. He was about to say something stupid by way of introduction, but then remembered he hadn’t really been addressed yet. He kept his mouth shut.

The king stared at him for several seconds, his eyes moving from Jack’s head to his feet and back again. When he spoke, his words rang out like a perfectly recited script. “Jack Parsons of…Maple Bend, is that it?” Jack nodded. The king continued. “You stand accused of attempted kidnapping against a member of the royal household. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

Jack stood in stunned silence for several seconds, before fully realizing the question had been addressed to him. “Um, that, still? No sir. Your honor. Your highness. I mean, that ain’t what…that is not what happened at all! My friend Rumela and I were just heading off to this here town, since we heard that y’all had giants here who weren’t treated badly. We kept to the woods on account of how big she is and how that’s caused some people to get really nervous around her and everything…”

Jack glanced over at Bachan, worrying that he was going into too much detail. Bachan gave him a microscopic nod of approval. Jack continued. “Anyway, so we ran into Delcina—um, I guess Princess Delcina—and I had no idea who she was. When I saw her surrounded by that son of a b—um, excuse me, that robber, Zainus and his henchman, I thought she was being robbed. So did Rumela. So we tried to fight them robbers back. We succeeded, too. You can ask Delcina. We’re sorry about that bodyguard feller, Adam. We thought he was also one Zainus’ gang.”

Murmuring echoed around the room. The king glanced at the woman beside him, and then back to Jack. “Perhaps you do not realize that accusations against others here in my court could potentially be answered by a duel.”

“Huh? No. Zainus already tried to kill me twice before I saw him with Princess Delcina. But you could go to Hobbfield and ask them yourself. They can tell you. The folks at Dane’s Point had heard of him and his men, too. I’m just telling you what I’ve seen.”

The king held up his hand dismissively, waving at the air. “Let’s table that for the time being. So you claim this was all a misunderstanding, with no ill intent, yet you brought a dangerous giant near my daughter.”

This wasn’t going well at all. “Rumela ain’t dangerous. I mean, she didn’t mean any harm, except to Zainus and his flunky. We were trying to protect the princess.”

The king looked over at Delcina. “And what is your view of this incident, Delcina?”

The princess spoke firmly with careful enunciation. “It is my opinion, Your Majesty, that this man is speaking the truth. He threatened me no harm, and made no demands of me, and expressed a desire to escort me back to the castle.”

“Is that so?” the king said. He leaned forward in his chair, staring intently into Jack’s eyes. “If this is true, Jack Parsons, I owe you an apology. What would you say to an offer of five gold in gratitude for your service in escorting my daughter?”

“Um, excuse me, sir? I mean, your highness. I appreciate the offer and everything, but that ain’t why I did it. Whether Zainus meant to harm her or not, you shouldn’t go around paying people for doing what anyone ought to do anyway.”

The king narrowed his eyes. “I shouldn’t, you say?”

Jack couldn’t tell if the king was being serious. But everyone else seemed to be. “I mean, um, I wouldn’t.”

“You want nothing in return?”

“No. I mean…no. Unless you know of any places where Rumela might be able to find a job. We’d appreciate it. We heard y’all have other giants around here, and she’s real nice. But I don’t need anything. Actually, we kinda had to run out of Dane’s Point in a hurry, on account of the folks there not liking giants so much, and I left a bunch of money on the counter at the general store, so I might could use a job, too. If you know of any. But otherwise, I’m good.” Nobody spoke. It felt like everyone in the world was staring at him. Had he forgotten to say something? “Thank you,” he added.

Somebody stifled a laugh. Otherwise, the entire hall was silent. The king looked Jack up and down again, and shook his head. “Damn me for a fool, but I think I believe you, too.” His face hardened. “However, the fact remains you brought a dangerous giant near my daughter. And this I cannot accept!”

“She’s not…” Jack stopped himself at a warning glance from Bachan.

“You don’t believe she’s a threat? You do realize the danger a giant poses?”

“Yes. I’ve fought giants before, and they scare the hell out of me. I mean, the heck out of me. But Rumela ain’t like that.”

Echoes of hushed whispers and astonished gasps filled the hall. The king raised both eyebrows. “Now you claim to have slain giants?”

“Slain? No sir. But my friends and I fought against a whole mess of ‘em, plus a witch. We beat ‘em. We did kill an ogre. And a snallygaster. That’s kind of this dragon-thing with tentacles? I had a shotgun at the time, though, and…” Jack stopped. He was rambling again.

The king stood and stepped past the guard to stand directly in front of Jack. Jack didn’t know what the protocol should be now. The king stared into his eyes. Jack wasn’t sure if he should avert his eyes, or smile, or something else. He just stood there.

The king frowned, almost sneering. He looked dissatisfied with whatever he’d seen in Jack’s eyes. “You claim to be both a friend of, and a fighter of, giants. Very well. Here’s a deal. I happen to have an old problem with a giant by the name of Korak Lash. You will solve it for me.” Muffled gasps escaped the crowd around them. “Kill Korak Lash, and I will accept everything you just told me. Your companion will go free, and I will reward you well beyond the standing bounty on that villain’s head.”

“What if I don’t accept?”

“Then I will know you are boasting, and your bonds of friendship with your giant companion were exaggerated. In which case, she shall be put to death, and you’ll be imprisoned for as many years as it takes for us to forget about your lies. What shall it be?”

The room was absolutely silent for several seconds. Delcina spoke first. “Please, Your Majesty, I beg you to reconsider.”

The queen answered quietly. “I believe His Royal Majesty the King has spoken, young Delcina.” She looked even more unhappy than Delcina, for no reason that Jack could see.

The king stared intently at Jack. “Well, young man? Which is it?”

Jack wasn’t sure he could find his voice. In spite of everything, the king had all but pronounced Jack’s execution. “One question, sir?” Jack asked. The king nodded. Jack continued. “If the giant kills me, does Rumela still go free?”

The king hesitated a moment. His eyes seemed to be weighing a dozen different options that had nothing obvious to do with this request. At length, he answered, nodding. “Yes, Jack. I promise you that once this matter is concluded, either with your success or your death, we will know you were a man of your word. She shall be released and considered a free creature within my kingdom.”

“Okay then. I reckon I’ll face that giant of yours.”

Jessabelle tried to wait them out. It was a stupid plan, but until something better occurred to her, it was all she had. While she knew there were people from the Coven watching the exits, she was sure she was also being watched inside the hospital. But who was watching her? And how? She hadn’t seen Gabriel since she’d left him in the cafeteria, but she was sure he’d be around somewhere, waiting for her to break.

She would break, sooner or later. She couldn’t stay here forever. She liked the idea of wasting as much of the Coven’s time as possible, but she also recognized they had people far more powerful than Gabriel who could simply come in and force her to leave when they ran out of patience.

Two hours passed. The guards outside in the hot afternoon sun showed no sign of discomfort or change, but Jessabelle’s patience strained. What were they waiting for?

Josie appeared in the waiting area, carrying a large handbag that she hadn’t brought with her to the hospital. She didn’t offer an explanation, or even recognition as she walked past Jessabelle and into the ladies’ room. Jessabelle waited for a few moments and looked around the waiting area. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to her, but that meant little. Finally, she grabbed her jacket and followed Josie into the restroom.

Josie’s new handbag was clearly visible in the center of three stalls. “What’s going…?” Jessabelle began to say, but Josie interrupted her by flushing the toilet and making an exaggerated groan. Jessabelle stared at the stall door, baffled, as Josie nudged the handbag to one side with her foot.

Confused, Jessabelle entered the bathroom stall next to Josie and latched the door. Josie pushed the handbag part-way under the wall between the stalls. Jessabelle peeked inside the bag. It was empty, except for a set of car keys and a handwritten note that said, “Get in.”

Taking a moment to put on her jacket, Jessabelle became the cat, and dove inside the handbag. Josie said nothing as she picked up the bag, flipped the top closed, and hoisted it over her shoulder. Jessabelle couldn’t see much through the crescent gaps below the top as Josie washed her hands and hummed a little to herself. Jessabelle laid as flat as possible at the bottom of the bag as it rocked through Josie’s walk from the bathroom to the lobby, out the sliding glass doors, and into the afternoon sun.

No one accosted them. Josie walked farther, humming a little bit again, and then reached into the handbag. She gave Jessabelle a comforting touch, and then pulled out the key chain. In another minute, the bag was set on the floor of Josie’s truck, and Josie started the engine. “Stay there,” Josie said as they pulled out of the parking stall. “Wait ‘till we’re clear.”

In another minute, Josie was accelerating down a road and said out loud, “You’re best off if you stay a cat, I reckon. Leon’s waiting for you in the Safeway parking lot. This is the best plan I could come up with on short notice.”

Jessabelle poked her head up out of the handbag and stared at Josie. Josie glanced down and smiled. “Sorry for all the cloak and dagger, but Leon figured out you were being guarded. I had no way of letting you know what was going on.”

Jessabelle nodded, although she doubted Josie could see the motion.

Josie continued. “After this, we all may have to lay low for a while. In case I don’t see you again, or for a long time, just remember that you’ll always have my gratitude. You saved Burke’s life today. That ain’t the sort of thing I can repay. Just be careful, and be safe, Jessabelle. You and Leon will be in our prayers.”

Josie pulled her truck into the parking lot of a supermarket. Leon opened the passenger-side door and lifted Jessabelle out of the handbag. “Sorry,” he muttered in her ear as he hoisted her through an open window and into his neighboring SUV.

“Well, look at that,” Josie said in mock surprise from her truck. “Silly me, I left my wallet with my other purse. I guess I’ll have to go back and get it.”

“Thanks, Josie,” Leon said.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied, reversing out of the parking lot and driving off.

Leon pulled out of the parking lot through a different exit and drove in silence. After a several minutes and a couple of turns onto back roads, he said, “I don’t think we’ve been followed. You can change if you want.”

Jessabelle changed into Jessabelle-the-girl, took off her jacket, and fastened her seatbelt. “Thank you,” she said, staring at the floor.

“Thank Josie. She really went out on a limb for us. I was about ten seconds away from walking right into them, myself, when I recognized Barry Jones.”

“So the trap was for you.”

Leon sighed and checked the rear view mirror for the twentieth time in the last two minutes. His face was haggard and pale, far more exhausted than he should have been after this morning. “The trap was for us both. Lucky for us, they have their forces stretched thin right now, between searching for us and whatever’s happening at Maple Bend.”

Sobs escaped Jessabelle’s throat by surprise. “I’m sorry,” she said as she tried to force back the tears. “It’s all my fault.”

“How do you figure?”

“I borrowed a phone and called Hattie. I told her I was at a hospital. Somehow they figured out which one.” The admission helped her control the mixed tears of relief and anguish.

Leon nodded. “Okay. Yeah, that was probably stupid. I imagine they have her phone bugged. That’s what I would do.” He glanced at the rearview mirror again and winced. “But that doesn’t mean it’s your fault. That isn’t the half of it. They were ready for me at the office. I got the recordings, but they knew I was there and came for me. I got lucky.”

“They had nothing to do with Burke disappearing.”

“I know that, now. I’ve been listening to the recordings I was able to get while I was waiting for you in the parking lot. There was a lot of talk about ‘Plan B.’ I don’t know what it is about, but they want us for it, and it’s happening soon. Maybe they just need to brew combat potions with our blood, because they know they can’t get us to willingly participate.”

“But they can, though.” Jessabelle said.

“What?”

“Evelyn got control over me once, and I didn’t believe my own eyes. I even turned against my friends.”

He nodded. “Point taken. However, that doesn’t last long, and few witches are anywhere near Evelyn’s ability, even among the alphas. Most of them can’t do much more than tell a convincing lie.”

“Some can.”

“Yeah,” he said, staring out at the road and forgetting to look in the rearview mirror for a whole ten seconds. “Yeah, some of them sure can, at least for a little while. Especially if they have time to prepare.” He sighed, and then laughed.

Jessabelle tilted her head back. “What’s so funny?”

He shook his head, still grinning. “I just realized that time is on our side. If they are on a tight schedule, all we need to do is lay low and hold out for a few weeks. Then they’ll be forced to go on without us. We drop off their priority list.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to listen to the recordings. From what I heard, it sounded like days or weeks, not months. We just have to be careful. No more stupid mistakes, okay?”

Jessabelle nodded in agreement, but she knew better. There was a strangeness to his voice, maybe a sound or a whiff of odor that the cats in her could detect even if the human could not. She didn’t know if he was lying or just knew that his reassurances were empty. She would push later. Right now, she didn’t want to force the issue, since it was her fault that the Coven found her.

When they got back to the trailer, Leon went straight to the shower. Jessabelle began making dinner. It was just spaghetti, since they had plenty of pasta and sauce, but she wanted to be useful. For a few minutes, they ate in silence. At last, Leon said, “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me how you all ended up at the hospital.”

Jessabelle wanted to tell him about the crossroad, but hesitated. If he was captured by witches, could they make him tell them the secret? “Burke was wandering around and fell, and hurt himself pretty bad. He couldn’t crawl back home.”

“He didn’t call for help?”

“Nobody could hear him.”

She wondered if Leon could sense her holding back information, like she could sense other people’s emotions. Maybe. Maybe he had as many problems interpreting them as she did. “Josie and I had to half-carry him all the way to the truck.”

“But he’s okay now?”

Jessabelle nodded. “Josie said he’s doin’ lots better.”

Leon half-smiled. “I’m glad.”

After they cleaned up, Leon got ready for bed. There was only one bedroom, and Leon had insisted that Jessabelle use it for privacy’s sake. She tossed and turned most of the night, between heat, guilt, and fear of what had almost happened. Around three in the morning she finally drifted off, troubled by bad dreams.

* * *

She awoke to someone pounding on her door. She sat up and called “What is it?”

“Get dressed. Hurry,” Leon answered.

Overcast clouds diffused the early-morning sunlight coming through slats of the window. It was enough light to change into clothes. Jessabelle was sure her hair was a mess, but Leon’s tone didn’t suggest time to do much with it. She pulled her hair back and through a hair tie and called it good. When she exited the bedroom, Leon stood in the darkened living area, staring out the window. Several wrapped granola bars sat waiting for her on the counter. Next to the food sat the .38 revolver in its pocket holster, and a small box of ammunition.

Jessabelle looked at the gun and back to Leon. “Are we going shooting again?”

Leon turned off his phone and shook his head. “No. We need to leave. Grab your jacket and anything you can’t live without.”

“It’s too warm for the jacket.”

“We aren’t coming back.”

“Oh.”

She brought out the jacket, and Leon slipped the gun into the jacket’s pocket. The holster prevented the heavy trigger from getting snagged by accident and smoothed out the weapon so the bulge in her clothes wasn’t obviously a handgun. “This is only for a last resort,” he said. “If shit goes south, you should run. Don’t worry about me, just run. Change if you can. Hide if you need to.” He stared at her until her eyes met his. “Don’t even pull the gun unless you absolutely have to and only when it’s down to them or you. Understand?”

She didn’t want to imagine killing anyone, but not too long ago, she would have shot Evelyn if she’d had the chance. She’d have killed the witch with her claws and fangs if she’d been able. Jessabelle nodded, feeling her mouth go dry. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Josie just called.” He pointed to the ammo and granola bars. “Stuff what you can in your other pockets, and let’s go. The Coven knows where we are.”

Bachan escorted Jack down a stone hall in the opposite direction from his cell. As big as the castle looked from the outside, the inside of the building wasn’t exactly roomy. Once again, Hollywood had lied.

Jack glanced over his shoulder and asked, “Where are we going?”

“Guest quarters. You’ll be guarded, but it will be more comfortable than the cell.”

“What about Rumela?”

Bachan shook his head. “I’m sorry. You heard the king. She is to remain a prisoner until your completion of this mission.”

“Until my suicide by giant, I think you mean,” Jack mumbled.

Bachan stopped and looked around the hallway. Nobody else was near. Bachan drew close and whispered, “You seem an honorable man, Jack. I promise you, regardless of the outcome, your friend will go free. The king is a just man, but besides his kingdom, he has no greater love than that for his daughter.”

“That don’t make me feel much better, sir.”

Bachan sighed. “I understand. If it is within my power to arrange, I will give you every advantage I can. I’m certain the king would rather have you return successful than never return at all.”

Jack leveled his gaze at the man and said, “I want to visit Rumela.”

“That would be better to do tomorrow,” Bachan said.

“Then I’ll see her tomorrow, too, if there’s time. She trusts me. Ain’t a whole lot of folk ever done that, and I need to let her know what’s happening.”

Bachan shrugged. “Okay. I’ll tell Posk to bring you back to the guest wing when you are done.”

A guard took Jack down into the cells. He set a lit torch into a sconce on the wall so Jack and Rumela could see each other through the bars. Otherwise, the only light coming into her cell was from the starlight shining through the small window.

Rumela grinned, showing all of her jagged, predatory teeth. The guard, Posk, took an involuntary step backward, but Rumela ignored him. She said, “Jack! You meet the king? You see that princess again?”

“I saw her, just briefly. I had to talk to the king. We’re in trouble, Rumela.”

“How? Why? What we done?”

“It ain’t what we did, necessarily, just what they need me to do.”

“What?”

Jack looked at his feet. “I need to kill a giant.”

“Oh.” After a moment, she asked, “How you gonna do that?”

It wasn’t the question he had anticipated. Jack shook his head. “I ain’t worked that out yet. Look, I’m real sorry. They won’t let me take you with me. They won’t let you free until I do this.”

“Okay, Jack. You ain’t gotta do this. I’s fine here. Quiet. And they feed me. Yum, yeah?”

Jack clenched his fists at his sides. “But you’re a prisoner.”

“Better me prisoner than you dead. What giant?”

Jack shrugged. “Something Lash. Kork or something like that.”

“Korak Lash?”

Jack nodded. “I reckon that was it.”

Rumela lowered her head so that her forehead rested against the bars. “No! That ain’t good. Listen, Jack. You is a great hero. But Korak stomp you into ground. Hard. I be sad when you gone.”

“I’ll try to avoid that. Seriously.”

“Korak is more’n two-hunnert years old. He was one of biggest, toughest giants. Maybe he still is. He even et other giants. All giants I know were a-scared of Korak. Jack, you don’t gotta fight him. You is strong, but you ain’t that strong.”

“I ain’t got a choice. The king demanded it.”

She stabbed her finger at him through the bars. “That mean ol’ king demand you fight or you kill?”

Jack hesitated. This was really good insight from a giant, Jack thought. She was picking out potential loopholes in the contract. “Okay, Rumela. You win. I’ll check. I think I only need to kill him. Or stop him.”

“Then you sneak up on him and kill him. Or shoot him from far off. You cheat. Korak is half-blind and pretty stupid even for a giant, last I hear. So you kill him from hiding place.”

“That feels wrong.”

“And killing someone is right?”

“No, of course not.”

“Wrong!” Rumela reached through the bars and squeezed his hand. It hurt a little, but Jack kept a stoic face. Rumela said, “Killing ain’t wrong if it be to protect. I kill to protect me or to protect Jack.”

“In my world, it’s only when we’re in immediate danger.”

“With giant, you’s always in immed…you’s always in danger all the time. Unless that giant is Rumela.” She grinned. “You do what you gotta, Jack. I be fine. Just ‘member. You ain’t strong like giant. You never strong like giant. But you be clever!”

“I’ll try.”

“Always try. Win. When I was little, like you, my pa told me that if Korak ever caught me, I should try’n flatter him. He likes showing off and hearing folks say how tough he is. Sneak away while he’s bragging.”

“So I can get him to start bragging about himself?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. If he’s going to crush you like a bug, you might as well try. I know you are clever enough, Jack. I wait for you to come back. You be smart and stay alive, right?”

“Right.”

Posk escorted Jack to his new quarters. His room was small, but not much smaller than his bedroom at home, and much more ornately furnished. The shelf on one side of the room had hand-carved illustrations along the edges. Everything seemed well-decorated for an important visiting VIP or something. Not some nobody from Maple Bend.

He slept fitfully at best and not only because of the heat. He couldn’t help but think he would have slept better in his dismal cell next to Rumela. Knowing she was there, alone, made him feel like he’d betrayed her.

Shortly after midnight, Jack had to relieve himself. The guest room had no adjoining bathroom. He opened the door and saw Posk the guard standing outside. Jack stared at the guard, who stared back with a bored expression. Jack smiled weakly and asked, “Hey, can you tell me where the bathroom is?”

Posk stared at him. “The what? You need a bath?”

“No, the bathroom. Restroom?”

“You can rest in your own quarters.”

Jack sighed. “I gotta pee. You guys have an outhouse or something?”

Posk snorted. “You never used a pot before?”

“A pot? No. We use a commode.”

Posk leaned toward the door and pointed to the covered pot under the bed. “That’s the pot. You relieve yourself into that. The servants will replace it in the morning, so you don’t have to worry about it. That is the convenience of a room in the palace.”

Jack looked over his shoulder at the pot. He’d have to have pretty good aim. The logistics seemed challenging. “Yeah, convenient. Y’all don’t have any indoor plumbing, I reckon.”

Posk shook his head. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, sir.”

“You’re being honest with me, right? I ain’t going to get some maid screaming at me in the morning because I did my business into some stewpot, am I?”

Posk tilted his head. “You wouldn’t ever stew in a pot shaped like that, sir.”

Jack shrugged and exhaled. “I guess I wanted adventure. This will be different.”

“If you say so,” Posk said. “Goodnight, sir.”

Jack closed the door. Suddenly his tiny little house with his mother felt more like a palace than the palace did.

* * *

Shortly before dawn, Jack awoke to a soft knock at the door. He threw on his newly cleaned, slightly damp clothing, noting how worn it had become in a week of travel. Not that it would matter in a couple of days anyway.

He opened the door, expecting Posk or another guard. Instead, Delcina stood outside, with no one else in the halls. Her dress was a somber auburn with slightly poofed-out shoulders and slender lower sleeves of black silk. While far simpler than the one she’d worn the night before, it accentuated her already perfect figure. The only things marring her beauty were the red rings around her pale, otherworldly eyes.

Jack blinked, wondering for a moment if he was still asleep and dreaming. It didn’t feel like a dream. And with Rumela in the dungeon and himself about to ride off to meet his doom, it wasn’t a particularly pleasant one, either, Delcina’s appearance notwithstanding. In spite of her beauty, Jack regarded her as he would a snake of indeterminate species. She might sprout venomous fangs at any moment.

She stepped in and closed the door behind her. “We don’t have long.”

“What would your daddy do if he knew you were here?” Jack mused out loud with a bit more venom of his own than he’d intended. “Or is that the plan? Get me in trouble for trying to kidnap you again?”

Her eyes blazed. “I came to help you, because I felt sorry for you. Perhaps I was mistaken.”

“You and me both. I thought we worked out all that ‘I ain’t kidnapping you’ stuff back in the woods. But then out we come, and you have Bachan arrest me with that little asshole, Zainus, looking on. And then you let me trip myself up in front of your daddy, so he gave me a delayed death sentence. I hope you pardon me if I have my doubts.”

She scowled, then her features softened. “I am not used to being spoken to in such a manner, sir.”

“I’m likely to be dead and gone soon, so you don’t have to get used to it.”

“You really are from a long way away, aren’t you?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “You finally believe that part?”

“Look, I don’t know how it works where you come from, but whether I believe you or not is irrelevant. My father is the king. He doesn’t take my council on many things. I told him I thought you were telling the truth. He grew anxious when I told him that you told me you were from another world, but he seemed to believe it far more readily than I did. However, I overheard Zainus tell him you were a bandit who had been attacking villages.”

“That little sumbitch!” Jack balled his hand into a fist. “If by any miracle I manage to survive this, I am going to kick his tail so hard he is going to taste my shoe!”

Delcina raised her hand. “We do not have much time, remember! Survive the giant, and then maybe you can plot your revenge. I brought you this.” She produced a sheathed weapon, an ornate dagger complete with what seemed to be precious stones set into the hilt. Jack didn’t know much about knife-making, but this one was obviously of fine craftsmanship. While it hadn’t seen polish in quite a while, it looked like a fine weapon.

Jack took the weapon and pulled the blade halfway out of the sheath. The metal glowed a milky color in the pale pre-dawn light.

“Don’t touch the edge,” she said. “It is enchanted to remain razor-sharp. It will slice though almost anything, easily. That is why my grandmother gave it to me. Even in the hands of a young girl, it was a threat to all but the most heavily armored knight. I imagine if you struck even a giant in the right place with it, you could inflict a deadly wound.”

Jack returned the blade to the sheath. “Is this the knife you nearly took my fingers off with back in the woods yesterday?”

She nodded.

He held the weapon out toward her. “I can’t accept this, Delcina. This was a gift from your grandmother.”

“And now it’s my gift to you. Consider it an apology.” She pushed the offer back. She cleared her throat and said, “I understand in the old days, a woman of royal or noble blood might give a knight a token. Consider this my token. However, I hope you find a more practical use for it. Even if it is only to sell it. You could get a good deal of money for it, enough to go far away.”

“You know I can’t do that. I gave my word.”

“But there’s no need for immediacy. The king won’t reverse his decision, but given enough time, we can find a rationale that allows you to avoid confronting the giant. The queen and I are both upset at this decision, and maybe we’ll convince him…”

“I can’t do that, either. Look, Rumela ain’t going to do well in that cell, and I ain’t going to give your papa or anyone else an excuse to execute her.”

She lowered her head. “You are quite loyal to her.”

“She saved my life when Zainus was trying to kill me. I owe her the same. Besides, she’s my friend.”

She looked into his eyes. “Jack, I…”

Outside, a guard said loudly, “Here I am, come to awaken Jack and take him to Bachan. But first I shall stare at this lovely candlestick for but a moment.”

Delcina lowered her eyes. “I must go. Jack, I’m so sorry.”

Jack shrugged. “Well, I guess it ain’t really your fault.” He hefted the dagger and said, “You know, I been in a few really bad scrapes over the last few weeks. Don’t count me out yet. Maybe I will figure a way out of this one, too. Anyway, thank you, Delcina. Princess Delcina. Your highness?”

“Just Delcina is fine. I shall pray for your victory, Jack.”

“That’s mighty kind of you.”

With that, she slipped out through the door. Moments later, the guard knocked. “Okay, Jack, I’m here to take you to Bachan as soon as you are ready.”

Jessabelle gripped the door handle as Leon raced the SUV down the thin, crumbling road. Leon took a curve too fast, slipping well into what would have been the left lane if any markings existed. Through her gritted teeth, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know yet. I want to get to the highway. From there we can get lost, and decide what to do next.”

The next turn went the other direction, pushing Jessabelle against the door. The tree branches seemed awfully close, but at least the ravine was on the other side. Leon swore multiple times, and said, “All we had to do was stay hidden a few weeks.”

“It’s my fault,” Jessabelle said.

“No,” Leon answered after a painful hesitation. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. No matter what happens, remember that it’s the Coven’s fault. They are the ones who…”

Drifting into the other lane on a right curve, Leon nearly hit an oncoming truck. Tires squealed, and a van behind the oncoming truck slammed on its brakes and slid to the side of the road, the front bumper stopping just short of the guardrail.

The SUV skidded sideways, and nearly went off the road as well. Leon swore, turned the car, and moved it out a few feet to realign it with the road. With a deep exhalation, he unfastened his seatbelt and opened the driver’s-side door. “Take the wheel,” he said to Jessabelle.

“What? Where are you going?”

“Min,” he answered cryptically, grabbing the rifle from behind the driver’s seat.

“But what if they’re…”

“Just get ready to drive.”

Jessabelle was about to protest that she didn’t know how to drive and didn’t even have a learner’s permit, but Leon had already stepped out into the cloud of dust, rifle held at the ready. With the car dinging the open-door alarm, Jessabelle slid into the driver’s seat. She looked at the pedals and stepped on the brake with her left foot. She had heard that you were supposed to use the same foot for both the gas and the brake, but she didn’t know why. It seemed natural that the left foot would be on the left pedal. The SUV had automatic transmission. Jessabelle knew that meant she only had to move the big stick to the drive position from park.

How hard could it be?

A woman’s voice from the other vehicles, syrupy and solicitous, said, “Leon! And Jessabelle! We were just coming to see you.”

Jessabelle peered through the open door to see what was going on. Leon already had his gun aimed at a woman of Asian descent who was halfway out of the van.

“Everyone, get back in the cars, ignition off, and throw the keys this way. Now,” Leon commanded, “or Min gets a new piercing.”

The drivers complied, tossing their keys onto the asphalt. The woman seemed surprisingly calm for having a gun pointed at her head. “Come on, Leon. There’s no way out of this one. You know I’m expendable.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But I’m coming to believe the girl and I are not.”

“Don’t be too sure. They prefer you alive, but for all the trouble you’ve been, the other way is an option.”

“I’m sure none of your people want to explain a dead beta and a failure to bring in either target.”

Min shrugged. Once again, something instinctive reported a peculiarity of her body language, the betrayal of emotion to Jessabelle. This time, the panther easily identified the emotion as fear, in spite of the pains Min took to appear casual. Jessabelle empathized completely.

“Get in my car, Min.” Leon said. “You are coming with us.”

“Seriously? You are going to kidnap me? Where do you think this will end, you big idiot?”

“With you still alive and breathing, if you get into the back of the car right now, and don’t do anything that surprises me.”

Min got into the car behind Jessabelle and slid over to the passenger’s side. “Hi Jessabelle,” she said in an even more syrupy voice. “My name’s Min. Are you old enough to drive now?”

Jessabelle answered by closing her door. Leon moved around to the passenger-side and fired his rifle twice…once into a tire of each vehicle. The sound was deafening in Jessabelle’s ears.

Min hissed through gritted teeth. “Damn it, Leon. Stop shooting or you’ll kill us all!”

Climbing into the back seat behind Min, Leon said, “I’m not that bad of a shot.” Min rolled her eyes, but Jessabelle could feel the genuine fear radiating from the woman.

Leon closed the door and commanded, “Jessabelle, go!”

Jessabelle pulled back on the lever, and it didn’t budge. She pressed on the gas pedal, and the engine revved though they stood still.

“Push the button on the stick!” Leon ordered as he turned the gun back on Min.

Jessabelle found the shift-lock button on the side of the lever, and pushed it in while she pulled back on the lever. The car shifted into drive. She pressed the gas again and let off the brake. The SUV lurched forward. Jessabelle partially suppressed a shriek as the vehicle accelerated to the breathtaking speed of nearly fifteen miles per hour, and she struggled to keep it between the lines.

“My, my, a speedy getaway and everything,” Min said. “Truly, you are a criminal mastermind, Leon.”

“Shut up,” he growled.

She looked over the seat at the pile of equipment on the floor of the SUV. “Is that the shotgun I got you for Christmas? I should be flattered you kept it.”

“Shut up,” he repeated.

Fighting with the steering wheel, Jessabelle asked, “Wait, did y’all two used to date or something?”

Leon clicked the safety on the rifle, and set it carefully beside him. “Just drive, Jessabelle.”

* * *

Jessabelle gradually increased speed, but the turns scared her half to death and she’d slow down again. Her motions were erratic, turning the vehicle in jerks that took it all over the road. The speedometer barely read twenty miles an hour, and she expected to get everyone killed. “Leon, are you sure you don’t want to drive?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he said and focused his attention back on their prisoner. “What’s ‘Plan B,’ Min?”

