Americana Fairy Tale (11 page)

Taylor snorted. “No way. It’s like….” He turned and gestured around the corner. “Like some tour group for a school for the disabled. One kid is blind, one kid is all bandaged up, another in a wheelchair. And their guide is some weird-looking tatted-up dude. He seems to be having a good time showing the kids around.”

“Weird tatted-up dude?” Corentin asked. “Were you able to make out his tattoos?”

Taylor blinked. “The tattoos?” he asked, leaning back on his heel.

“Yeah,” Ringo said. “You’re the one who can apparently read signs a mile down the road.”

Corentin narrowed his eyes. Ringo seemed to be onto something, but he shared Taylor’s doubt.

Taylor rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He nodded to Corentin. “And to answer your question, full sleeves of rodents. Hamsters, I think.”

Corentin tilted his head. “Hamsters? Like… lemmings? Who on earth would get tattoos of lemmings?” He leaned into the dilapidated wall and considered the screwdriver in his hand. He had been so
sure
it was a dagger. It had felt like a dagger. But… it was dark, and he did rush.

“Aren’t hamsters and lemmings the same thing?” Taylor asked, and Corentin met his gaze.

“He’s one of us,” Ringo said. “It’s safe.” And with that, Ringo took off in a corkscrewing flight over the roof of the condemned diner.

Taylor flailed and tried to catch Ringo, but it was too late. “Shit!” He sighed, and Corentin watched him. Taylor offered a smile. “Well, I trust him at least.”

Corentin narrowed his eyes. “Well, excuse me, Princess. As you can see, we’re both having a really bad day.”

Taylor wrinkled his nose and didn’t pop off some bitchy comment, which was a relief. Instead, he turned an about-face and stepped right in a rotting armadillo corpse. His shriek pierced the night, and Corentin vindictively burst into laughter. Ringo appeared in a puff of glitter. He frantically flew around Taylor as the princess flailed with the yuck on his foot.

“Whoa! Whoa! Who’s there?” the man with the lemming tattoos yelled as he came around the corner.

Corentin shoved the screwdriver in his back pocket and then held out his hands in surrender.

The man stopped, his wallet chain jangled against his shorts, and his eyebrow piercings glinted in the light. “Enchants?”

Taylor shivered and appeared to be trying to figure out how to get the goo off his foot without cutting himself open on the refuse on the ground.

Ringo took the lead of the situation. He hooked a thumb to Corentin. “The guy that looks a bit like a homicidal maniac is Corentin Devereaux. Haven’t quite ruled out if he’s not a homicidal maniac.” Corentin bristled and snorted. Ringo gestured to Taylor. “And the young man here who looks like he’s about to bust down crying because he’s got rotten possum on a half shell on him is my princess, Taylor Hatfield. I’m Ringo, his fairy godfather and chaperone to this train wreck.” He smiled at the punky man. “Nice to see you in these parts, Piper.”

Corentin blinked. “Piper? You know him?”

The man nodded. “Who else would be obsessed with lemmings?” He bowed his head. “It’s Ryan. No one’s called me the Pied Piper since the time of Idi.”

Corentin pointed a finger as the idea came to him. “Speaking of Idi….”

Ryan watched Corentin and squinted in the dim light. “Come around to the bus. I’m freaking blind back here.”

Corentin nodded to Taylor, and Taylor made a horrified face that seemed to indicate the concept of any movement was out of the question. Corentin shifted toward him and whispered softly, “Come on, it’s going to be okay.” Without warning, Corentin scooped up Taylor in his arms and cradled him close.

“I have dead animal guts on my foot,” Taylor croaked, and his lip wiggled as he seemed on the verge of tears.

“Some ass-kicker you are,” Corentin purred under his breath.

With Taylor in hand, Corentin followed Ryan into the light of the bus. Ringo fluttered along easily in the bobbing path of a butterfly. Corentin blinked when he finally saw the children. And Taylor was correct. One was blind, with a black blindfold and a cane, but there were deep welted scars on her cheeks. The child who was wrapped in bandages, the bandages were dingy and bled through in some places. The child in the wheelchair was simply a husk in a dress; she rolled toward them. Corentin’s stomach clenched that the child who appeared to be a corpse could still move.

“They’re mine,” Ryan said and seemed to notice Corentin’s unease. “Don’t let them scare you. They’re on vacation.”

“Oh,” Corentin said, and he tried to unclench his stomach.

Taylor finally spoke up. “We need help.”

