On the Edge

Chapter 8

BY the time they had calmed down the children and managed to pry Elsie from her chair and force her into the shower, it was well past seven. Rose realized that she wouldn't be making it to work anytime soon. Her uniform stank of greasy, burned flesh, and she had missed her ride with Latoya. She borrowed Amy's cell phone and called it in.
"You better get your ass in here." Latoya's voice gained a shrill quality. "Emerson's being a total dick today. He says either you get in now or he'll shred your check."
"What does he mean, shred my check?"
"It means he won't pay you for this week."
Rose stiffened. No gas money. Without the truck, she couldn't exchange Declan's doubloon for U.S. currency. They had enough groceries to last for three days, four if she was careful. She had no way to pay the electric bill, and it was due in five days. She had to get to work.
"I still have no gas, and it'll take me about a half an hour to clean up."
"Shit. I can't leave - I don't dare piss him off any more."
It hit her: the Broemmer account. Broemmer Hotel had fired Clean-n-Bright two weeks ago, because they caught Emerson overcharging them. Losing that account had dropped Emerson's business by almost a quarter, and he'd been biting at the bit to compensate for his losses somehow. She'd just singled herself out as the perfect scapegoat.
"Okay, wait, I got it," Latoya said. "We'll take an early lunch. Can you get to Burger King?"
Six miles. She could walk it. "Yes."
"Start walking. We'll head there for lunch and pick you up. Emerson won't even know when you got in."
A huge wave of relief rolled over her. "Thank you."
"That's what friends are for." Latoya hung up.
"I'm so sorry about all this," Amy said.
Rose forced a smile. "I was glad to help. I'm sorry about your house."
Amy paled a bit, glanced at the missing wall and busted roof, and forced a smile, too, plainly trying not to cry. "There was no help for it. At least we're all in one piece. Even Grandma."
Rose looked for Elsie Moore and found her in the yard at a picnic table. Elsie wore a fresh dress. She had braided her thinning hair and was flirting outrageously with Declan.
"How did it start?" Rose asked.
"She was having one of her parties, and something had chewed up a teddy bear. One of those things, I guess. Then she wouldn't come out of the room." Amy hesitated. "What are they?"
Rose shook her head. "Nothing I've ever seen before. Maybe she knows."
Amy sighed. "If she does, you're welcome to try getting it out of her. She won't tell me anything. She just calls me stupid."
Rose headed to the table. Elsie gave her the evil eye. Rose ignored it. "Hi there, Grandma Elsie," she said brightly.
Elsie pursued her lips and glanced at Declan. "We're having a special time," she said. "Go away."
"Oh, well, in that case, I'll just ask you a couple of questions and be on my way." The sooner you answer them, the faster I'll go away.
Elsie got the message. "Hurry up, then."
Rose crouched by her. "Do you know what those things are?"
"Evil."
"What sort of evil?"
Elsie shook her head.
"Have you ever seen one before? Do you know where they came from?"
"They were after my bears," Elsie volunteered. "So I cursed them."
Pieces clicked together in Rose's brain. "You made a wold?"
Elsie nodded. "But it couldn't kill them."
Amy, who had wandered over to the table, gasped. "You made a wold? Jesus!"
"It's dead," Rose told her. "It was after Kenny Jo, and I killed it."
"You've done lost your mind!" Amy stared at her grandmother. "Sending a wold out into the neighborhood? Who knows what it could've killed!"
Elsie pursed her lips.
"Honestly!" Amy put her hands on her hips. "What's next? Are you going to blight East Laporte?"
Rose sighed. That was the end of that. She wouldn't get anything out of Elsie now. She got up to her feet and glanced at Declan, standing to the side while Amy continued to chew her grandmother out.
"Thank you," Rose said. "You didn't have to help us, and you did. I'm grateful."
Declan's face thawed a little. "You're welcome."
