The Wild Ways (7 page)
“That, Charlotte . . .” Auntie Bea folded her arms over a large, glittering image of a gossamer winged fairy distorted into caricature by the shelf of her breasts. “ . . . is what we said. Edward’s replacement will, of course, be temporary.
He
will be replaced by challenge and that replacement will last for a while longer.”
He
will be replaced by challenge and that replacement will last for a while longer.”
Charlie borrowed an eye roll from Allie. “Of course.”
Auntie Bea ignored the sarcasm. “As you’ve grasped the situation, we’ll be off. We need to tell the others who’ve relocated.” She made it sound as though the family had relocated to dirt roads, wooden sidewalks, gunfights at high noon, and saloons with sawdust floors. Auntie Bea made no secret of having come west to keep an eye on things.
“You’re not telling David,” Allie growled.
Auntie Carmen reached over the counter and patted her on the arm. “Of course not, dear. You anchor second circle; that’s your job.”
The expected protest never materialized. Allie merely closed her eyes for a moment and, when she opened them, asked, “When?”
Not when should she tell David, Charlie realized, but when was it happening. Second circle made connections. Allie was upset not surprised. She was part of the process now.
“Full moon’s tonight,” Auntie Bea sniffed as she headed for the door. “No time like the present.”
“No time for second thoughts,” Auntie Carmen sighed, following.
Auntie Gwen lingered a moment. “We’ll take to the air and head out beyond the city limits. We don’t want to be on territory David holds when we get caught up. Yes, we will,” she said in response to a sort of cough from Allie. “We spent years with Edward; we’re too connected not to react. But we’ll find something to . . . take the edge off. David will be . . .” She bit her lip and tapped French-tipped nails against the counter.
“In a state?” Charlie offered. “Freaked? In no danger from the three of you but likely to trample you flat anyway?”
Auntie Gwen ignored her. “He’ll be agitated. It might help if you were with him, Alysha.”
“I plan to be.”
“I’ll be there, too,” Charlie pointed out. Allie squeezed her hand a little tighter.
“Of course you will.” Auntie Gwen frowned, sharing her disapproval equally between the two of them, and opened her mouth, but, before she could speak, Auntie Bea stuck her head back in through the door.
“I’m not paying for this cab to sit at the curb, Gwen!”
“You’re not paying for the cab!” Auntie Gwen pointed out acerbically. The aunties needed a cab—a cab appeared. Never the same cab twice, so at least they spread the free rides around. Charlie wasn’t sure if it was a result of the family’s tie to the city or the aunties being cheap, but both were likely. Also, Auntie Bea’s lime-green Capris were terrifying when seen through the door’s clear-sight charm.
Auntie Gwen took a couple of steps away from the counter, paused, and pinned Charlie with a look that suggested a conversation involving the words,
we need to discuss your future
was in the offing. “Just to be on the safe side, Charlotte . . .”
And I shouldn’t have to tell you this,
added the subtext. “ . . . stay out of the Wood tonight.”
we need to discuss your future
was in the offing. “Just to be on the safe side, Charlotte . . .”
And I shouldn’t have to tell you this,
added the subtext. “ . . . stay out of the Wood tonight.”
“I’ll be with Allie.”
Her expression shifted, but before Charlie could define where it ended up, a car horn sounded. “Who tied Bea’s sensible cotton briefs in a knot,” Auntie Gwen muttered. Her rubber sandals made less of an aural impact than she’d probably intended as she stomped out of the store.
Still clutching Charlie, Allie stood in silence. Watched the cab drive away. Watched the traffic pass.
“Allie-cat,” Charlie said at last, “could I have my hand back? I can’t chord with broken fingers.”