“How would I know?”

“Because everyone else knows, and you were never one to be left out of the loop.”

“You will find out yourself in a few hours.” Min’s chuckle was cut short as Jessabelle hit a pot hole and nearly lost control. Jessabelle caught sight of Min’s glare in the rearview mirror.

Leon shook his head. “How fast do you think your guys can fix a tire?”

Min said, “Oh, they were just backup. It’s what was in the back of the truck that you should be afraid of.”

“What?”

Jessabelle caught a glimpse of something in the rearview mirror. She didn’t dare take her hands off the steering wheel, but she craned her head to get a good look in the mirror.

The black shape raced along the road. It ran on two legs, but not like a man. It used a thick, short tail for balance. In the glimpse in the mirror, she saw that it appeared far more animal than man and was big. Maybe ogre-big. And it was gaining on them.

“Leon! Behind us!” Jessabelle yelled.

“Here we go,” Min said, buckling her seatbelt.

“What the hell is it?” Leon said, rolling down the window.

“The dwayyo,” Min responded. “Remember that?”

“Oh, shit,” Leon responded. “Jessabelle, drive faster.”

Leon leaned half of his body out the window and fired several times at the beast behind them. The monster leaped off the road, disappearing somewhere behind the trees. All of Jessabelle’s attention was focused on the road ahead, as she increased the speed as much as she dared, afraid any jostle might throw Leon out of the car.

Leon leaned back from the window. He set the rifle on the floor and pulled up the shotgun.

“Be careful with that thing!” Min muttered, pressing herself against the door as he maneuvered the weapon in the tight confines of the vehicle.

“Be careful?” Leon said, racking a shell into the chamber. “You turned a dwayyo loose on us! Do you remember how many people we lost trying to capture it in the first place? It’s going to kill us all, and then go back for your men for dessert.”

“We have it under control.”

Leon scanned the woods where the creature had disappeared. “No way,” he said. “You were the only witch, and I know you aren’t that powerful.”

Min rolled her eyes. “I’m not, but the collar around its neck is. We used Jessabelle’s blood to make it, too. Kind of ironic, when you think about it.”

“My blood?” Jessabelle yelled, allowing herself to be distracted from driving for a moment.

“You’re part domestic cat,” Min said. “A lot of witch magic is based on blood.”

“That’s gross!” Not as gross as when her cousin had fed her food laced with Jack’s blood, but it was still an unpleasant thought. “And it’s wrong.”

Another pothole threatened to send the vehicle careening into a side rail and possibly down into the ravine. Jessabelle worked the brakes and the gas, feeling more comfortable with it, but still afraid to do much more than twenty miles an hour around the poorly paved, winding road. As she recovered, the black shape burst out of the woods to their right, slamming into the side of the car and shattering Min’s window. Min yelped. Jessabelle reflexively slammed on the brakes as the vehicle lurched from the blow. Claws tore through the roof.

“Drive! Drive!” Leon screamed. Jessabelle hit the accelerator again. Tires squealed against the asphalt, but the car hardly moved. The beast held them fast.

Leon turned the shotgun muzzle toward the rear of the car. Min shrieked and ducked down as well as she could against the safety belt. A deafening blast exploded from the gun muzzle, not just once, but over a half-dozen times in the space of three seconds, tearing through glass, plastic, metal, and fur. Leon’s left hand furiously worked the pump as if he was tossing the shells into the monster. The dwayyo relented, and the smoking tires found purchase. Jessabelle held the steering wheel in a death-grip, and she narrowly dodged a tree when the car lurched forward again.

“Where are my slugs?” Leon yelled as he dug through the junk on the car’s floor.

“You don’t have to yell!” Min yelled back. “And none of us know.”

Jessabelle’s ears rang. The road straightened out in a rare stretch, and she took the chance to adjust the rearview mirror. She didn’t like what she saw. The dwayyo resumed its pursuit, and it was gaining on them. It resembled a towering wolf that loped on two legs, its huge paws terminating in sickle-like claws. “It’s coming back!”

Leon loaded new shells into the shotgun. He glared at Min. “Call it off.”

Min shook her head. “It’s not that simple. But if you anger it enough, it really will kill us all.”

“Too bad. We’re making it angry.”

“You idiot. You can’t kill it. These things kill snallygasters.”

Jessabelle couldn’t hold back. “So do we!” she yelled. “Curve!”

The SUV lost speed in the turn, but Jessabelle was getting better at controlling the vehicle. She silently prayed they wouldn’t encounter another car coming the other direction. The speedometer crept back over twenty miles per hour when the vehicle jerked with the horrible sound of long, hooked claws piercing metal. In the mirror, she saw the dwayyo behind them, holding onto the rear of the vehicle, digging furrows in the asphalt with the claws on its feet. Jessabelle slammed the gas pedal down, kicking up smoke. Just before the car slowed to nothing, the rear hatch tore off, leaving the dwayyo standing in the middle of the road. Jessabelle jerked the steering wheel as they surged into the curve, causing Leon to drop a shell he’d been loading into the shotgun.

Pieces rained from the back of the vehicle onto the road as they drove. Something rattled as it dragged below them. Somehow, the car still ran. Somewhere behind them, the dwayyo still hunted.

Leon shoved the last shell into the shotgun and racked the pump. Both he and Min turned in their seats to search the twisting road for signs of the dwayyo. Min spoke loudly over the noise of the road through the open hole in the back and dragging pieces. “Surrender and I can try and calm it down. Remember, you lost two men last time. Think of Jessabelle.”

With the briefest of glances in Jessabelle’s direction, Leon said, “I am thinking of her. No way we’re going to be taken again. Are you ready to die with us?”

For a moment, Jessabelle considered slamming on the brakes and surrendering. She didn’t want to die. Especially not to be killed by this horrible creature. As nasty and as sarcastic as Min was, she offered them a way out. Before her foot could change the pressure on the pedal, she decided against it. Leon knew what he was doing. He was a soldier who had known her papa. Even if he had lost people, he’d fought this creature before. And besides that, Jessabelle had fought monsters, too, and survived.

They came to another straight section of road, but up ahead it ended in a “T” junction with the highway. She doubted the stop sign applied to her, but as the trees cleared she saw traffic crossing her path. A glance in the mirror revealed the creature barreling down the road. She pushed the gas pedal harder. It was still gaining, but not as quickly.

“Hold her steady if you can, Jessabelle…” Leon called. He fired several shots, more carefully this time. The blast was still incredibly loud, but the open hole where the hatch had been made it less painful.

The stop sign was coming quickly. Jessabelle couldn’t see the dwayyo in the mirror, but Leon frantically reloaded his shotgun. “Turn!” Jessabelle called to warn him.

He glanced toward her and yelled “Watch out!” Jessabelle didn’t know what he was yelling about. She could see the intersection—and the car coming from the right. Rather than risk hitting the stop sign, Jessabelle hit the brake and turned to the left, cutting the dirt corner and bouncing over grass and uneven dirt. She cut off the other car, which slammed on its brakes and blared its horn at her. Jessabelle ignored it and increased speed. The driver of the other car raised his middle finger, and then dropped it again as he noticed the gaping hole in the back of the car and Leon holding the shotgun.

Whether it was the sight of Leon and the shotgun, or the dwayyo that burst through the intersection in pursuit, the car behind them swerved off the road.

“It’s bleeding,” Leon yelled. “We’re on a bigger road, Min. People are going to see.”

“It’s not that simple!” she yelled, but she also turned around in the seatbelt to look at the oncoming creature.

Jessabelle was glad this stretch of road was far wider, straighter, and in better repair. She chanced increasing speed a bit more. Meanwhile, Leon opened fire again on the creature. The monster made a horrible sound that seemed like a mix of a whimper and a roar. It was both terrifying and pathetic.

“Quit shooting it!” Min said. “I’m trying to send it back.”

“If it gets any closer, I am definitely shooting it.”

“I’m trying!”

“Try faster!”

Another car approached them in the other lane. It swerved and nearly ran off the road as it passed the monster. The dwayyo grew closer, and in the mirror Jessabelle spotted the flash of black leather and brass around its neck. Leon took aim at the creature’s head, and Min stared intently at it.

The monster slowed and stopped in the middle of the road. After a moment, it ran off, back the way they’d come.

“There,” Min said, her sigh barely audible over the sound of the air whipping through the car. “This whole op is a disaster.”

“At least you aren’t an alpha,” Leon said. “The man in the white suit barely knows you exist.”

Min shook her head slowly. “Last year, that would have been true. Since Evelyn pooched the op in Maple Bend, the alphas are covering their butts and finding scapegoats. This is going to end badly for me.”

“Or you can join us.” Leon said.

“What?” Min and Jessabelle asked together.

Leon tapped Jessabelle on the shoulder. “Go ahead and pull over as soon as you have a chance. I’ll drive.”

Min grumbled. “If only that stupid thing had gone for the tires instead of the hatch.”

Jack was surprised to find Bachan traveling with him, along with two other men also wearing the colors of the Royal Guard. They provided Jack a horse, a strong brown mare fully saddled with a blanket bearing the same crest Jack had seen displayed throughout the castle. Jack was not a complete stranger to riding, but he caught one of the guards smirking as he mounted. Bachan cast the guard, Aidan, a harsh look, and the man resumed his neutral expression.

“So, Jack, do they have horses where you come from?” Bachan asked.

“Oh, yes, sir. Not as many as here. But I ain’t had an opportunity to ride one since I was maybe fourteen years old.”

Bachan nodded. “We will cross by ferry in less than a mile, and then we’ll take our course to the west. You shall get quite a bit of practice.”

Jack nodded, trying not to think of what came after the practice. “All part of the adventure.”

“Your posterior might not appreciate the adventure tonight, if you are unused to riding.”

“My posterior will be in a lot more trouble than that soon enough. So when do we get to Korky Lash?”

“Korak Lash. We’ll reach the village that has reported him tomorrow. There’s no reason you shouldn’t enjoy a night’s stay at an inn tonight. You’ll need all your strength.”

The ferry was little more than a raft, in Jack’s estimation. He wasn’t expecting a giant vehicle-carrying ferry or anything like that, but maybe something like an old-time steamboat. This wasn’t much more than a bunch of logs lashed together with a floor on top, and some guy with a pole pushing them across.

While they stood with nervous horses on the raft, Jack asked, “Why are you coming with me, Bachan? You are the head of the Royal Guard, ain’t you? Shouldn’t you be staying with the king’s family?”

Bachan scowled, and Jack immediately regretted asking the question. So quietly that even Jack could barely hear him, Bachan muttered, “Yes, I should be. But I have my orders to attend you.”

* * *

The trip was certainly faster than Jack could have made on foot, but not by as much as he would have expected. The horses required much more maintenance than cars. Toward the end of the day, Jack would have traded the soreness of riding for the soreness of hiking in a heartbeat. It was still mid-afternoon when they reached the inn, and Aidan took the horses to the stable to make certain they were properly cared for.

The innkeeper doted on them. Jack overheard him speaking to his wife, saying, “The Royal Guard, no less! That young man must be a prince!” Jack suppressed a laugh at that one. The man brought them fresh bread and drink and told them the meal would be ready in an hour.

Jack took a swallow of the drink and shuddered. “What is this?” he asked Bachan.

Bachan took a swallow. “Ale,” he said. “Not bad.”

Jack put it down and pushed the cup away. “I’d rather have water.”

Bachan looked at him strangely. “If I were to face a giant in the morning, I might prepare myself the night before with quite a bit of ale to fortify my courage.”

Jack peered down at the brown liquid and shook his head. “My father was a drunk, Bachan. My mama ain’t much better. I figure my only chance to escape that family curse is never to touch the stuff. You can’t crave what you ain’t ever tried.”

Bachan raised an eyebrow. “I daresay I have met few young men with such wisdom. I raise my cup to you.” He lifted his own cup and tilted his head toward Jack. Then he called to the innkeeper, “Cornelius! Please bring the young man some water!”

The innkeeper’s daughter brought a tankard of nearly clear water to Jack. The girl was no more than thirteen by Jack’s estimation, but people seemed to age differently here. Annabelle even seemed to have grown younger in her stay. Maybe it was something in the air. Health spas back home would have people paying a fortune for vacation packages to get younger.

One of the Bachan’s guards came to their table. “The mounts are watered, groomed, and feeding. Aidan has secured supplies for tomorrow.”

Bachan nodded. “Very well, Zeke. Tell Aidan that the two of you may consider yourselves off-duty for the evening.”

“What about this one?” The guard motioned to Jack.

“He is not going anywhere. Just remember that you still represent the Royal Guard.”

“Always, sir.” The man did an about-face and left the inn.

Jack sipped the water. It had well-water taste, but it wasn’t bad. Bachan stared into his reflection in his drink. Jack interrupted the brooding by asking, “Can I ask you something?”

Bachan raised the right corner of his mouth. “You seem to be doing so already.”

Jack nodded. “Right. What’s the deal with Zainus? Is he like your boss or anything?”

“That scoundrel? No. He’s a mercenary employed by the king.”

Jack leaned back on the bench and rubbed his chin. “You two ain’t exactly best friends, then?”

“No. We tolerate each other. The king knows his business and keeps his own council. The need to protect his land requires him to forge relationships with all sorts of people. He has a difficult job. Mine is relatively simple. I protect the crown.”

“And this is protecting the crown? You coming here with me?”

Bachan scowled, setting his ale to the side. “Perhaps it is. I know the giant represents a significant threat. You, however, represent a greater threat. The king considers you a possible enemy of his family.”

“And you?”

“I’m usually a good judge of character, but I’m not infallible. I want to believe you. Unfortunately, I have difficulty imagining you doing battle against giants.”

Jack shrugged. “Most of the fights we’ve been in, I had friends helping me. And I had my papa’s shotgun.”

“Ah. You are proficient in the use of firearms?”

“A little. I’ve seen that you folks have some.”

Bachan nodded. “They aren’t very effective, and the explosive powder can be expensive to come by. They are not my first choice for weapons, but in certain situations, they can be quite effective. Unfortunately, nothing short of a cannon would do much against a giant. What about that sword at your side? Do you have skill in that?”

Jack shook his head. “Not really. Ain’t never had one before, let alone call to use it.”

“We have a little while before dinner. Would you have a lesson?”

“From you? Sure thing!”

* * *

Bachan’s lesson took what little energy Jack had left. Very little of the lesson had anything to do with what Jack expected from films. None of it was flashy. In fact, most of came down to how to dodge an attack coming from various quarters.

“You are always going to face someone stronger,” Bachan lectured during a short break. “But you can train to be faster. There’s no magic to speed. It comes from physical strength, practice, economy of movement, and anticipating the enemy. You are swinging that blade as if it were a club. That is slow. Take advantage of the blade. It’s sharp enough, even against the unarmored skin of a giant. Giants can bleed. Cut them enough, they will die.”

By the end, Jack’s exhaustion was only matched by his hunger. The innkeeper’s food needed of more spice, but that was true of about everything he’d eaten since leaving Annabelle’s home. When the meal was over, Jack stumbled into his room and collapsed on the bed. Hours later, he woke up, took off his clothes, climbed under the covers, and fell back asleep until the morning.

He awakened to the sound of soft knocking at the door. Zeke opened the door and announced, “Captain Bachan says he awaits your convenience downstairs.”

Jack pulled himself to a seated position. “Alright. I guess we ought to get this show on the road.”

Minutes later, Jack was dressed and eating eggs in the inn’s common room. Bachan looked exactly like he had the evening before. If the man had any hair on the top of his head, he must shave it off every morning. Bachan greeted Jack with a nod and said, “I do hope you received a good rest last night.”

“I made up for the night before,” Jack answered.

Bachan frowned as Jack finished his food and pushed his plate away. “There is no hurry, young Jack.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Jack said. “No sense in lingering, right?”

Bachan’s frown vanished as he regarded Jack. He sighed, and his face hardened. “True. We rise to the fight.”

Zeke and Aidan had the horses ready. Bachan pointed down the road. “The village is about an hour’s ride, over poor roads. The population has fled and taken refuge in an encampment not far from here.”

Jack mounted the horse with slightly greater skill this time around, but a great deal more pain. He didn’t have much to say on their journey.

When they came to the village an hour later, after splitting their time between riding and leading their horses up the trail, Bachan dismounted and found a place to tie down their horses. The other guards set about exploring the village. Bachan nodded toward another trail. “As I understand it, that way leads to the giant. I’m sorry, but I cannot allow you to take your horse with you.”

Jack dismounted with a sense of relief. “I guess maybe I’ll see y’all later,” he commented, grasping the handle of the dagger Delcina had given him, rather than hilt of the sword sheathed at his belt. Bachan noted the knife, and his eyes flashed in recognition, but he said nothing.

Jack didn’t look back as he set out up the trail. After fifteen minutes of hiking, he knew he was close by the smell. The giant’s encampment was a half-mile above the village and stank of rotten meat. The clearing looked like the staging area of a city dump, filled with refuse either taken from the village or collected over innumerable raids. Wisps of smoke from the smoldering remnants of a fire drifted aimlessly through the still air. The giant was nowhere to be seen.

A sheet of cowhide lay discarded along one edge of the encampment, hastily cut away and forgotten to get at the flesh beneath. The giant had done something to treat the hide and let it cure in the sun, but it hadn’t helped the smell. It was a tiny contributor to the fetid stench of the site.

Jack warily moved through the encampment. He approached the dim embers and charred remnants of the fire. An enormous cauldron sat atop three rocks in the fire circle, and was filled with at least twenty gallons of a meaty stew, most of the liquid having either soaked into the food or simmered away. A thin layer of ash and dust glazed the top of the mass. Perhaps the giant didn’t have a lid to match the great cauldron. By Jack’s best guess, it had been left unattended for at least an hour.

Jack sighed. The stew didn’t smell half bad. If he had really been a competent assassin, he could have poisoned the giant’s stew right now, and then finished the job while the giant lay sick or even dying. But while he knew a few familiar leaves and berries that were poisonous to humans, he had no idea if they’d affect a giant even if he could find them. Certainly adding enough to make a difference would badly taint the flavor. He had to take advantage of whatever time he had to come up with a plan.

Not far from the pot, the sun glinted off fabric that half-buried in the dirt. Drawing closer, he found that it was a shirt atop a pile of discarded clothing, a thick cotton shirt for a man significantly larger than Jack. Beneath the shirt, there were pants, a dress, shoes…

And grisly, bloody bones. Human bones.

Jack staggered backward with the shirt still in his hand, nearly stepping into embers of the fire and the heated cauldron. Just then, still staring at the glistening bones, it occurred to Jack what ingredient besides beef might be in the stew. He recoiled and retreated beyond the encampment before losing most of his breakfast.

After he recovered, he examined the shirt gripped in his hand, and the ripped sheet of cowhide on the ground. The beginnings of a plan stirred in his mind. He rolled the cowhide and put the shirt over it as a decoy. If he squinted really hard, from a long way away, it almost looked like a person. Then the cowhide flopped over and collapsed. It would never work. The distraction would be recognized as soon as the giant saw it.

He was still searching the encampment when the brush rustled announcing the heavy footfalls of something large approaching. Jack fled, with the shirt and the cowhide still in hand. He clambered up an embankment and out among the trees and weeds where he could spy into the encampment without being seen. The lack of air movement meant the wind wouldn’t necessarily carry his scent, but the breeze could pick up at any moment in any direction. In his time with Rumela, he’d learned how sensitive giants were to scents.

The giant entering the clearing was the largest Jack had ever seen. With tangled black hair and sun-browned skin, wearing clothes made out of poorly cured hides and furs, the towering monster would terrify anyone in their right mind. It wore a necklace of skulls, all of dangerous predators, except for two human skulls and the central piece, which seemed to be the skull of either an ogre or another giant.

The monster carried the trunk of a tree over one shoulder, which it shrugged off as it drew close to the fire. It unlashed the axe from its belt, and set upon the tree, chopping logs off the thickest part with only three hits with the axe. After that, it split the logs in a single hit, with what seemed only casual strength. Jack’s imagination helpfully filled in the image of his own body under that axe.

After every stroke or two, the giant peered closely at his target, examining the chopped spot from inches away. After only a few minutes of this, the giant had rendered the tree into firewood. Jack was impressed with its strength, but had drawn another conclusion. As Rumela had suggested, Korak was severely nearsighted.

Maybe his stupid decoy might have worked if the giant had even seen it at all. Korak seemed not to have noticed the missing cowhide or shirt, nor the footprints Jack had left in the dirt. Jack formulated another plan. It was even more stupid than the decoy idea, but he was running low on alternatives.

Jack unsheathed the princess’s dagger and tried the blade against the cowhide. True to Delcina’s word, the blade cut through the hide like paper. He held the cowhide against his chest, pulling it tight around him, making mental measurements. Sweating in the late-morning sun, tensing up with every sound from the giant on the other side of the embankment, Jack made careful slices to the hide, making certain the scraps fell without a sound. He took off his shirt and wrapped the cowhide around his torso. He put the dead man’s shirt on over the awkward armor, and it mostly held the hide in place, except for the tendency of the hide to slip down around his waist. Jack removed the belt from his pants and belted it around the bottom of the hide and the shirt. He couldn’t run around without it coming loose, and he certainly couldn’t fight in it. But there was little point in fighting, and he couldn’t outrun the giant.

Jack peeked out from his hiding place. Korak stood over a refreshed fire, skimming the top layer of dirt and ash off the stew with a giant-sized spoon. Jack watched as the giant dug about the nearby junk, finally finding great bowls that must have been serving dishes once upon a time. Korak held one bowl beside him, wearing an eager grin as he stirred what must be several meals’ worth of food, even for him.

There was no sense in delaying his fate, and no other preparations to make. Jack carefully returned Delcina’s dagger to its sheath, stood up, and waddled down into the giant’s encampment, pressing the cowhide against his sides with his arms.

The giant heard him approach and stood erect with a snarl on his lips, baring his jagged teeth. At full height, Jack’s eye level came to the monster’s thigh. Jack roared a greeting. “I am seeking Korak Lash, the roughest, toughest giant in all the land!”

Korak lowered his head and squinted at Jack. “You, a tiny little human? You come with soldiers? Korak done killt lots of human soldiers in time!”

“Yes, me, but all by myself. I left some soldiers down at the village. We don’t need ‘em, unless you are extra hungry.”

Korak tilted his head to the side. “Huh? You offer yourself for dinner, human?”

“Me? No. I got business with Korak, if he is truly the toughest giant in the land. Them soldiers wouldn’t do me no good because Korak would just eat ‘em up before we got done talking.”

The snarl morphed into the beginnings of a grin. “Huh. Yeah. I be Korak Lash, and you ain’t wrong. I be the toughest giant that ever done terrorized this land. I done survived more’n two hundred years, through disease, and soldiers, and critters, and other giants all trying to put me down. I survived ‘em all, and I will survive you, little man.”

This was it. Jack hadn’t intentionally told a lie since he was twelve years old, but he didn’t think his promise to himself counted against man-eating giants. He reminded himself that the man who owned the shirt he wore was probably inside the stew pot right now. Maybe pieces of him, along with his family. This creature deserved no mercy and would certainly grant none.

“I expect so,” Jack said, as boisterously as he could manage. He hoped the giant was hard of hearing as well, and couldn’t hear the quiver of terror in Jack’s voice. “I came here to see how tough you were. See, my friends said that you weren’t any tougher than the average human. I say they are wrong, but they didn’t believe me.”

“I’ll show you how tough I am when I rip your arms and legs off!” He took a step toward Jack.

“You could do that, but then who would tell my friends how tough you are? Who would let everyone know Korak is still the greatest giant that ever walked our land? And then how would they tell their friends?”

The giant hesitated. Jack said, “Surely you ain’t afraid to give me a demonstration, considering I came all this way?”

Korak frowned. “I s’pose I might could eat you later. You ain’t gonna escape on them little legs of yours. What is it you want to see, human?”

Jack motioned to the cauldron. “You know, that stew looks like a good snack, but where is the rest of your meal?”

The giant laughed. “Besides you? You are lucky I got food already. This stew will be good for me for many days!”

“Really?” Jack said. “That don’t seem like all that much.”

“What game you playing, little man?”

“Nothing. I’m just saying the average man could probably eat half that in a single sitting and still have room for desert. But then, the average man is pretty tough and needs to eat a lot to keep up with the work he has to do.”

“You lie.”

“Do I?” It felt strange to lie, even to the giant. Jack didn’t think he was very good at it, and the giant must simply be humoring him. Each second he kept the giant entertained was a second longer that he survived, so he took it. “Well, let’s see who can eat more of that stew. I’m just an average little man, so you should be able to eat far more than me, surely.”

“Why would I let you eat my food?”

“Let’s make it a bet, then. If you can eat more than me, then you can eat me too. That way you get all your stew back, plus me.”

Korak considered. “That kinda makes sense. But what happens if you win?”

Jack shrugged. “Do you really think I’ll win?”

“Har! No. But we need a deal for it to be a proper bet.”

“If I win, you let me free?”

The giant sneered. “If you win, I give you a ten-minute head start.”

“Fair enough,” Jack said. What he really wanted was an overconfident giant with a full belly in the warm summer sun and one minute to move freely.

Korak examined a stack of mismatched bowls, pulling one after another out and comparing them with a squinty eye. He decided on two that were nearly the same size. He filled one bowl and handed it to Jack. Jack sat down and touched the stew with his finger. There was little liquid remaining, leaving chunks of flesh and disintegrating vegetable matter in a syrupy mass. It was warm but not hot. While the giant filled a bowl for himself, Jack lifted the bowl to his head, but dumped the warm contents down between the hide and his chest. It pooled above his belt. Jack tried not to think of the human chunks that might be in the mashy goo touching his belly.

Jack wiped his face with the sleeve of the dead man’s shirt as Korak finished dishing himself up some food. He looked at Jack in surprise. “You ain’t et all that already!”

Jack shrugged. “Oh, I’m sorry, that was awfully rude of me. I should have waited until you sat down before I ate mine. I was sorely hungry after that big hike.”

Korak tipped the bowl to his mouth and wolfed the food down. “Okay, one bowl. We now eat another.”

Jack handed the oversized bowl to the giant. Korak filled both bowls, gave one to Jack, and then sat down. Korak ate, albeit more slowly. As he ate, Jack tipped the bowl up and made eating noises while once again pouring the food inside the pocket formed by the cowhide.

The giant belched. Jack said, “You know, I’m still hungry, but I can wait if you need more time to let the food settle.”

Korak scowled and took Jack’s bowl. He filled both bowls a third time, and they repeated the process. Then a fourth time. By this time, Korak was eating slowly, and Jack’s extra space was filling up. Every time he moved, the mash squished inside the hide, and he felt little bits starting to seep around the sides. Tiny drops of liquid seeped into his pants.

Korak looked into the half-empty cauldron. He filled up both bowls again, but Jack saw the expression of concern on his face. Jack worried that if the giant thought about it too much, the concern would turn to suspicion, and it wouldn’t be hard to discover Jack’s ruse. Korak ate slowly and deliberately. Every time Korak tilted the bowl into his mouth, Jack tilted his bowl into the nearly full cowhide. Another bowlful would never fit without everything spilling out the sides or over the top of the cowhide, or both. The cowhide already formed a really strange funnel-shape inside his shirt, just waiting for Korak to notice.

Jack talked to distract Korak. “This sure is a great place you got around here. What a great life you must lead! No responsibilities, just enjoying the nice warm sun every day. Sleep when you want, eat when you want. Everybody fears you. It must be a great life.”

Korak nodded, and as Jack hoped, the giant’s eyelids drooped. The overly full belly combined with the warm July sun combined to make the giant sleepy. Jack continued, but lowered his voice. “And you really are an excellent host. Sharing your food with me and everything. I really am impressed.”

Korak jerked awake and scowled. “Cheat!” he roared.

Jack stared in terror. Had Korak figured out his deception?

“You try and cheat me, human! You make me fall asleep so you can sneak away!” Sneaking wasn’t quite what Jack had planned, but the giant had the gist of it. Jack’s plan had failed. Korak reached down, but instead of striking Jack dead, the giant picked up Jack’s bowl and filled it with more of the gooey mash. He did the same for his own bowl. Korak sat down and glared at Jack. “I gonna beat you afore I eat you!” he said. “Huh, I rhyme!”

“That was pretty clever,” Jack said, frantically thinking of another way to delay the inevitable. There was no way Jack could make the other bowl of food go away. If he was going to die, he wasn’t about to have his last act be cannibalism. He set the bowl down, which Korak noted eagerly, his lips curling upwards.

“We’re only half done,” Jack said as calmly as he could. “We still gotta air out before we start on the second half.”

“What you mean, air out?”

Jack took a deep breath, and then regretted it as more of the meat and liquid squished out of the bottom sides of the cowhide. Even the nearsighted giant would notice the dark stains along the sides of his shirt sooner or later. Jack said, “You giants must do the same thing, but maybe you use a different name for it. When there’s plenty of food, brave humans can air out our bellies so they can fit more. I just assumed that giants, being bigger and tougher, could do that, too.”

Korak said, “Sure we do!” He shrugged and waved his hand in the air. “But how do you humans do it?”

“Y’all got belly buttons, don’t you?”

Korak nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, the weak or the sick, they just poke a quick hole in their belly button, let some air out, and then squeeze it closed real fast. But the toughest of us, we do it different.”

“Huh. Yeah, that’s what the babies do, yeah, kind of like that. How do tough humans do it?”

Jack fingered Delcina’s dagger. “Oh, it’s pretty simple, but we have to be quick about it. It also hurts a little, so it helps to be quick, but I’m sure a tough giant like you won’t even notice. We take a knife like this one here—” he pulled the blade from the sheath, “—and set it just below our rib-bones since we don’t want to do no permanent damage, and then give it a quick cut like so.” Jack stuck the dagger tip into the middle of the cowhide, and cut down almost to his belt with a flick of his wrist. The stew oozed out instantly from the cut.

“Ah, that’s better,” Jack said as Korak’s eyes grew wide. Jack picked up the bowl with his free hand and covered the hole before Korak could look too closely. “It takes a few seconds to seal back up,” Jack explained, “but then we’re ready for more food. Just like you!”

“Oh, right,” the giant said, shrugging with exaggerated boredom. “I would, but I lost my knife. It is too bad.”

“Oh, no problem,” Jack said. He held the blade with extreme care, and while keeping the bowl strategically placed over the oozing hole, he offered the weapon to Korak hilt-first. “You can use mine. I know it probably ain’t as good as a giant’s dagger, but it is one of the best belly-opening knives I have ever owned.”

“Oh,” the giant said, and took the weapon. “Uh, thanks, human.”

Jack nodded and eagerly smacked his lips over the bowl.

Korak set the tip of the knife carefully below his rib cage, and with a quick motion sliced himself open down to just below his belly button. Blood and fluids gushed out, along with chunks of other stuff Jack didn’t want to look at. Korak looked down and stared with horror at his belly, and then looked up at Jack. “Uh-oh,” he said. “Did I do it wrong?”

Jack felt the blood draining from his face, but he tried to keep his voice level. “Um, I don’t think so, Korak. I think you done just fine.”

Korak’s worried grin twitched and faded as his face paled. “You…you cheat,” he said, but the dagger dropped from his hand. His eyelids drooped, and he collapsed to the ground.