Ryan glanced at Taylor’s foot. “I have some Wet Wipes.”

“Not that,” Corentin interrupted. Taylor thumped Corentin’s chest, and he winced. “Okay. In a minute.” He nodded to Ryan. “Taylor’s brother is in trouble.”

“Brother?” Ryan asked. He thumbed his chin, muttering to himself. “Hatfield…. Hatfield…. Where have I heard that name…?” He snapped his fingers. “Holy
shit
! You’re Atticus Hatfield’s brother!”

Corentin caught Taylor wilting at the comment.

“Yeah…,” Taylor said softly.

“Idi has Taylor’s brother in Atlanta,” Corentin said. “We were on our way to rescue him.”

“Oh?” Ryan asked. “You figured driving from Arizona was the quickest?”

“We weren’t in Arizona to start with,” Ringo said, a bit tersely. “We took an exit for Talladega, three hours outside of Atlanta, and somehow we’re….” He held out his hands, gesturing to the expansive desert.

Ryan nodded. “In Arizona. On Old Route 66. At the Twin Arrows Trading Post,” he said, then pointed to the two concrete arrows across the parking lot. “They’re pretty cool, aren’t they? I think they’re symbolic. You know, like how Indiana Jones would say X never marked the spot? But I think it’s different with these. I think they say ‘You are
here
. Your journey starts
here
.’”

Corentin, Taylor, and Ringo all exchanged nervous glances and then all looked back to Ryan. “Please tell me you’re just waxing philosophical because it sounds cool,” Corentin said as he adjusted Taylor in his grip.

Ryan crossed his arms. “I think it means what
you
think it means,” he said in a tone that rubbed Corentin the wrong way. “It’s a quest. Idi has you on a quest. You know, do the whole trials to save the princess and all that bullshit. Because you know what an old romantic he is.” He checked his watch and nodded to the corpse children. “Come on, guys. Gotta get you to the final destination.”

The corpse children laughed healthily like young living children would laugh. Corentin felt Taylor’s grip tighten on him. Ringo swooped in closer to Corentin as the children shifted to board the bus. Ryan stepped toward the back to lower the wheelchair ramp. He held the switch as the platform growled.

“Can’t you help us?” Taylor asked. “Who knows what he’ll do to my brother.”

“I can’t,” Ryan called over the platform motor. “This is your quest. No one can interfere, and I’m not interfering with Idi’s will.”

“Can you just give us a hint?” Ringo snapped. “Where do we go from here?”

Ryan whistled as he loaded the little girl’s wheelchair onto the platform. “Dude. Chill. No need to be so hostile.”

“It’s been a bad day,” Taylor said, and Corentin felt better that it seemed Taylor’s bravery was returning.

“He ran out on his wedding,” Corentin said, smirking at Taylor.

Ryan straightened. “
Yikes
,” he said and waved his hands in a halfhearted mocking gesture.

“Can you help at all?” Taylor asked firmly.

Ryan didn’t answer as he raised the platform onto the bus and tucked his charge inside. Over the agonizing minutes of growling machinery, Corentin muttered into Taylor’s ear, “This is a bust. We need to go.”

Taylor pushed against Corentin’s chest. “I
said
,” Taylor yelled, “can you help at all?”

Ryan rounded the corner of the back of the bus and slapped a box of Wet Wipes into Taylor’s hand. “I helped,” he deadpanned and stepped toward the bus entry, then called behind him, “Look! How can I make this any more plain? It’s fucking
Mario Brothers
. Get out there, go stomp on some koopas, eat some shrooms, throw some fireballs, go down a bunch of pipes, and don’t forget your princess will always,
always
be in another castle!”

The bus engine revved to life, and Corentin and Taylor watched each other with indignation.

“He is fucking serious,” Corentin said with a frown.

“This is bullshit,” Taylor spat.

“Should have stabbed him with the screwdriver,” Ringo said and crossed his arms.

They watched in irritation as the bus pulled onto the road, crept ten feet forward, and then vanished into thin air.

Taylor stiffened in Corentin’s grasp. A chill ran up Corentin’s spine to the crown of his head. And Ringo immediately attached himself to Taylor’s non-gut-covered leg.

After three seconds of silence and bewildered staring, Taylor was the first to say it.

“
Get back in the truck
,” he whispered urgently.
“
Getbackinthetruck
!”

D
REAM
O
N

Somewhere on the Open Road….