Rose walked away. If Elsie didn't know what those things were, perhaps Grandma would. Unfortunately, all the evidence was here. To the left, in the woodshed, an overturned wheelbarrow sat by the log pile. Rose went into the shed, wrestled the wheelbarrow upright, and dragged it to the house. The nearest charred carcass lay only a few feet away. She put the wheelbarrow down and went to pick it up.
She couldn't even lift it, let alone carry it. Rose grasped its disgusting legs - the feet looked almost like ape hands - and put her back into it. The carcass slid across the floor. She dragged it to the wheelbarrow.
Leanne emerged from around the corner. Rose stopped. Leanne walked over. Without a word, she grasped the creature. Magic pulsed in her, and she picked the corpse up and slid it into the wheelbarrow and walked away.
That same talent - five seconds of incredible strength - had made Leanne the school's terror. She could only do it once every twenty minutes or so, but once was usually enough to do the job. Rose never thought she'd see it work for her. I guess there's first time for everything.
They'd never be bosom buddies, Rose reflected, pushing the wheelbarrow up the path to her house. But at least when Leanne decided to stab her in the back, she might hesitate for a second or two.
The house looked undisturbed. Rose maneuvered the wheelbarrow behind Grandpa's shed. He slammed at the walls and hissed, but she just grunted at him. Later she'd wheel the hound corpse to Grandmother's for identification, but now she had to get her spare uniform on and start walking. She ran up the stairs to the porch and knocked on the door.
Georgie opened. "Get ready," she told him, running to the shower. "I'm taking you to Grandma's, and then I'll have to go to work."
GEORGIE sat on the porch steps. His overnight bag lay next to him. He always took the overnight bag just in case. Inside was a book about a boy who lived on the edge of the woods, an InuYasha comic book, spare socks, underwear, a T-shirt, and pants. And his toothbrush. Inside, Jack was banging things, looking for his sneakers. Georgie closed his eyes and pictured Jack's shoes. He felt a slight tug to the left and turned toward it. Not too far. A little more to the left . . . About fifteen feet. He opened his eyes and found himself looking at the kitchen window. Yep. The shoes were under the kitchen table. Jack must've pulled them off while he was eating dinner last night and forgotten about them.
He could go inside and tell Jack where his shoes were. Rose said to get ready quick. She had the look on her face. Georgie knew the look well. When she came out of the shower and saw that Jack didn't have his shoes, she wouldn't be happy. He could save Jack from getting in trouble, but those were new shoes, the second pair of new shoes. They cost a lot of money, and Jack had to learn to take care of them.
It was odd with Jack, Georgie reflected. Sometimes he'd find a piece of green bottle glass and carry it around with him everywhere for days, like it was some great treasure. But something like shoes or clothes, he didn't care about. They were poor. Rose tried to hide it, but Georgie knew they didn't have money. Jack needed to learn not to be wasteful.
Georgie turned his face to the sun and squinted, feeling the warmth on his face. He didn't mind going to Grandma's, and he didn't mind skipping school. Oh no, he didn't mind that at all. Georgie smiled a private smile to himself. School was boring and tedious, and he didn't care for it. He studied and made good grades, because it made Rose happy. Sometimes she talked about him getting a good job in the Broken, if his grades were high enough. Georgie didn't want a job in the Broken. The Broken had no magic.
Staying at home also meant he might get to keep an eye on Declan. It was his job to keep an eye on things. That's what Dad said before he left. He was only six back then, but he remembered. Dad put his hand on his shoulder and said, "You mind the family, Georgie. Keep an eye on your sister and brother for me." He wasn't a baby. He knew Dad didn't really mean it, but he did it all the same because somebody had to do it.
He wasn't sure about Declan. Rose said all bluebloods couldn't be trusted. Rose was often right. When she said someone couldn't be trusted, they usually turned out to be a scumbag. Georgie ducked his head and looked around. He knew he hadn't said the cuss word out loud, but it never hurt to make sure nobody heard him.