* * *

Bachan and his guards were alert and ready to ride as Jack emerged from the trail. They had been expecting to flee before an enraged giant, of course. Jack couldn’t blame them. He wouldn’t have bet on himself, either.

“Jack! You live!” Bachan exclaimed, a grin forming below his mustache. “And Korak Lash?”

“Dead,” Jack said.

“You slew the giant?”

“Sort of. I kind of tricked him into killing himself. His body is up the trail at his camp. I wouldn’t touch the stew. I think it might have people in it.”

Bachan strode forward and clamped his hand down on Jack’s shoulder. “This is wonderful! You have avenged a great number of dead, including many of the king’s army. And many more have been saved because of your actions today.”

Jack shrugged. “That may be true. But right now, I need a bath. And I want to sleep for a week.”

Bachan nodded and lowered his voice so Aidan and Zeke couldn’t hear. “Add to that a desire for a great deal of alcohol, and that is how I have felt every time I have been responsible for death, even when it was justified and necessary. You have my sympathy and my gratitude.” He pointed into the abandoned village. “There’s a well over there where you can draw drinking water and wash, if you desire. Rest now. We’ll take care of everything else.”

Min and Leon sat in the front seats of the SUV, leaving Jessabelle to stew in the back. Wind howled through the shot-out windows and missing hatch, forcing her to strain to hear the discussion between the adults.

“Come with us,” Leon said. “We’ve been hiding pretty well until now, but we could use a witch on our side.”

“You don’t have a side, Leon. There’s nowhere you can run. You remember what happened to Amy.”

Leon’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Of course. But that was Amy. She was an alpha. We’re nobody.”

Min pointed to Jessabelle. “She’s not. And we won’t be. We’re on his list. Once he finishes this thing, literally any day now, he’s going to start tying up the loose ends. Unless we fix things, and fast, we are those loose ends.”

Jessabelle leaned forward and said, “That’s if he wins.”

Min turned to look at her, with either sympathy or condescension in her eyes. “He’s going to win, sweetheart. This is literally what he’s been working on for at least two hundred years. His daughter is ready to return, and when she does, she’s going to heal him. Then it’s game over. I haven’t drunk the Coven’s Kool-Aid, but I know enough to make sure I’m on the winning side.”

“Not this time,” Leon said.

“How about this?” Min said. “You two come in with me. Peacefully. Willingly. I’m a hero, you two are given some freedom. Everyone wins.”

Jessabelle shook her head. “Thadeus winning ain’t everybody winning.”

Min rolled her eyes. “Am I talking to a wall? Thadeus is immortal. You can’t kill him. You can’t stop him.”

“What if the dwayyo had killed us all? Then there’d be no Plan B.”

“You are convenient, not essential.”

Leon spoke up. “How? Explain this to us. On the outside chance that we might be willing to go in with you…”

“We won’t!” Jessabelle protested.

“On that chance,” Leon continued, “Why does the Coven need us? What are we supposed to do?”

“I haven’t been told,” Min said, looking down.

Leon’s face turned red. “That wasn’t my question! You never wait until you are told anything.”

She held up her hands. “Okay! I don’t know details. I know it involves people going through an alternate gate.”

“Gate? You mean like the crossroads in Morgantown?” Jessabelle asked.

Min seemed genuinely speechless for a moment. Her face was frozen, strands of her straight black hair whipping around like tiny snakes in the wind, and then she nodded. “Maybe you know more than I do. It’s somewhere south of Morgantown. They call it the ‘Arnot Gate,’ but there’s no town or anything by that name.”

Jessabelle recognized the name, but didn’t see the connection. Debra Arnot was the name of Grandma Annie’s best friend, murdered in Morgantown long before Jessabelle was born. Sean Williams had come to Maple Bend looking for more information about her after he encountered her ghost. “It’s that one-way crossroads. Y’all can go in, but y’all can’t come back out that way.” A moment later, she made the connection. “Y’all are going to go to send people through to go the long way ‘round to Maple Bend.”

Min cocked her head. “You really do know more than me. That would make sense.”

Leon asked, “What do you need us for, then? Aside from wanting to steal our blood for your combat drugs?”

“I don’t know. The gate is guarded, and they said one of you might have an easier time getting through.”

Jessabelle asked, “Guarded, not sealed?”

“That’s right.”

“How do y’all know?”

Min shrugged. “I’m good at listening and getting people to talk.”

“No, I mean, if it’s a one-way crossroad, and the other ones are sealed, how did y’all find out that it’s guarded? And you said his daughter was ready to return…how do y’all know that?”

“That’s far above my pay grade. I honestly don’t know.”

“We’re supposed to believe that?” Jessabelle asked with a glare.

Min riveted her eyes on Jessabelle’s, and her face grew dark and angry. “The only thing you need to believe is that a lot of people are going to die before this is over. Your best chance of reducing the body count and saving the people you care about is to work with us.”

“Or we stop him altogether! We did it once. We can do it again!” Jessabelle didn’t know where her fury came from, but she feared she would change into the panther involuntarily. She sat back as Leon spoke more with Min, and this time she didn’t care to know what they were discussing. Jessabelle crossed her arms.

Thadeus wouldn’t forgive Jessabelle and her family for what they had done against him. He’d made that clear when he captured her, when he murdered Evelyn, and when he arranged the deaths of Jenny’s parents. Was there anywhere in the world they could hide? Maybe not. But there was another world where they could hide from him forever, as long as they stopped him from getting his daughter back.

“It’s only a matter of time before they catch us,” Min said after several minutes. “Especially in this car. We stand out.”

Leon nodded. “You are right. We’ll have to ditch it and find something else soon.”

Min probed. “Where are we going?”

“To get gas.” He pointed to a sign at the side of the road advertising a gas station in two miles.

“After that?”

He shrugged. “Good question. Maybe we’ll decide after we’re back on the road again. Or were you planning on calling someone to let them know where we’ll be?”

Min laughed, but she didn’t deny it.

No other cars sat in the service station when they pulled up, but the woman inside the station stared out the window at them. Leon got out and surveyed the damage. Jessabelle got out as well, anxious to talk to him privately.

“Hey, can I go pee?” Min asked through missing hatch in the back of the car. “Or are you not going to let me do that?”

“Hold your horses,” Leon said. “Potty breaks for all of us, after we’ve got gas.”

Leon handed Jessabelle a twenty-dollar bill and said, “Go pay the lady.”

“We need to talk,” Jessabelle said, quietly enough that Min couldn’t hear her.

“Is it quick?”

Jessabelle nodded. She explained her plan. “If we can find the Arnot Gate, we can go to a place where Thadeus can’t get to us. We can tell the people there what the Coven is planning, and they can seal up the crossroad, just like they did in Maple Bend. We stop Thadeus, and we’re safe.”

“But where’s the gate? Even Min doesn’t know where it is.”

“Someone’s got to know.”

Leon shrugged. “I know, but we’re running out of time. You heard her. I think they’ll go in with or without us. I’m sure they have a Plan C and D already in place. Our best bet is to get as far away from here as we can and lay low.”

“Forever?”

“Maybe.”

Jessabelle fingered the twenty. “Okay. What if we pretend to give ourselves up?”

“You think they won’t expect us to betray them?”

She shrugged. “It’ll get us to the crossroads.”

“Let me think about it.”

Jessabelle took the money to the cashier in the building. The skinny middle-aged woman standing between the counter and rows of cigarette cartons looked her over as Jessabelle put the money on the counter. “Little warm to be wearing a jacket, ain’t it?” the woman said.

The weight in the right pocket of the jacket seemed to grow heavier. The woman must have noticed the bulge and weight. Jessabelle tried to fight off sudden nervousness. “It’s…um, it’s windy in the car.”

“I noticed that. What happened? Y’all have an accident?”

Jessabelle shrugged. “Yeah. Stupid accident. Hey, where’s the bathroom?”

The woman handed her a key attached to a flyswatter. “It’s just ‘round the side.”

“Thank you.” Jessabelle took the key, wondering why the woman was being so nice even though she was obviously illegally carrying a gun. Maybe the woman was really good at hiding her nerves. She’d call the police while Jessabelle was in the bathroom, maybe.

The women’s restroom was ancient but relatively clean. Jessabelle expected to hear the sounds of police sirens any minute, but nothing happened. When she was done, she exited and found Min and Leon in deep in conversation behind the car. It was clearly a conversation, not an argument, and they almost seemed friendly. They grew silent as Jessabelle drew close.

Jessabelle handed Min the flyswatter. “It’s your turn.” Again, she felt the tension between the two adults, but she couldn’t read much more into it. Min sighed as if she was considering something and then walked toward the restroom. Jessabelle looked to Leon. “What if she runs?”

“She won’t run. Nothing so simple. She won’t dare show her face again unless she can declare a victory. She might, however, have the woman call the cops when she returns the key. Why don’t you do Min a favor and return the key for her when she’s done?”

Jessabelle nodded. She wanted to ask what they’d been discussing while she’d been in the restroom, but she had to make sure Min wasn’t too quick taking care of business. Jessabelle arrived at the restroom door only seconds before Min exited. Jessabelle opened her hand and said, “I’ll take the key back for you.”

Min dangled the flyswatter in front of Jessabelle. “If I was really planning to do something, do you think you could stop me? Do you think I couldn’t make you step aside or even help me?”

Jessabelle felt her face grow hot, but not with shame. “I don’t know,” she answered. “Evelyn did that to me once, and I nearly tore her throat out.” Min paled, and Jessabelle snatched the flyswatter from the air. She gripped it like a knife. “Instead, I hid and watched the man in the white suit snap her neck.” With that, she turned her back on Min, and walked around the corner to return the key.

“Y’all have a safe trip,” the woman at the counter said to Jessabelle. She seemed sincere. If she had noticed the gun, she took pains to ignore it. Jessabelle just smiled, waved thanks, and returned to the car.

By the time they reached the palace three days later, people had already heard of Jack’s victory. A crowd lined the road for nearly a quarter mile, cheering Jack and the three guardsmen. “Jack the Giant Killer!” they cried out.

It beat, “Lyin’ Jack,” but it still felt wrong. Jack kept his head down, and Bachan likewise ignored the crowds. While he didn’t neglect Jack’s training, he had become increasingly distracted and even dour as they grew closer to the palace. Zeke and Aidan had only barely prevented Bachan from riding their horses to exhaustion and pushing their way to Sanguine through the night. Now that the crowd had gathered in the city, Zeke and Aidan soaked up the attention, waving as if they’d personally been the ones responsible to slaying Korak Lash.

Jack was fine letting the two of them receive the attention. After years of scrupulously telling the truth, this was the second time Jack had defeated his enemies through deception. Even with plenty of justifications, he could not get Korak’s shocked expression out of his head. Sometimes, instead of Korak’s face, he saw his papa’s, the shocked moment before a younger Jack had fought back to defend his mother. That had been a costly victory, too, and Jack was never entirely certain he’d done the right thing.

At the palace a man in long tails and a bow tie ushered them all to the hall just outside the great feasting chamber. Bachan stood with great calm, almost as if he had fallen asleep standing up. Zeke and Aidan elbowed each other, but quickly returned to a formal pose as the formally attired man appeared once more to take them into the king.

As they entered, a man announced, “Captain Bachan and Guards Aros and Kelmen of the Royal Guard.” Jack wondered who the other two people were at first, before realizing they were the last names for Zeke and Aidan. The man continued after a tiny but awkward hesitation, “…with Jack.”

What had been a dining room only a few days before was now a proper throne room, at least by Jack’s estimation. The king sat in an ornate chair at the far end of the room, with the queen seated in a somewhat smaller chair beside him. Something about her still felt familiar to Jack, perhaps like an actress in a movie he couldn’t quite remember. Arranged below the platform, a huge array of strangers stood in their Sunday best. Princess Delcina stood behind and to one side of her father’s throne. Royal Guardsmen, most dressed in fancier versions of the uniform Bachan and his two guards wore, stood at attention at various points in the room.

Two of the guards flanked Rumela. Jack was pleased to see she looked like she’d washed and had been outfitted with new clothing. She beamed at him.

Jack and his companions walked forward, with Bachan taking the lead. Bachan subtly moved his hand to stop Jack as they neared the platform and bowed. Jack followed suit although he really didn’t feel like bowing to the man who had put him in such an awful situation. Still, the sight of Rumela standing in the throne room and smiling left him with some feeling of forgiveness.

“Rise, my friends,” the king said. They stood. The king stood and approached them, standing on the lowest step of the dais. “Am I to understand you bring me news of Korak Lash, the scourge of the southern territories, the enemy of the kingdom for three generations?”

Bachan nodded. “Indeed, my king. Korak Lash is no more. This young man, Jack, at your request and in service to the kingdom, single-handedly slew the giant who has caused our people so much death and woe for decades. He managed to succeed where even the bravest soldiers of the kingdom have failed and often died.”

The king looked down at Jack. “Is this so, young man?”

Jack shrugged. “I reckon so. I mean, uh, I don’t know about the soldiers. And it was a little complicated, and…”

The king cast him a warning glance. Jack said, “Well, um, yes, sir. Your Highness, I mean. Korak is dead, and it’s my fault.”

Still speaking loud enough for the entire chamber to hear, the king said, “I can see I was right in sending you. Jack, I officially declare you a Hero of the Kingdom. It is not an honor frequently given outside of wartime, the military, or to citizens.”

“Um, thank you, sir. Your Highness.”

The king nodded in an absent, dismissive manner. He made a circling motion with his hand and said more quietly, “Turn and face the court. Let them see their Hero.”

Jack nodded and turned. Bachan and the other two guards did the same. The court cheered and applauded. Jack blinked as he took it all in. It was a fairy-tale ending to a grisly business, and the fulfillment of his dreams of what an adventure might be. In a movie, it would be the moment before the credits rolled. As he half-grinned in bewildered appreciation, he spotted Zainus in the crowd, applauding and cheering more fervently than anyone else. Jack wasn’t sure if he imagined the malevolent gleam in the short man’s eyes.

* * *

“Not that I don’t appreciate it and everything,” Jack said two hours later as tailors measured and fitted him for clothing appropriate for the feast in his honor, under Rumela’s fascinated eye, “but why are you here again, Bachan?”

The dark-skinned man’s thin mustache twitched. “I’m here because whenever I step outside this wing, I am bombarded by questions and requests having nothing to do with my job. I’m trying to think.” He looked at the tailors. “Have you prodded our newest Hero enough yet?”

The three men nodded, and in a few minutes had swept away their cloth scraps, tape measures, and pins. Jack, Bachan, and Rumela were alone in Jack’s chambers. Rumela had to stoop to stand up, so she sat on the sturdiest stool the castle staff could find. She hadn’t left Jack’s side since he had returned. She even took personal supervision of his bathing, which had made Jack more than a little embarrassed even though she had averted her eyes at Jack’s request for modesty’s sake. She had little concept of modesty, and of course, was a giant. The maids of the castle made a heroic effort to make Rumela appear human, but after a point her human-like clothing, hairstyle, and even makeup only drew attention to her monstrous features. Giants were not simply big people. They had the biology of an apex predator, and it showed.

Jack looked down at himself. Except for his John Deere hat, now hanging on the bedpost, he wore none of the clothes he had arrived in. His jeans were being washed and mended by the servants. They were torn, stained, and smelled like rotting stew. The maid had assured Jack that they’d come back “almost as good as new,” but they’d provided him with casual clothing to replace everything else. They had decent denim pants, which they referred to as “dungarees,” which used clasps instead of buttons and a zipper. The dungarees included built-in suspenders, like overalls. The white cotton shirt they’d found to replace his old one had buttons, at least, but no collar, and it felt about two sizes too big. He felt a little like a hick wearing the outfit, but he didn’t want to disappoint them when they’d worked so hard to scrounge clothing for him.

With the tailors out of the room, Bachan commented, “You have no comprehension of the honor Ferik bestowed upon you, do you?”

“Ferik? Is that’s the King’s name?”

Bachan laughed softly. “You really are a stranger here.”

“I keep telling you that.”

Bachan sighed. “In effect, you’ve been raised to nobility. Not that this means much in this day and age, except for some obscure laws remaining on the books, unless you chose to join the military. But it does mean that some nobles will treat you differently. It also means you are granted certain rights as a citizen.”

“So it’s like being knighted or something?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“All that for talking a giant into killing his fool self?”

“Indeed, Jack.” Bachan paused for a moment, and then said, “While I agree it was truly an impressive deed, this is quite an exceptional action on the king’s part. Not that I mean to diminish your honor.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“As I said, am trying to think. Perhaps because you have proven to be a man of honor and so completely unfamiliar with our politics, you might be the best person for me to ask for assistance.”

“What do you need? I’ll do my best.”

Bachan looked over at Rumela. Rumela grinned with snaggly, sharp teeth, and said, “I will do best, also!”

The captain of the Royal Guard nodded to Rumela respectfully. “As the latest celebrity, you are going to be introduced to a lot of people, and they’ll all want to have their chance to impress you. You may hear some strange things, maybe hints of their future importance. I understand most of what you hear may seem strange, but if anything strikes you as confusing or perhaps even menacing, talk to me about it. I’ll make myself available to you.”

“You think there’s a plot or something going on?”

“Something, perhaps. I mean you no offense, but escorting you to Korak Lash was not the job of a Royal Guard—let alone three of us.”

“No offense taken. I ain’t a member of the royal family.”

Bachan nodded. “You understand. The king hasn’t explained his order to me, which is also somewhat unusual. If the king is being in any way threatened, I need to know of it. That is why I wish to enlist your aid.”

Jack shrugged and sat down on his bed. “I don’t know how much help I’d be. I ain’t much of a spy.”

“That’s okay. I don’t really need a spy. I need…well, someone I can trust. My job isn’t just wielding a sword in service to the crown. It’s more about obtaining information from every source I can as it relates to protecting the king and his family.”

Jack shook his head. “Wouldn’t this be going behind his back?”

Bachan grunted. “I go behind his back all the time. It’s why he assigned me to this position. I worry about things so he doesn’t have to. I ask the questions he won’t. And sometimes, it means I know more about his private life than he’d prefer.”

“Sounds like a difficult friendship.”

Bachan shrugged and stepped toward the door. “While we do have a friendship of sorts, my position is not to be his friend. I’m to protect the crown. It is my duty, even if the man possessing the crown finds it inconvenient. Good day, Jack. I will see you at the feast tomorrow, I imagine. In the meantime, good luck in your little meeting with the princess.”

Jack snorted. “Huh? What meeting? I don’t know who you are talking to, but I ain’t meeting with her.”

Bachan smiled. “Oops, you didn’t know about that one, did you?” He winked. “I let that one slip, I suppose. I shouldn’t do that, professional that I am.” He opened the door and left.

Jack looked up at Rumela. “What was he talking about?”

Rumela shrugged. “You ask Rumela? You are the clever one. But…” She grinned wider, showing her full mouth full of teeth that would have been terrifying if Jack didn’t know her.

“But what?”

“But Delcina, she asked Rumela about you while you gone. When she freed Rumela.”

“What did she ask?”

“Stuff. I don’t remember. Just stuff about you. She seemed sad. She and I, sad together.”

“Because I was going to die?”

“Yes. I knew you would be back, but she did not. I sad for her.”

Jack grinned. “She was gonna miss me, huh?”

Rumela shrugged. “She said you too stupid.”

“What?”

“That is what she says to Rumela. She says you be stupid, and you die. But you not dead. You beat Korak.”

“I got lucky,” Jack said.

A soft knock came at the door. Jack opened it. A servant stood outside. She wore the uniform of the castle staff, loose-fitting work clothes with the vest bearing a seal. She said, “Your presence is requested in the western courtyard after dinner, at sunset.”

“Huh? Who requests?”

The servant shook her head and walked away.

They drove north, keeping to the smaller roads. Just as Jessabelle began to marvel at Leon’s ability to navigate the maze of tiny country roads, he got lost and had to turn around. What would have taken an hour on the freeway took the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon.

Leon and Min conversed pleasantly, even laughing at inside jokes and comments on mutual friends from Leon’s days in the Coven. Jessabelle could make out what they were saying if they weren’t going too fast and the open hatch didn’t make too much noise. Every once in a while, Leon would ask a probing question, like, “Who do you think is going on this ‘Plan B’ trip through that one-way gate you mentioned?” Min would offer a partial answer and ask him one of her own, like, “How long did you have the office bugged?” and “We don’t have to hold another funeral for you, do we?”

That one caught Jessabelle’s attention. Leon looked at Jessabelle in the rearview mirror, and then glared at Min. “No, nobody who knew me before knows I’m still alive.” To Jessabelle he added, “The Coven faked my death. That’s something they are exceptionally good at. That’s how Thadeus hides his immortality.”

Jessabelle scowled. “They ain’t that good at it. They used a fake dead body to capture me, and I could tell it wasn’t real. I just couldn’t figure out what it was.”

Min glanced back at Jessabelle. “But they got you anyway? Curiosity killed the cat?”

“Shut up,” Jessabelle said. She spent the next few minutes fuming that she’d let Min get to her so easily. She still wasn’t used to having people know her secret.

A half-hour later, Min commented, “You know, we’re getting really close to Morgantown. You could let me out here, and I could walk the rest of the way home.”

“We’re not driving fast enough to let you out just yet,” Leon said.

Min snorted. “You know, if you are planning on storming the complex while our staff is spread out across the state, do me a solid and tell them I talked you into it when they capture you. That way I’ll get the credit.”

“Were you always this sarcastic and annoying when we were dating?”

“Yes, but you thought it was endearing.”

Leon rolled his eyes. “Now I remember why we broke up.”

“Was that it? I thought you were trying to trade up.”

“It wouldn’t have been hard.”

They came around a hill, and a small town seemed to appear out of nowhere. From where the town started, Jessabelle could see where it ended. A bar, a motel, a Burger Shack, a gas station, a junkyard, and a church spread between two intersections. It was the largest town they’d seen in an hour, but it probably didn’t qualify as a town on any map.

Leon pulled onto the barely graveled patch of dirt that acted as a parking lot for the tiny motel. The place looked like it hadn’t been remodeled in decades. By the peeling paint and overall condition of the L-shaped building, it didn’t look like they’d had many customers in decades, either. “You two stay here,” he said. To Jessabelle he said, “If she tries anything, you have my permission to eat her.”

Jessabelle didn’t feel like laughing, and it didn’t look like Min did either. Leon walked into the door by the dingy sign that read, “Office.” As soon as he was out of sight, Min spun around and faced Jessabelle. Jessabelle’s hand flew to her jacket pocket, but Min made no other aggressive move.

“We need to talk, fast,” Min said.

“Ain’t got much to talk about.”

“Look, we can make a deal.” Her words were breathless, and she cast an anxious look toward the front door. “The Coven is pressed for time and doesn’t need both of you. If you come in willingly with me, we can make sure they leave Leon alone. You’ll be treated well, I promise, and Leon gets to go free. It’s our best option.”

Jessabelle stared at Min, trying to understand what sort of emotional vibes—or was it smells?—she was giving off. She couldn’t make sense of it and chalked it up to desperation. “One thing I’ve learned about the Coven is that y’all are a bunch of liars. We ain’t going back with you.”

Min sighed. “Look, I know what you think you are doing. I admire you for it, but you have to understand that there’s no fighting Thadeus. Not in the long term. He’s much more dangerous than he looks.”

Jessabelle took a deep breath. “A few weeks ago? I’d a said yes. I ain’t brave. But now, I know you’re wrong, lady. Some folks fought Thadeus a long time ago and beat him. They hurt him, and they tossed him into our world like a sack of garbage. They’ve had him beat for hundreds of years. A few weeks ago, we beat him again. That’s the whole reason y’all are running around trying to get a ‘Plan B’ together. I ain’t never been as scared as I’ve been the last few weeks. But you know what? I reckon if we can get the right folks together, we can beat him again for a few hundred years more. And the way I figure, y’all’s Coven may be powerful, but it ain’t like you can be everywhere at once. I think Leon’s got the right idea.”

Min looked down, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “That’s a nice speech, Jessabelle. You surprise me.” She opened her eyes and glanced out the windows. “I’ve seen your file. You don’t seem at all like the girl described there. I wish you knew what I know. I wish you knew that sometimes the best way to save people and be a hero is to find a compromise.”

“How much have you compromised?”

Min looked down again. “A lot.” She bit her lower lip, and looked back at Jessabelle. “You won’t believe me, but part of me hopes you are right.”

“Then help us.”

“I said I hope, not that I’d take that chance.” She stared at Jessabelle. “Did you really see Thadeus kill Evelyn?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“Can you tell me how I find the Arnot Gate?”

Min glanced once more out the window at the motel office. Turning back to Jessabelle, she rolled her eyes. “What the hell. I’ve heard them referring to Arnot as a place. Arnot something. Arnot property, an Arnot building, I don’t know. It’s secret, but I know the Coven owns it, through one of our legal entities. That office that Leon bugged might have a record of it—they handle a lot of the more mundane day-to-day business for the Coven. It’s called Bowman Holdings in the Morgantown area. They almost captured Leon yesterday, but feel free to go there. The Coven would love for you to pay them a visit. That’s all I know. Now, tell me what happened to Evelyn.”

Jessabelle related the story of how Thadeus had come to find Evelyn, chatted with her like an old friend, and then murdered her with a spell. From six feet away, he’d snapped her neck, and she’d collapsed like a broken marionette. When she was done, Min made a soft whistling noise and pushed her bangs away from her forehead. “He actually cried over her body after he killed her?”

Jessabelle nodded. “I reckon he might could have actually loved her. Or something. But that didn’t stop him from murdering her to make a point.”

Leon exited the office and returned to the car. As he slid into the driver’s seat, he glanced between the two women. He grinned wide. “So, Jessabelle, did Min try to convince you to join her while I was gone?”

Min rolled her eyes and answered, “Of course.”

Jessabelle stared at him and asked, “How did you know? Did you bug the car?”

Leon shook his head. “No, I just know Min. I got us all a room together, and I paid cash. The manager is suspicious, but she was happy for the money. Now, what say we get some burgers and check out our room?”

The feast in Jack’s honor would be the following night, but Jack had a tough time imagining how it would be different from this. Another servant had supplied him with yet another outfit for dinner, including uncomfortable, newly made leather shoes. They replaced his dungarees with cotton slacks held up with black suspenders and provided him with a vest and dinner jacket. A barber even arrived to shave Jack and give him the first decent haircut he’d had since arriving in Around the Bend.

At dinner, the food was wonderful and in plentiful supply. Everyone at his table asked him questions about his “battle” with Korak. He didn’t have much to say and avoided telling them any details. When they pressed, he told them about his fights with the ogre and the snallygaster. The people listened with rapt attention. One young man, a nobleman whose name Jack forgot after they were introduced, gasped at the end of the ogre story. “Perhaps we underestimate the potential of firearms, particularly against monsters.”

Jack asked questions of them as well. They spoke eagerly of the railroad, and how their coal mines were turning their kingdom into an economic powerhouse. Many of them, as Bachan promised, spoke with some enthusiasm about their growing importance in the kingdom. Most of it sounded like plain old bragging to Jack’s ears, but he tried to note anything that Bachan might consider important. It was hard to get all the brags straight.

Jack glanced at the head table. The princess ate with the king and queen and several other members of the court, laughing occasionally at jokes Jack couldn’t hear. She never glanced at him, even once. Bachan’s intelligence must be faulty across the board, Jack determined. However, her gift had saved his life, and he owed her that much even if he had fallen beneath her notice.

At the end of dinner, the sun was nearly down. The king and his family took their leave, which was a signal for others to excuse themselves and exit the dinner as well. Most of the people at Jack’s table remained, asking more about life in his country. Some seemed interested in visiting. As they asked for more details, Jack deliberately grew more vague with his responses. As anxious as he was to find aid for Annie and Jenny, he didn’t want information to get back to someone like Zainus.

Finally, he insisted that he needed a walk after such a heavy meal and stood up. Four other people stood and offered to join him. That was when Rumela stood from her own little table next to a pillar, put on her biggest smile, and said, “I done et my second dessert. I can walk with you, Jack. “

Jack nodded. “Sure, Rumela. I’d appreciate that.”

The four people suddenly recalled other activities they had to return to.

Moments after escaping clean, Jack discovered that he had no idea how to get to the west courtyard. He left the palace to the main courtyard, and tried to circle around, but found a low wall blocking passage. Rumela stood on her tiptoes to look over the wall. “Oh, it’s pretty!” she said. “They gots a real pretty garden back there!”

“But how do we get there?”

She scanned the area. “Don’t know. Oh, look. Past that tree there’s a stairway along the wall.”

“The exit to the garden is on the second floor of the palace?”

“Looks like it, yup!”

Jack sheepishly returned through the front gate. The guard at the gate raised an eyebrow at their return, but said nothing. When they got to the spiral staircase, Jack turned to his companion. “You know, maybe you should return to the room. You know what the second floor is like.”

Rumela glanced around and said, “How can I protect you if I ain’t there?”

“I don’t think I’ll need protection.”

“Ain’t that the time you need it the most?” She folded her arms and stuck out her chin. “You sure it ain’t Zainus waiting for you?”

Jack sighed. “Fine. Just don’t get stuck in the staircase or nothing, okay?”

Rumela had to stoop so low she nearly crawled up the spiral staircase to the second floor. Once on the second floor, Jack followed the exterior wall. The corridors were not made for a being of Rumela’s stature. She followed along without fuss, even smiling cheerfully when Jack looked back at her.

Zeke stood guard at the door to the garden. Jack waved, and Zeke acknowledged him with a nod of his head and a mumbled “Evening, Giant K… Um, Jack.”

Jack asked, “Is this the door to the west courtyard?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Can I go through?”

Zeke said, “If you know the password.”

“Password?”

“Yup.”

Jack shook his head. “I’m supposed to meet someone. Nobody said anything about a password.”

“Sorry, Jack.”

Jack looked at Rumela. Rumela, hunched over beside him, shrugged.

Zeke snorted. “I’m just funning you, Jack. Go right on out. Let me get the door for you.”

Jack laughed a little in relief, and Zeke opened the door for them. They stepped out onto a narrow stone balcony, with a stairway leading down into a garden. The garden surrounded a pool with glasslike water reflecting the light from the rising moon. Lamps were lit along a stone-paved path that ringed the pool and wound its way through the garden.

Jack whistled. “Somebody’s got themselves a full-time gardener.”

“I told you,” Rumela said. “It’s pretty.”

They descended the stairs, and Jack approached the pool. Rumela stood beside him, leaning over. Their reflections stared back at them, silhouetted by the lamps behind them.

“You’re late,” Delcina’s voice came from behind them.

They turned. Delcina wore the same clothes she wore had worn at dinner, a silk auburn dress with black lace and gold-colored buttons along the front. It showed off her figure while still leaving a great deal to the imagination. The effect was accentuated by the lamplight.

“We got lost,” Jack explained. “It ain’t like there are maps inside the palace or anything.”

Delcina laughed. “You are forgiven. I suppose Rumela is to be our chaperon?”

Rumela grinned, to terrifying effect. When Delcina took a step backward, Rumela closed her lips and covered her mouth with her hand. “No worry. I be, um…word. Mean you won’t hardly notice me.”

“Discrete?” Delcina offered.

“Yeah, that.” She wandered around the pool, looking at her reflection at different angles.

