Page 60 of The Serpent King

“This can never leave this car,” Dill said.

“Hell no.”

They sat for a moment, composing themselves.

“I officially declare this meeting of the Lydia Fan Club adjourned,” Dr. Blankenship said. “Let’s hit the road. You better grab that whole bag of candy cane truffles from the backseat. I think we need them in our emotionally fragile state.”

“You won’t lose your dentist license for encouraging me to eat candy?”

“This’ll be another of our secrets.”

They drove in the winter gloaming. Here and there, a house off the side of the highway lit up in a glowing motley of Christmas lights. Dill withdrew into his thoughts. It felt like wrapping himself in a wet wool blanket. Did you see your dad? Did you see what he’s becoming? You better start performing your own mental and physical inventory of sanity more frequently and consciously. Madness seems to sneak right up on the Early men. You can never let down your guard. You can never stop being vigilant. You’re never safe from yourself. Your own blood will poison you.

Dill glimpsed a billboard with a father and son on it as it flashed past. He spoke before his preoccupied brain could stop his mouth. “I really wish you were my dad.”

Dr. Blankenship was quiet for a moment and then glanced over at Dill. “I would be proud if you were my son.”

“When are you guys telling me where we’re heading?” Travis asked.

“Nashville. The rest is a surprise,” Lydia said, exchanging a knowing glance and smile with Dill.

“But my birthday was weeks ago. Christmas too.”

“Irrelevant,” Lydia said.

“What’s in Nashville?”

“Non-Christmas, nonbirthday surprise.”

“Give me a hint.”

“Dill, help me here. What’s something wizardy that will shut him up?”

“Oh man. Asking the wrong person. Uh…hey, Travis, if you keep asking questions…you’ll break some sort of important spell. And you’ll spend the rest of your life diarrheaing yourself.”

“That works. Travis, you were born to a wizard family, and adopted by a normal family. But a very powerful sorcerer enchanted you so that if you ask more than…oh…say, three questions on your birthday, you’ll have horrific diarrhea.”

“It’s not my birthday, remember?”

“There’s a one-month window on the spell. And we’re a half hour from the next rest stop.”

They neared Nashville. Lydia’s GPS squawked directions to the airport.

“The airport…,” Travis started to say, with a questioning lilt in his voice.

Lydia raised a finger in warning. “Diarrhea.”

“…is a very cool place for airplanes to take off and land,” Travis finished.

They took the exit to the airport and approached the terminal.

“We’re right on time,” Lydia said, looking at her phone.

“On time on time or the Lydia version of on time?” Dill asked.

“No, genuinely on time.” Lydia pulled into a parking lot where cars waited to pick up people at the terminal.

They waited several minutes. Travis started to say something.