“Guns won’t kill me,” Ricky said conversationally. “Or Val. Just so you know.”
“Maybe no one’s found the right gun. It’s all about the bullets, right?” I pressed. “Silver for werewolves.”
“Careful,” Danube warned.
“Salt won’t hurt him,” I muttered, “but I’m resourceful.”
“Oh, ha-ha,” Val said. “Like you could shoot me. I’m your best friend, Brobro.”
Ricky opened her mouth in a huge smile, dimples popping. “Brobro?”
“Nope,” I said. “Never use that name again.”
“I think Brobro is kind of sweet,” Ricky said.
I pointed a finger at her, which only made her laugh. “I hope you and Val are very happy with each other.”
I pushed out of the truck bed and snapped my fingers softly for Lorde to follow, leaving the others chuckling behind me.
I strolled out to the trees to let Lorde do her business before we hit the road.
Elmer pushed off from the tree he was leaning on and fell into step with me. “Suppose you’ll be headed back down the road now,” he said.
“I suppose,” I said. “Thank you. For your help.”
Elmer flicked his fingers, like none of that mattered. “Never have liked the Hush. Well, except for a handful of them. They used to keep to themselves, but they’ve been all riled up lately. Hungry. I couldn’t make head or hind of it. But now I think it’s something to do with you.”
“Not sure how.”
“Tied up with a god, friends with a ghost, not so sure what’s alive and not alive about you, and there’s the plain fact the Moon Rabbit wants to dog your steps. There’s the other plain fact your wife wears an unholy key around her neck, and a ticker I haven’t seen the likes of since I was in short pants. It stops time, doesn’t it?”
“It can. You know something about the key? Said it’s unholy?”
He shook his head, sunlight catching on the freckles and age spots on his thin skin. “Saw it on her neck when she was sitting with you in the truck last night. I know a magical thing when I see one. Know a cursed object.”
“It’s a key to a book,” I said. “I suppose that’s all you should know.”
The grass brushed our ankles as we made our way toward one of the roads that bordered this place. Grasshoppers bounced out of our way, and honey bees lifted into the air before drifting down to ironweed and goldenrod blooms.
“You sure you don’t want to tell me more? Might I could help.”
“More likely it would just put you in danger,” I said. “I’d hate to do that to a friend.”
“A what now? What was that?” He cupped his ear and leaned toward me. “A friend?”
“Don’t push it, hunter.”
He cackled, and we turned back toward the house.
Abbi bounced down the porch steps, a bag of food balanced on her hip, talking at speed to her Shadow and the wolves who all surrounded her, hugging, touching, saying good-bye.
“I want your word you’re not going to hurt any of those people,” I said. “You or the other hunters in the area.”
“If I’d wanted any of them harmed, it would have happened years ago. Naw, there’s been a long standing peace. Might be on account of the Crossroads, might just be because these people aren’t the monsters the old stories make them out to be.”
I thought about the wolves in the darkness, tearing the guts out of the Hush, oily ichor spraying the walls of the cavern, blood lust in their eyes.
Monster might still fit.