Jack looked after her, smiling to himself, before turning back to Delcina. Once again, her appearance made him forget to breathe. “You look real pretty, by the way,” he said. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he realized how stupid they sounded. Besides, why was he saying that? He still wasn’t sure how he felt about her.

She tilted her head down as if looking to find out what she was wearing. “Thank you, Jack. You look quite handsome yourself.”

“Oh?” He grinned in spite of himself. “Good, because I’m sweating like a sinner in church in this thing.”

She smiled. “It is a bit warm.”

“Hey, I need to get that knife back to you. It killed the giant, by the way.”

“Keep it. It was a gift.”

“Oh. Thanks. Um, thank you.” Jack searched for something to say, but could only come up with, “This is a real pretty garden.”

“I love it here. Oh, I should show you the rhododendrons. They are over this way.” She motioned down the path.

“Sure,” Jack said, taking up a position alongside her as they walked. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted Rumela shifting position to stay close. With her height, she could see over much of the carefully managed plants and bushes to keep an eye on them.

The path came to a circular gazebo surrounded by an array of flowers. Delcina pointed to a large group of plants and said, “Unfortunately, this is the one time of year they aren’t in bloom. But if you stay with us long enough, you’ll see them. They grow wild natively.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’m from just…” He hesitated.

“Do you want to sit down?” she asked, motioning to the benches in the gazebo.

“I reckon so.” He followed her up the two steps into the gazebo and sat opposite her. The gazebo was lit by a lamp hanging from the peak of the roof, providing them with plenty of illumination. To Jack, it felt a little like a spotlight. Nearby, crickets chirped.

Delcina said, “My father won’t quit talking about you since you slew the giant.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I think he might be trying to make up for sending you against Korak. I was really upset. My stepmother was furious about it, too.”

Jack didn’t want to read anything into her comment about being “really upset.” Maybe she was merely being polite. It was a natural thing for her to be worried about an innocent boy being sent on a suicide mission. “Well, that’s nice of her, I reckon, but I don’t see why she cared. Seems everyone believes Zainus is the hero and I’m the bandit around here.”

“Honestly, I don’t either. I mean, I care for her, and she is nice to me. She never tried to take my mother’s place, so she’s always been more like an older sister. When Zainus told my father his story, I explained to her why I believed you, so that she could convince him otherwise.”

“You believe me? Why?”

“You spoke of about coming from another world. Not many people know about the portals anymore. Unless you were completely crazy, I couldn’t imagine you coming up with that story, adopting that strange accent and acting so—um, clueless? It couldn’t have been just an act.”

Jack laughed. “Clueless, huh?”

“You know what I mean. The important part was that the Queen believed me. She took it as a personal crusade, and we really did work hard to change the King’s mind. By that time, it was too late. You were gone.”

“And now I’m back, and everybody seems to think I’m a hero. Even Zainus applauded.”

“Be careful about that, Jack. While officially being a Hero gives you the rights of a citizen, there are many who will still consider you an outsider, even after you killed the giant. They can be quite old-fashioned that way. It may be years before they fully warm up to you.”

“Years? I wasn’t really planning on sticking around that long.”

Delcina’s face fell. She covered for it quickly and with almost too much casualness, said, “Oh? Where are you going?”

Jack opened his mouth and realized he didn’t have an answer. Going home held no appeal to him, at least not yet. Besides making sure the crossroad was safe and Jenny and Annie were fine, he had no plans. “I don’t know. I came here in hopes of finding a place for Rumela. Someone said that you had giants who had jobs here. I figured it might be a good way for her to make a living.”

“Not exactly. We have a couple of giants who were captured criminals. But what giants dwell within our borders avoid contact with us, and we with them. Except Korak.”

“Oh,” Jack said. It was his turn to be disappointed. “That sucks.”

“It does what?”

“I mean, that’s no good. I promised her I’d help her.”

“Why not?” Delcina said. “Maybe she can become the first giant citizen of the kingdom!”

“Would your father approve?”

“Eventually, perhaps. I can try convincing him. But maybe his new favorite, the Hero of the Kingdom, might be more convincing. Over time.”

“Over time? How much…?” Jack waggled his finger. “Oh, you are trying to get me to stick around, ain’t you?”

She raised her eyebrows innocently, but a sly smile broke out. “I’ve trained since I was old enough to talk in the art of negotiation. Besides, I’d really like you to stay awhile.”

Jack grinned back. “Delcina, it ain’t as if I was planning on running off out of here tomorrow or anything.”

“I don’t intend to keep you here forever. It’s just… I don’t have many friends. Good ones, anyway. You have been honest with me and have treated me differently from others. With them, my family is all that matters. With you, you’ve treated me just like any other girl. I know that probably sounds strange.”

Jack shrugged. “Honestly, I ain’t had many friends either. Not until the last few weeks.”

“While we still can, I would like to be friends.”

“What’s that mean? While we still can?”

She looked down. “Just that… I’d like to pretend I’m just another girl for a little while. Before the realities of my world catch up to me.”

“Well, I don’t know how normal girls in this world are treated. Honestly, I don’t know how things work in my world. But, um…is it possible for a princess to date?”

“Date?”

“Spend time with a guy.”

“Oh, that word again. Would this be a date?”

“Kind of. Well, maybe, yeah, but, I don’t know. To see a movie or something. Or, I guess a play or something. Entertainment. Or go out for dinner.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, Jack. You mean like courtship?”

“Huh? I don’t…what’s that mean?”

“Attempting to make your suit for marriage!”

“Oh, no. I ain’t old enough for that. I ain’t looking to get hitched or anything. Just, as friends, you know? I mean, unless you wanted…look, Delcina. I don’t lie. But I don’t always know what I’m talking about. Like now. I liked you when I first saw you, but I reckon that’s true of every guy who lays eyes on you. Then I hated you because I thought you were the one who turned me in and turned your papa against me. Then you gave me the knife, and now this. I think I like you again. A lot. But if I were really treating you like a normal girl that I liked, I reckon I’d probably ask you out on a date, and maybe we’d get to know each other better. But, you are a princess and I’m just me.”

“Jack,” She reached forward and touched his hand. “Believe me when I tell you I would like nothing more than to spend time with you. And I intend to do so, but it cannot be courtship. It cannot have the appearance of courtship. In fact, after tonight, I doubt we will be able to even meet secretly like this ever again.”

“Why not?”

“It’s why I came to see you. I don’t…” She cast her eyes down to the floor of the gazebo. “Oh, Jack. I wish things were different, and I really was just a normal girl.”

Jack turned his hand up so he held hers. Her hand was warm, even a little clammy. He didn’t mind. For several seconds, they held hands. Suddenly, she pulled her hand away. “Jack, I was informed this morning that I am now betrothed.”

“What? You mean like engaged? When? And to who?” Jack felt as though a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head. The light from the lamp overhead seemed to darken.

“I don’t know. My father has told me none of the details yet. At first I thought he was joking, but the Queen confirmed it to be true.”

“They can do that? You ain’t got a say in the matter?”

She shook her head. “It’s a bit old-fashioned. I expected I’d have a number of suitors sometime soon, from among whomever my father felt eligible. Our kingdom has been at relative peace for a hundred years, and I know of no enemy encroaching upon us that would cause us to seek an alliance.”

Jack dropped his gaze down to the floor of the gazebo. In the back of his mind, he heard Rumela’s words the day they first met. “‘Troved,” she’d called it. “Oh. That sucks.”

“Yes. It does, doesn’t it? Sucks. That’s a useful expression.”

“When do you find out?”

“I was only told ‘very soon.’ My father cares for me, and he wouldn’t turn me over to some horrible creature. I should trust his judgment, but…”

She sniffed. Jack looked up. Her moist cheeks glistened in the light of the lamp. “I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t intend to tell you this. I know it’s none of your business, and my troubles shouldn’t be yours. You just killed a giant, and you are seeking a place for Rumela, and I’m only the girl who got you in trouble in the first place.”

“You also saved my life and got me back out of trouble again. I don’t know the ways and laws around here, but let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. And if by some chance you are engaged to someone awful, I’ll help you escape.”

“Jack, that would be treason. Don’t even speak of such a thing.”

“Look, I done risked a giant and a lot more. If you’re engaged to Zainus the Anus, I’d help you escape just to see the expression on his smug little butt-face.”

She smiled and wiped her cheeks. Rumela approached, and they both stood. The giant had to duck to bring her eyes below the level of the gazebo’s roof. “Hey,” Rumela said. “Y’all should know there be folks looking for you, Delcina.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Rumela. You are a true friend. You both are. I must go. Quickly. Goodbye!”

Delcina descended the steps and hurried along the path. Jack saw her wipe her eyes one more time, and then walk along the path until she was hidden by a hedge.

Jessabelle had never been in a motel room before, so she didn’t know what to expect. Except for the cigarette burn-holes in the sheets, the room seemed relatively clean. They ate burgers and fries from the Burger Shack around a tiny table. Leon took some time to explore the room, finding a Gideon’s Bible and a phone book in one drawer, then scribbling with a pen on a thin notepad. “I’ve never been in a four-star hotel before. Something tells me this isn’t one of them.”

“I have,” Min said, munching on a fry. “Mint on the pillow and everything.”

“But did they have a Bible?” Leon asked.

“I don’t remember.”

Jessabelle frowned. “Why are we here? Why ain’t we out on the road getting as far away as possible?”

Leon walked to the window and parted the curtain to stare out at the golden late-afternoon day outside. “Have you seen our ride? We’re crazy conspicuous and likely to get pulled over if we push our luck. We need time to make new arrangements.”

“But what if they find it here? And then what?”

“It’s a calculated risk. And after that…” He glanced at her and then looked away. Something seemed off. “We’ll have to decide what we do after that. Min and I are going to the bar for a couple of hours. We’ve got stuff to talk about.”

“What? Don’t trust her!”

“I don’t. But right now, she’s our only bit of leverage. I’ll be fine. Eat up. You need to keep your strength up even if it is just fast food. If you see or hear anything unusual, be ready to run. Keep your jacket on, just in case. It’s going to be a long night for all of us. If you get bored, well, read the Bible or something.”

Min kept her face neutral during this exchange, pretending to study the single piece of artwork, a landscape of the mountains, adorning the room. Leon looked about to say something more, but then turned to the door. He and Min left, leaving Jessabelle alone.

Jessabelle paced. Did Min have Leon under her control? He didn’t sound right. Was his admonition to eat a coded message? Did he expect her to change form? Jessabelle returned to the table and finished the last bits of her dinner, but the food was cold and didn’t taste good anymore. Something weird was going on with Min. The witch had even told her that the office, Bowman Holdings, might have information about the Morgantown crossroad. Did Min expect her to go there and get captured? What was her plan? Some kind of reverse psychology?

Jessabelle went to the drawer where Leon had pulled out the Bible and lifted out the phone book. She found Bowman Holdings and grabbed the pad of paper and pen to write down the address. After she’d copied the address, she realized that there’d been no writing on the pad. Hadn’t Leon scribbled something down several minutes earlier?

She swept her eyes around the room. The Bible sat on the bed, with a slip of paper from the pad and a pair of twenty-dollar bills poking out from between the pages. Jessabelle read sloppy handwriting of the note. “J - Run. Coven coming.”

Everything since the gas station began to make sense. Min must have offered him the same deal she offered Jessabelle. It explained Min’s urgency to trade Leon’s freedom for Jessabelle’s. It also explained why she let Leon give her the not-so-overt warning. His subtlety wasn’t to hide his actions from Min, but to prevent Jessabelle from trying to stop him.

Jessabelle threw on her jacket and shoved the money into an inside pocket. Before opening the door, she peeked out through the curtains. The summer evening sunlight cast shadows sideways that could conceal someone. Her imagination placed snipers with poisonous dart guns behind each obstruction. She wished she still had one of Jenny’s protective amulets. She stepped through the door, alert for any sign of an enemy, but nothing appeared out of place.

The bar was not far from the motel, but she didn’t want to be caught strolling along the side of the road when the Coven arrived. She attempted to find another route, but as far as she could tell, there was no back road leading around to the bar. The direct path took her through fenced-in property. After finding a spot where she was unlikely to be seen, she became the cat. She hesitated to verify that the jacket, now weighted down with a gun, had vanished, and then she took off towards the bar. With her small size, she cut through the back lots and fields easily, earning only a startled reaction from some chickens and bored looks from a pair of cows. After several minutes, she arrived at the back parking lot of “Sally’s Place” according to the neon sign advertising Budweiser. Below it, another sign boldly proclaimed, “Open Sundays.” Was today Sunday? So much had happened in the last forty-eight hours that Jessabelle wasn’t sure. It could be.

The damaged SUV sat parked behind the bar, invisible from the main road. She considered jumping inside and changing back into her human form when two cars pulled into the bar’s parking lot, blocking the exit from the rear. Several large men and one woman exited the cars. Two guards walked around the corner to the front entrance, and the other two came in the rear. Another man stayed with the cars, holding a large handgun at his side.

Jessabelle hid near a dumpster that smelled of booze, garbage, and vomit. She was too late. A minute later, the Coven agents came out the door, along with Leon and Min. Leon allowed himself to be seated in the back of a car by two of the men while the woman chatted briefly with Min. Min looked around and spotted Jessabelle. A thin smile came to her lips, and she looked away, pointing toward the motel and nodding emphatically. She entered the car next to Leon. In moments, the Coven agents started the cars and drove off toward the motel.

Jessabelle was alone and hunted.

Jack’s mood was foul the next morning when Bachan visited him in his room, accompanied by the tailors. “Do you got some kind of fascination with my clothes, Bachan?” Jack asked.

“Let’s pretend I do for the time being,” the Captain said.

The tailors examined the suit, which was something more akin to a tuxedo in Jack’s estimation. It felt weird. They took more measurements, marked edges with chalk, and seemed satisfied. One of the tailors bowed to him and said, “We shall add the final touches and have it ready for you in a few hours. I am sure it will meet with your satisfaction.”

Jack shrugged. “Whatever.” He stripped out of the clothes as if they were causing him pain by their touch. The tailors retrieved the clothing, disappointment written large on their faces, and they left the room.

Bachan spoke again. “Even if you hate the clothes, you could have at least pretended for their sakes.”

Jack pulled his newly repaired jeans on. “I don’t hate the clothes. I just want to get through this night, find a place for Rumela, and get the hell out of here.”

Bachan nodded tentatively. “Making sure you don’t overstay your welcome. That’s generally a wise course of action. Ordinarily, I’d approve.”

“Ordinarily?”

“You are the King’s man of the hour, which makes you a useful asset to me. But, I also question your motivation. Did you hear anything last night?”

“Me? No. Just stuff that confused me. This whole kingdom confuses me.”

“Did your secret meeting with the princess contribute to that?”

Jack rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Yes.” He considered lying. Telling the truth kept getting him in trouble, and the lies and deceptions led to victory. That was not what how the preacher said it was supposed to work. “She told me she was bet…engaged. But she didn’t know who she’s supposed to be getting hitched to.”

“That is what I have heard as well. Officially, the marriage of all the princes and princesses are always arranged by the crown. In practice, that hasn’t been the way of things for generations, even for the heir.”

“Heir?”

“Yes, Delcina is the heir. She is next in line for the crown.”

“Oh? Girls can be the rulers, too? Queens?”

Bachan nodded. “That has been the case many times.”

“Just tell me she isn’t going to be married off to Zainus the Anus.”

Bachan sighed. “I haven’t been told. In fact, I was very nearly relieved of my position last night when I demanded that information in the interest of the security of the crown.”

“Oh. I reckon that makes sense. For you to know, I mean, not for them to threaten to fire you.”

“Everything about this is unusual. That is why I need to know exactly what the princess told you.”

“Pretty much the same thing. She doesn’t know, either. She was told yesterday morning.”

“What else?”

“Nothing else important.”

“Oh? And I suppose you are in a black mood today because you are concerned about news of trouble along the northern border.”

“What trouble? No, I’m… I reckon it’s because I like the princess. I admitted as much to her last night before she told me about her engagement.”

“If you are asked, give the answer I just gave you.”

“I ain’t going to lie.”

“The truth could get you in a great deal of trouble.”

Jack fussed over his shirt buttons as he stared out through the shutters of his window. “More trouble than being sent to my death at the hands of Korak the giant?”

“No, probably not.”

“Then I reckon things are getting better.”

Bachan waved his hand. “Just avoid answering that question then.”

“I’ll avoid all the questions. I reckon it’d be a bad thing for me to hang around here if I have a thing for a girl who is about to be married off to some jackass. Married! How old is the princess, anyway?”

“She will be nineteen in the fall.”

“That’s crazy. I would have guessed she was sixteen.”

Bachan said nothing. Jack changed the subject. “Do you know how I can find a place for Rumela? Some place where she could work and make a living around here?”

Bachan shrugged. “Perhaps she might take my job if the king carries out his threat. Otherwise, no, but I’ll make inquiries.”

“Thanks Bachan. You are a stand-up guy.”

“I assume that is a compliment.”

* * *

The castle hall bore a few more decorations this time. The staff had hung red banners bearing the icon of the royal family, a unicorn on its hind legs on a field of red and gold. A servant directed Jack to the head table, which he assumed was a highly sought honor by the way the man acted about it. Jack was far more excited by the fact that he was seated next to Delcina.

As the meal began, he glanced at Delcina for cues as to how to behave. He’d barely learned any etiquette back home, so dining in a foreign country with the royal court was an alien experience. Jack never thought of eating as stressful until that moment. Delcina gave him gentle nudges with her feet to get his attention, and he’d imitate what she was doing. Eating the chicken drumstick with fingers, he discovered from a less-gentle prod from her heel, was not done at the King’s table.

To add to the stress, everyone on his end of the table had questions. Lord Culpepper, a thirtyish man with a waxed mustache seated opposite Delcina, asked the most probing questions. “Jack, I pride myself on being a man familiar with many languages and dialects, yet your accent is quite strange to me. Where did you say you were from?”

“Umm…” Jack tried to formulate a response and felt another prod from Delcina. He looked to the side, and she was staring at another young man at the table to her right, gently shaking her head as if in response to something the other young man had said. Jack glanced back at Culpepper and shrugged. “It’s a place called Maple Bend, outside of Branton,” he said, stabbing a miniature potato with his fork.

“Branton?” Culpepper repeated. “That isn’t the port city in southern Calonia, is it?”

Jack shoved the potato into his mouth as a stalling tactic. He shook his head and chewed slowly. When he swallowed, he followed up with a simple, “No, sir. It ain’t…um, isn’t a port city.” As Culpepper looked ready to ask a follow-up question, Jack jumped in with a question of his own. “Where are you from, Lord Culpepper?”

Culpepper smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, my family has been the custodian of the Featherstone District in Tirney for six generations. There is excellent farming there, and it’s a wealthy district. We are truly blessed. Some of this meal grew in Featherstone, as a matter of fact.”

Jack wanted to say something polite, like “That’s very interesting.” But it wasn’t. Not even close. All he could say was, “Sounds like you are pretty happy there.”

“We are. Except for the occasional raid by giants. Which once again raises the question to which we’ve all wanted to hear the answer this evening. How did you defeat Korak? He is legendary for his ability to defeat dozens of well-trained and organized soldiers, yet I heard you defeated him without even the help of the guards that accompanied you.”

Jack really didn’t want to explain the dishonorable way Korak had died, and he really didn’t like thinking about it. He spoke slowly. “I reckon I got lucky. I mean, after all, Korak was plenty old. So maybe he wasn’t as fast as he used to be. Plus, I think he was getting a little nearsighted. He couldn’t see me from far away.”

“I heard you dispatched him with a knife, at close range.”

The princess froze, staring at Culpepper. Jack didn’t know what to say. Delcina recovered first and turned to Jack. “That’s amazing. You must be quite skilled.” She turned to Culpepper. “I haven’t been lucky enough to hear the full story yet. Where did you hear it?”

Culpepper shrugged. “Rumors. He was seen riding to battle with a fancy dagger at his side. It was noteworthy for its apparent value compared to the rest of his equipment. Perhaps it was a gift from a wealthy benefactor.”

“Perhaps,” the princess said. “Speaking of wealth, how is Lord Renwald these days? Are the silver mines you bought producing yet?”

Culpepper paled. He circled the air with an index finger as he regained his composure. “Oh, he’s doing quite well. He’s, uh, just an investor.” Culpepper stuffed more food in his mouth. While Jack had no idea what sort of situation Delcina had alluded to, he was grateful for the respite.

Before anyone could ask anything more, King Ferik stood. Everyone in the hall put their utensils down and silenced their discussions to give him their full attention. King Ferik swept his gaze across the room, seeming to make eye contact with everyone in seconds, and spoke. “Honored guests, this feast tonight is to honor a young man who has done our country a great service. As you know, the giant Korak has been a great threat to our kingdom. For decades, he has stolen entire herds, destroyed crops and property, and murdered our citizens by the score. Previous attempts to bring him to justice have failed at a cost of some of the bravest blood in the kingdom. Earlier this week a young man, a foreigner to our land, bravely agreed to undertake the quest to rid us of this persistent enemy.” He turned and motioned toward Jack.

Jack bit his tongue as every head in the hall turned to look at him. Agreed was hardly how he’d put it. He forced a smile and the faintest of shrugs, and focused his attention on the king.

The king continued. “When he accepted this charge, I promised Jack that in addition to appropriate honors, he would receive the bounty on the head of Korak. This has been a long-standing offer that predates my father and has only grown with time. Many have attempted to claim this bounty, and it seemed that only time itself might do so.”

He motioned to his wife. “It was our lovely Queen who reminded me of that which I should have already known from boyhood…that my great-grandfather, Lars Adento, once specified that whoever should slay Korak would gain the honor of being declared Hero of the Kingdom, an honor I have already bestowed upon Jack. In my view, he was already our hero, and I believe this young man has many great deeds before him.” He paused and clapped his hands together.

The rest of the room joined him in boisterous applause. Jack felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He smiled and offered his little shrug again, then looked at his plate. Beside him, Delcina applauded. In the corner of his eye, he caught her smile. It made him feel as tall as a giant.

King Ferik said, “The title only makes it official. It grants rights as a citizen and as a nobleman, though of course it offers no land or assignment of station. But Jack, this is our way of welcoming you here, and we hope that you will choose to stay with us. We can always use more heroes, can we not?”

More applause filled the room, somewhat more subdued than the first round. Once the applause faded, Ferik glanced at the queen, and then turned back to Jack. “My lovely queen discovered yet more in our history books. It seems that my dear great-grandfather made an additional promise to sweeten the pot and attract bold giant-slayers to our cause, after a defeat of the 110th Regiment at the hands of Korak and his band of marauding giants. Now King Lars, as many of you know, was the father of many beautiful daughters, including my beloved grandmother, Queen Delcina, for whom my daughter was named. He once promised to offer the slayer of Korak the hand of one of his daughters in marriage. Sadly, my only surviving great-aunt, Vivian Bolen, is one-hundred-five years old and already quite married to her second husband, and so I am unable to fulfill my great-grandfather’s promise to you, Jack.”

Nervous laughter rose around the room. The king waited for it to die down, and then he turned his gaze to Delcina. “However, I thought it fitting that I should honor my great-grandfather’s promise in my own way. You are an example to all throughout the kingdom, and I feel you would be a good role-model for others. I would be honored, Jack Parsons, if you would consider my daughter Delcina’s hand in marriage.”

Two people laughed, and then silenced themselves when no one else joined in. An elderly woman coughed. The king continued to smile benevolently, his gaze passing between Delcina and Jack. Jack stared back, not caring how much his face looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Now, there’s absolutely no need to answer right away, and these things take time to arrange. I know this public announcement took you by surprise. But I also know how fondly my daughter spoke of you after you went out on your quest. I don’t believe my decision will meet with her disappointment.”

Jessabelle-the-cat made her way northwest along the winding road. She avoided the burning pavement, but the brush and weeds she walked through slowed her even more than her diminutive form, and concealed any number of potential threats. Twice something slithered nearby that might or might not have been a venomous copperhead. Perhaps it wasn’t any more dangerous than a walk through the woods when a giant, dragon-like snallygaster hunted overhead, but her size made her feel all the more vulnerable. The direct sunlight on her black coat irritated her and made her paws sweat.

Every time she heard a car approaching, she bolted for cover. It was dusk before the two cars from the Coven passed her. She kept to the weeds and didn’t look until after the cars passed. The windows in back were tinted, so she couldn’t see anyone in the back seats, but she was sure Min and Leon were with them. On one hand, she felt relieved that the Coven had given up their search for her. But now Leon needed a rescue, and she felt powerless to help him. Even if it was his own fault, guilt gnawed at her.

The sun had set when the road she had been following teed, with only a ridge descending into the valley beyond. A larger, better-paved road went left and right. Right would be north, theoretically toward Morgantown.

Her paws hurt. She pushed through the pain as she continued along the road. Far to the north, she could see light pollution obscuring the sky. It seemed a long way off. She told herself she’d stop and rest at certain landmarks ahead—an intersection, a house, the next level, clear stretch. But then she’d think of how the Coven had Leon and another plan. If they succeeded, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill Jack and her family Around the Bend.

Fewer cars passed by as the night deepened. Up ahead, a gas station glowed in the darkness of the ridge. She promised herself again that she only had to get as far as the gas station, and then she could rest. A short rest would be okay, wouldn’t it?

Ten minutes later, she hid herself in a pool of shadow behind a low concrete barrier at the gas station. She collapsed on the dirt. She didn’t know when her eyelids drooped and closed, or how long she was asleep, but at some point a Ford F150 pickup truck pulled into the station and startled her into wakefulness. The driver got out and started the pump, then entered the gas station. Jessabelle willed herself up, but her sore muscles resisted. Normally, she could alleviate an injury or pain by changing shape, but did she want to risk it now? Just a few more feet…

With strained effort, she padded across the cool pavement of the parking lot and hopped onto the rear bumper. One more leap took her to the edge of the truck bed. In the daytime, she’d be obvious, but at night, there was a chance she could hitch a ride unseen—if she could find shadows from the glaring halogen lights over the pumps. In the driver’s-side front corner, nearest the gas pump, lay a bundle of orange straps and multicolored bungee cords, hooked onto a tie-down anchor. Jessabelle dropped into the truck bed and pressed herself into the corner, pulling loops of the bundle over herself with her claws to offer some tiny amount of cover.

Moments later, the driver came out of the station, bearing two new packs of cigarettes, a Diet Coke, and a Slim Jim meat stick. Jessabelle didn’t see him come around the front of the truck. The metal scraped as he removed the gas hose and hooked it back onto the pump. She got a good look at his shoulder and the back of his head.

The man entered the truck and started the engine. Jessabelle waited, watching the stars to see which way they turned. She exhaled the cat equivalent of a sigh when the truck turned north along the two-lane highway. Jessabelle stood and moved farther toward the tailgate, holding to a bungee cord with one claw tip, and watched the terrain go by. After ten minutes, the road widened and began to resemble a major highway. The truck slowed at a left-hand turn as they passed a sign pointing to the freeway, labeled “Cumberland, MD.”

Maryland? The freeway? Jessabelle leaped up and sprang from the truck, heedless of traffic or what might be below her. She instinctively twisted in the air to land on her paws, but her panicked escape and the truck’s remaining speed left her lurching off the median. The headlights from the only other car on the road loomed large as it hurled toward her. Pure adrenaline kicked in and propelled her forward. The rush of air from the passing car whipped at her tail. It hadn’t slowed; the driver hadn’t even seen her. Her sore muscles kept pushing as fear and momentum propelled her to the other side of the road.

After a few moments of settling down, she realized she was not only panting, but drooling. She didn’t know if that was a normal reaction or not. She’d never been so terrified in her cat form. She wanted to flee to the nearest bush and hide. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Jessabelle-the-girl told her there was no time, fighting the instinctive reactions of Jessabelle-the-cat. She stood frozen at the side of the road, indecisive, as the immediate danger passed. Even so, Jessabelle-the-cat was petrified. Jessabelle-the-girl was only marginally better, realizing full well how close she’d come to being road-pizza—just some dead, squished cat at the side of the road for drivers to ignore the next morning.

Sounds of unseen passing cars from the freeway to the north nagged at her, reminding her that she had more traveling to do before the night was over. She tried to get her slobbering under control, without success. Seeing no other cars nearby, she transformed back into Jessabelle-the-girl. A portion of her pain and fatigue went away, and she felt her heart slow to a respectable rate. Best of all, the slobber was gone.

“That’s much better, ladies,” she told herself. If the cats listened, they didn’t answer.

She made her way along the road, across the overpass above the freeway. The overpass didn’t have a sidewalk for pedestrians, but there was enough room along the side of the bridge for a car or truck to pull over. A sign advertising a chain hotel jutted out from the hill, glowing with an internal light to make it visible from anywhere in the valley. The freeway and a hotel chain, not to mention the light-pollution glow of the hills ahead, suggested she was close to a city. What city, she didn’t know. She wished she’d paid more attention in school to the details of West Virginia geography. It had never crossed her mind that maybe someday she’d be jumping off vehicles by a random freeway and have to figure out where she was.

She continued toward the lights. Sweating in the humid night air, she took off her jacket, carrying it under her arm, taking care that the revolver didn’t fall out to the side of the road. Not that she’d mind being rid of it. It was heavy and useless, but it wasn’t hers to throw away. She could give it back to Leon when she rescued him.

Assuming he wanted to be rescued after the jerk move he’d made by giving himself up.

After the first half-hour of walking, the pain and fatigue she’d left behind in the cat’s body caught up to her. Her little scratches and bruises always went away when she changed form, as well as any dirt or tangles. She’d even found her cold symptoms lessened once. She wondered where the dirt and injuries went, but she had never been curious enough to test her limits. A few weeks ago, fighting alongside friends and her cousin against an ogre, she’d discovered some of those limits. She was certain that if Jessabelle-the-cat got run over by a car, there’d be no escape as the panther or the girl.

Houses and business appeared closer together as she hiked. Intersections grew more frequent. It reminded her of the short time she’d lived in Georgia before her papa died. Georgia had been even warmer and muggier than West Virginia in the summer. They’d been happy there, but then papa had been shipped out overseas, and never returned.

She stumbled. It was well past midnight on a day that had started in a low-speed chase from a monster, and she didn’t have much energy left. She played the same head game with herself she’d done earlier as a cat, promising herself just a little farther, but never letting herself actually stop. She couldn’t play that trick much longer. Could she become the cat again and take a snooze? Up ahead, a diner that advertised twenty-four-hour service became her next goal. This time, she went inside.

An electric chime announced her presence. A woman in her mid-forties who was holding a broom greeted Jessabelle with the same kind of fatigue etched on her face that Jessabelle felt. Jessabelle waved and picked the nearest booth. She sighed involuntarily as she took a seat.

The woman set the broom aside and approached the table. “What can I get you, hon?”

It was like the hospital cafeteria all over again. Jessabelle wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond. A picture over the front counter caught her eye, and she pointed to it. “Waffles.”

“With eggs?”

Jessabelle shrugged and then nodded.

“Anything to drink?”

The stacks of artificial sweetener on the table suggested an appropriate answer. “Um, coffee?”

“Sure thing. So you’re a student?”

Jessabelle nodded. The woman smiled knowingly and nodded. “Is it finals time again for summer term at WVU? I didn’t think they were that close.”

