Americana Fairy Tale (10 page)

“Where are we?” Taylor asked, leaning over Corentin’s shoulder.

Catching Taylor’s primrose scent, Corentin stiffened. His foot jerked and slammed on the brake. The force caused the truck to shift sharply to the right and slightly lift off two wheels. Taylor yelped as he collided with the passenger side door and cracked his head on the window. Ringo bounced into the front seat headrest and ricocheted like a Ping-Pong ball through the cabin.

Corentin fought the truck, trying to right it as his mind raced with the urge to flip the truck with Taylor, Ringo, and him in it. His knuckles bleached white on the wheel as he panted with panic.
Breathe, breathe
, he told himself. His cheeks puffed with quick intakes of air, and his forehead broke into beads of sweat. Meanwhile, Ringo bounced around the cabin like a squishy projectile, and Taylor screamed while being flung about the backseat.

Getting a grip on the wheel, Corentin yanked it hard to settle the truck into one lane. The wheels skidded, squealing with the trail of rubber. Taylor tossed his hands up and snatched Ringo out of midair like a wayward basketball.

After a moment of driving in a long, awkward silence, Corentin continued the conversation from the moment where they left off. “Just crossed Montgomery, I think.”

“You think?” Taylor asked and set Ringo back onto the passenger seat headrest. “It’s practically a straight shot to Atlanta from here. Just get on I-85 North and follow it. Take the Hartsfield-Jackson exit, and off you go.”

Still flustered and confused, with no time to contemplate what had just come over him, Corentin tossed out his hand and gestured to the open road. “Do you see signs for I-85 North anywhere, genius?”

“Man, you’re really bitchy,” Ringo said, crossing his arms. “Have enough water today? Hydration is important.”

“Why should I trust you anyway? You could be getting us lost on purpose,” Taylor said. There was a sneer in his tone, and he glared in the rearview. “I’m not counting out we nearly died three seconds ago.”

“I was avoiding a
tire
in the road,” Corentin lied. “And I am
not
getting us lost.” His irritation grew as he tried to puzzle through everything that had just transpired. “I’m keeping my promise. You’re useless to me, so we’re going to go save your brother and kill Idi instead.”

“Woooooah,” Ringo said, holding up his hands in surrender. “You didn’t tell me this was Idi we were up against.”

“Someone fill me in,” Taylor said in a demanding tone.

Corentin gritted his teeth. Just like all princesses, Taylor was a pretty spoiled brat. “Idi is the Witchking,” Corentin said simply. He braced himself for the oncoming flurry of questions. Which he wouldn’t know how to answer in the simplest of terms.

“Idi’s bad juju,” Ringo said. “The worst of all witches.”

“And we’re going to kill him?” Taylor asked.

Corentin caught him arching a brow and making a doubtful expression in the rearview. “That’s the plan.”

“And save Atticus,” Taylor said.

“
That’s
the plan,” Corentin repeated tersely.

“What’s in it for you?” Taylor asked. Something in his tone suggested his mistrust had hit its limit.

Before Corentin could come up with an expert lie, he was unfortunately saved by the GPS popping with sizzles and showering sparks over the cabin of the truck. Ringo zipped behind the passenger seat, and Taylor yelped in a half squeal. The truck fishtailed over two lanes and came dangerously close to clipping a car. Corentin acted fast, ripping the melting device from its dash mount and chucking it out the window. Taylor turned to look out the back window, and Corentin caught the bright orange flame as the thing exploded like a grenade.

When the spots cleared from Corentin’s eyes, he muttered a curse under his breath as the truck passed from a clear division of daylight into the dead of night. He clicked the headlights on and waited for his eyes to adjust.

“What the hell is going on?” Taylor asked, leaning up to the back window.

“Idi’s fucking with us,” Corentin said. “It seems like he’s trying to delay us as much as possible.”

“He knows we’re onto him,” Taylor said. “Way to go for discussing the supersecret squirrel plan out loud.”

“You know,” Corentin said, glaring in the rearview, “you are a
lot
more pleasant when you’re passed out, snoring.”

Taylor huffed. “I don’t snore.”

“You bleat like a dying hyena,” Ringo said, then spit a giggle.

Taylor’s attention snapped to the pixie. “What is this? Asshole day?”

Corentin caught his eerie pink glare in the rearview.