“You’re not going because you could put Allie in danger!” Charlie snapped at last, stepping between Allie and Graham and waving a flip flop, first at Graham . . . “Sure, you married in, but the whole seventh son of a son of a thing gives you gnarly powers of your own and you know that.” . . . and then at Allie. “He anchors ritual with you; stop treating him like he doesn’t know what’s going on.” Back at Graham. “You want to be there to protect her.” Back at Allie. “You want him not to be there to protect him. Oh, joy. True love. Stop making me nauseous and consider that we don’t know how Graham would be affected and that could put Allie in danger and so you’re not . . .” She slapped him on the chest with the flip flop. “ . . . going! End of discussion.”
After a long moment, Graham sighed. “If music doesn’t work out for you, you could go into marriage counseling.”
“Music is working out just fine,” Charlie muttered, yanking her crushed flip flop from his grip. “Thank you.”
“No way!” Jack folded his arms, brows nearly touching over his nose. “You can’t make me stay in tonight, that’s not fair! And, it’s totally . . .”
“The aunties are Hunting.”
“. . . totally the night I’m gonna kick Graham’s ass at Madden.”
Hand in the small of her back, Charlie pushed Allie toward the apartment door. “Told you
he’d
understand.”
he’d
understand.”
Charlie kicked at a chunk of dirt by the boulder that marked a hidden cache of David’s clothes. Nose Hill Park was deserted. At seven, it was two and half hours until sunset, but there were no runners. No cyclists. No dog walkers. No surprise really; the air felt heavy, thick, and hot. Body temperature. Blood temperature. The moon would be full at seven thirty-seven—nine thirty-seven Ontario time. “He’s not going to come, Allie. He knows what’s happening; all the Woods are joined, and he’s going to need to run.”
“Nothing’s chasing him.” In spite of the heat, Allie had her arms wrapped around her torso.
“Even if nothing’s chasing him.”
“I wanted to tell him . . .”
“What?” Charlie suspected Allie wanted to tell pretty lies.
I won’t let this happen to you.
David probably knew they were lies as much she did and wanted to hear them even less.
I won’t let this happen to you.
David probably knew they were lies as much she did and wanted to hear them even less.
Finally Allie stopped scanning the visible acres of the park, and sighed. “He’s strong. So many lives in the city, and I can feel every one of them through him. Not just the bright, clear touch of family, not just the land, but every little . . .” She flicked her fingers, right hand, left hand, right hand.
“That’s weird.” Charlie slid down the boulder, sat with her back against the rock, and repeated the movement. “Because Calgary never struck me as a jazz hands kind of city.”
Allie sat beside her. “You’d be surprised,” she said, tugging the hem of her shorts back into place, her voice tight. “Things are happening here.”
Charlie bumped her shoulder. “Let’s not start that again.”
The grass on the hill was gold, the sky a heated silver blue. Leaves hung motionless on the trees. Charlie could feel the way into the Wood through them, feel the point where Jack and his mother had broken through from the UnderRealm, the ancient site sealed with modern ritual. She felt the city beyond the park only because her family was a part of it now. But Allie . . .
“Every life? Isn’t that distracting?”
She felt Allie’s shrug where their bare shoulders touched. “When you’re listening to music, do you hear every note?”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes it’s distracting, but mostly it’s just an awareness. It’s what second circle does. Here, we tend our bits of the city the way the older piece of the family tends their land.”
Although, because she’d been the primary conduit, Allie
tended
on a deeper level than any of the cousins who’d joined them.
Her
, Charlie corrected hurriedly.
Joined her
. In fact, Allie likely tended on a deeper level than any of the second circle back east. Odds were, she wasn’t even aware of how often her attention drifted away from conversations, eyes unfocused slightly as she twitched a bit of the city back the way she wanted it. The whole uber
connectedness
freaked Charlie out a bit. Personally, she needed to have her options just a little more open than that.
tended
on a deeper level than any of the cousins who’d joined them.
Her
, Charlie corrected hurriedly.