Jessabelle opened her mouth to answer, but then shook her head. The woman mistook her for a college student! So often in the last weeks Jessabelle had felt like a lost little girl. She liked being mistaken for an adult and in control. If only it were true. “Just a long weekend.”

The woman nodded again. “Right.” She disappeared for a few moments, and then reappeared with a cup of steaming coffee and a tiny pitcher of cream. “Your waffles and eggs will be up in a couple of minutes. Look hon, I know it ain’t none of my business, but I know you kids get a little crazy when you are on your own for the first time. I’m sure your mama would like to know you are taking care of yourself and not getting into too much trouble. You be careful, okay?”

Jessabelle nodded. “I’ll, um, try and remember that. I don’t actually aim to get in any trouble at all. Sometimes it just kind of happens.”

The lady chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth! I’ll go check on your food.”

A few minutes later, after filling up on waffles laden with syrup and runny eggs, Jessabelle walked up to the counter to pay for her food. She asked the woman if she was supposed to leave a tip.

“It’s customary to tip fifteen to twenty percent.”

Once Jessabelle had calculated the amount, she said, “That don’t sound like much.”

“It ain’t. But it helps.”

Jessabelle wasn’t sure if she’d need the money later or not. If she was right, she wouldn’t need money again for a long time. She paid an extra couple of dollars over the suggested tip. The woman tried to give it back. “Look, hon. You might need this more than I do. Y’all kids always seem to be hurting for money.”

“No, it’s really okay. I…look, can you help me find a place? Is it close?” Jessabelle pulled out the address. The woman grudgingly accepted the extra tip and looked at the address. “You are still a couple of miles away.”

“That’s fine,” Jessabelle lied, dreading the extra walking. After receiving directions, she thanked the skeptical woman, and set off into the night.

* * *

An hour later, Jessabelle had returned to her cat form, and peacefully hid under a poorly kept hedge to watch the glass door of Bowman Holdings. At least, she “watched” in the sense of dozing throughout the rest of the night and opening her eyes whenever something stirred her. Nightmare images waged war against her exhaustion to keep her from falling too deeply into sleep. Amazingly, it wasn’t the dwayyo that gave her the worst visions. It was Leon lying to her and leaving with Min. She consciously recognized that he had done it to protect her. Just like her mother had signed her away to protect her. In both cases, she knew the act was wrong even if the intention was right. The road to hell was paved with good intentions.

How good were her own intentions?

As dawn arrived, she struggled to remain more alert. Traffic increased along the road nearby. Two cars parked in the small lot, but the drivers entered other nearby businesses. Finally, a car pulled into the lot just in front of the office door. Jessabelle darted out from her shrub as the driver exited, a middle-aged man in a white shirt and tie. With a tall, insulated cup of coffee in the same hand as his briefcase, he unlocked the front door and opened it wide to the alarm chirping warning noises. Jessabelle slipped through the door a moment before it closed, darting behind the reception desk as he punched in a code to shut off the alarm. He turned on the office lights, unlocked an office door, and stepped inside.

Jessabelle raced past him when his back was turned. Relatively alone, Jessabelle explored the small office. It was made up of four offices, six cubicles, a locked storage area, a larger area with filing cabinets, a break room, and a meeting room.

Each of the cubicle desks had computers. Jessabelle leaped on one desk and touched the space bar with her paw. A password screen appeared. She tried two more computers, each showing a locked password screen. She had no idea what she could do until someone came in and entered their password.

As if in answer, the office door opened again. Jessabelle jumped under a desk and hid. A woman’s voice greeted the first man, and they asked each other if they’d had a good weekend, and then Jessabelle heard keys unlocking another office.

Safe for another few moments, Jessabelle crept back to the filing cabinet area beside the cubicles. The cabinets created an artificial wall around the area. Drawers were labeled alphabetically. The bottom drawer of the first cabinet was labeled “Au-Ba.” Jessabelle considered transforming into the girl when the office door opened and two more people entered, walking toward the cubicle area. Jessabelle dove into a gap between filing cabinets in a corner, pouring herself against the dusty, dirty wall, certain that she was completely visible to anyone that might glance in her direction.

The rest of the office arrived within the next ten minutes. Jessabelle tried to make herself more comfortable, but there was simply no way to do it. She could barely find room to sit. Over the next twenty minutes, two people came into the filing cabinet area, both dressed professionally. Neither went to the first filing cabinet. Most importantly, neither noticed the cat lurking in the shadows.

The middle-aged man who had unlocked the building came into the hallway. “Now that everyone’s here, let’s have an all-hands meeting in the conference room.” Everyone filed through the hallway and into the small conference room. They left the door open, which meant that Jessabelle could hear them easily, but it also meant they could hear her.

She squeezed out of her hiding place as the middle-aged man, obviously the boss, spoke. “As some of you have heard, we had a major security breach over the weekend,” he said. “What you may not have heard was that this breach had been occurring for weeks, perhaps months.” They were talking about Leon, Jessabelle thought.

With a peek down the hall to make sure no one lingered outside the conference room, Jessabelle transformed into the girl, wearing the heavy leather jacket in the middle of summer. Her clothes smelled of sweat, but her skin was clean, as if she hadn’t spent hours hiking in the muggy night along the side of the road. She slowly opened the third drawer of the first filing cabinet, which weighed considerably more than she expected. She fought against her nerves, which wanted to go as fast as possible before anybody stepped out of the meeting and spotted her.

“Naturally, the main office is not happy, and they are demanding an audit of our security procedures. I want to stress, nobody’s in trouble or in danger of losing their job. They only want to find out what happened and how to avoid it in the future.”

Jessabelle suppressed a snort as she searched through the drawer. If the “main office” was the Coven, then somebody was definitely in trouble. If they only lost their job, they should consider themselves lucky. She continued fingering through the files until she came across a tab labeled “Arnot.” With extreme care, she pulled the folder out of the drawer and opened it.

The pages and pictures were yellowed and brittle with age. The first picture was of Debra Arnot, recognizable from a handful of Grandma Annie’s photographs. Jessabelle knew about the girl, of course. Grandma’s childhood friend had been murdered while attending the University of West Virginia back in the 1970s. Sean had met her ghost. But Debra Arnot was a person, not a place. Jessabelle continued to leaf through the old pictures and paperwork.

Three of the pictures seemed like they were taken while Debra was unaware she was being photographed. The pictures were in color, but the colors had long faded. A fourth, the most disturbing of all, was a black-and-white photo of her looking terrified in a chair. There were no details in the room around her, only a halo of light from a flash against a bare wall.

The rest of the paperwork had invoices for deliveries to a house in a neighboring community named Callan, and orders for a cemetery vault and headstones in the same town. A sixteen-inch brass nameplate that simply stated “Arnot” had also been ordered around 1974. The most recent document was a hand-written note on torn legal-pad paper that read, “Do not scan!” in red pen.

Jessabelle rolled the folder into a tube and shoved it into an inner pocket of her jacket. She slid the drawer closed with extreme care, but it closed just as the middle-aged man had finished speaking. Something inside clicked, and in the silence of the office, the click sounded like a gong.

“Is somebody here?” a woman asked from the conference room.

Jessabelle took giant tip-toe strides out of the cabinet area and down the hall. When she heard a voice say, “Someone’s in the hall,” she ran for the door. She threw herself against the crash-bar and raced out into the parking lot with shouts echoing behind her. She ran around the back of the building and near the poorly maintained hedges. It was just enough that nobody from the road could see her clearly. On the other side of the building, the glass office door clanked open. Between heartbeats, Jessabelle became the cat, and tore across properties and roads like the Devil’s own bloodhounds were on her trail.

King Ferik retired from the banquet immediately after his speech, accompanied by the queen. As soon as they left the chamber, chaos erupted. Everyone at the table turned to Jack and Delcina with questions, some phrased in angry shouts.

“This is highly unusual,” the noblewoman beside Jack muttered.

Culpepper stared at Jack. Beneath his thin, waxed mustache, his lips curled into a tight grin, but the vein in his temple throbbed. He pried his lips apart long enough to say, “So, Jack, it seems you’ve earned more than the giant’s head as a trophy.”

Bachan, Aidan, and two other members of the Royal Guard appeared behind Jack and Delcina. “Princess, may we escort you to your chambers?” Bachan asked. The princess nodded and rose from her chair by turning her back on Jack. She didn’t even look at him as she walked away with Bachan and one other guard, through the large rear door that king and queen had taken.

Aidan asked Jack. “Sir, if you are done, we can escort you as well.”

“Huh?”

The guard leaned down and whispered, “As a prospective member of the royal family, our duty now extends to you.”

Jack didn’t think he needed an escort. Zainus wasn’t in the hall, so he had no enemies here. He looked around and discovered that all eyes were on him. The expressions in the crowd ranged from stunned curiosity to outright fury. He swallowed and said, “Um, sure. I’m done.” He stood and nodded to the people at his table. “It was really nice meeting y’all.”

Aidan gently guided Jack out through a side door by Jack’s right arm, pulling slightly to prevent Jack from leaving too quickly. Jack wanted nothing more than to find Rumela and make a run for it. Even if it meant never seeing Delcina again. She hadn’t seemed interested in seeing him again, either, based on how she departed.

Once they left the main hall, Aidan picked up their pace, hastening Jack up the stairs to his chambers. Once they got to his door, Jack asked, “What the hell just happened?”

Aidan shook his head as he opened the door. “I don’t know. I thought Captain Bachan’s head was about to explode. Did you know this was coming?” He gently pushed Jack into the room, and the other guard turned around to stand in front of the doorway.

“No! I knew the princess had been bet…damn it, promised to be engaged or something. How was I supposed to know it was to me? Is this some kind of weird tradition here?”

Aidan shook his head vehemently and closed the door behind them. “No. I mean, there were some very old traditions generations ago, I guess, but nobody does that anymore. Not like that, at least. Springing it on everyone like this is…” He paused and straightened himself. “Well, it’s unusual, but it’s the King’s right and his will. The Chamber of Lords will have a field day with this. I hate to say it, Jack, but you just gained a whole bunch of powerful enemies.”

Jack sat on his bed. “Forget all that. Look, I’ve got to get out of here. Can y’all help me sneak out of here before dawn? With Rumela? I’ll be out of y’all’s hair that way.”

Aidan shook his head. “Jack, like I told you, you have just become officially part of my job. We need council from the King. As do you. I’m sure he’ll want a meeting with you before the end of the night.”

“Would have been nice if he’d done that beforehand.”

“It’s not my place to speculate, sir.”

“Can y’all maybe turn the other way for a little bit? Long enough to…”

“No. We’ll stay posted until we receive instructions. Don’t worry, Jack. There’s a really good chance the Chamber of Lords will find a way to overrule this, and you won’t have to marry the princess.”

Jack didn’t have an answer to that. He was far too young to even consider marriage and this wasn’t what he wanted. But something bothered him about what Aidan said.

Aidan opened the door again. “We’ll be right outside, sir. Just knock if you need anything.”

“Like an escape route?”

“Anything else.” Aidan exited, closing the door behind him. Jack spun on the bed, aimed himself at the stone wall, and kicked it with the heel of his custom-tailored boots. He felt truly homesick for the first time. He had no clue how to behave around women back in his world. But at least the rules there seemed simple enough that he might learn them. Here, he’d made the wrong move and ended up all but engaged. What was the sense of that?

The minutes went by, turning into hours. Jack stripped off his fine custom clothing and threw on the remnants of his old clothes. The jeans had been nicely repaired, but the sneakers were falling apart. He didn’t care. He wanted to find a way back, so he and Jenny could get away from this world and its stupid rules and ridiculous social expectations. A guy kills a giant, and then as punishment is made to marry a woman? That made no sense.

He thought of Delcina. Was she pissed off at him? Had she known what was going to happen? Had she thought Jack knew? He had too many questions and no answers. He’d have only one regret leaving this place, and that was never seeing her again. The idea hurt, but what other choice did he have? He didn’t want to marry her. He didn’t want to take that option forever off the table either. Just…not yet. What was wrong with this world?

Jack readied his few belongings. Food would be a problem. Rumela had a fierce appetite, and unless Jack could cash out whatever monetary reward the bounty provided, their escape would be hindered by hunger. Delcina had told him he could sell her dagger for a great deal of money. That should be more than enough to cover food and maybe buy a horse to help them carry it all. That was all they needed. He and Rumela could flee tonight if he could convince Bachan to let them go.

Maybe he’d write a note for Delcina. It was cheesy, but he didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye, and a note would be the next best thing. He just needed paper. And a pen. He could ask Aidan for those.

He also needed the dagger, to sell for supplies once he and Rumela had gotten far enough from Sanguine that he felt safe selling it. Delcina’s incredibly sharp weapon was not where he’d left it. It didn’t take much searching to find that the dagger was no longer in the room at all. Someone had stolen it. He’d need another way to find supplies.

Or he’d take up Aidan on his offer. Jack knocked at the door. Aidan didn’t open it at once. Jack tried the latch, only to discover that it had been locked. He pounded at the door. “Aidan!”

Aidan opened the door a few seconds later. Jack stabbed toward the door. “What the hell are you doing locking me in the room? Am I prisoner again?”

Aidan shook his head. “Precaution. Sorry, Jack. I was just talking to the steward.”

“Someone done stole Delcina’s dagger.”

“The one you killed Korak with?”

“The one that killed Korak, yeah. Aren’t y’all supposed to be guarding so that this don’t happen?”

“I’m really sorry. I’ll warn the guards to watch out for it. But you have to go see King Ferik right away.”

“The king?”

“Yes, he has asked to see you.”

* * *

Aidan knocked on the sturdy oak door and awaited the king’s invitation before opening it. Inside, the room smelled like dust and old paper. The walls were hidden behind bookshelves that rose to the ceiling, filled with more books than Jack’s underused high school library could ever hope to have held. Almost all were thick leather-bound tomes of various somber colors. Much of the light in the room came from a gaslight chandelier, contributing to the warmth of the room, which currently stood at just a hair above comfortable.

Or perhaps that was only Jack.

Another door led from the room, the shelving constructed around the frame. A globe stood mounted on a wooden pedestal in the corner nearest Jack, the continents appearing at a quick glance to be the same as those on Earth. A great desk stood at one side of the room, heavy oak and polished by age and use. On the far side of the desk, King Ferick stood in front of a stuffed leather chair. On the other side, Delcina sat in another chair with leather upholstery, the smaller cousin to the king’s, facing the desk at an angle. Two more empty chairs faced the desk at opposite angles.

Delcina’s face was a mask of barely calmed fury. Jack couldn’t tell where the fury was directed, but he didn’t think he wanted to be anywhere in the vicinity when it hit. He took a step backwards, bumping into Aidan as the latter closed the door. Jack was trapped.

“Jack,” the king said, a broad smile separating his perfectly groomed beard and mustache. “Please, come take a seat.” He pointed to the chair nearest Delcina’s. Jack moved to the chair carefully, giving the beautiful girl the kind of space he might give a sleeping copperhead. He sat, his gaze going between the king and the princess.

“I suppose in a more perfect situation, I would have had this discussion with the two of you last night. I apologize. I had to make arrangements quickly.”

“Why?” Jack asked. Behind him, standing at parade rest at the door, Aidan coughed.

“As I was telling Delcina, it’s complicated. Matters of state.”

“Well, no offense intended to either of you, sir. Your highness. I think your daughter is beautiful and sharp as a tack, no denying either. I’d like to get to know her better, but I don’t even turn eighteen until September. I’m too young to be getting married. I reckon I ought to establish myself first in a trade or something before even considering marriage.”

Aidan coughed several times. Jack wondered if someone should offer the guard a glass of water.

The king scowled and snorted. “Delcina, did I actually hear this young man turn you down for marriage?”

Delcina sighed. “What did I tell you, father? You have to admit that this proposal would be shocking to a young man even if they’d been brought up here, let alone a foreigner. No offense intended, Jack.”

Jack shrugged. He didn’t see “foreigner” as any kind of slight.

The king raised an eyebrow. “But I doubt many young men would turn down such an offer, even if it took them by surprise.”

Jack looked between the two of them. “Did you know about this, Delcina?”

She shook her head. “It was as much a surprise to me as to you. I do not intend to question the king’s wisdom in this matter, only expressing my surprise.”

The king shook his head. “All I…” he began, and then clenched his eyes shut, as if fighting off pain. Delcina seemed as mystified by the King’s behavior as Jack. When the king opened his eyes again, he resumed his previous smile. “All I want is for the offer to stand for the time being. Jack, I’ll take your comment as an expression of concern, not refusal. Think about it for a while. Give it a few days. How about that?”

“That’s all?” Jack asked. “I mean…” He looked at Delcina. Her face was no longer furious. If he didn’t know better, she looked almost hurt. Jack sighed. “Look, I ain’t a sophisticated guy. I don’t know flowery words, and I ain’t all that smart. I reckon you got all that and then some. This just ain’t how I want to get married, and I ain’t ready yet. It’ll take more than a few days for that to change. And as much as I like you, we don’t hardly know each other yet. But if y’all want me to take more time, that’s okay by me. I just wish I knew why, especially since it sounds like some folks are pretty pissed off at me right now.”

It was Delcina’s turn to laugh, a sweet and sincere bell-like laugh that made Jack smile even as it threatened to break his heart. “Jack, I…” She turned to her father. “Is this acceptable, your majesty? In fact, Jack and I could continue the charade of courtship while you see your plan through to its fruition.”

The king smiled. “I find it perfectly acceptable.”

The side-door opened, and the queen came out with a silver try with four cups filled with a beverage with little sticks in them and bits of fruit on top. She glanced around the room approvingly. For some reason, she made Jack think of Jessabelle. He didn’t know why…she didn’t resemble his long-time neighbor. She asked, “Has the situation already been resolved?”

The king nodded. “For now, I believe.”

She laughed. “Did he accept?”

“He is willing to not reject the offer immediately.”

The queen set the tray on the desk. “I thought this might ease negotiations.” She took the first drink off the tray and served it to the King. Jack still felt he should know the woman, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember where he’d seen her before. Was it possible she had a twin back in his own world, maybe a famous actress that Jack couldn’t place? For that matter, could there be another Delcina? Maybe Jack himself had a twin running around on this world. Whatever the case, the queen didn’t seem a whole lot older than himself. The king might have robbed the cradle with Delcina’s step-mother.

The queen handed drinks to Jack and Delcina and took one of her own. Jack sniffed the drink. It smelled of fruit, cinnamon, and wine. “What is this?” he asked.

“Spiced wine, of course.”

Jack nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.” One drink wouldn’t hurt, would it? He thought of his father, the violent alcoholic. His mother, who descended into the bottle in her grief. You can’t miss what you have never tried, he’d once heard. The king and queen took a sip. Jack looked studiously at the bookshelves. Feigning a sudden fascination wasn’t really a lie, now, was it?

Delcina watched him and looked at the bookshelf, too.

The king took another sip, smiling at the queen, and then looked at the two young people in front of him. “We’ll announce tomorrow that you have established a courtship, but no engagement decision has yet been made. That should work perfectly.”

“For what?” Jack asked again.

Aidan coughed again. Jack considered offering the guard his drink.

“It’s complicated,” the king said. “Matters of state.” He repeated the same words he’d said before, almost like a recording.

“Speaking of which,” the queen added, “We’ve much more to do tonight.”

The king nodded. “Thank you, Jack. And Delcina, I know I haven’t been the greatest father…” He closed his eyes again, pausing for a long moment. The queen stared at him, but did not appear alarmed. The king opened his eyes and offered a thin, fatigued smile. “I love you. Please forgive me.”

Delcina stood, and Jack stood with her. “Of course, father,” she said. With that, she turned toward the large oak entrance. Jack walked with her, and Aidan opened the door for them. Aidan cast an open-eyed look at Jack and breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief that only Jack could see.

Before they exited, the queen said, “Aidan? Could we have some words with you? I’m sure Delcina and our esteemed guest don’t need you to escort them at the moment.” Aidan nodded. He stayed behind, closing the door behind Jack and Delcina.

* * *

The halls outside the king’s study were surprisingly empty. Perhaps with the evening’s uproar, the guard had been ordered to keep everyone out. Jack and Delcina made their way to the stairway, and then Jack turned to face the princess. His throat tightened, and he didn’t know what to say. He settled for, “Look, I’m really, really sorry. It ain’t that I don’t like you or anything. I really do. I wish we could, you know, get to know each other or something first.”

Delcina stopped and steadied herself against the post at the bottom of the stairs. “You are quite the romantic, Jack Parsons.”

“Romantic? No, ma’am. I’m afraid there ain’t much of a romantic bone in my body.”

She looked at him, and he saw the streaks on her cheeks. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “You do realize that upon the death of my father, I am to be queen and ruler of the country, don’t you? If you’d said yes, you could have been father to my heir and my closest counselor.”

Jack turned his eyes heavenward. “Well, now that you done put it that way, maybe I should go back in there and change my answer!”

She made an unladylike snort. “Don’t you dare! Seriously, Jack, I don’t know many people who would have laid that opportunity aside.”

“Maybe you ought to get to know more people.”

She laughed, wiping her eyes again. “Maybe I should. I’m sorry you were dragged into this. I have no idea at what kind of game my father is playing. I don’t know how I’m supposed to be an effective heir if I’m left out of these crucial actions. I understand there is plenty of time to learn about that, and perhaps right now my job really is to be a pawn in the political game, but… Damn it all, this is my life he’s talking about.” She immediately put her hand to her mouth. “Pardon me.”

“Sure. That ain’t nothing where I come from. You hear much worse in the ten minutes between classes in high school.”

“Your life sounds so strange, Jack. I would like to visit your world sometime.”

“I would love for you to see it, Delcina. I mean, it ain’t a castle or anything like that.”

“That’s okay. I’ve seen castles.”

“At least we got indoor plumbing, so you don’t have to use them chamber pots.”

“We have indoor plumbing.”

“Not in my room!”

She laughed and said, “We’ll have to see that you get moved to more appropriate quarters, then.”

“Okay. Well, we do got some pretty good movies. And airplanes. Not that I ever been in one. And ice cream, if you ain’t got that here.”

“I have no idea what those things are. But they sound wonderful.”

“Maybe when all this mess is cleared up, you can come. You know, for a visit or something. Make it an official state visit or whatnot.”

She took his hand. Jack’s heart raced as he stared first at her hand, and then into her eyes. They were kind of spooky, but in a mysterious, deliriously attractive way. She leaned closer and half-whispered, “Jack, I’m in no hurry to be married off, either.”

Jack smiled and whispered back, “So we’re both okay on that account?”

She nodded. “As heir, even today I am not completely free in the choice of my future husband. I want you to know that if you had accepted… Well, I wouldn’t have considered it the worst of fates.”

Jack nodded back. “I don’t reckon it would have been for me, either.”

She glanced around the hallway, then raised her head and kissed him on the cheek. “Yes, we’re both fine on that account.”

Jack returned to his quarters feeling considerably lighter. She’d kissed him. He wasn’t being forced to be married. Some noblemen might hate him, but who cared about them? They could go pound sand as far as he was concerned. And who knew? Maybe in a few years, if she was still available and they still felt good about each other, maybe something really could work out. It was a long shot, but if he could survive the most dangerous giant in the land and win the affection of the most beautiful girl, then maybe anything was possible. Jack fell asleep in his bed feeling like he was the luckiest guy in two worlds.

He woke up early in the morning to Bachan’s sword-tip at his throat.

Jessabelle hitchhiked to the cemetery in Callan. When the truck pulled off to the side of the road, the big man with the scraggly beard who offered her a ride didn’t exactly feel safe. Even knowing that she was probably far more dangerous to anyone giving her a ride than they were to her, or that she’d been in far more dangerous situations in just the last two days, didn’t slow the pounding of her heart. How anyone could do this without being armed or able to turn into a giant hunting cat baffled her.

The man’s name was Mike. After looking up the name of the place on his phone, Mike said, “That ain’t even a community, that’s like somebody’s field west of Cascade. You sure you want to go there?”

Jessabelle nodded emphatically. “I’m going there to visit the grave of an old friend,” she said. Technically, Debra was her grandma’s old friend, but Mike probably wouldn’t care. The driver spoke about his little fishing boat, his kids, and his wife in that order. Jessabelle listened and nodded over the fifteen-minute drive. Then Mike pulled off to the side of the road and pointed to a dirt road heading up the hill. He shrugged and said, “I reckon this is it, right up yonder. I’ll ask again, you sure this is where you need to be?”

Jessabelle nodded and tried to give him the remaining twenty-dollar bill from her jacket. He shook his head and said, “No, I ain’t an Uber. You pay your respects and have a good day, okay?”

Jessabelle smiled and thanked him as she got out of the truck. He gave her one more wave and drove off. She turned and made the hike up the dirt road.

Callan consisted of only four buildings and an overgrown cemetery. The cemetery’s headstones were small but uniform, as if everyone had died all at once and been given matching, plain marble slabs to decorate their evenly spaced graves. A much larger construction, a vault, sat out-of-place in the center of the cemetery. She was too far away to read the nameplate over the mortared stones sealing the entrance, but she was willing to bet the discolored brass read, “Arnot.”

Of the four buildings opposite the graveyard, a barn and neighboring farmhouse were approaching a state of ruin. One side of the barn’s roof had collapsed, and the damage seemed several months old. The farmhouse’s windows were boarded up, and the yard was overgrown with weeds and tall grass. A white house seemed far better maintained, though it had few features to make it look like anyone’s home. The lawn had been largely destroyed in patches beneath the trees where the leaves hadn’t been raked for at least a year. There were no lights on in the house, and no cars in the driveway. The faded numbers on the mailbox matched those of the address in the documentation Jessabelle had stolen from Bowman. Jessabelle stepped up onto the property, walked along the overgrown rocks to the front door and knocked. Nobody answered. She tried the handle on the storm door, but it was securely locked..

The last building in the abandoned community was a shed behind the white house, easily large enough to be a single-car garage. Wires crossed the property from the roof of the house to the roof of the shed. It, too, was securely locked, but one of the boards making up the wall was loose. Jessabelle nudged it with her foot, and then bent down and yanked until the gap was wide enough for a small animal to get through. Jessabelle became a small animal and squirmed inside.

A tiny glow near a switch cast microscopic illumination in the interior of the shed, but it was enough for her cat’s eyes. It also proved that someone was still paying the electricity bill. The building was a storage room, filled with tools and shelving. Three shovels, a pair of pickaxes, and two sledgehammers hung on hooks on the wall. Two tall, steel safes stood against the wall she’d slipped through. She’d seen a few of these in Maple Bend…gun cabinets. Next to them, a wooden trunk was stacked with some kind of clothing and a cardboard box. Turning back to the front door, the glow glinted off a metal latch mechanism. Could she just open it from this side? She risked transforming into the girl.

She immediately regretted it. Jessabelle-the-girl was almost blind in this room. She fumbled for the light switch and flipped it on. Sterile florescent light flooded the room, revealing a storage space kept scrupulously clean in spite of its outward appearance. Under the harsh glare, more details revealed themselves. The shovels and pickaxes were in pristine condition, having never bit into solid ground. A pair of machetes also hung on the wall above the other tools. A shelf opposite the front door contained two dozen vials of some brownish liquid. She picked up a vial and held it to the light. It looked like a small perfume-bottle, marked with a date of October of the previous year. Tiny confetti-like bits of matter swirled suspended in the liquid.

She took the lid off and smelled the substance. The earthy smell wasn’t terrible, but it didn’t smell good, either. These were definitely not perfume. The smell reminded her of Hattie’s healing juices. She replaced the lid and put the vial in her pocket.

The cardboard box was already open and filled with individually wrapped, industrial-sized glow sticks. Instructions on how to bend and shake the glow sticks to activate them were printed on the plastic wrapper, with translations in three different languages. The clothing on top of the trunk proved to be a stack of black vests. The vests were heavy, weighing over five pounds each, made of a thick, semi-hard material. A tiny tag on the inside of the vest read, “Ballistic: NIJ Level II, Stab: Level I.”

She moved the box and vests onto the floor and opened the trunk. Her eyes widened at the plastic-wrapped packages inside, all labeled “First Strike Ration.” She flipped one over and read the contents. After reading the words, “Sandwich: Bacon Cheddar,” she tore the packaging. The resilient plastic wrap slowed her down, but she removed a machete from the wall and used its edge to cut through the material. It took her only a few minutes to scarf the entire contents, which proved amazingly filling. She hadn’t eaten since the coffee shop, and she’d transformed several times. After being hungry much of the day, a full belly was a welcome change.

She considered her next move. Assuming the crossroads really existed here, what if she found herself in a dungeon just like the one in Josie and Burke’s basement, and the crossroads went only one way? She grabbed some glow sticks and shoved them inside a jacket pocket. The rations were too big even for her jacket pockets, proving they had their limits. She scooped two of them out of the trunk and shoved them under her arm, then pulled a pickaxe off the wall. If the other side was enclosed, maybe this would give her a chance to break through!

She unlatched the door. Immediately the keypad beside the door lit up, with a thirty second countdown. A beeper sounded every second. Next to the countdown timer, the display read, “Disarm Code:” Jessabelle had never seen anything like this except on television. Was the shed going to self destruct? Was it going to set off an alarm and notify the police?

In her mad dash out of the shed before the countdown hit zero, she dropped one of the ration packets. The pickaxe slowed her down, but she wasn’t about to let it go, and it was too large to transform with her. Behind her, no bomb went off, and nobody rushed out of the house after her. She didn’t hear police sirens, which she took as a good sign. She slowed to a fast walk and continued across the street into the graveyard.

The tomb had a clear entrance, an arched doorway that led nowhere, blocked with white stone. She’d never used a pickaxe before, but after setting the remaining food ration down, she tried her level best. Her first clumsy hit nearly missed the seal by coming short, chipping the stone in a glancing hit and continuing down to bite the concrete foundation inches from her foot. She dropped the handle and stepped back, breathing heavily. She stared at the tool, coming up with a new plan. Picking it back up, she turned sideways to the door, stepped back, and took a swing that fit somewhere between the swings of a golf club and a baseball bat. The pick took another chunk out of the stone.

On the second hit, the stone cracked. On the third, the stone proved to be heavily mortared bricks painted on one side. Several swings later, there was little left of the seal but a pile of brown and white rubble. She took a moment to rest, but then she heard the cars. It was impossibly soon from the moment she’d triggered the alarm, but five large vehicles pulled up the road. Hesitating only to grab the pickaxe and abandoning the ration, she ducked inside the tomb.

The tomb was little more than an empty concrete room five feet wide and twelve feet deep. The entryway faced northeast, opposite of the late-afternoon sun, so the far wall was hard to see, but she felt what was there. The prickling sensation returned as she drew close, just as she’d encountered above Maple Bend and in Josie’s basement. There was a crossroads. Jessabelle reminded herself that if she went through, she’d never be able to come out.

Outside, she heard shouts. One way or the other, she was trapped. She’d made her decision hours ago. The shouting men behind her simply gave her the will to take the final action. Turning to the rear wall, she focused on the tingling sensation, and what lay beyond. She stepped forward into the wall and kept moving. After an eyeblink of time sensing absolutely nothing between worlds, she emerged in a lightless place, filled with the smell of dust and stone.

Jessabelle fought back panic. This dungeon was drier than the one Burke had been trapped in, with a flat, man-made stone floor, but she felt no tingly sensation of a nearby crossroad. There was no escape back to her world. With trembling fingers, she reached for a glow stick. Snapping and shaking it illuminated part of the bare room around her with a surprising amount of green-yellow light.

