“On your feet, Card. We need to move. Now.” I dragged his arm over my shoulder and locked my arm around his waist, holding on tight.
“This is not going to be a smooth road, since it’s going to take magic, and you are burned out, but if you don’t fight me, and don’t touch the magic, we’ll get part way there.”
“Not gonna fight you,” he slurred, dragging out the words. “I looooooove...”
I hauled him up, grunting with the effort. He did some work of getting his feet under him, then I hefted him a little higher. I focused on the Minotaur horn in my pocket.
Home, I thought.
Gary was coming. I couldn’t make out his words, but he was a lot louder, and Lilt Keyva was yelling right along with him. He’d see us, any minute. And from all the shouting, I was pretty sure that the reclusive rougarou was hot for a fight.
The green thread pulsed bright. The map inked on the top of my right foot heated and tingled.
Home, I thought, reaching for the green thread and the Crossroads. Dozens of tattoos flowed and shuffled over my skin. A million points of magic fizzed: connections between me and the house, the land, the air of that one place on this earth.
I could feel the muffled coolness of the portal at a distance. But closer, the apple tree beckoned.
The green thread grew thicker, growing into a rope, a cable, and I reached for it mentally at the same time I took a physical step.
The world blurred past me, but it was not the same as Card’sWalking.
What I could see of the world was a soft, cloudy mix of pastels. Nothing sharp. No hard scents or sounds. Unlike Card’s magic that cracked the world like a whip, my Crossroads magic cradled reality, and me within it, blurring all the edges, and reforming the details each time I paused.
It looked gentle, but it was exhausting to carry someone this way.
I pulled on the rope again, took another step.
Again, the world shifted, pastel smoke and clouds rolling.
I repeated this a dozen times. And then I took one more step, this time surrounded by the single song ofgreen, green, green, the world a swirl of spring colors filled with the scent of apple blossoms.
Yes, I thought.Here.
Then there was an apple tree in front of me, soft grass at my ankles, and a dirt road behind me.
Card, who had been silent through the whole trip, moaned.
I lowered him to the ground, then swore as charlie horses bit into my calves. I sat and extended my legs, pointing my toes and pulling them back to get the muscles to stop cramping.
Card folded to his knees, his head barely lifted. “Ricks?”
“You’re fine,” I told him as I dug knuckles into my leg. “We’re fine. Almost home.”
He swallowed and got both hands in front of him, bracing on all fours, head hanging. “World’s spinning,” he muttered. “That was not aWalk.”
“There’s a store, just a ways down,” I said. “If you start wandering, which I don’t recommend, aim for the giant rocking chair. I’m going to go get us water. Are you okay to just sit here?”
He spit. “Fantastic,” he said. “I’m just fantastic.”
Grumpy. But clear-headed enough to leave for a few minutes.
I followed the dirt road until it turned to gravel, then concrete.
The sound of traffic from I-44 filled the air, and the giant, forty-two-foot tall red rocking chair came into view, towering over the squat wooden outpost. I crossed the railroad track that paralleled Route 66, then crossed that to the gravel lot.
The outpost was part tourist stop, part convenience store with a flat, oversize metal roof, dark wood walls, and little advertisement posters hung up on the outside. A cold soda chest advertised for Coke near the door. I walked into the shop and shivered from the air conditioning set on arctic.
The smell of popcorn and fudge made my stomach growl.