Joined her
. In fact, Allie likely tended on a deeper level than any of the second circle back east. Odds were, she wasn’t even aware of how often her attention drifted away from conversations, eyes unfocused slightly as she twitched a bit of the city back the way she wanted it. The whole uber
connectedness
freaked Charlie out a bit. Personally, she needed to have her options just a little more open than that.
Open enough to go all the way to Fort McMurray with a bar band?
Wow. Her inner voice had gotten sarcastic of late.
“You’d know if you crossed,” Allie began but Charlie cut her off.
“Not going to happen, Allie-cat. I don’t care how much the aunties want a seventh son of a Gale. I’m not crossing to second circle—it’s express lane all the way to first—and I’m not splitting Graham’s mystical lineage with you.”
Given the way Gales skewed to girls, producing a seventh son of a seventh son of a seventh son in the Gale family meant approximately thirty-five babies. Gales liked babies, hell, Charlie liked babies, but that, that was heading into rodent territory even if Allie’s unusual sibling situation—one brother, no sisters—helped adjust the numbers.
Allie snorted, sounding more like herself than she had at any time since the aunties had dropped the bombshell about the Hunt. “I’m not suggesting you split Graham’s mystical lineage with me. I’m not even starting on Graham’s mystical lineage until Jack’s . . .” She waved a hand. “ . . . resolved and even then, since it’s not the aunties knocking me up, we’re talking four or five tops—not fifteen or sixteen. But that doesn’t mean you can’t cross.”
“Have the aunties been chewing at you about this?” That could definitely explain Auntie Gwen’s expression. Every now and then, opinions shifted from
don’t waste a Gale boy on
her
to breed the Wild Power back into the lines
and at nearly twenty-eight, Charlie knew she was reaching the age where the nagging started in earnest. “Second circle ties you down. I need the open road, the wind at my back, and a new horizon out in front of me.”
don’t waste a Gale boy on
her
to breed the Wild Power back into the lines
and at nearly twenty-eight, Charlie knew she was reaching the age where the nagging started in earnest. “Second circle ties you down. I need the open road, the wind at my back, and a new horizon out in front of me.”
“It’s quite possible you also need to sing a little less country music,” Allie muttered.
“Not to mention,” Charlie continued, ignoring her, “that the Wild Powers usually skip right from third circle to first.”
“Gran didn’t.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Kicking off a flip flop, Charlie used her toes to comb the dead grass into parallel lines. If the aunties hadn’t been chewing at her, then Allie had brought the second circle stuff up on her own and that freaked Charlie out a bit, too. “ . . . if your grandmother had been a boy, the aunties would have taken her out by now.”
“Not telling me something I don’t already know,” Allie sighed.
They sat quietly for a few minutes. Charlie buried her toes in pale dirt, uncovered them, buried them again, until she couldn’t stand it anymore and glanced at her watch. “Ten minutes left to kill.”
Allie stiffened.
“Sorry.” Charlie pressed closer, but Allie didn’t relax.
Eight minutes.
Five minutes.
Two minutes.
The leaves shivered. A faint line of dust feathered off the top of the hill.
When the wind reached them, it smelled of the dark hollows under tree roots and the sharp, bitter scent of fear.
Allie shivered. Charlie wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Between one heartbeat and the next, the moon was full and Nose Hill Park went wild.
Back in Ontario, the aunties would be crossing the cornfield behind the big white-and-green farmhouse and gathering on the edge of the wood. Uncle Edward would be out of sight, racing through the deepening shadows under the trees, antlers catching at branches. If this were a modern story, there’d be an out if he survived until dawn. But this was a much older story than that.
Blood would be spilled.
Bonds would be renewed.
The Hunt would feed.
Charlie could hear Allie’s heartbeat, or maybe it was her own. Or David’s hooves slamming into the hard, packed dirt as he ran because he couldn’t not run. Not tonight.
She thought she could hear baying in the distance. Wild laughter beyond that.
Except it wasn’t so much wild as self-satisfied.
The sun had reached the edge of the mountains when Allie jerked and said, “First blood.”
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