She paced along the mortared stone walls, finding it to be about twenty feet square, with a barred doorway and a stairway beyond. The bars were hinged on the other side, but bolted shut by three long iron bars encased in thick iron housings, and mounted into heavy hooks along the wall. If the housings were well-oiled, and she doubted it, someone on the other side could readily open pull the hooks free and unbar the door. From this side, it would take someone with impossibly long, flexible arms to do the same. It would take hours to break through it with the pickaxe. Only a small child could fit through the bars.

However, a cat or panther could escape with ease. Was that why the Coven had pursed them in the first place? She transformed into the cat, unsurprised to discover the pickaxe did not transform with her. On the other side of the bars, she changed back into the girl, and she stepped carefully up a short set of the stairs, guided by the light of the glow stick. She didn’t want to startle anyone on the other side by appearing anything other than human. She was looking for allies.

At the top of the stairs, she encountered a thin hallway to the right. A few feet farther, it turned in a ‘U’ shape back the way she had come, and light drifted back from the far end. Twenty feet farther, iron gratings above let the waning sunlight drift in and illuminate the pit and the doorway ten feet beyond.

“Don’t move!” a man’s voice said from the other side of the pit. Neither the light from her glow stick nor the limited sunlight illuminated the speaker, but her ears picked up the motion of at least three people. “Drop your weapon.”

Jessabelle doubted they had detected the revolver in her pocket. “What weapon?” She called back.

“The wand in your hand!”

“Wand?” She realized they meant the glow stick and let it fall to her feet. It rolled diagonally, stopped by the wall before it tumbled into the pit. “Who are you?” She asked.

“We are the Gateway Guard of the Wardens. Now identify yourself!”

“Jessabelle Rose.”

“Jessabelle Rose of what? Whom do you serve? How did you find the gateway?”

“I’m here to warn you that the Coven is fixin’ to come through to get the man in the white suit’s daughter. There are men coming through any minute now.”

“Impossible!”

A second man spoke. “Extend the ramp. We’ll find out if she’s lying.”

“She can’t be telling the truth,” the first voice said.

A third voice, older and calmer, came from the hallway beyond the pit. “If she cannot provide proof, then she dies.”

“Choose your words carefully, young Jack,” Bachan said. “I will know if you lie. Did you kill King Ferik?”

Jack didn’t think this was very funny, but he kept his body still. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Answer!”

“Of course not. We all talked, and then he offered us some drinks and sent us to bed.”

Bachan inched the tip of the blade away from Jack’s throat. “You shared drinks with the King?”

“Yeah, and the Queen. Aidan was there, too. Nothing happened.”

“Who prepared the drinks?”

“What? I don’t know. I reckon the Queen did. She brought them in. Why? What happened?”

Bachan sighed. “The King and Queen were both poisoned. The King is dead, and the Queen is possibly on her deathbed.”

Jack restrained himself from shaking his head or making any other move due to the proximity of the sword-tip. “That ain’t possible. Everything was fine when we left. You can ask Aidan. He stayed behind.”

“I would if we could find him, Jack.” Bachan withdrew the sword, but didn’t sheath it. “For what it is worth, I am inclined to believe you. In the short time I’ve known you, I know you tell the truth to a fault, but this is something anyone would lie about. I am required by my office to question all suspects, and you are at the top of the list.”

Jack sat up in bed. “Because I’m a foreigner.”

“In part, yes. But that’s secondary to your position as potential consort-to-the-heir.”

Jack shook his head. “That ain’t happening. That’s what I told the King last night, but he asked me to think about it a few more days.”

“Did Delcina drink?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. I wasn’t really paying…” His eyes grew wide. “Delcina! Is she okay?”

“Yes, she was the first person we found. We have her in custody now. Go ahead and get dressed.”

Jack sighed with relief and pulled clothes on. Pausing before throwing on his shirt, he asked, “You mean like protective custody, right?”

“That, too.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at the older man. “You ain’t saying she’s a suspect too?”

Bachan nodded. “I am. And while I doubt her innocence even less than yours, I am not the final judge. The rumor is that with your betrothal…”

“I told you, that ain’t happening.”

Bachan scowled. “That is immaterial. As of this morning, the King’s pronouncement is still official. By legal precedent, this means the king considered the princess to be of maturity to take the throne. And even if the scheme was not yours, one could certainly make the case that you could be convinced to take action to secure your own proximity to power.”

“Yeah, if I was that stupid.” Jack mulled this over. He liked Delcina, but he had to admit he didn’t know her that well. Could she have arranged for her own father’s murder, framing Jack? It made devious sense. He didn’t want to believe it, and he certainly didn’t like being the top suspect. “If Delcina and I were out of the picture, who would benefit? What about the queen?”

“Queen Taliel? She occupies an unusual position. If she lives, she’s dowager queen. She has already been approved to act as limited regent until an heir assumes the throne, but that has little authority beyond the palace and the royal family other than having a vote and a half on the Council of Lords. However, she was also poisoned and may not survive the morning. That makes her involvement unlikely. Beyond that, there is a long list of those with some claim on the throne.”

“What if the murderer’s goal wasn’t to take the throne?”

Bachan said nothing. Jack continued to get dressed, warily watching Bachan’s blade. Bachan didn’t make any move to sheathe it, and Jack remembered all too well the lethal skill the captain had shown during his training. At length, Bachan said, “It is true, there may be other motives for regicide. Now, please indulge me and tell me everything you remember of your meeting with the king last night.”

“Didn’t Delcina already…”

“I want to hear it in your own words, please. Be as objective and as complete as possible.”

Jack told the story to Bachan. At the end, Bachan swore. “We really need to find Aidan.”

“So what now?”

“Now, I am afraid I have to put you under arrest. You are to have a guard outside your door, and you are not to leave this room.”

“When can I see Delcina? Or Rumela?”

“I don’t know, Jack. Give us time. I promise you, we’ll solve this. Justice will be served, and the king will be avenged. I don’t care if the culprit is my own dear mother, I will see justice done.”

* * *

Jack stayed within the room for two days, with no communication with anyone but the guards. The Royal Guards watched the door for the first day and were at least cordial with him. The servants who brought him food and changed his chamber pot refused to speak to him, seemingly terrified to be in his presence. By the second day, Jack thought he was going crazy cooped up in his room. It was stuffy and hot during the day, and not much larger than his bedroom back home. There were only so many calisthenics he could perform, and he already stank of sweat.

The guards who escorted the servant the second night did not wear the uniform of the Royal Guards. The maid dropped off a plate of supper on Jack’s table and quickly left under the smirking gaze of one of the new guards.

“What’s with the uniform change?” Jack asked.

The man leered at him. “Oh, yeah. You wouldn’t have heard. They found the evidence. You and your friends are going to face the headsman before the week is out.”

“What? What evidence?”

“The queen recovered. She said you and the princess poisoned them with help from Bachan. That one guard, Aidan, tried to warn them, but they found his body with the princess’s knife buried in his back.”

“That’s a lie! None of that is true!”

The man laughed. “Just what a guilty man would say. Your Royal Guard friends can’t help you. As for me, I am gonna enjoy watching your foreigner head roll off your shoulders.” He closed the door and locked it with a louder jingle of keys than was necessary. Jack buried his head against the pillows and tried to ignore the sound of the guards’ laughter outside the door.

He forced himself to think critically. He had faced almost certain death once this week already. He had no idea how he was going to get out of this one. At least not yet. The window was too small for him to slide through, and he was pretty sure Jenny’s protection amulet was used up and wouldn’t protect him from either a fall or a headsman’s axe. He fell asleep without coming up with any clever ideas.

Long after dark, he awoke to the sound of keys in the lock. Jack sat up in confusion, which only grew as the queen stepped into the room with a lantern. “Leave us,” she said to the guards.

“But your majesty…”

“I will be fine, I promise. Go downstairs. I will call for you when I am done.”

The men nodded and left. The queen didn’t bother closing the door behind her. She stared at Jack with merciless brown eyes. Jack imagined most men would squirm under such a gaze which made him all the more determined that he would not. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Why did you kill him?” Jack asked.

She ignored his question. “Where is the gateway, Jack?” she asked. Her voice was only distantly related to the woman who had spoken in the king’s library two nights before. This voice made ice water run through his veins and a frigid tentacle slither up his spine. A primal fear ripped through his guts. He’d felt this way once before, and not long ago. He’d reacted the same way when he first saw the man in the white suit.

“You’re his daughter!” Jack exclaimed. “The gal everyone thinks is locked up out in Morgantown. All this time, it was you!”

Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. For a flickering instant, her face showed fear, and she cast her eyes to the open doorway where no one could overhear their conversation. Her face contorted in fury and her eyes bored into Jack’s. She stepped closer. “Tell me! Where is the gateway? The crossroads? The way back to your world? Tell me what you know!”

Jack felt something else sweep through his insides, like another dose of ice water. He shook his head. “Lady, I already know you are planning on having me killed. Why would I tell you something like that?”

Queen Taliel reached forward. Jack flinched as she caught hold of the used-up amulet around his neck. Her lips curled into a vicious smile, and she held the amulet like a noose and stared into his eyes. From somewhere in her clothing, she produced a tiny knife and sliced the leather cord. Casting the amulet into the corner, she touched the knife tip just under his chin. “Now, Jack, tell me how to find the crossroads you came through.”

Jack didn’t dare move his head. He didn’t even want to speak, for fear of the blade. He tried not to swallow. The queen grew more infuriated. She withdrew the knife. “You are impressively resistant to magic,” she said.

Jack’s heart beat a drum solo. He didn’t say anything.

The queen’s smile had no warmth in it. “Very well. You win. If you cannot be compelled by my magic, I must negotiate with you. You truly are sweet on Delcina, aren’t you? Here is my offer. Tell me how to get to the crossroads, and I will let the two of you free. Resist, and you will watch her slowly tortured to death. Very painfully. I will make you watch and listen to her every scream, her every shriek, make you smell her burning flesh, and set the pieces of her that we tear off one by one in front of you so you can see her beauty die a piece at a time. We will spare her tongue, so you can hear her curse you as she begs for mercy, knowing that you could have saved her. And then, when Zainus finds the crossroads somewhere near that village where he found you, my offer will be completely withdrawn. We will capture anyone standing in our way, and you will witness their painful executions, one by one. You will be the last to die, knowing you completely failed your friends and allies in every respect.”

Jack gulped.

Taliel called for the guards and then turned her attention back to Jack. “I’ve been patient long enough. Unless you have something to tell me right now, let’s find you a comfortable chair in the torture chamber.”

The guards took their sweet time opening the bars on their doorway and sliding a metal-reinforced bridge across the pit. By the time they let Jessabelle over the bridge, Jessabelle expected to hear the Coven behind her. The way behind was silent, but two more guardsmen had joined the original three. One picked up her glow-stick while the others cast strange glances at it.

They escorted her down another set of stairs into a walled courtyard. Two of the men walked behind her, rifles with affixed bayonets trained on her the entire time. Two others walked beside her with short swords drawn. The man with her glow-stick walked in front of them all. He was younger and wasn’t one of the three original voices she’d heard. He all but ignored her, walking with almost a bounce to his step.

She was his prize, like a hunting trophy. Jessabelle was getting really tired of being that.

An older man, unarmored but wearing a more ornate uniform, greeted them in the courtyard. He looked to be in his early thirties, with a hawk-like nose and thick brown sideburns under what looked like a cross between a top hat and a cowboy hat.

The guard who led their party said, “This is the woman we caught sneaking through the gateway, sir!”

Jessabelle stuck out her chin. “I wasn’t sneaking.”

The officer looked her up and down. “Are you a witch?”

The young lead guard said, “Of course she is! See her wand!” He held out the glow stick to his superior. The sky had darkened while she’d waited for the guards, so the glow was visible, but not dramatic.

The officer accepted the glow-stick and examined it. He nodded to the guard and said, “Good work, Johnston. So who did you leave guarding the gateway against the likelihood of reinforcements?”

The guard blanched. “Uh…” he began. “We thought it best to bring her to you under maximum guard, sir. She’s dangerous.”

The officer said, “Your decision is noted. Everyone but Chesterton is dismissed. Return to your posts immediately.”

Everyone in the group but one rifleman saluted and moved hastily back into the bunker. The officer turned back to Jessabelle. “I am Lieutenant Aubrey. And you are?”

“Jessabelle Rose. I done told them.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Jessabelle. So, to repeat my question, are you a witch?”

“No.”

“And the wand?” He held the yellow-green illuminated stick up for emphasis.

“It’s just a glow-stick. It’s got chemicals inside it that glow. It will die out in a few hours.”

He examined the stick, shaking it slightly, and gave it back to her. “Very well. So will you please explain why you came through the gateway?”

“I came to warn y’all. There is another crossroads open, and Thadeus and the Coven are trying to get through.”

The officer shook his head. “Who? Thadeus? A coven?”

“Thadeus is the name of the man my family calls the man in the white suit. He’s the one exiled from ‘Round the Bend. This side of the crossroads. They are coming to try and get his daughter.”

“Ah, you mean Lilah, the daughter of the ancient devil, Hothlurian the Undying. Of course they are coming for her. That has been their goal for generations. They will fail. My men are well-trained, and as you saw, the blockhouse is designed to be the death of any who would dare come through the gateway. As to Hothlurian’s spawn, Lilah is all but dead herself, entombed within a fortress, guarded by an army.”

The name was new, but it sounded like they were talking about the same guy. “What do you mean she is all but dead?”

“Like her father, we cannot slay her. Not permanently. But almost fifty years ago, she fell into a deep slumber from which she has never awakened. Perhaps she never will.” His face darkened and his eyes pierced hers. “Is this the intelligence you were seeking for your allies?”

“Allies? I done told you I ain’t with them. I was running from them not twenty minutes ago, and I came here to warn you. Not only are they behind me, they are also trying to break in through a crossroads near my house.”

He raised a bushy eyebrow. “Your house?”

“Yes. Y’all need to send soldiers and witches or whatever else you got out there to help my grandma and make sure none of those witches get through to ‘Round the Bend.”

The officer chuckled. “Your grandma?”

“I ain’t lying! Look, the whole reason I came here was to make sure y’all were warned. It’s the only thing I could think of doing that might stop Thadeus or Hoth-whatever you call him. If y’all do something about it, then we might be safe.”

“From his daughter?”

“Right!”

“And so where are we to send our soldiers?”

“Maple Bend! I guess it used to be called Blood Creek. If y’all can show me a map, I’ll show you where it is.”

Lieutenant Aubrey shook his head. “A map? Let me see if I understand you correctly. I am supposed to tell my superiors to send out the remainder of our forces to some location because some young woman pointed it out on a map? I’m afraid I will need more than this.”

Jessabelle exhaled in frustration. “I know it sounds stupid, but this is important. Look, if y’all go there, y’all will have all the proof you need.”

He waved to a small house inside the wall. “Come, join me.”

She followed him with Chesterton the guard behind her. A soldier opened the door for all three of them. Aubrey motioned to an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair in front of a desk. Jessabelle sat. Aubrey slid a similar chair out from behind the desk and took a seat. Behind him, the fortress surrounding the crossroads gleamed red against the dark, hilly horizon as the last rays of the sun struck it. Chesterton took a more relaxed position behind her, setting the butt of his weapon on the floor with a solid “thunk” of wood-on-wood.

Aubrey called for an aide to light the two lamps in the office as the light from Jessabelle’s glow stick overwhelmed the remaining light of dusk. After the aide finished the errand and departed the room, Aubrey filled two tumblers on the desk from the liquid from a decanter beside them. “Drink?” he asked.

Jessabelle absently nodded her head, and he handed her a tumbler with only a small amount of liquid in the bottom. She took a swallow and the burning liquid made her choke.

He took the glass from Jessabelle’s hand as she coughed and set it back on the desk. “Not much of a drinker, are you?” he said.

Jessabelle blinked away the embryonic tears in her eyes. “I didn’t realize it was alcoholic.”

Aubrey grunted and downed the contents of his glass, then put it down. “I find it helps lubricate discussions. All discussions, really.” He turned toward the window and waved at the growing darkness beyond. “You know, you are not the first girl to come through that gateway.”

“I’m not? Who else came? I hope you caught her!”

He nodded his head. “It was a long time ago—well over forty years, as a matter of fact. A predecessor of mine handled it, Lucas Zellan. They renamed this place after him—Fort Zellan. As I heard the story, the poor girl was even more confused than you.”

“What did they do to her?”

He shrugged. “They questioned her and then set her free. There’s no going back that way, and all the other gateways are sealed. I don’t know where she went. Probably married off to a local merchant and had a family. She may still be around.”

“Why do you think she married a merchant and had a family?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” His logic baffled Jessabelle.

“Do you remember her name?”

He shook his head. “Maybe it will come to me before morning. I’ll let you know if it does.”

“What happens in the morning?”

“We’ll send you off to headquarters. You can tell my superior what you told me, and then she can decide whether or not you are not a threat.”

“And if I am?”

The lieutenant looked like he was about to answer, but instead picked up the decanter and poured more drink into his glass. “Would you like some more?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No. I want to talk to your superior. I want to talk to someone willing to…” She hesitated at the muffled popping noises outside. The window in the office looked over the bunker, but nothing seemed to have changed. “What was that?”

The lieutenant put the drink down and crossed to the window. “That almost sounded like gunfire,” he said. Another popping sound came from the bunker, much deeper and louder.

Jessabelle stood. “They followed me through the crossroads!”

“Perhaps. Stay here, young lady. Chesterton, rouse the troops and meet me at the entrance to the blockhouse.”

The officer, his aide, and the guard left the building, and Jessabelle watched them from the window. At the moment, everything seemed calm and normal. The stars above framed the blockhouse, and except for some soldiers converging on the entrance, nothing seemed to have changed. Lieutenant Aubrey ran forward and called orders to the men. They arranged themselves into lines outside the entrance to the blockhouse with the front line down on one knee.

For several minutes, nothing happened. Then men began falling over, accompanied by the somewhat less muffled popping sounds. Aubrey shouted as flashes and thunder exploded from the soldier’s rifles, splitting the night. More soldiers fell, and the others stumbled back, and then ran. Lieutenant Aubrey shouted “Hold the line! Hold the line! Return fire!” Suddenly, he grabbed at his throat with both hands, stumbled, and fell to the ground.

Figures appeared from the entrance to the blockhouse, carefully positioning themselves as they exited and dispersed, seeking cover as they moved under the lamp light. Wearing the black vests Jessabelle had found in the shed, and armed with modern semi-automatic rifles, they fired at the retreating soldiers. A group of a dozen reinforcements burst out of a nearby building to rush the intruders, shouting battle cries and firing at their half-seen opponents. The Coven’s forces mowed the entire group down in a hail of gunfire.

Jessabelle counted how many of the paramilitary types issued out of the blockhouse. She’d counted eight when a bullet shattered the window in front of her. She reeled away from the broken glass before realizing the round had shattered her, too. She stumbled and fell to the floor as blood leaked down her shirt and stained her daddy’s leather jacket.

* * *

Jessabelle lay on the floor for several seconds, life draining out of her, as she tried to decide what to do. She could transform. That often healed minor wounds, but in the last month she’d learned her limitations. Still, she had to try it while she had the strength to do so…

The effort darkened her vision into a tunnel and pain stabbed deep into her shoulder. Deep inside her and far away, the cat and the panther shrieked. The girl screamed. She blinked at the tears, taking shallow breaths. She’d try again. She just had to gather her strength and be prepared for the pain.

In her haze of desperation, she thought of the potion from the shed. It had smelled a little like Hattie’s healing potion, hadn’t it?

Her right hand still worked. Her left arm hurt to move. The muscles all over the left side of her body hurt to move. She reached into the pocket of the jacket. Next to the revolver was the vial with the earthy-smelling liquid. The seal had already been broken, so she just had to unscrew the lid. She tried to make her left hand move across her body, crawling its way to assist so she didn’t have to use any muscles in her shoulder, but her hand was slick with blood. After many tries, her hands shaking, she finally undid the lid. The room slewed around her. She slurped at the liquid and coughed, but choked it down.

She’d taken too much time, and grew weaker by the moment. It was everything she could do to fight the encroaching darkness and the overwhelming desire to take a nap. Just for a few moments…

It was the pain that pulled her back into consciousness. Pain and heat, centered around her left shoulder. It hurt so much more than the gunshot had. Lethargy was all that kept her from screaming again. She felt her heart, distant and wheezing like her lungs, kick into overdrive. The heat and pain grew and filled her entire body. For a moment she wondered if the vials had contained some kind of acid, and she’d killed herself by filling her veins with it before the gunshot killed her.

Boy, that would be a funny obituary.

She heard blood rushing in her ears, a soundtrack to accompany the pain, but it gradually faded. The pain might have, too, but she couldn’t tell. Tears emerged through her clenched eyelids. If she was crying, did that mean she wasn’t dying?

Men were in the room with her. They sounded as if they were speaking through cotton, but she understood them. “Clear. Nobody but that cat-girl in the building.”

Another voice said, “Looks like she’s still breathing.”

The first voice responded, “You heard the boss. No survivors. That includes the girl. Shoot her in the head and let’s get out of here.”

Jessabelle forced her eyes open. A man hovered on her left, aiming the modern black rifle at her. He looked into her eyes and sighed. “Shit, Tim, she just opened her eyes.”

The other man shook his head. “That doesn’t change anything. Finish her off.” He walked out of the room.

The man standing over her sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Orders.” He leveled the muzzle at her face. She pushed it away with her left hand. The muzzle was hot and burned her fingers, even worse than the pain in her shoulder. But her left arm moved. If she survived the next few seconds, that was a good sign! She let the muzzle burn her hand as her right hand brushed the empty vial aside and sought purchase on something more useful.

“Look, make it easy on yourself.” The man pulled the gun almost gently, but she held onto the muzzle, keeping it pushed aside. The man yanked harder, and the barrel slipped from her blood soaked fingers. Before he could bring the weapon back to bear against her, she raised her revolver and shot him in the face.

It was a terrible, horrible thing that would haunt her forever. She escaped that moment into the panther, suppressing her horror inside the animal mind. Her instincts, terror, and rage served her as she attacked the second soldier returning to the room. She was on him before he could fire, and after the mauling she gave him, biting and clawing the arms he brought up to protect his vital areas, he was unlikely to shoot a gun again, unless he and his fellow soldier had potions of their own. Part of her, probably part of Jessabelle-the-girl, hoped they did. The rest of her didn’t care.

Her limp slowed her run, but she was still faster than anything on two legs. The soldiers had opened the main gate, and she made a break for it before anyone realized what had happened. She was almost out of the glow of the lamplight before the first shots fired. She spotted the little explosion of turf and dirt where a round struck just ahead of her, but then she was part of the night.

The queen hadn’t been kidding about the comfortable chair. It was an ancient leather-padded chair made of well-polished hardwoods. Even the manacles for his wrists and ankles were padded on the inside, yet offered no wiggle room, no matter how much Jack struggled.

“Feel honored. This is for special guests,” the queen explained. “This sort of chair is normally reserved for those deemed too important to show visible marks from their ordeal. A perfect spectator seat.”

The room was part of a stone dungeon somewhere beneath the castle, filled with strange tools and uncomfortable-looking furniture, aside from his chair. Heavy blankets covered the walls along the hallway and stairway leading to the room to muffle sounds. An adjoining hallway contained tiny cells. A gutter ran along the center of the room leading to a drain. Jack tried not to imagine its purpose, but that only made an image grow clearer in his mind.

Queen Taliel flashed a smile at Jack’s discomfort. “The king once told me that this area hadn’t been used since his grandfather’s reign. I’m glad I didn’t let him convert it to a wine cellar.”

Jack twisted one of his wrists until the pain grew too much to bear, and it was clear that his bindings weren’t loosening. He hissed through the pain and glared at Taliel. “So how long you been controlling the king?”

“Since the beginning. I think he realized who I was and what I was doing at times. That’s why he sent you on that suicide mission as soon as he learned where you’d come from, before I could rein him in. He hoped your information would die with you, but you surprised us all by surviving. Not that it mattered that much. I was waiting for word that the gateway was open. You were it. Now it is a matter of narrowing down its location. Your cooperation will expedite matters by several days.”

The door to the chamber opened, and Zainus came in. “We brought the other prisoners down here,” he said. “We might as well let them listen to the show.”

“That was very thoughtful of you,” she said.

“Oh, and a special gift, just for Jack, here,” Zainus said. He pulled Delcina’s knife out and set it on a table built with thick leather straps mounted on chains. “That’s the same knife Jack used to kill the giant. And the one I used to off that fool, Aidan. I figured it ought to work well on Delcina when a blunt instrument won’t suffice.”

“I am certain Castor will appreciate it. As will Jack, no doubt. While I’d love to stay and watch him work, I have a council meeting to attend to. I have to inform them that Jack and Delcina, realizing their guilt, both hanged themselves in their cells rather than face the judgment of the council. They will have to satisfy themselves with Bachan.”

“I cannot linger too long either, your Majesty,” the little man answered and grinned at Jack. “I’ve got to go out and find that gateway of yours. I have a pretty good idea of where to start. I will find it. We really don’t need this animal.” He grabbed an iron chair with leather straps and chains that looked far less comfortable than Jack’s and dragged it over the gutter directly in front of Jack. The chair must have weighed hundreds of pounds, and even with Zainus’s superhuman strength, he struggled.

The queen nodded at the malformed creature. “I have no doubt you will find it swiftly, but gateways are notoriously difficult to locate, even with spells and your people’s sensitivity to magic. I will send word if Jack spares his friends a great deal of suffering and provides us with information to narrow your search. Farewell.” The queen left the room.

Zainus turned to face Jack. “I guess I’ll watch over you while we wait for Castor and his assistant to bring in the lovely princess. Get a good look at her, Jack. She won’t ever be that pretty again.”

Jack stared at him and started shaking. If his arms hadn’t been bound by the manacles on the chair, he would have grabbed Zainus around the throat and choked him to death out of sheer fury. Zainus laughed. “Oh, Jack. I hope I’m back before they are done with you. I can’t wait to personally tear your guts out and show them to you before you die. I’m making that my personal goal this week. A man should have goals, shouldn’t he?”

Jack spoke through clenched teeth. “When I get out of this chair, I will kill you.”

Zainus laughed again. “Oh, it would be fun to see you try without your little charms to protect you. It doesn’t matter if you are immune to fairy magic. I don’t need that to destroy you. Neither does the queen, even when she’s borrowing a human body.”

“Borrowing?”

Zainus made an exaggerated open-mouthed expression and covered his face with his hand. “Oh, did I let out a secret I wasn’t supposed to tell you? Uh-oh. I guess the queen can’t possibly let you go free now, can she? You know too much. Drat. Yes, the queen is the daughter of Hothlurian the Undying, and a witch of your world. She abandoned her immortal body to inhabit her current form, a trick I personally assisted with. It’s a poor substitute, but she’s managed to make the most of it. In a hundred years she’ll hardly have aged a year. Of course, in a hundred years, she and her father will be ruling this world and yours. She’ll have taken her old body back, and you will be ninety-nine years dead, with your skull adorning this chamber as a wall decoration.”

The door opened again, and two huge, well-muscled men came in with Delcina in chains. Unlike Jack, she looked almost regal in a variant of her riding outfit. She had taken care of herself in captivity. Her eyes smoldered, and Jack half expected her to burn her captors to a crisp with the ferocity of her gaze. She fought against them as they bound her to the iron chair.

The older of the two men, with graying hair bound up in a ponytail, nodded to Zainus. Zainus nodded in return, and with a sideways glance at Jack, said, “By the way, Castor, our guest here is going to try to reveal shocking news to you. He thinks the queen is Hothlurian’s daughter.”

Castor glanced up with lidded eyes toward Jack. “I surely hope so. Her promises are no good if she isn’t.”

Zainus laughed. “I left a gift for you on the table. I wish I could stay and watch you work, but I must be off on the queen’s errand. The sooner I’m back, the sooner we can dispose of these two and their friends.”

Castor shrugged. “Don’t hurry on my account. I haven’t had a chance to practice my trade in years, and I’ll be taking my time. They might be hard to recognize, but they’ll still be here a few days from now.”

Zainus offered a jaunty wave, and then left the chamber, closing the door softly behind him. Castor reached over to the table and examined Delcina’s knife. “Nice! Looks really sharp. Is this yours, your highness?”

Delcina didn’t honor him with a response. She held her back straight and her head erect.

Jack spoke. “Delcina, the queen said she’d let us go if I told her where the crossroads were. But I have friends there.”

She turned to look at him. Fury still burned in her eyes, but it wasn’t directed at him. “Don’t you dare, Jack. Don’t you dare say a word.”

“They’ll stop if I tell them.”

“You must not! Especially if she’s truly Hothlurian’s daughter. Don’t you dare!”

Castor and his assistant wedged a thin block of wood under Delcina’s hand. She struggled against them, but there was little she could do. The other man held her hand down while Castor drew the blade. “Yep, this looks pretty sharp!” he said.

“No!” Jack shouted. “No, stop!” He yanked and pulled at the chair, but it barely moved with the tiniest of scrapes on the floor.

Castor shrugged. “Already? I really want to try this out.”

“Jack, no!” Delcina screamed. “Don’t you do it, or I’ll kill you myself, I swear!”

Castor grinned at Jack and shrugged, then turned back to Delcina. Jack couldn’t see what the big man was doing, but after a few seconds he heard the thunk of metal against wood. Delcina screamed. While she caught her breath, Castor said, “Tie off that finger, Bo. Don’t want her to bleed out so soon.”

Jack screamed, his own howls overwhelming Delcina’s breathless sobs. He was going to tell, he realized. Some part of his mind knew they’d be killed once he spilled out his information and was no longer useful to them. But he couldn’t sit there and let them murder Delcina a piece at a time.

Over his cries, he felt as much as heard a muffled crash. Someone else struggling against their bonds? It didn’t fully register. All of his senses were directed toward the two men and the woman in the chair. Jack cried out, “Stop! Quit hurting her, please!”

Castor turned, his fingers and apron now bloodstained. “Yes?” he asked.

Delcina turned to him again, tears streaming down her face. “No, Jack,” she begged. “Don’t tell them anything! Don’t you dare!” She choked back a sob and repeated, “Don’t you dare.”

Jack hesitated. It would be so much easier to be brave for himself. But the princess was being brave for the both of them.

Castor chuckled softly. “This will be an interesting night.” He turned around again. “Good job, Bo. That was a fun experiment, but we need something slower and more painful. Time for the basics.”

Whatever the basics were, he never said. The door beside Jack exploded inward, and Rumela ducked into the room, broken chains attached to her bloody wrists and ankles. “Jack said stop!” she bellowed and charged the two men. While they stared in astonishment, Rumela picked them both up and threw them against the wall. Their bodies made terrible crunching noises on impact before they slumped to the floor.

Rumela turned to Jack, tears in her eyes. “I be sorry, Jack. I was slow. They telled me they was gonna kill you if I moved.”

“It’s okay, Rumela,” Jack said through his tears. “It’s okay. You did good. We need you to get the keys and unlock Delcina and me.”

“How?” she asked.

“I…search them. They locked us up.”

“I gonna get Bachan. He will know what to do.”