“Dude, just get off at the nearest exit. We should be near Birmingham by now.”

“All right, all right,” Corentin said, and it was a pleasant reprieve that Taylor kept his mouth shut for more than five minutes. It didn’t last.

“Hey, hey!” Taylor said and pointed at a green-and-white interstate exit sign in the distance. “Talladega! Turn here. I can get us to Atlanta from here. We’re not that far off.”

Corentin guided the truck up the exit ramp and frowned. Something was wrong—flat-topped mesas came into view.

“What the…?” Taylor whispered and watched the rolling dunes of the Painted Desert.

“Uuuh…,” Ringo added and pressed himself to the windshield. The occasional cactus whisked by. “Wow, Talladega’s having a hard time with the drought this season,” Ringo said through their awestruck silence.

“That’s not a drought,” Corentin said softly.

Taylor squinted into the distance. “Does ‘
Welcome to Arizona,
the Grand Canyon State
’ answer your question?”

Ringo pasted his face to the windshield. “How do you even see—” Ringo squeaked when the state sign of Arizona blurred by. “Oh my Storyteller!”

Corentin remained tense, trying to get his thoughts together.

Taylor, however, seemed to not be able to resist blurting out his opinion. “It seems this Eddie guy is doing more than just fucking with us.”

“
Idi
,” Corentin said and realized how terse he sounded. “I think he wants to do more than just delay us.”

Ringo peeled himself from the windshield. He slapped his hands to his cheeks in horror. “He wants us to
die out here
?” he croaked.

“Panicking is not going to help,” Corentin said firmly.

“Easy for you to say,” Taylor snapped. “We just need to stop somewhere and ask for directions. We’ll get back on the right road in no time.”

Corentin sighed. Taylor’s hope was admirable, but Ringo was only half right. They would die out here, but only one of them. This was Corentin’s first trial. Now he was here, in the middle of nowhere, with Taylor to do with what he would. As soon as that was over, Idi would release him and he’d be on his way, but only until the next time Idi summoned him to do his bidding.

They drove on, again in a long-hanging silence. The interstate lay barren, not a single car or scrap of civilization to be seen. The pavement bore veins of black tar from years of shoddy repair. Corentin caught Taylor’s pink gaze in the rearview, and his feral eyes seemed to gleam in the dark.

The princess shifted from one side of the backseat to the other. He seemed to look for anything that would help. He cupped his hands around the glass and peeked out into the night. “I can’t see anything out there. It’s just desert,” Taylor muttered.

Ringo turned to Corentin. “How are we on ga—”

“
Don’t say it
!” Corentin and Taylor shouted in unison.

Ringo held up his hands and pursed his lips. “Got it…. Uh… why?”

“I assume Eddie is listening in to everything,” Taylor said.

“
Idi
,” Corentin corrected Taylor again. “I think Sir Princess is right. It seems the second we’ve said anything, something’s gone wrong.”

Ringo fluttered over to the dash and rested his chin in his palm. “You know… it could be all a coincidence….”

Corentin and Taylor glared angrily at Ringo in silence while the hum of the pavement whooshed as Corentin drove.

Ringo waved his hands. “By Titania’s tatas, guys, I was
just
kidding!”

Corentin blinked when something caught his eye out in the distance—there was a flash of red taillights and an outline of a big box shape, then a couple of sparks of blue light. Corentin wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Hey… I think we have company.”

Taylor straightened and squinted at the shape. “Is that a tour bus?”

The blue sparks popped into the night again. Corentin scratched at the corner of his eye. “That would explain the sparks. I think they’re camera flashes.”

“What the hell would tourists be doing out here in the middle of the night?” Ringo asked and fluttered over to Taylor’s shoulder. “Unless it’s a ghost tour.”

Taylor gritted his teeth. “You are the
biggest
help,” he said with a sigh. “Should we stop? You think they’re friendly?”

Corentin killed the headlights and slowed the truck to a crawl. “I have tools in the chest in the back,” he said. He pressed his lips into a grim line.

“Okay…,” Taylor said. It was clear he wasn’t following. “What does that have to do wi—”

“
Huntsman tools
,” Corentin said firmly. “We should be ready to defend ourselves.”

Taylor jerked back and flattened himself to the backseat. “You are telling me you have
death tools
in this truck?”

“And here I thought it was just Starbucks cups,” Ringo said.