So Declan was a bad guy. But Declan had saved Jack. And he didn't seem mean. There were many kinds of mean: mean like Kenny Jo, who was always angry about something. Mostly, Kenny was angry about his dad leaving him. Georgie understood being angry about that, but still, his own dad left, and nobody saw him going around picking fights with people.
Then there was mean like Olie, who was too stupid to know when he was being mean. Olie killed a puppy once because it bit him, smashed her head with a rock. The puppy hadn't known any better. She was just playing. Olie cried afterward, because he felt bad. Georgie heaved another sigh. It took him two days to put the puppy's head back together with his magic, and when he'd raised her, she still didn't look quite right. He'd concentrated on fixing her so hard, he got sick, and then Rose cried.
And then there was mean like Brad Dillon. Brad was cold and vicious. There was something wrong with him.
But Declan had no meanness. Jack thought his swords were awesome. Georgie agreed about the swords, but he'd watched Declan make a ghost of the beasts that had attacked Jack, and in his opinion, that was even better. Georgie held his hand out, closed his eyes, and pretended to call up the beast. Except if he could do it, he'd do it even cooler. Maybe have some dark smoke swirling about him. And his eyes would be shiny. And maybe he'd say some mysterious incantation. Or not. Maybe it would be cooler if he said nothing. And if he had a sword, it would be long and slender. Like Grandpa's blades.
A drop of cold, slippery magic touched the back of his neck and slid down along his spine as if something rotten had splattered him with its nasty juice. Georgie gagged. His eyes snapped open.
A beast stood in front of the house on the path. The color of an old bruise, it stared at him with four slanted gray eyes.
Georgie froze. Jack taught him to never run from animals that could catch him. If he ran, the beast would chase. He didn't know if it could get through the wards to catch him, but he didn't want to find out.
The beast put one paw forward - it was a long ugly paw. Most animals had toes, but this one had fingers tipped with wicked red claws. The paw touched the ward, testing it. A stream of nasty magic slithered toward Georgie. He sensed its hunger: sticky, cold, starved, it wanted to wrap itself around him and suck out his magic. He swallowed. His heart beat so fast, it was trying to jump out of his chest. Don't run. Don't run.
Behind the beast, where the path curved, Declan stepped out of the bushes. Georgie glanced at his face. Declan nodded wordlessly, coming up behind the beast on soft feet, silent like a fox creeping through the Wood. Georgie stared at the beast. Don't look at Declan. Don't give him away.
The beast opened its mouth and showed Georgie his teeth: big, sharp, and red like blood. Its magic waited, hungry, ready to pounce on him and gobble him as soon as he moved.
Declan pulled a huge sword from the sheath on his back.
Georgie stared directly into the beast's eyes. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
Declan struck. The sword sliced though the air in a shiny metal arch and cut the body in two.
Wow.
"You okay?" A bolt of white flashed from his hand into the dead beast.
Georgie remembered to breathe and swallowed. Nausea tugged at his stomach. Desperately trying not to hurl, he dragged himself up, picked up a ward stone, letting Declan in, and once the blueblood stepped over the line, he dropped the stone back in place and went to slump back on the porch steps.
Declan came to sit next to him. "Lean forward," he ordered. "Put your head down, between your knees. That's it. The sickness will ease up in a minute."
Georgie bent forward, his head low. Slowly the nausea receded.
"That was smart," Declan said. "Staring the hound down."
"I didn't want it to know you were there."
Declan nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate it."
The beast's magic shivered. Georgie sat up. Next to him Declan put his hand on his sword.
A foul gray liquid spilled from the hound's carcass. The flesh and bone melted, turning into pale goo. The magic curved around it, twisting like cotton candy on a stick. Dark vapor streamed from the surface. The puddle shrank, and the vapor grew darker and solidified into a tall man. A long cloak with a hood hid him, pooling about his feet and turning into smoke at the edges.
