She leaned against the counter, an hourglass in her hand. She raised an eyebrow, then tipped it over. “Quickly.”
I didn’t have to be told twice.
What paint remainedon the truck appeared to have been yellow at one time. That was the best thing I could say about the vehicle, other than none of tires were flat.
The windshield was cracked, the dash ripped half out, the ignition hanging by the wires.
A stiff brown horse blanket that still smelled like horse sweat covered the bottom and back of the bench seat. The engine, when it caught, brayed like a donkey with a chronic smoking habit.
“Can you go faster?” Abbi asked, or I think that’s what she shouted over the rock-crushing growl of the engine.
I shook my head. The gas pedal was on the floor. We were going maybe forty-five miles an hour, tops, slowing on every hill we climbed.
The road was unlit, and while the truck had two functioning headlights, one was cocked to the side of the road, illuminating the grassy shoulder and doing nothing to make the road itself easier to see.
“How close?” I yelled.
We’d been on the road for almost two hours, more or less following the Canadian River southward. Lorde was curled with her tail over her nose, Hado on Abbi’s lap.
Abbi had her hands clapped over her ears, but her gaze was intent on the road ahead. “That way!” She dropped one hand to point to the left, then slapped it over her ear again.
I flipped on the blinkers out of habit—I wasn’t even sure the things worked—and took the turn.
This road was smoother, and led us through three intersections, all quiet at this time of night. There was no traffic. Somewhere in the back of my throbbing head, I wondered if the truck was loud enough to bring the local law enforcement out for a look.
“There.” Abbi pointed.
I followed her finger as she sent us through what might have been a downtown area, except the only buildings were a car repair shop and a brick building with boarded windows.
Beyond that fleeting glance of civilization spooled out a country road, which we followed until Abbi grabbed my arm and held on. “Here,” she said, “here, here, here.”
I stepped on the brakes and overshot the driveway by half a block. Abbi twisted in the seat, peering out the back window at the dark drive.
“Here?” I asked. I didn’t know how she heard me, but she nodded. I goosed the truck closer to the side of the road and killed the engine.
The silence dropped so suddenly, it was like we’d stepped through a hatch and into deep space.
Darkness was a force, a texture, cool and slick, impossible to push away, thick enough I wanted to gulp air and swim through it.
“There’s a house up there,” Abbi said, her voice a normal volume, but slightly muffled by my blown hearing. “He’s in that house.”
“Lula too?”
She nodded.
“You stay here.”
She leaned back so she could look at me. “I go with you.”
“Abbi.”
“I’ve got powers. You know I do. You’ve seen them. I’m strong. I go with you.”
“There’s a god in there,” I said. “A god who almost…” I swallowed, pushing away an experience I hadn’t even processed yet. “Almost killed me. If you go with me, I will not do my best. Be my best.”
Not with you there, I thought.Not if I’m worried about keeping you safe, making sure I don’t lose you too.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll look after you.”
