The Wild Ways (28 page)
“That’s good.” Right knee against the door holding her steady, Charlie played an arpeggio in G. G minor. G minor seventh. “Now give it more gas and drive it straight into those trees.”
Crash course
being the operative words.
being the operative words.
“Brake! Brake!”
The back of the Selkie’s house on Grandfather’s Cove was coming up fast.
Really fast.
Too fast.
“Jack, that’s the clutch! Off the gas and on the bra . . .”
The car bucked up on its front wheels and stalled.
“. . . ke,” Charlie finished as it bounced to a stop. A slightly singed birch branch slid down the windshield, bounced off the hood, and fell to the ground. Steam rose up through the front vents. Hopefully steam. Smoke would be bad.
Breathing would be good, too, she realized.
Turning to Jack, she poked him in the side and he exhaled explosively.
Good news: compared to what now filled the car, that was definitely steam coming off the engine.
“That was still better than three hours with Auntie Jane.” She couldn’t see his face, but Jack sounded fine. Of course he was fine. He was a Gale.
They got out of the car more or less in unison. Guitar swinging from the strap, Charlie coughed, waved away the smoke, and stared at the ruts crossing the backyard. As she reached out and patted the back of the house, not actually needing to completely straighten her arm, her G string broke.
“End of the summer, we might take the long way home,” she said thoughtfully, jerking her head away from the flailing wire.
“Yeah . . .” Jack was still smoking on every exhale but the volume had started to taper off a bit. “. . . I’m down with that.You think they’ve noticed we’re gone?”
A phone rang inside the house, Allie’s ringtone clearly audible through the open window.
Charlie’d given her phone to Eineen. Who’d evidently left it here. Nearly seven Calgary time, nearly eleven in Nova Scotia, and no one was answering. So no one was home. “Well, that sucks. Here we are, bearing the knowledge of how to keep Auntie Catherine from playing bogeyman—and there’s no one to tell. Wait!” Jack jerked and she hid a smile. “I can use your phone!”
“I’m not fifteen, remember. But Auntie Jane said she’d give me a phone early when we talked in Toronto.”
Possibly. Charlie was sticking to her original theory that Auntie Jane didn’t want Jack running Wild.
“I can get through that door,” Jack offered. “Easy.”
If she had her phone, she could call Tanis—who couldn’t go into the water without her skin so was probably weeping on Bo’s shoulder.
“The door isn’t a problem, but we have to time it right.”
“Time it? Charlie, it’s a . . .”
The phone stopped ringing.
“Now!”
Charging across the kitchen, slamming her thumb into the edge of the table as she snatched up her phone, Charlie managed to dial out before anyone else dialed in.
“It’s like on
Stargate
,” Jack said as she waited for Tanis to answer.
Stargate
,” Jack said as she waited for Tanis to answer.
“The TV show? I think they got that idea from Auntie . . . Tanis? Auntie Catherine is coming through the mirrors. That’s how she’s taking the skins. What? Please stop crying, you sound like you’re talking underwater.” She waved Jack toward the door and mouthed,
you broke it, you fix it.
you broke it, you fix it.
He leaned the door against the kitchen cabinets. “How?”
“Hello? Sorcery.”
“Sorcery!”
“No, Tanis, Auntie Catherine is not using sorcery; it’s a Wild Power thing, like going through the Woods, only shinier.” She waited while Tanis told Bo, then added, “Tell everyone to cover their mirrors, that’ll keep her out.”
“All their mirrors? Even the small ones?”
“Even the small ones. This may be the one time size
doesn’t . . .”
Tires squealed. Charlie winced. “Tanis? Tanis?” Given the volume of the shouting, both Tanis and Bo were fine, but they sounded liked they had some things to work out. Charlie tossed her phone back down onto the table. “Tanis ripped off the rear view mirror and threw it out the window. Come on, let’s go.”
doesn’t . . .”
Tires squealed. Charlie winced. “Tanis? Tanis?” Given the volume of the shouting, both Tanis and Bo were fine, but they sounded liked they had some things to work out. Charlie tossed her phone back down onto the table. “Tanis ripped off the rear view mirror and threw it out the window. Come on, let’s go.”
Jack jerked a thumb back over his shoulder. “The door’s still a little wonky.”
Both the door and the space it filled were no longer exactly rectangular. But they weren’t butterflies, so Charlie counted it as a win. “Does it lock?”
It did.
“Good enough.”
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to do sorcery?”
“You’re not supposed to be a sorcerer,” Charlie told him, sliding in behind the wheel. “Not the same thing. Now, if we’re going to make sound check . . .” Fingers crossed, she settled her left hand in the undulations Jack had melted, and turned the key with the right. The engine grumbled for a moment but started. “. . . we’re going to have to drive fast.”
“Cool.” Jack rolled down his window. “Can we stop for food, though? I’m starving.”
Inside the house, the phone began playing “Ride of the Valkyries.”
SEVEN
“S
O, YOU’RE COUSIN JACK.” The weird guy in the skirt straightened, and peered at Jack over the top edge of his sunglasses. “You seem to be a good influence on Chuck since she’s actually here on time. Mark.” He stuck out his right hand.
O, YOU’RE COUSIN JACK.” The weird guy in the skirt straightened, and peered at Jack over the top edge of his sunglasses. “You seem to be a good influence on Chuck since she’s actually here on time. Mark.” He stuck out his right hand.
Jack looked at the tangle of cables Mark held and then over at Charlie, who shrugged. Maybe this was a test. After a little initial confusion, he’d learned that when people held out their hand in the MidRealm, it was a greeting not a threat. While Allie’d applied first aid, Graham had explained that it used to mean,
See, my hand is empty. I’m not likely to kill you in the next few moments.