“He’s back there too?”

“Yes, back in cages. Zeke too.”

“Okay, yes. Get them if you can. Hurry.”

Rumela said, “I hurry, get help. I not gonna let nobody hurt Jack or pretty girl again!”

* * *

After some crashing noises muffled by the heavy blankets, Bachan, Zeke, and Rumela returned to the torture room. Bachan found the keys on the torturers’ bodies and set first Delcina, and then Jack, free.

“Your finger, your highness!” Bachan exclaimed. “I am so sorry. I have failed you.”

The princess held up her left hand. The stump of her pinky finger was wrapped in bloodstained cloth. She sniffed and said, “If we live through this day and I only lose this finger, I will call myself fortunate. Jack, are you okay?”

“Me? They didn’t touch me.”

Bachan said, “We don’t have much time. The queen has many of the council loyal to her, and I believe much of the army. However, many will join our side once they learn she killed the king. I think I can convince them.”

“There’s more to the truth than that,” Delcina said. “Zainus admitted the queen is the Abomination, Hothlurian’s daughter. The torturers knew it, too.”

“Surely he must have been lying!”

“No, he wasn’t,” Jack said. “I have seen her papa. Hoth-whatever you call him. It’s her, when she drops her act. I think she was trying to bewitch me into telling her about the crossroads, but I guess it doesn’t work on me. I’m resistant to magic, especially when it’s cast by her or Zainus.”

Bachan said, “If true, it will be difficult to convince people of it. However, if we can gain the upper hand, rumors that she is a sorceress could be worked to our advantage. People may switch to our side by claiming she bewitched them.”

“How will you tell if they are lying?”

Bachan shook his head. “We can’t. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Right now, the five of us, and all the Royal Guard, are outlaws. I will rescue the rest of the Royal Guard and try to mount a resistance here. The rest of you need to get to safety. I’m sure Zeke has some ideas. The safety of Princess Delcina is paramount.”

Jack nodded in agreement, but Delcina stated, “No, it isn’t. Not anymore.”

Bachan turned to her. “Your highness, you are the rightful heir. This is your kingdom now. We must fight for what is yours. I shudder to think what she will do with it. My duty is clear.”

Delcina’s eyes blazed. “As is mine. If she truly is the Abomination, then you know the stories. She cannot be allowed to reunite with her father. If she heals him, then it is not just our kingdom that will be lost.”

Zeke spoke up. “Captain, Your Highness, I agree that this is a most important matter to discuss. But could we discuss it somewhere besides the torture chambers? If we do not escape soon, the sun will be up, and our efforts made considerably more difficult, no matter what we do.”

They agreed. Before they left, Delcina cleaned off the knife, sheathed it, and handed it to Jack. “You should be armed.”

Jack didn’t accept the knife immediately. “I don’t like that knife all that much anymore, Delcina. It’s done nothing but terrible things.”

“It has done what its master intended. It is a good tool.” She pressed the handle into Jack’s hand.

Jack tied the sheath to his belt as he stood at the foot of the stairs behind Zeke, awaiting word from Bachan. Rumela came up the rear. The giant whispered to Delcina, “I’s real sorry ‘bout your father. Oh, and about your finger, too.”

Delcina looked back and offered a strained smile, the grief never leaving her eyes. “Thank you, Rumela. I’m trying not to think of the pain from either right now. I just hope to get one foot in front of the other without falling.”

“If’n you fall, I be picking you up.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

Bachan came down the steps, with a sword belted to his waist and three more under his arm. “We are clear to the exit, but there are several guards there. I’d rather do this without killing, but there may be no choice.” He distributed the weapons to the three humans.

Jack asked, “How about the garden? It ain’t much farther than the front door.”

“It is surrounded by a wall, and we have no…” He stopped, and stared at Rumela.

Rumela grinned at him. “Not that high.”

Bachan nodded. “Garden it is. Darnel, my predecessor, frequently complained that it was a weakness in our security. I’m glad to both prove him right and to use it to our advantage.”

The castle seemed deserted. The Royal Guard hadn’t yet been fully replaced by guards loyal to the queen. That, or they were all busy on other errands in the chaos of the king’s murder. The escapees slipped down the main hall and up the stairs. The garden, too, was empty. Rumela helped them all over the wall before pulling herself up and over.

Bachan turned to the rest of the group. “This is where we part, for now. My duty is to the crown, your highness. I must rescue the rest of those sworn to serve you. While I’d prefer to protect you personally, you will be in the best of hands.” He offered a salute to the group. Zeke returned a salute so quickly that it came at the same time. Then Bachan vanished into the pre-dawn darkness.

Zeke pointed to the southeast and said, “We should try and find mounts. We’ll need the speed once they discover we are gone. I am sorry, Miss Rumela. I don’t know if we have anything large enough to carry you.”

Rumela grinned. “Ain’t a problem. I can run as fast as any horse.”

“Food will be a problem,” Jack said. “For us and the horses.”

“There’s a manor three miles south that will be loyal and can provide enough for us all. From there, I don’t know where we go.”

“We can’t go south,” Jack said. “We need to get across the river, and then head east-by-northeast along the road. That’s the direction Zainus is heading. Know anyone you can trust along that way?”

Zeke looked incredulously at Jack and then turned toward the princess. Delcina nodded. “We’re going after Zainus.”

Zeke shrugged. “Okay. I have an uncle up that way a few miles, I guess.”

They found horses. Zeke and the Delcina set up their own mounts, and then one for Jack. This time, Jack was able to assist them somewhat, unlike when he was being escorted to face Korak. The sky beyond the eastern hills was glowing by the time they rode toward the bridge.

Jessabelle-the-girl’s entire plan had been to return Around the Bend and give warning to those watching the crossroads of the Coven’s efforts. Now the people she’d tried to warn were dead, and she was lucky not to be dead herself. Without the potion, she probably would have died on the floor. Or she would have been shot trying to escape as a cat. Or she would have died from a wound that hadn’t healed in her transformation. Or…

Jessabelle-the-panther had a much simpler plan: Survive. After that, everything else could be negotiated. The bullet wound still burned and tore at her with every stride, but she couldn’t tell if it was getting better or worse. The part of her that could still think through the pain and fear forced her to continue the original mission, following the unlit road toward what should have been Morgantown.

The nighttime cacophony of insects and small animals was in full force. The Milky Way blanketed the sky more clearly than she’d ever seen. It was easy to imagine safety and security in the warm calm of this clear night, even with death only a couple of miles behind her. It would be so easy to hole up and sleep. Just sleep. Hadn’t she done her part already? Just because the people she tried to warn were idiots and got themselves shot up was no reason for her to take responsibility for them. She couldn’t warn an entire world, after all. Especially not this strange one. She couldn’t even warn her own world.

No. Her family needed her.

Three more miles passed by in a painful haze. She lurched to a halt, unsure if she could muster the will to walk any further. Forcing herself to look up, she spotted lights from the city ahead. Morgantown, or whatever they called it here. It was either much, much smaller than her Morgantown, or they just didn’t stay up late on this side. The pain in her side grew. She ignored it as she pushed towards the distant, flickering lights. The lethargy was much harder to ignore. She wanted to sleep. The air grew chilly, even against her sleek fur. Chilly in July? It was still July, wasn’t it, or was it August already?

She couldn’t think straight. Focusing on the road in front of her, relying on the pain spreading across her side to keep herself conscious, she kept moving her paws forward, concentrating on their placement so she wouldn’t trip. It would be silly for a graceful panther on four legs to trip and fall over, wouldn’t it?

Jessabelle found herself surrounded by buildings, instead of trees, but couldn’t remember when the transition had happened. With a shock, she realized she must have been walking half-asleep for some time. Who knew panthers could do that? But then, she rarely gave this form a test-drive back home.

The feline instincts warned her, but either the panther or the girl was too muzzy-headed to think straight. There was a great building ahead. It was a magnificent stone fortress, brilliant under the light of stars, the moon, and dozens of lanterns mounted over the walls and windows. Movement took place around her, and her feline brain warned of predators or prey. Her legs shook. She wobbled and stumbled. That was weird. She never stumbled. Oh, she had once. Yes. When she was drugged. Had she been drugged again?

A woman stood before her, flanked by two men with guns. Jessabelle approached her, her vision swimming, making the two men appear as several. No, there really were several, and they all had weapons of kinds. Had the Coven beat her to Morgantown? They were afraid. They smelled of fear. Jessabelle knew that smell, especially as the panther. However, the woman did not smell of fear. She smelled of power. Jessabelle couldn’t tell if she smelled of good power or bad power. It was so hard to tell. Maybe she was the daughter of the man in the white suit. If so, Jessabelle’s warning would be really, really stupid.

The panther could not warn them, but she didn’t want to change. Ever. She had to become that stupid girl again, the one that was weak, and slow, and clumsy, and not pretty, and her mother didn’t love her anymore, and everyone wanted her dead. Besides, the girl didn’t have fur, and it was getting so cold. She’d freeze to death.

Why did she need to warn anybody again? Why did she care about these people?

Oh. She needed to protect her grandmother. And her cousin. And Jack. And the pretty lady standing in front of her. And the scared people around her who really should just be prey. Them too. Someone had to warn them, and there was nobody else who could.

She transformed and then screamed. It had never, ever hurt like this before. Not even when the ogre had torn deep bloody gouges in her flank had it hurt this bad. Jessabelle-the-girl fell onto the dirt road, surrounded by townspeople armed with knives, swords, spears, and even rifles. They gasped in confusion. Someone in an elaborate costume stood in front of Jessabelle flanked by guards and assistants. Jessabelle tried to stand and screamed again. She reached back and touched her shoulder, and felt new, warm blood seeping from the wound through the hole in her wonderful jacket.

“Her back!” a man said. “She’s been hurt, bad.”

“What is she?” another asked. “Is she a demon?”

Jessabelle pushed herself up to a kneeling position, which took a lot more effort than she expected. Sweat poured from her forehead even though she shivered with cold. Feeling over her shoulder with her right hand, her fingers came back sticky and wet. Whatever the healing potion had done, her long walk had undone it. Her father’s jacket had a hole in it. She felt bad about that.

The world swam. The lanterns and stars grew dim. She wanted to sleep. But not yet. She had one more thing to do. Not because it was her responsibility. Just because she was the only one there was.

“The Coven came through the gateway,” Jessabelle said, trying to force her mind to think about the message. “They’re coming for his daughter. They killt everyone at the fort. They’ll be headed south. Toward…” She struggled. Landmarks, anyone? “Toward the other crossroads. We have to stop them.”

That would be good enough, wouldn’t it? Too late now. The world went dark. Except for her father, George Rose. He stood where the woman had been. How had he gotten here? Had they lied about his death? Had he simply gotten lost in the crossroads, in that moment of darkness between worlds?

The pain faded, and she felt loved again.

* * *

Jessabelle didn’t know how long she was in the comfortable darkness. She was disappointed when the image of her father faded, and she cried out for him to come back. He didn’t return. Then she found herself pulled to another place, completely black but warm, safe, and cozy. She was lost in another place where there were no men with rifles, no Coven with their schemes, and nobody to betray her or abandon her anymore, except as flitting thoughts and dreamlike images.

She felt the sensation of being rocked. She could almost believe that she was a little girl again, being rocked by her mama. Her papa hadn’t died in some distant country, and she hadn’t discovered that she was secretly some kind of monster. Nothing else mattered.

The memories slowly returned to her, unwelcome. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. Her mother had betrayed her—out of fear, and maybe even out of love, but Jessabelle had been betrayed. Her father was long dead. She enjoyed becoming Jessabelle-the-cat and Jessabelle-the-panther, even if it scared her. And finally, some things really did matter: Jenny, Grandma, and Jack had no warning a group of paramilitary murderers were coming for then. That wasn’t all that mattered, was it?

No. What about Josie and Burke? She’d foolishly jumped in after Burke and would do it again if she had to. Maybe better prepared next time, but she’d do it. They mattered. And Leon, if he’d survived. And all those poor soldiers at the fort. Maybe their commander was an idiot, but they didn’t deserve to die. Their deaths should matter. Had she warned the right people? Had they understood her warning? A lot of people beyond her family and closest friends mattered a great deal, and they depended on her.

“I don’t know. It might not work. It might even kill her,” a distant voice whispered somewhere on the wind. A wind she hadn’t noticed until now.

“Do it anyway,” another voice responded.

Why wouldn’t the voices leave her alone? She liked it where she was.

In the distance, a light intruded, beckoning her. She squinted. She knew it would lead her back to pain. Back to where she’d have to think about things and remember things that hurt. Everything was spiky there. Wasn’t she done? Hadn’t she warned the Morgantown people? Couldn’t she rest now?

“No.”

She wondered who had spoken and realized it had been her voice. She wasn’t done, and she couldn’t rest any longer. A lot of people were in danger, and even if she was a monster, she was a monster who could help. Reluctantly she stood and walked toward the irritating point of light.

She found herself in the back of a covered wagon, resting on some kind of mattress. A lantern filled the space with light. A boy and a woman sat beside her. The boy she didn’t recognize, but he looked to be her age, brown-haired and freckled but with serious eyes. The woman seemed both strange and familiar, blonde and dressed in robes. The woman was the one she’d seen in town before Jessabelle lost consciousness.

The pain returned, and a new throbbing in her head hurt more than the throbbing in her shoulder. The boy held a bottle to her and said, “Sit up if you can and drink this.”

She sat up and regretted it immediately. Impossibly, her head hurt even worse in the vertical position. She took the bottle in her good hand and drank. The drink tasted terrible, but it had an alcoholic base to it and went down warm. Why did people in this world keep trying to give her booze? She decided not to tell them she was too young to drink. There was a lot more to drink, and none of it tasted good.

“Sip it slowly,” the boy said. “We don’t want it to come back up. It burns worse on the way up.”

Jessabelle lowered the bottle. “I reckoned I was dead.”

“Very nearly,” the boy answered. “You lost a lot of blood. Another minute or two, and you would have been too far gone for me to bring back.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Owen Murphy. This is Lisbet Crane. We’re both with the Wardens.”

“Like them men from the fort?”

“Yes.” He looked at the woman. “I guess you can ask your questions.”

Lisbet stared at Jessabelle with piercing blue eyes. “Who are you?”

“Jessabelle Rose, ma’am.”

“Why did you come here?”

Jessabelle tried to move her left hand to her temples, but her shoulder still ached. Owen motioned to the bottle, and Jessabelle took another sip. It tasted even nastier now that she was more awake. “I came here to warn y’all about the Coven so you can stop them.”

“Who is the Coven?”

“They are an organization that supports Thadeus. The man in the white suit.”

Owen and Lisbet looked at each other, and back to Jessabelle, not comprehending. Jessabelle sighed. “That asshole you tossed out into our world a long time ago. That immortal guy.”

That got their attention. Lisbet narrowed her eyes. “They are the ones who did this?”

“This?”

“We are at Fort Zellan. Everyone is dead.”

“Oh.” Memories hit Jessabelle. The blood, the gunshots. She was getting very, very tired of gunshots. “Yes. I reckon once they found out I came ‘Round the Bend, they grabbed their guns and piled in after me.”

Owen spoke up. “You did a brave thing, coming to warn us. You were badly wounded. It may have partly healed when you changed form, but that was a long walk. I believe you reopened the wound and were bleeding internally.”

Brave? More like stupid and desperate, Jessabelle thought.

Lisbet asked, “The Coven—what are their plans?”

Jessabelle inhaled deeply to combat a moment of light-headedness. It worked, but it made her headache worse. She explained, “They are trying to reach the crossroads near Maple Bend and take it from this side. It’s a big one protected by my family over here in ‘Round the Bend to the south. I reckon the Coven will try to kill my family here so they can hold the crossroads and then go fetch the daughter of the man in the white suit and bring her through.” Talking was surprisingly exhausting, Jessabelle realized when she’d finished.

“And you said they were heading south? That makes no sense, Jessabelle Rose. Certainly they’d come for Lilah first. Perhaps you are lying to us to protect Lilah.”

“Huh? Why would I do that?”

“We know you are of her bloodline.”

“Huh?” Jessabelle shook her head. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Owen spoke up. “We tested your blood as I healed you. You’d left enough of it laying around. Lisbet determined that you are of the same family line. The human side, at least.”

Lisbet spoke, “As the Wardens charged with protecting Lilah’s corpse, we know all there is to know about her, to a level far smaller than the human eye can perceive.”

“Like, with her DNA?” When Owen and Lisbet again shared clueless expressions, Jessabelle decided to keep going. They didn’t have much time. “Look, sometime in the past Thadeus got busy with one of my great-something aunts which led to a daughter. What about the Coven? Are they gone?”

Lisbet nodded. “We found tracks heading south, but they are difficult to follow by night.”

“Y’all got a map?”

Lisbet nodded. She opened the flap at the back of the wagon and gave an order. Several seconds later, a man returned with a map, and Lisbet held it out to Jessabelle, under the lamplight. It was difficult to decipher as there were no political boundaries that she recognized. West Virginia had always reminded Jessabelle of the shape of a pipe. Without that, she had to go by other references, mainly rivers and lakes. She struggled to remember an old unit from elementary school. Finally, she pointed her finger near what she thought would be central West Virginia, just outside the designated national forests. “Right around there,” she said.

“That’s across the border, isn’t it?” Owen said.

Lisbet nodded. “Just barely. Technically, the treaty allows it, but if we run into Sanguine forces, it could cause great delays. I’d say this is an emergency that allows it. One last thing, Jessabelle Rose. How many of these Coven people came through?”

“I counted at least eight before they shot me. Probably more.”

“Only eight? Eight men slew a fort full of trained warden guardsman?”

“Or more. They had military-style guns. And bulletproof vests.”

Lisbet nodded. “Okay. Owen, take care of her. Get her healed up as quickly as safety will allow. We may have need to consult with her farther down the road. We need to catch those Coven soldiers or all will be lost.”

A hazy morning fog had settled around the river as they reached the bridge, granting the group a little extra concealment as the darkness faded. The same guard who had refused passage to Jack and Rumela days earlier was guarding the bridge at the dawn hour. He’d stepped out to greet the group and took several steps back when he spotted Rumela. Two other guards emerged to join him.

“Hold!” The man said, unable to mask the quiver in his voice. “Stop in the name of the queen.”

Zeke spoke with a force and confidence in his voice that Jack had never heard from the young guard. “Then you speak in the name of usurper and the murderer of King Ferik and thereby declare yourself an enemy of the throne.”

“The princess and the outlaw known as Jack murdered him,” the guard stated.

Zeke’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped toward the guard, heedless of the weapons trained on him. “Is that what you have heard? Is that the lie being spread about the kingdom while Taliel centralizes her power?”

“Yes. I mean, no. The Royal Guard is not to be trusted and all are subject to immediate arrest. You were the ones who arranged for the king’s death.”

Zeke scowled. “After generations of service, do you seriously believe we’d violate our sacred duty and our honor? You cannot be that foolish. You can smell the stink of that story even out here.”

One guard bent his head down and lowered his weapon. He stepped to the side. The other two stood resolute. The toll-collector shook his head. “Foolish or no, it is our duty to take you back in. Please come quietly. I would not wish to hurt any of you.”

Zeke cocked his thumb over his shoulder at Rumela. “Do you think we would be the ones in danger if either of us wished violence? Even if you shouted for reinforcements, you would be dead and we’d be on the other side of the bridge by the time they came out of the tower. I would hate it, but my first duty is to protect the rightful heiress to the throne.”

The other two guards lowered their weapons. “You realize I will have to report this,” the toll-collector said.

Zeke nodded. “You must do your duty. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t expedite it, however. I promise you, this will get sorted out, and the truth will become known soon. And then, you will know that I spoke the truth.”

The man nodded slowly. “I hope so. For all our sakes.”

As Zeke set his horse to walking past the guards, Jack asked, “Oh, do you know if Zainus passed here?”

The guard looked at him in confusion. Jack said, “About five feet tall, oversized head, and his skin looks like it clay or rubber. Real nasty turd.”

The guard nodded. “Right, him. He crossed about an hour ago with two other men and turned east.”

Jack nodded. “Thanks.”

The guard bowed his head and stepped aside. Jack and the rest of the group crossed the bridge without further discussion and turned east.

* * *

By the time the mist had burned off and the full morning sunlight was upon them, they were well past the bridge and traveling along a wooded section of the road. While it concealed them from a distance, Jack knew it was only a matter of time before the queen or her servants discovered the dead torturers, the men at the bridge reported them, or they learned of Bachan’s freedom, assuming none of those things had happened already. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t imagine pursuit being far behind, and kept glancing over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being chased.

“I don’t mean to dampen our spirits with annoying questions,” Zeke said. “But, after we stop Zainus, then what? The queen won’t stop there. She’ll send others.”

Jack considered. Jenny and Annabelle were powerful witches, but they couldn’t handle the queen and her soldiers. Even if they defeated Zainus, all they’d do would be delay the inevitable, now that Taliel knew the crossroad was open again. The queen said it was hard to find the crossroads—the gateways they called it—and it had certainly taken Evelyn long enough. But clearly, it was possible.

Delcina answered. “We have to depend on Bachan and the ability of the Royal Guard to mount a defense and expose the truth. If he can convince the nations that she really is Lilah, the daughter of Hothlurian, then they can unify against her and capture her again. If only they could figure out how she escaped in the first place. She is supposed to be entombed in the citadel in Lauris.”

Jack nodded. “Zainus bragged that he helped her steal a human body. Maybe she won’t be able to do that trick again if he’s gone. And y’all were able to defeat both of ‘em before, so with enough warning, y’all can do it again, right?”

Delcina sighed. “The Wardens might be able to do so. But they aren’t what they once were. And they may not be able to do anything against either of them if she crosses over to the Dark Lands.”

Zeke said, “How do you know all this? Most folks figure ol’ Hothlurian is just a legend and I didn’t know what to make of Lilah. Figured she was just a criminal who claimed to be his daughter. I never really bought into the idea that she wasn’t dead in her tomb.”

Delcina sighed. “Believe it. My father has seen her body. All royal born are charged with defending the land against the return of Hothlurian. None of us expected to have to take that charge literally in our lifetimes. It was just history. But here we are.”

Rumela spoke up. “Zainus.”

“What?” Jack asked, echoed by Zeke and Delcina.

Rumela pointed. “He be close. I smell him.”

“An ambush?” Zeke asked.

Jack rubbed his chin. “Or maybe we got ourselves a chance to ambush him. How far do you think he is?”

Rumela shrugged and took several steps forward. Jack waved her off and said, “No, Rumela. Y’all hang back.” He got off his horse. “Let me go take a look-see up ahead.”

“Be careful, Jack,” Delcina said. Jack grinned and pushed forward. Around a turn along the road, he spied three horses, grazing by the side of the road. But there was no sign of Zainus or his men. Jack moved carefully, keeping below the grass and cover, but found no one. He carefully backed away to return to the others.

Everyone waited for him as he returned, exactly as he’d left them. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he said quietly. “I found horses.”

Nobody responded. It took Jack a moment to realize that nobody moved at all. They swayed, making tiny movements to maintain balance, but otherwise stared straight ahead, as if still waiting for him to return.

“Hey, y’all, what’s going on?” Jack asked. The terrible answer came to him with the force of a gut-punch. They were bewitched.

Three crossbows fired with loud clacks and snaps of their strings. Jack whirled about, expecting to die immediately, but instead Rumela’s chest blossomed with the bolt shafts. One broke and bounced off, but the other two penetrated deeply.

Two men emerged from the forest, discarding their crossbows. Jack reached for his sword. Bachan had given him some brief training on how to use it, but he knew he was no match for even one of the bandits, let alone both of them.

Zainus stepped out from behind cover, drawing his blade. “Well, what do you know?” he said. “I guess I’m a giant-killer too, now? That poison ought to finish her off in no time.”

Jack roared. “No! Cure her now, or I’ll…”

“What?” Zainus said. “Kill me? No, that won’t be happening. Besides, I don’t have the antidote. I’m immune to the poison due to my faerie heritage, and these two guys, well, they know better than to get any of it on them.” He stepped forward from his two guards.

Jack charged. Zainus easily parried his clumsy blow and gave Jack a swift kick in the butt while Jack was off-balance. Zainus laughed and signaled the two guards. They made their way to Zeke and the princess. Jack moved to stop the bandit approaching Delcina, but Zainus intercepted him and attacked. Jack struck with his sword, preparing for Zainus to move and counter as Bachan had taught him. It worked exactly as Bachan had taught, but Zainus was already back in position threatening with his sword before Jack could counter.

Behind Zainus, the bandits pulled Zeke and Delcina roughly from their horses. Zainus struck, and Jack backed away, blocking with the flat of his blade exactly like Bachan had taught him not to do. The bandits held their swords to the throats of his friends. Several yards away, Rumela wheezed.

Zainus glanced behind himself too briefly for Jack to take advantage of it. Zainus laughed. “Well, now, you are in a bad position again, aren’t you? Poor Jack. You know, you can see the castle really well about a half-mile up the road. Sanguine castle has its distress banners flying. I interpreted that to mean someone might be pursuing us. I couldn’t have imagined it would be you, Jack. You resisted my spells, killed a fearsome giant, and escaped the torture chamber. You constantly amaze me, young man. Take that as a genuine compliment.”

Jack charged him again. Zainus struck Jack’s blade and did something which wrenched it from Jack’s grasp. Jack dove for the sword, and Zainus didn’t stop him. The parody of a man laughed. “I can’t respect your fighting skills so much, but I admire your spirit. I’ve been looking forward to finishing our little fight.”

Jack raised his sword toward the little man and said, “Then let ‘em go. Stay and fight me, just let ‘em go.”

Zainus shook his head. “No, that is not how this is going to work. They know too much, so they can’t go free. However, I can spare their lives and merely take them prisoner. They’d serve much better as captives than as corpses, anyway. If you tell me where the portal is, in detail, and then beg for my mercy, I’ll give you my word that you’ll be the only one to die today. Besides the giant, obviously.”

Jack attacked Zainus again, this time exactly as Bachan had taught him. Zainus blocked, dodged, and took several steps back. Jack pressed his advantage. Zainus gave ground and lost his balance against a rock. Jack struck at Zainus’s exposed chest, only to discover that Zainus had suckered him into that attack. Zainus knocked Jack’s sword from his grasp, and the little creature jumped on him. While small and light, Zainus had incredible strength he brought to bear as he found leverage. He pinned Jack’s sword-arm to the ground with one knee and straddled Jack’s chest, bringing the edge of his blade to Jack’s throat.

“It’s over, Jack,” Zainus said. “Now, will you tell me what I need to know while you can still speak, or do we just slit all your throats and be back to our mission?”

Jack’s left hand was free, but he couldn’t get any leverage. And it would take only the smallest move from Zainus to kill him. However, he could still reach Delcina’s dagger. Maybe he could take Zainus with him, but that wouldn’t stop the bandits from killing Zeke and Delcina.

“Promise not to kill them?” Jack asked.

Zainus grinned. The edge of his blade raised a hair’s width from Jack’s throat. “If you can convince me your information is true. And then if you beg me.”

“Please don’t hurt them. I beg you.” Jack’s fingers silently pulled the dagger from its sheath.

“That sounds pretty good, Jack. Now, tell me, how do I find the portal from Hobbfield?”

Jack thought quickly, trying to get his hand readied. His angle was bad. He would be dead before he could stab the little man. Would his decapitated body continue the stabbing motion without him? Morbid thoughts moments away from death. Zainus shifted his weight, readying the slice.

“There’s a church!” Jack said. “A set of stones in a circle. The crossroad was there. I promise.”

Zainus looked at him curiously. “That actually sounded a little like the truth.” Technically, it was. Jack readied his strike.

A ragged, wheezing voice gasped, “You leave Jack alone!” Zainus looked up, eyes wide and mouth open, as Rumela crawled toward him. He turned his sword to defend himself.

Seizing his chance, Jack twisted and whipped Delcina’s knife across Zainus’s body. Zainus shifted back to Jack and raised his sword for the killing blow, but his blade wavered, shook, and fell from his grasp onto the ground. He collapsed, unable to breathe as he died from a wound nearly identical to the long cut that had killed Korak the Giant. In a moment, his eyes fluttered, and he died.

The two bandits looked on in shock. Zeke and Delcina regained control over themselves when Zainus’s spell died with him. Delcina struggled free before the bandit could do anything, and he immediately turned and ran, leaving his sword behind. Zeke wrestled with his former captor, easily overpowering and killing the bandit with his own sword.

Jack rushed to Rumela’s side. Her face was pale and blood flowed from her mouth and her chest. “Rumela,” Jack cried, desperately looking around, wishing Jenny was here with her healing juice and spells. But there was nobody to save her and nothing he could do. “Rumela, please be okay!”

“You be fine,” Rumela wheezed. “I be fine. You are my best friend, Jack.”

Jack nodded. “You saved my life again, Rumela.”

Rumela closed her eyes. “I’s a purty good friend, too.”

“The best.”

Rumela smiled, and with a final wheeze, died.

Jack hugged her body and cried.

Now that she was awake, Jessabelle felt every bump and jolt the wagon made along the road. The sleeping pallet cushioned her from the worst of it, but it was not a comfortable ride. She quit trying to sit up. She considered becoming Jessabelle-the-cat, but she felt uncomfortable changing form in front of Owen. Not to mention she feared that as a housecat she would get bounced around the wagon like a pinball. They’d given her some food, but she’d dropped more of it over the side of her makeshift mattress than she’d actually eaten. The food was dried and not very flavorful, but it helped get rid of the taste of Owen’s potion.

A tiny brass lantern hanging from a wagon bow provided dim but steady illumination from a crystalline light bulb at its heart. Owen still sat on the low bench across from her. It was wooden with no padding. As uncomfortable as she was, he had to be ten times worse. He looked at her and said, “You should probably sleep while you can. You will heal faster.”

“I reckon it’d be easier to sleep through an earthquake.”

He shrugged. “I can give you something to help.”

“What if Lisbet needs me awake?”

He shrugged. “She can worry about that. I’m more worried about my patient.”

She stared at him. He looked like he’d barely started getting his growth spurts after puberty. “You seem kinda young to be a doctor,” she said.

He shrugged. “I’m not a doctor. I’m just a healer.”

“Ain’t that better than a doctor?”

“Sometimes. The best doctors are both. Healers can help your body mend itself if nothing else is wrong. Doctors can fix what’s wrong. Sometimes. But that takes a lot of study.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

She shook her head. “Everybody seems younger here than they really are.”

“How old are you?”

“I just turned sixteen a few weeks ago.”

He opened his eyes wide. “I thought you were at least twenty.”

She laughed. He laughed, too. For a moment, she forgot that they were chasing murderous commandos and trying to save the world. She and Owen were just a couple of teenagers nervously getting to know each other. She wanted to trust him. She wanted him to have no ulterior motive, no shadowy masters, and no dark secrets. Just someone to talk to. But what would she talk to him about?

“So, um, where do you go to school?” Only after she asked did Jessabelle realize she wouldn’t recognize any place he named.

“I am tutored at the citadel.”

“What is your favorite subject?”

“I don’t know. I like languages.” He hesitated as the wagon went over a particularly large bump, sending the tiny lantern circling at the end of its short leash. “I’m not so good at mathematics.”

“I ain’t, either.”

He smiled at her. “You really should try to sleep. The potion will work faster on you sleeping than awake.”

