“I mean, I don’t know everything,” he says. “But, from what I can tell, the Quiet Zones happen naturally. No people? No spells. Some of these magickal creatures were the first immigrants. They had plenty to get away from back home, right? So they came to the Great Plains, and, yeah, there were native Speakers and creatures here already, but there was also a hell of a lot ofroom.It wasn’t till the Irish and the German Speakersshowed up that there was real trouble. At some point, everyone agreed to mostly stay out of each other’s hair. The Quiet Zones were left to the creatures. The Speakers didn’t want them anyway; they stayed close to the Talkers.”
“What’s a Talker?” I ask.
“What you’d call a Normal. Me.”
“Right. So… we need to stay in well-populated areas?”
“As a rule, yeah. I mean there are magickal creatures everywhere these days; there are too few quiet places left to contain them. But that’s good news for you. Western Nebraska is the only Quiet Zone east of the Rockies. There are a few more between here and California.” He looks at me. “Is that where you’re headed? West?”
I don’t answer.
“I know you’re not really on holiday. Is this a mission—is it aquest?”
“If it were a mission, we’d be better prepared.”
“Are you on the run?”
“We are now,” I snap.
He leans forward, hanging on to the steering wheel. “I couldhelpyou. It’s not just the Quiet Zones you have to worry about. Like I said, there are only a few of those. But the magickal rules change every five miles around here. And the bosses. You could piss off somebody much worse than Jeff Arnold.”
“Who’s Jeff Arnold?”
“That were-skunk.”
“His name isJeff?”
“What’d you think his name was—Flower?”
“How do you know so much?” I hold my ring hand up again. “Are you really a Normal?”
He lifts up both hands, letting go of the steering wheel. “Completely. I’m the most basic bitch possible.”
That makes me laugh. Just a little, I’m not sure why. I’m very tired.
He laughs, too. Probably relieved.Don’t get too relieved, Normal. I’d still stop your heart if I thought you were dangerous.
“Then how do youknowso much?” I repeat.
He looks at me again, like he’s being serious—like he wants me to think he’s serious. “By being the sort of guy who follows witches and vampires off the main road.”
“That was incredibly stupid of you,” I say.
“I know.”
“We could have killed you.”
“Right, I know.”
“We could still kill you, at any moment.”
“Trust me,” he says. “I get it.”
“Then, why? Do you work for someone?”
“Dick Blick.”
“Who’s that? Another skunk enforcer?”