Was Mark saying,
I can strangle you with these cables, you decide how this interaction is going to go
? Or had he just forgotten he was holding them? Given what Jack could see of Mark’s expression behind all the hair, he was betting on the later. Tugging the cables free of a surprisingly strong grip, he shook the guy’s hand, then handed the cables back.
See, my hand is empty. I’m not likely to kill you in the next few moments.
Was Mark saying,
I can strangle you with these cables, you decide how this interaction is going to go
? Or had he just forgotten he was holding them? Given what Jack could see of Mark’s expression behind all the hair, he was betting on the later. Tugging the cables free of a surprisingly strong grip, he shook the guy’s hand, then handed the cables back.
Seemed to have been the right thing to do, but he supposed it could come back to take a bite from his tail later.
“I like him, Chuck.You know why you’re here, Cousin Jack?”
“As far as Mark’s concerned,” Charlie said before Jack could answer, “you’re here to be a roadie for the band. That’s as far as his interest extends.”
Her expression said,
He doesn’t have to know all you are.
He doesn’t have to know all you are.
Well, duh. Who did?
“Bullshit. I have extended interests.” Mark seemed harmless. Jack didn’t trust that. “Anything you need to know, Cousin Jack?”
He shrugged. “Charlie’s got it covered. But . . .”
“Yes?”
“Why the skirt?”
“It’s a kilt.”
“Okay.” He waited. Glanced over at Charlie, then back at Mark.
After a moment, Mark’s brows rose—barely visible between the sunglasses and the hair. “Oh, you really wanted to know. I thought you were just being a smart-ass, you know, given the fourteen and all. I wear a kilt . . .” He ran his empty hand down over the pleats. “. . . because I find it more comfortable to let the boys hang free.”
“Genitals,” Charlie said quickly. “Don’t give me that look,” she added more quickly still as Jack closed his mouth so emphatically his teeth clacked. “You know you were about to ask how he got boys under his kilt and you . . .” Turning to Mark. “. . . were going to say a six-pack usually works, so . . .” She mimed a rim shot. “. . . moving on.”
“No one appreciates the classics,” Mark muttered. “Can you lift an amp, Cousin Jack?”
Jack shrugged. He could lift a buffalo. “I’m stronger than I look.”
Stepping away from the van, Mark made a sweeping gesture at a black box thing with fabric and dials. Jack guessed that must be an amp. Charlie’d never brought one home, so he’d never seen one up close and personal. They looked fuzzier on YouTube. He leaned in, lifted the box thing up, and said, “Where do you want it?”
“Get it to the stage. Tim’ll place it.”
Even in this form he could probably carry two, three if they weren’t such an awkward size, but he suspected, given the question, Humans couldn’t.
“Ah, the energy of youth,” he head Mark say as he headed for the stage. “Anything else I should know about him? You said his parents were dead?”
“Father’s dead, mother’s not around. He’s strong-minded, independent, easy to feed, and . . .”
“And I can still hear you!” Jack yelled without turning.
“. . . picks his nose with his tailtip when he thinks no one’s looking!”
Jack flushed.
“Of course we tell the truth,” Auntie Bea sniffed. “We’re hardly responsible for what people believe.”
It hadn’t taken him long to realize that it wasn’t what a Gale said, it was how they said it.
Listening to Mark laugh, Jack wondered if Charlie knew that basic rule applied to every word out of her mouth.
It figured that in front of a crowd of tourists, most of whom couldn’t tell a jig from a reel, Grinneal had never sounded better. At the last minute, Mark decided not to play “Wild Road Beyond.”
“Wasted on this lot,” he’d said. “Too many Tilleys in the crowd.”
His song, his decision, but Charlie couldn’t see that the hats made much of a difference. Everyone was on their feet from the second song, and when they knew the words—international crowds meant American covers—they roared the chorus back at the stage like they’d been raised to the sound of the fiddle.
By nine thirty, the hats were white blobs in the gathering darkness and the smell of sweat had overwhelmed the scent of mosquito repellent. Ignoring the teenagers employed by Parks Canada, who were attempting to herd everyone back to their campsites, the crowd demanded one last song.
Mark’s eyes gleamed. Charlie tightened her grip on her pick as he slammed them into “Mari Mac
.
” Eight verses later, the band finished the song at Mach 10 and the crowd, wrung dry, finally surrendered the field.
.
” Eight verses later, the band finished the song at Mach 10 and the crowd, wrung dry, finally surrendered the field.
“Figures this wasn’t a festival show,” Shelly gasped, tossing Charlie a bottle of water and cracking one for herself. “We were on fucking fire!”
“Damn right,” Charlie agreed, stretching her T-shirt up to wipe her forehead. “So we just do it again. And again. And again.” She emptied the bottle as Shelly laughed.
“You think it’s going to be that easy?”
“Please. If it was easy, everybody’d be doing it. We, however, are amazing.”
“We are.”
“We not only rock and roll, we Celt.”
“I don’t think you can use that as a verb,” Shelly pointed out, bending to unplug her electric upright bass.
“I can use anything I want as a . . .” Charlie couldn’t see what Tanis was looking at, but, even at a distance, it seemed as though Bo’s arm was the only thing keeping her vertical. Swinging her guitar back around in front of her body, although she had no idea what she’d do should Auntie Catherine have decided to get up close and personal now the mirrors were blocked, Charlie ran from the grandstand to where the fiddle player and the Selkie were standing at the end of the trampled grass.
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