“I ain’t that tired.”

“Liar. I can tell you are exhausted. Just close your eyes.”

She did. Five seconds later, she said, “Nope, not sleeping. I told you.”

“Is everyone from your world so stubborn?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m more ornery than most.”

“Ornery? I like that word. Ornery. I’ll remember to use it to describe you later.”

She laughed and looked at him again. He shook his head. “Eyes closed, remember.”

“Sure thing, doctor.” She closed her eyes. “How long have you been with these guys? The, um…?”

“Wardens? Since I was twelve and my abilities began to manifest. The army tried to conscript me. A healer is a valuable commodity to the military. My parents decided to enlist me with the Wardens instead. By ancient tradition, the Wardens take precedence. My parents thought it would keep me out of harm’s way, since the Wardens rarely see any kind of combat. Not since Lilah was captured.”

Jessabelle opened one eye to look at Owen, but closed it again under his stern gaze. “So they put you here so you could dodge the draft?”

Owen hesitated before answering, “If I understand your meaning, yes. A lot of people do that. Only the top candidates are accepted, often military veterans. We take our oaths seriously, and we’re well trained. We just haven’t had any serious military engagement in generations.”

“Until tonight,” Jessabelle said, but her words came out sloppily. Owen could have been one of the people mowed down at the fort tonight. Or was that last night? A little sleep had taken the edges off of that nightmare.

“Until tonight,” Owen said with a slight frown. “But this is what we train for. Don’t worry. They may have caught us by surprise at the fort, but there’s no way…”

Owen probably said a lot more before he realized Jessabelle was asleep, but that was all she remembered before drifting off in spite of the bumps and jostles.

* * *

Jessabelle awoke to the sound of gunfire. The wagon was stopped, and she heard the thunderous blasts of the Wardens’ rifles as well as the staccato cracks of the modern rifles used by the Coven. The lantern was out, but the early dawn provided enough illumination to see Owen at the rear of the wagon.

“Stay here,” he whispered and stepped out through the opening. Jessabelle ignored his request and followed him. Her shoulder barely hurt at all now, but that didn’t mean her wounds wouldn’t reopen if she stressed them again.

Acrid smoke drifted through the trees, and horses tied to the nearby saplings tugged at their bonds. They weren’t panicking, but they seemed anxious with battle raging around them. Jessabelle understood the feeling. Lisbet, ducked behind a fallen tree, motioned for Owen to come to her. Jessabelle followed behind, keeping low. More gunshots sounded from a short distance away in the forest, and more drifting smoke dimmed the tentative gray light. Lisbet motioned to two fallen Wardens on the ground, and Owen rushed to attend to them.

Lisbet muttered a monologue from her position. “Sergent Hershel, there are two more on the ridge, behind the great oak. Can you see them? Keep low. Make certain of your shots, for the enemy doesn’t need to reload. Warden Kirkpatrick, we cannot spare anyone to help you now, but if you crawl to our position, Warden Murphy can heal you.”

Jessabelle thought Lisbet was using some kind of radio, but realized the woman was speaking to the soldiers with no special device. That, or she was just crazy. Jessabelle assumed magic was at work.

“They will run out of bullets,” Jessabelle suggested. “Sooner or later.”

Lisbet nodded. “We’ve shot several of them, but they are well protected. Those bulletproof vests you spoke of?”

“Maybe. I think they also have healing potions.”

“Blast.” Lisbet calmed her voice. “Assume enemy has healing magic. And remember their vests are armored. Crenshaw, four of them are breaking away and running south.” More gunshots sounded. Lisbet winced. “Owen, I think Sergeant Crenshaw has been grievously injured, perhaps killed, and Wardens Dougherty and Church are also badly wounded.”

Owen turned his attention from the men on the ground. “Where? I can get to them.”

“No. Not until Hershel secures the ridge.”

“What about the four who are getting away?”

“They are being covered by the two on the ridge. I believe they are all that are left.”

“Can you see where they are?” Jessabelle asked.

“For now. One of them is a witch.”

“Can you direct me to them?”

“Young lady, there are four of them. You are no Warden and in no state to pursue them…”

Before she’d finished, Jessabelle was the panther. Lisbet sighed. “There are four of them. Very well, if I may cut some tiny amount of your fur…” The woman took a knife and gingerly pulled a few hairs of Jessabelle’s fur above the neck, and cut the tips free. She spoke some words of a song, and Jessabelle heard her words in her mind as well as in her ears.

“Go now,” Lisbet said. “I shall direct you. All you need to do is follow them, and keep them in your view, and I shall see them. You should consider the witch the most dangerous.”

Jessabelle ran off in the direction indicated, and Lisbet corrected her course. Lisbet could no longer detect the enemy, but Jessabelle could smell them. They smelled different from the forest. Different and yet familiar. They smelled of the Coven’s headquarters that had imprisoned her. They smelled of gunpowder and synthetic fabric and the modern world. And they smelled like…

She spotted them. Three of them jogging forward at a pace Jessabelle-the-panther could easily exceed. She pursued them from a safe distance. The shortest of the figures didn’t carry a rifle and was not-quite obviously female. She had a handgun holstered on her hip. She glanced toward Jessabelle, and Jessabelle recognized Min, the witch. The Coven had punished her by sending her Around the Bend after all.

“Be careful!” Lisbet’s voice came into her head. “There were four of them. Where did the fourth go?”

It wasn’t Lisbet’s voice that gave Jessabelle the warning she felt on the back of her feline neck. She sensed the incoming attack and leaped away before the great cat pounced on her. The jaguar roared as it struck the leafy slope where she had just been standing. It was twice her size, and its powerful fangs and jaws set off every nerve in her animal form. This was no contest. She had become the prey.

The jaguar’s spots were recognizable even in the dim light before sunrise. Leon attacked without mercy, a deadly killing machine that wouldn’t stop until she lay dead between his powerful jaws. He bore a spiked collar around his neck, one that Jessabelle recognized from their early morning flight from the trailer. She’d last seen it around the throat of the dwayyo.

Jessabelle fled, pursued by the larger cat. Her smaller size gave her a slight advantage in the rough terrain, but her shoulder throbbed. Had she reopened the wound? Even if not, the pain slowed her. Sooner or later, the jaguar would catch her.

Lisbet’s voice came to her mind. “Let it chase you this way. We may be able to shoot it!”

It was tempting. The jaguar might hurt or kill one of the Wardens or Lisbet, but maybe Owen could heal them. Or not. Or maybe it would hurt Owen.

Not it, she reminded herself. He. This was Leon. Her father’s friend and the man who had helped her escape from the Coven twice and sacrificed himself to them so she could go free. He might be under Min’s control, but he was still Leon. Jessabelle had been under such a spell just a few weeks ago and had flatly denied truths. Would Min allow Leon to kill Jessabelle?

Yes, if it came down to Jessabelle or Leon, Min would let Jessabelle die, without question. Jessabelle couldn’t even blame her. Likewise, the Wardens wouldn’t hesitate to kill him first and ask questions later. Min was well guarded. Whatever happened in the next few moments, it would come down to Jessabelle against Leon, away from any of the others.

Jessabelle whirled in mid-run and charged the jaguar. The move surprised him, but not so much as to leave him defenseless. One paw struck, claws tearing down her side, but she twisted out of the reach of his deadly fangs. She grabbed hold of the collar with teeth and claw, ignoring the pain from the spikes biting into her flesh. Leon rolled to bring his rear paws against her. He raked her belly, stripping flesh and fur, before finally gaining leverage to push her away.

Her grip held. Industrial-strength snaps and seams tore away as he pushed, and the collar came away with her. Her flesh burned like fire in a dozen places, and she felt her strength ebbing by the moment. Victory hadn’t come a moment too soon.

He sprang at her again, fangs opening over her head. So it hadn’t been the collar after all. At least she’d tried.

The blow never landed. He transformed into Leon-the-man over her and cried out. “Change, Jessabelle! Change!”

She tried. It was so hard, and she was so tired, but she tried. The pain burned hotter, and her vision darkened into a narrow tunnel. Except for the desperation in Leon’s voice, she would have quit. It hurt too much. She pushed and after what seemed like hours she became Jessabelle-the-girl once more. She screamed as the pain all over her body struck her nerves all at once. The world went black.

That night, Delcina and Jack set up a fireless camp in the woods while Zeke, the only person not likely to be recognized, rode to Dane’s Point to scout it out. They were poorly equipped to camp, but Delcina finally nodded off while wrapped in a blanket. Jack sat twenty feet away, leaning up against a tree, futilely peering into the impenetrable darkness in the direction of the road.

He’d never felt more exhausted, but couldn’t imagine sleeping. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Rumela shot with poisoned crossbow bolts, Rumela saving his life one more time, and Rumela dying beside him. Even the death of his childhood friend at the claws of the snallygaster hadn’t hit him as hard as this. Perhaps it was because he was tired, or because she’d saved his life, or perhaps it was because he kept thinking of things he could have done differently that might have prevented her murder.

His sobs surprised him. They died as quickly as they appeared, replaced by rapid breathing as he wiped his tears with the heel of his hand. He took a deep breath to get himself under control and whispered, “It ain’t fair.”

A moment later, a hand on his shoulder startled him. “It’s just me,” Delcina said quietly.

Jack sniffed. “I’m sorry. I woke you up.”

Taking a seat beside him, she took hold of his arm and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “No. I wasn’t really sleeping. Not for lack of trying.” She gave his arm a squeeze. “I’m so very sorry. I liked Rumela. She had more honor, loyalty, and bravery than far too many people I thought I knew my whole life.”

“I shouldn’t be like this. You’re the one who lost a father. And so many others.”

“Grief doesn’t have a pecking order, Jack.” She lowered her head, still pushing her face against his arm. “My father told me that when my mother died. I think he was trying to explain to me that no matter your station in life, we all feel grief. I always took it to apply to whomever we’ve lost, too.”

Jack put his arm around her shoulders. It seemed like the thing to do. “I’m sorry. I feel like I made it worse by showing up.”

She lifted her head and shook it. “Don’t say that, Jack. Don’t believe it for a second. Taliel had a plan from the beginning. You arriving when you did meant that I survived, and now we have a fighting chance to stop her. Together.”

“We’re in this together. I don’t know if I’ll be much help, but I’ll be there.”

He couldn’t tell if she smiled or not in the darkness, but she turned to look at him. Their faces drew nearer and suddenly their lips were touching. As they kissed, she wrapped her arms around him, and he pulled her closer.

It was one of the worst days of his life, but for those few seconds, his heart soared.

Before she pulled away, he felt her cold tears touch his cheek. She wiped her face and leaned against him. “Tomorrow, we begin the fight. Tomorrow, I have to be the princess again. Tonight, I want to pretend none of this happened. Just for a few hours. Let’s pretend we’re just kids. Not royalty, not nobility, just normal kids.”

“That’s all I am.”

“You’re more than that. So much more.” She stretched, rolled over, and adjusted the blanket around her. Leaning back against him, she stared out into the darkness, her hair against his chin. He wrapped his arms around her, and she sighed. “Lie to me, Jack.”

“What?”

“Let’s pretend we’re escaping back to your world. We’re going to go on those—what did you call them? Dates? Tell me what we’ll do.”

Jack bit his lip. It really wouldn’t be a lie. Somehow, they’d win. They’d defeat Thadeus, Hothlurian, or whatever that son of a bitch in the white suit was called. And he’d take Delcina on a proper date. He had no idea what a proper date entailed, but he supposed this was as good a time as any to try out ideas. “Ever been fishing?”

She hesitated. That might not have been the suggestion she had imagined. “Like, with nets? I can’t say I have.”

“With fishing rods. We can go out early in the morning when the fish are biting. Then after that, we’ll take what we catch home and cook ‘em up. We can have ourselves a little fish fry. Maybe invite some friends.”

“That sounds…wonderful, actually,” she said with real warmth. “A lovely day.”

“Yeah. After that, we finish up the evening by watching a movie on TV.”

“What’s that?”

Somewhere in the middle of his explanation of movies and a short list of the ones he wanted to share with her, Delcina finally fell asleep.

* * *

Dane’s Point was not the place Jack would have chosen to prepare for war. He still resented the town for how the people had treated Rumela, a feeling made all the more acute by her death. Few recognized him without his fearsome companion. For that matter, when he looked at his reflection to shave, Jack wasn’t sure he recognized himself. The man in the mirror seemed more angular, with harder eyes and a haggard face. It was probably a trick of the mirror. They didn’t make them as good in Around the Bend as they did back home.

Regardless of how he felt about the people, Dane’s Point had military virtues, according to Bachan. The captain had arrived with a many members of the now-outlaw Royal Guard and a contingent of soldiers two days behind Jack’s group. Bachan claimed the town stood on defensible terrain, at a non-magical crossroads, with water and resources to last a protracted campaign. Most importantly, it protected the best route to Hobbfield and, ultimately, the crossroads that were Taliel’s goal.

In the four days since Bachan’s arrival, the town had been a whirlwind of activity and military preparations. Jack had been invited to several planning meetings, but had understood little of them. Still a country boy at heart, he joined the soldiers and guardsmen to help build fortifications, and in return they instructed him on how to fight.

A knock came at his door. He and Zeke shared living quarters in a small, unused barn. Delcina had taken residence inside a widow’s home. They had paid for it all with money the general store owner was slowly repaying Jack. Jack amused himself and confused Zeke by calling it his “first apartment.” Jack figured he could have done worse. Sure, there was no indoor plumbing, and his bed consisted of dry straw packed under a sheet, but he’d stayed in far worse locations over the last month.

Jack opened the side door. Delcina stood there, looking impossibly more beautiful in her simple peasant blouse and red cotton skirt. Of course, the sword belted around her waist and the Royal Guardsman hovering behind her was something of a give-away that she wasn’t a simple farmer’s daughter. That, and the somber look of worry and duty in her ice-blue eyes.

“Your highness,” Jack said, opening the door wider. “Won’t you come in?”

“I have news, Mister Parsons,” she said, stepping inside. She turned immediately to the guardsman behind her. “Alex, please stand guard outside the door. The Hero of the Kingdom is perfectly capable of keeping me safe from danger within these walls.”

The guard protested. “But your highness, do you think it wise to…”

She closed the door on him and turned to Jack. Her face broke out into a smile, and they embraced. Jack planted a kiss on her lips, which she returned with equal eagerness. When they broke away, she giggled. “It’s getting harder to get away with this with the arrival of the new troops.”

Jack nodded. “‘Specially with folks thinking we’re still betrothed or whatever. They watch me like a hawk.”

“So what are we, Jack?” she asked playfully.

“I reckon the technical term is ‘in deep shit.’ I s’pose back home they’d say we were dating. Not that we’re going to get the chance to date anytime soon.”

She put her hand on his arm. “When this is over, we’ll have another date, I promise. At least once more in the castle garden when we take it back. Maybe we’ll even go fishing.” Her face grew somber again. “I cannot stay long, and I really do bring news. Fighting has broken out in Sanguine. While that pins down the queen, it also means a lot of people are dying. I’m afraid those who have thrown their support behind me are in the minority and receiving the worst of the casualties. However, we are being joined by Wardens.”

Jack thought of the beautiful palace, converted into its original purpose as a fortress. A fortress standing against the people who were willing to fight and die for Delcina. He chewed at his lower lip. This wasn’t the adventure he’d expected at all. Regardless of what he’d expected, this was happening now, and they had decided, like him, that someone had to take a stand. He felt heartsick. He looked back at Delcina and said, “These Wardens are the folks who can protect the crossroads, right?”

She dropped her arm. “That’s part of their mandate. They are sort of an international army tasked to prevent Hothlurian from returning.” She motioned to the north. “Some forces from the Citadel just arrived. They fought off an incursion from your world, and they are taking our claim that the queen is Lilah in disguise seriously.”

“You reckon they can make anyone else believe that, too?”

Delcina shrugged. “I hope so. Eventually. Jack—there is a man from your world with them.”

“Really? Who?”

“I don’t know. Bachan is already talking to him, but you and I should meet with him too.”

Jack belted on his sword and dagger. He had grown accustomed to wearing them. Delcina extended her hand to him. He took it and stood close to her. They kissed once more, briefly, and Jack squeezed her hand. Then they stepped apart, and Jack opened the door for Delcina. She resumed her dignified look, holding her head high, but Jack knew that the return of her worried expression was not just an act. He felt it, too. He took his position at her right hand, a half-step behind.

At the north road, a group of people in uniform and their horses were being attended to. Something that resembled an elongated stagecoach with a canvas top sat with blocks around one wheel. A man with close-cropped hair stood just outside a wagon talking animatedly with Bachan. The man wore a Kevlar vest and carried an AR-15 rifle slung over his shoulder and punctuated his words by pointing up the road.

As they approached, Bachan smiled. “Leon, this is her highness the Princess of Sanguine, and Jack Parsons, Hero of the Kingdom. Jack is from your world, as well.”

“Is that so? Were you one of the ones Jessabelle was talking about who was guarding the crossroads around here?”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “Huh? You know Jessabelle Rose?”

The man nodded. “Yeah, she’s in the wagon.”

Jack didn’t offer a word to Bachan, Leon, or the princess before he climbed into the back of the wagon.

A boy who looked not much older than fourteen—Jack did mental adjustment to peg the kid’s age at around his own or a hair younger—sat on a hard, low bench opposite Jessabelle. Jessabelle was asleep on a mat on the floor of the wagon. While the blanket she rested on was clean, Jack couldn’t help but note the recent bloodstains on the wagon floor beside her.

“Jessabelle!” Jack said. “Jessabelle, you made it!”

The boy looked at Jack and shook his head. “She was grievously injured. She’s still unconscious.”

“Like in a coma?”

“I’m unsure what you mean, but perhaps. I’ve done everything I know how to do for her. Fortunately, she was able to return to a form where I could better care for her before she lost consciousness. Even so, there’s little more we can do but wait.”

“What happened?”

“She was shot, and then fought against Leon when his mind was controlled by the witch. If it weren’t for Jessabelle, we would have never received warning that the Coven was coming. She helped us track them down. After she broke Leon free, he was able to help us defeat the last of them before they got to the portal.”

Delcina spoke. Jack hadn’t heard her slip into the wagon behind him. “It sounds to me like we have yet another Hero of the Kingdom, and more people from the Dark Lands to whom we owe a debt of gratitude.”

Jack nodded numbly and looked at the young man. “Do whatever you can for her. Anything you need, just ask. Understand?”

The boy nodded. “I am, and I will. She’s an amazing young lady.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “She is.”

Delcina put her hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Jack, stay here as long as you need, but we need to have a council of war with Bachan, Sheriff Hodson, the Warden commander, and Captain Eddings.”

Jack looked back at Delcina and nodded. “This is gonna turn into a full-on war before it’s over, ain’t it?”

She nodded slowly. “I think so. We survived the first battle. Now we’re in a war with the prize nothing less than two worlds.” Delcina gave his shoulder a soft squeeze and then quietly left the wagon.

Jack bent down by Jessabelle and took her hand. Her grip was loose, but warm and alive. That meant hope. “Hey, Jessabelle,” Jack said. “You go on ahead and sleep all you need and get better. You’ve earned the rest. Once you wake up, you and I got a lot to talk about. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. I reckon we kids from Maple Bend gotta stick together.”

Read on for an exclusive look at the thrilling sequel to Blood Creek Beast.

Blood Creek Phantom

By Jay Barnson

Blood Creek Phantom - Chapter 1

Useless. That was what he was.

Sean Williams let another arrow fly toward his target. It was harder to see the bullseye as darkness descended, and his arms were so weak from practice that his aim was lousy. He didn’t care. Maybe, if he practiced enough, and if the giant that had escaped into the wilds of West Virginia ever appeared again, he could put an end to it. That, or die trying. At least he wouldn’t be useless.

His friends were missing. His clairvoyance—the ability to see ghosts more easily than most people—was rendered useless by the painted wooden amulet around his neck that he had to wear to hide from Avery. Even his college degree was useless in this depressed community. He paid rent out of trust fund payments and ran errands for Hattie Rose, and that was the extent of his usefulness.

Every time he drew the bowstring, he considered leaving. Every time he let the arrow fly, he talked himself out of it, mainly out of a sense of responsibility. He was involved in this mess, like it or not. But every once in a while, a nagging thought bugged him that he couldn’t completely dismiss: He was still fascinated by a woman from “Blood Creek” who’d been dead almost half a century, and he wasn’t quite ready to sever that thread of a connection and move on.

He drew the arrow back to the same point on the lower-right of his chin, ignoring the slight tremor of fatigue in his arm. Next time, at least, he might be able to hit his target.

A call of “Hello?” from a few feet away spoiled his shot. The arrow flew to the left and low, careening off a nearby tree and ricocheting into the air. A girl squeaked in surprise.

“I’m sorry!” Sean called, turning to the voice. “Are you okay?”

In the half-light of sunset, the girl looked to be around Sean’s age. Her light-blonde hair probably came from a bottle. Her pink blouse and the rest of her clothes came from boutique shops in the city rather than the thrift-store standard of most of the locals. Sean couldn’t begrudge her that. After all, he was living on his grandfather’s wealth, wasn’t he?

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. You’re Sean, right?” Unlike many of the people in Maple Bend, her words came out with only a hint of an accent. Like Debbie, she made an effort to change her accent. In Debbie’s case, it was so she wouldn’t get unfairly judged by people from outside the region. A memory flashed of how Debbie would let her accent slip when excited or flustered. He fought the urge to grin at the thought.

“Yes, that’s me. Are you from Maple Bend?”

“Yep, I’m a local. I’m Christine King.” This was an important distinction, given how the population of Maple Bend had more than doubled since the dead ogre and snallygaster had made national news. “Most folks call me Chrissy.”

“I’ve seen your father a couple of times.”

She laughed lightly, tossing her hair. “Yeah. Please don’t hold that against me. He likes to act like he’s responsible for the whole town, like a mayor or something, but he only owns a bunch of vacant properties.”

He liked the way she laughed. As he unstrung the bow, he said, “It’s really nice to meet you, Chrissy. I guess I should have gotten out and met more people.”

“You were friends with Jack Parsons and Jessabelle Rose, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, I met them when I arrived.”

“While you were working for Evelyn?”

Sean’s hands tightened on the bow. This conversation was headed in a dangerous direction. Didn’t Jack say that Mr. King knew Evelyn and Thadeus? That he did work for Thadeus? Could her father have sent her here to try and get more information out of Sean? He really didn’t want to believe it, and Chrissy didn’t seem aggressive. Just… informed.

“Yeah. I got roped into helping her when I first arrived.”

“Do you still work with her people?”

He picked up the quiver and prepared to leave. “No. I’m sorry. I’m the wrong guy. The best I can hope for is that they ignore me now.”

She shook her head. “No, that’s not why I asked. I was hoping you’d say that. I’m sorry. It’s just hard to know who to trust these days. Not when my daddy…” She trailed off. “I reckon maybe I’ll do better talking to Jack. Or that new girl, Jenny. Do you know where I can find them?”

Sean shook his head. “What do you need?”

“I can see things. Like Jack. Only I never admitted I could see them.”

“What kind of things.”

“All kinds of things. Monsters. Ghosts, like that lady in the church, or the people in the old graveyard. I want it to stop, and I don’t know how. My daddy made a deal to protect me, but I don’t know if he can anymore. Especially not from the man with the purple knife…”

Sean felt himself go cold in the hot August night. “What do you mean, a purple knife?”

She drew close. “He scares me. Almost every night, I see him out the window, like he’s searching for something. He has silver hair and a dark suit. His eyes glow. And he’s got a terrible knife that glows, too.”

That sounded like Avery, all right. “Look, Chrissy, whatever you do, do not let him know that you can see him! He is very dangerous.”

“How do you know?”

“Just trust me on this, okay?”

“Can you stop him? Can you make him go away?”

“I don’t know. But I can talk to people who might.”

“But what about you? If you’ve seen him, what do you do?”

“I have something that protects me. I’ll get one for you, too.”

“Something? Like what?”

“An amulet. It’s just a simple thing, but it stops you from seeing ghosts, or being seen by them.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh!” She glanced over her shoulder at something in the woods, and said, “That would be perfect! Thank you so much, Sean.”

* * *

The smells of a delicious dinner filled Hattie’s double-wide trailer when he returned. Hattie grew her own herbs, primarily for mail-order sales or for little granny-witch spells when the neighbors asked, but she knew how to use them in food with the expertise of a master chef when she felt the inclination to cook. This happened more frequently once Sean had moved in. He “temporarily” took over Jenny’s room, as if she’d return any day now. Jenny had barely lived there a week, and had been gone for two months. Sean still thought of it as “Jenny’s Room,” and insisted on paying Hattie rent.

Linda Rose, Jessabelle’s mother, stood in the living room. Her makeup did not entirely disguise the dark circles under her sunken eyes. A legal-sized folder sat on the kitchen table, near two glasses of untouched iced tea. She bristled as Sean entered the room, casting a quick glance at Sean before returning her attention to Hattie. Hattie leaned against a kitchen counter next to the table, hands clasped together. The stove was turned off, some kind of ground-beef dish cooling inside a frying pan.

Linda straightened her back. “Will he be able to find out if she’s… um, there?”

Hattie said, “You can speak freely, Linda. Sean knows.”

“Sean knows? Some boy who ain’t been here but two months?” Linda shook her head slowly, mouth open as she took gasps of air. “Did everybody know about my daughter but me?” Her face scrunched up, and she hunched over, her gasps turning into choking sobs.

“Linda, I’m sorry…” Hattie pushed away from the counter and stepped forward to comfort her sister-in-law.

Linda raised one hand, fingers curled like a claw, while covering her face with her other. “No!” she shrieked through her sobs. “Don’t you dare! You are part to blame for this. If I’d known… if they hadn’t taken me by surprise…” She mumbled something else through her hand as she struggled to regain control. Sean took a half step back and stared at the floor, trying to will himself into becoming just a piece of the furniture.

After several long breaths that quieted her cries, Linda asked, “You said Annie is still alive? You sure Jessabelle ain’t gone to live with her?”

Hattie nodded slowly. “I wish that was the case, but I don’t reckon it’s likely. Look, I’ll get these documents scanned and sent off to my lawyer friend. He’ll know what to do. We’ll get Jessabelle back. In the meantime, she’s a very resourceful girl. If she escaped them, I expect she’s really good at not being caught again.”

“But she’s out there alone!”

“Maybe not, but I’m sure she will be okay. So will you.”

“You’ll pardon me if I’m a mite skeptical, Hattie. Just do what you can. Bring me my daughter back!”

Once Linda had left, Hattie massaged her temples with her thumb and middle finger. “I’m sorry, Sean. Dinner’s going to be a little late.”

“That’s fine. Is she mad at you?”

“You might could say that, yep. Linda found out Jessabelle’s secret in the worst way possible, just as people who claimed to be authorities captured her in panther form. She saw Jessabelle change shape, and they made her sign documents they claimed would keep Jessabelle safe. She didn’t talk to me about it for several days. She finally confided in me, because she knew a little about George’s side of the family and thought I’d be able to help. When I didn’t pretend to be surprised, she threw a fit over me keeping Jessabelle’s secret. Maybe she’s right. She refused to talk to me until I got a call from Jessabelle the other day. I promised to contact a lawyer friend of mine from school who is familiar with things on the more supernatural side.”

“So who has Jessabelle now?”

“Nobody, I think. But I reckon it was the Coven who took her away.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hattie set her glass down on the counter. “Because Linda made me promise not to tell anyone. She wouldn’t even let me explain the situation to my lawyer friend until this week. Honestly, I’m getting tired of keeping everyone else’s secrets. It’s just earning me a world of trouble.” She turned the stove back on to heat the food as Sean put his archery equipment away and set the table.

* * *

“I met someone tonight,” Sean said.

“Oh? Who?”

“Chrissy King. Do you know her?”

Hattie snorted, and covered her mouth with one hand while stirring the contents of the saucepan with the other. “Yes, you can say that. Our family and hers go back several generations here. We’ve not always been on the best of terms, but we’ve tried to remain neighborly. And of course I’ve known Chrissy since she was a baby. Even then, she was a handful, and it’s only gotten worse. She’s trouble.”

“What do you mean?” He laid out the silverware the way his mother had taught him.

“Sorry. That’s gossip. Word has it that she had a colorful career in a private school, and ended up in trouble with the law a couple of times, but it’s been a while. I reckon she’s grown up a bit since then. I had my own share of wild as a teenager, too.”

Sean said nothing as he finished setting the two places at the table. Hattie laughed. “You are trying to imagine me as a wild teenager, aren’t you?”

Laughing, he said, “I can’t see it, Hattie. Sorry.”

She made an exaggerated harumph. “My sister got all the attention, and she constantly got in trouble. I s’pose I thought if I got in a little trouble too, I might not be ignored so much. Stupid idea, looking back. Honestly, nothing I did was all that bad, but it seemed like a big deal to me. I even tried running away once.”

I did too, Sean thought. The slow way.

“So what did Christine say?”

“She wanted help. She says she’s clairvoyant, like me. She has the Sight, as you say.”

Hattie stopped stirring. “No. No, that doesn’t track. That makes no sense.”

“That’s what she told me. She says she sees things all the time. And she’s seen Avery.”

Hattie closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly. “May the good Lord have mercy on her soul, then. I’m so sorry.” Opening her eyes again, she asked, “Why did she ask you?”

Sean shrugged. “Because the real monster killers are missing, I guess.”

Sighing, she repeated, “Missing. Y’all have survived some scrapes, that’s for sure. But Avery’s a whole ‘nother story. He’s already dead. Can’t kill him again.”

“Evelyn seemed to believe that there was a way. To banish him or something.”

She set the pot down and on the burner and turned down the heat. “Evelyn was also a liar, you know.”

“I know. But I don’t think she was lying about that.”

“So you are going to help Chrissy?” She answered her own question. “Of course you are.”

“If Avery takes notice of her…”

“I reckon I can make her my little wards for her windows and doors, of course. I don’t know if her parents will let her put them up. But if she really does have the Sight, and if Avery takes in interest in her, it won’t be enough.”

Sean fished the baby-blue amulet out of his shirt, where it hung night and day around his neck. “Can we get another one of these?”

“Probably. There’s a woman in Branton who made that one. Bella. You can head down there in the morning. Tell her I sent you, so she’ll know it’s serious.”

“Should you come with me?”

Sighing, she said, “I would like to, but if both of us go, that might draw some unwanted attention to Bella.”

“That could happen anyway.”

“I know. The Coven is keeping an eye on me, but I don’t know how closely. One thing at a time, I reckon. Go see Bella tomorrow and see if the two of you can help Chrissy. Just be careful around Bella. Don’t let her talk you into anything too crazy.”

“Crazier than what your nieces got me into?”

She smiled. “Point taken. Let’s eat.”

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Jay Barnson is a writer, software engineer, and an award-winning video game developer. He grew up on a steady diet of classic Science Fiction and Fantasy, much of it from the pulp era. He has written fiction and non-fiction for several anthologies and magazines, including The Escapist and Cirsova, and a DragonComet award winner. A transplant to Utah, Jay was born in the hills of West Virginia, and uses the word “y’all” by choice, not by habit. And for the last time, he’s not the one to blame for the one sock of each pair that keeps going missing in your dryer. It was the aliens. Aliens!