“Don’t make me kill you,” Taylor muttered to Ringo.

Corentin eased the truck onto the shoulder and put it in park. He twisted, looking back at his two traveling companions. “Best we go by foot here. Who knows what we’ll find.”

Taylor made an annoyingly doubtful face and pointed toward the bus. “I’m
pretty
sure they’re just tourists.”

Corentin narrowed his eyes. “And I’m pretty sure the truck didn’t nearly flip, the GPS didn’t explode, we took an exit for Talladega, and now we’re in
Arkansas
.”

“Arizona,” Ringo muttered.

Corentin growled. “Don’t think for one second I won’t skin you.”

“Okay!” Taylor snapped and held up his hands. “Okay! Everyone. Just chill the hell out. I’ll take the lead. People are more inclined to trust princesses, right? I got this.”

Corentin ran a hand over his face. He considered his options. If Taylor went out unattended and met his end, then he’d be off the hook for killing him. But the bigger prize was killing Idi. Provided they could get to Idi in Atlanta.

“Okay. I’m out,” Taylor said and popped open the door.

“Fuck, wait!” Corentin called to Taylor, but he was already stalking a good pace toward the tour bus.

Ringo fluttered just behind Corentin’s shoulder. “I didn’t think he’d do that,” he muttered.

“Come on,” Corentin growled and hurried from the truck to the tool chest in the pickup bed. He fumbled with the keys, testing each one in the lock.
Of all of the things not to remember in the most inopportune moment
. He scanned the horizon for Taylor and spotted him getting smaller and smaller as he got farther down the road. The lock popped on the tool chest, and Corentin flipped open the lid. He blindly reached in, flailing for anything that looked close enough to a decent weapon. His fingers plucked at a taut string and then fumbled over the contours of various blades, which he took care not to cut himself on. His hand settled on what seemed like a mean dagger, and Corentin decided it would do. He yanked it out and hastily closed the lid.

“Let’s go,” he urged Ringo, and the two hustled down the street.

As Corentin got closer, his eyes adjusted more to the scene before him. It wasn’t just the bus, but also a condemned building out in the middle of nowhere with nothing around for miles in any direction. Two gigantic concrete arrows jutted up from the ground in front of the building, and Corentin scanned the rotting paint on the exterior. Underneath all the obscene graffiti, it seemed to be some type of diner from another decade. A faded sign declared it Twin Arrows Trading Post. He nodded to himself. At least it explained the weird arrow sculptures.

He crept through the parking lot, shifting over a concrete barrier. Ringo stayed close, his wings buzzing in Corentin’s ear. Taylor was nowhere to be seen, and there were distant mutterings of the supposed tourists just out of sight. The crunch of glass underfoot signaled someone was close and getting closer. Corentin clasped Ringo out of the air and pulled him to his chest. He spun with the pixie into the alcove of where the front door used to be. Ringo heaved in obvious fright, and Corentin lifted a finger from his grip around Ringo’s middle and pressed it over the pixie’s mouth.

“Shh-shh-shh,” Corentin whispered. Ringo nodded against his finger, and Corentin let him go to hover next to him. “
Stay. Here
,” Corentin mouthed to Ringo. Ringo gave a thumbs-up.

The footsteps crunched over glass again, closer and more hurried. Someone knew they were there. Corentin’s grip around his dagger tightened. Ringo clamped his hands over his mouth to keep himself quiet.

There was a shift in the shadow, and Corentin knew they had been found. He lashed out, gripping the slim wrist of the interloper and spinning him into a choke hold against his body. He adjusted his grip in a split second to slap his hand over the guy’s mouth and pressed the dagger tip to his neck. “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound,” Corentin warned the small man.

And then he caught the scent of primrose in the guy’s hair, and his whole body stiffened. “Shit!” Corentin gasped and shoved Taylor away from him.

Taylor spun on his heel and landed the perfect slap across Corentin’s jaw. “What the
fuck
is the matter with you!” Taylor snapped in a harsh whisper. “Threatening me with a screwdriver? Really? Some big ass-kicker you are!”

Fury and confusion shot through Corentin. “It’s not a—” He held out the dagger, and the dim light revealed it was indeed a screwdriver. “Dammit.” He sighed.

Ringo fluttered between them. “What’s the situation? Should we be ready to run for our lives?”