Georgie sucked in a sharp breath. The man's magic pressed on him, trapping him like a huge heavy slab of rock. Fear skittered down his arms, leaving goose pimples.
"He can't hurt you in this form," Declan's quiet voice said next to him. "His magic might slither in, but it will be weak. Show no fear. Don't give him the satisfaction."
The vapor man turned to them. "Ah. I wondered who shot off a military-grade flash wave in this forsaken place. Just had to see for myself. I had a glimmer of hope it was my dear brother, but I see it's just you." His voice was soft and gentle, but for some reason it chilled Georgie all the way to his bones.
"What's with the cloak?" Declan said.
The man ignored him. "And who would you be?" The darkness of the hood swallowed the man's face, but Georgie knew the man's eyes fixed on him, pressing down on him like a great weight. Magic snaked from the man in long, translucent tendrils of dark smoke. They licked the ward and slithered through it.
Georgie stared with wide eyes as the magic crept closer. It was hungry . . . So very hungry.
Declan flashed. A screen of white shot from him, stinging the tendrils. The dark magic recoiled.
"Keep your claws off the kid," the blueblood growled.
Georgie breathed a little.
"Mmmmmm." A low deep sound rumbled in the phantom man's throat. "As brash as ever, Declan." The magic swirled around him, each translucent tentacle encircled by a thin vein of dark purple. The puddle rolled forward, and the man advanced.
Georgie sat frozen. Declan was right there, and he didn't move. He just sat there, looking slightly bored.
The puddle touched the ward and stopped.
"Interesting," the man murmured. He raised his arms, elbows close to his body, hands up. The sleeves of the robe fell back, revealing long, slender fingers stained with a mottled patina of purple and yellow. Just like the hounds' hides, only pale. "Let us see," he said softly, stretching "see" into a snakelike whisper.
The magic shot from him in an explosion of darkness and clamped on to the ward, biting at it, trying to pull it apart. The tentacles flailed and jerked, but the ward held. The man glanced down, and the magic tendrils struck at the closest ward stone. They clamped on to it and twisted, trying to jerk it up.
The man arched his back, straining. His dark magic pried the rock loose. The puddle at his feet shrank faster.
Georgie's heart beat so fast inside his chest he thought it might explode.
The ward stone rose two inches. A pale network of translucent reddish magic stretched from it, burrowing down into the ground, as if the stone had roots.
The man's rigid body shook with strain. The stone gained another inch of height, pulling more red roots out of the ground on both sides with a creaking sound. He clawed at the air. The ward stone shivered and crashed down into place.
Declan laughed, but it was harsh and cold, and Georgie wasn't sure what was more frightening, the dark man or the way Declan bared his teeth.
"They know how to root their wards," Declan said.
The man flicked the sleeves of his robe back over his hands, first left, then right. "No matter," he said. "I'll still kill them all."
"Not while I'm here, Casshorn."
The man turned to Georgie, and once again, he felt as if the man's gaze pierced him and clenched his heart in a cold fist.
"Boy . . ." Casshorn said. "I shall make you a deal. Remove the stones. Let me in. I'll let you and your family leave. You can trade your lives for Declan's. After all, he can't be anything to you. You probably met him only a day or two ago."
Georgie swallowed. His thoughts broke to pieces and ran in all directions, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't catch any of them.
"It seems like a hard choice," the man said. A kind tone overlaid his words, but it was shallow, and beneath it Georgie sensed ruthless hunger. "But upon closer examination, it really isn't. You have a mother. She loves you. She feeds you, and clothes you, and brushes your hair. And you love her, am I correct? There is nothing stronger than the bond between a mother and her child. Your mother would do anything to keep you safe. Now I give you a chance to do something for her. You can save her life. That's a wonderful trade, boy. The life of your mother for the life of a stranger. That's a good, honorable trade." He motioned with his right arm. "Come to me."
Georgie finally managed to pin down a thought. "No."