June 6

T
AYLOR
BUSIED
himself with scrubbing the armadillo goop off his foot as Corentin drove into the Arizona night. Ringo lay across the back dash, and his eyes drooped. He then bolted upright and slapped his cheeks. Fighting to stay awake, he fluttered past Taylor and to the passenger seat headrest.

“Getting tired?” Taylor asked while he flossed his toes with a Wet Wipe.

Ringo nodded sleepily. “Tryin’ to fight it until we can find a place to park for the night.”

Corentin puffed his cheeks with a sigh. “We could just pull off on a shoulder.”

“And sleep in the truck?” Ringo asked. There was a clear uneasy croak in his voice.

“And get kidnapped by Eddie’s flying monkeys?” Taylor asked, tucking an unruly lock behind his ear. He hesitated, noticed his hand stained in armadillo, and whimpered.

“
Idi
,” Corentin corrected Taylor again. “Idi doesn’t have flying monkeys. Anyway, I thought I’d do the gentlemanly thing and find a place for us to sleep.”

“Sleep?” Taylor asked. The fear crept into his senses. The chances of saving Atticus slipped further and further away the longer they were out here. He had to stay strong for his brother, and he knew damned well what being out in the middle of nowhere with a huntsman meant. “What you mean is you’re waiting for the right moment to stab me with your huntsman death tools. No thanks.”

Corentin sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy sandy-brown hair. “Look…. About Twin Arrows… I didn’t mean it.”

Taylor threw a soiled Wet Wipe into the pit of Starbucks cups, McDonald’s bags, and mummified Wendy’s fries. “Didn’t
mean it? Your mission is to ki—”

“You’d better not be tossing those on the floor,” Corentin snapped.

Taylor glanced down at the pile of bloody and goo-stained Wet Wipes littering the floorboard and mingling with the previous questionable trash. He glared at Corentin in the rearview and frowned. “What the hell does it matter? Have you seen what’s back here? If CSI came in with a light probe, I’d probably hose myself off with boiling water and a steel brush.” He then pulled another from the box and scrubbed his toes.

“Don’t. Leave. Them,” Corentin said, his lips in a grim line. “
Please
.” The phrase left his mouth like a warning.

Ringo frowned at Taylor. “Just do what he says. Stop being bitchy just to bitch.”

Corentin waved a finger at Ringo and grinned. “You are A-OK in my book, little man.”

Taylor tossed up his hands. “Y’all are assholes.”

“No,” Corentin said firmly. “If I’m going to be stuck with you for however long this plays out, I’m going to take every opportunity to call you on your bullshit.”

Taylor stubbornly set his jaw and held up the dirtied Wet Wipe for Corentin to see in the rearview mirror. He remained still, holding the cloth and watching Corentin glance back every so often. The truck rocked with a bump of uneven pavement. The Wet Wipe swayed with the motion of the truck.

“Don’t,” Corentin said and met Taylor’s gaze in the rearview.

Taylor said nothing as he held the Wet Wipe between his index finger and thumb. He pressed his lips together in an indignant line.

“You’re going to regret it,” Corentin warned him.

Taylor let the bloodstained cloth drop to the floorboard.

The truck swerved sharply as Corentin pulled over to a mountainside overlook lined with boulders.

Taylor froze and curled in on himself protectively in the backseat. “Whatareyoudoing?” Taylor asked, running his words together so urgently they came out as one.

Corentin ripped the keys from the ignition, and the truck coughed once, then went silent. Taylor watched him shift to open the driver’s side door and flung himself against the passenger side backdoor. Corentin shoved the driver’s side door open and lunged out of the truck. Taylor squealed and flailed for a handle on the door. A glance out the window made him become still when he saw a sheer drop off a mountain cliff just beyond the door.

“Ringo!” Taylor yelped, but the pixie was nowhere to be seen. “Ringo? Ringo, help me!”

Ringo was gone?
Where did he go? He was just here
! There was nowhere
to go
!

Corentin yanked the back driver’s side door open, and Taylor screamed. His slick and sticky foot slipped across the seats as he tried to shove himself away from Corentin. However, Corentin latched on to Taylor’s ankle and yanked him forward with an easy pull. Taylor flailed, trying to smack at Corentin’s hands, only to succeed in falling into his waiting grip. Corentin hauled Taylor out of the truck, kicking and screeching the whole way.

“Let go of me!” Taylor hollered. “Help!” he howled into the cold mountain air. “
Help
!”