"Will you really let your mother die?" The man rocked back.
"I have no mother," Georgie said. "And you're lying. You would kill everyone."
"From the mouths of babes . . ." Declan said.
Casshorn sighed. "It is a shame. I was looking forward to watching you strike the boy down, Declan. Witnessing you do things you hate is highly entertaining. No matter. Soon, I'll watch you fight my wolf, which should prove quite a spectacle." Casshorn turned to Georgie. "Are you sure you don't want to move the stones, boy? I promise, I would make it quick, if not painless, for you."
"Leave him be," Declan said.
"I can't," Casshorn said, his voice slightly puzzled. "You see, he is so very full of magic. It awakens a most peculiar sensation in me. A kind of longing. I think it's hunger. They say that human meat has a peculiar taste. I've been developing a craving for it of late. It's odd. I've never been guilty of gluttony, but once I kill you, Declan, I think I'll gorge myself on your flesh."
Georgie shuddered. Declan simply stared.
Rose's voice floated through the kitchen window. "I found them! Honestly, Jack, is it too much trouble to take care of your shoes?"
"A girl," Casshorn said. "Of course. Is she delicious like the child?"
Declan said nothing.
"I see. There is another child inside, isn't there? You do understand you can't protect them? I'll pick them off one by one, when you're not looking. And then I'll feed. Especially on the girl. Such a lovely voice. I bet she's succulent. Juicy." Casshorn shivered. "It was a mistake to come here alone, Declan. You aren't enough to stop me, and the locals are too weak to help you. They scurry to and fro like garbage rats atop their little garbage heap between the worlds, but in the end they will all die. I know why my brother sent you - he hopes to avoid the scandal. I know why you've agreed to come alone - you're still hoping to save the wolf from the executioner's axe. None of it will make an iota of difference. As usual, you're too late . . ."
"You're raving," Declan told him.
"Am I? I must be." Casshorn sighed again in resignation. "It's time to go, I suppose. I leave you with this parting thought: you may think you can put yourself between the girl and my hounds in the Edge, but what will you do when she goes into the Broken, where my wolf prowls? He will slit her throat and paint himself red. You remember how much he enjoys murder . . ."
The puddle beneath Casshorn had dried up completely. He began to fade from the bottom up. "This is just lovely," he said. "And here I was thinking I would get bored." He dipped his fingers into his hood and held them out as if blowing a kiss. "Until later, children."
He vanished. The last shreds of magic dissolved into the air. Nothing remained of the beast or the puddle.
Georgie swallowed. His whole body had gone numb, and now little needles pricked his fingers and feet. "Who was that?"
"A sick man overdue for his cure," Declan said, looking at his sword. "For him, there is only one kind."
"He's evil," Georgie said softly.
"Yes, he is."
"Is he really going to eat me?"
Declan looked like he hurt himself. "He'll try. He won't succeed. I'll stop him."
Georgie hugged himself. "Why would he want to eat anybody?"
"He's ill," Declan said. "He wanted power, and now he has it, and it's twisting him."
"Is he going to kill Rose?"
"I promise you I'll take care of Rose," Declan said. "Nothing will happen to her or you, as long as I'm around. Rose doesn't trust me, and she and I will have to settle this between ourselves. But you and your brother mustn't fear me. If you're in danger, find me and I'll help. You don't have to handle it on your own. I'll protect you. Do you understand?"
Georgie nodded. He understood, and he felt deep down that Declan meant it. Still, Declan wasn't to be trusted.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell your sister about this. No need to worry her."
Georgie nodded to keep him happy. Declan got up and headed down the road, back in the direction from which he had come. In a few breaths he disappeared behind the bend. A moment later Rose burst out the door, Jack behind her.
Georgie jumped to his feet. "I have to tell you something."
"Not right now!"
"But Rose!"
"Not right now, Georgie. It can wait until I get back. Come on."
Rose and Jack took off down the road, and Georgie had no choice but to follow.