Silence - eARC (14 page)

“I guess if you’ve got enough money, you can pay someone else to think for you,” Wanda said snidely, echoing her thoughts. “So, okay, let’s get this show on the road. I am jonesing for some dice-bouncing.”

The next few hours passed relatively quickly; Staci was really starting to pick up role-playing and the game mechanics. She enjoyed getting into character, and fighting monsters or chasing clues. It was almost like what she was doing now, helping Dylan and saving the town. In fact, the only real difference was that in the game, the monsters were obvious. In real life…not so much.

* * *

When she got home, she opened the door to find her mom stalking up and down the living room with the phone in her hand, yelling. “…Shit, Melinda, you were right, you were right all along, I am such an
idiot!
I was stupid enough to loan that dirtbag money, and just like you said, first he sneaks off last night, and now he’s a no-show, he’s not answering his phone, and all of his so-called friends are acting like he’s—”

She broke off her rant to stare at Staci as if she didn’t recognize her own daughter at first. “…you’re home early,” she said finally.

“I’m home at curfew, like I always am,” Staci pointed out, acidly. “Why aren’t you at work?”

“Slow night; they sent me home.” She stared at Staci a little longer, but this time as if she was trying to remember something. “Okay, honey, this is private, do you mind?”

Since Staci had stopped at the pizza joint on the way back and gotten herself a calzone and soda, it wasn’t as if she needed to be downstairs. She shrugged, said nothing, and went up to her room. But inside…she was wondering. Last night, the scum-butt had vanished into the shadows and hadn’t come out again. Today…he was gone. And it hadn’t been the habit of her mom’s boyfriends to disappear after only a single “loan.” Usually they stuck around until they’d milked her of a couple of months’ worth.

And last night…Dylan had said he’d “stick around” after he dropped her off.

And he’d pretty much confessed to being a stone-cold killer. Unless Fae didn’t count? But wasn’t he Fae?

Okay, last night she’d wanted to
hurt
that bastard. But…she hadn’t actually wanted to kill him.

She didn’t have a lot of appetite after that, but she ate her calzone, trying not to feel too queasy about it.

Staci needed to leave soon; she had promised to meet with Dylan that night, back on Makeout Hill. When she had first made the promise, she had looked forward to the meeting. But now…she didn’t know what she should think, or how she should feel…

* * *

Staci slipped out easily enough; Mom was in her room, and Mom’s solution to just about every problem was at the bottom of a bottle. She didn’t have to wait very long until she heard the sound of Metalhead’s engine in the distance. Dylan pulled up right next to her at the crest of the Hill; immediately, Staci could tell something was wrong. After he swung off of the elvensteed, she was able to get a better look at him. Cuts, scrapes, and bruises showed on his face and hands, and he was walking with a slight limp.

“Hey there, Staci. How’s kicks?” Dylan grinned, then immediately winced.

“Dylan!” She ran to him, but then stood awkwardly right in front of him, not knowing how to react. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“Thanks for not running up and hugging me. Ribs are a little on the creaky side.” He pointed to a patch of grass past her, walking over to it and sitting down gingerly. “Well, the jock is okay. He’s not going to remember much, which is all for the best, really. The Leannan Sidhe…she wasn’t much of a talker. And she had some friends.”

“I should never have said anything—” Staci blurted. “If I’d just kept my mouth shut—”

“If you’d just kept your mouth shut, that boy would be dead.” He leveled a stare at her. “Listen, Staci. You didn’t do anything wrong. If you hadn’t told me about what you had seen, that kid would be dead. I know I wouldn’t want something like that on my conscience. Anyways, I’m fine.” He winced again as he sighed. “For the most part.”

“But you were hurt!”

“Part of the job sometimes. It’s not all so bad, though; I know some tricks that’ll have me back in tiptop shape soon enough. The important thing to remember is that somebody got saved.
And
Finn doesn’t have the support of a Leannan Sidhe and her sisters anymore. That’ll be a nice-sized monkey wrench in whatever his plans are.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” she asked anxiously. “I mean, I guess you don’t—can’t go to a doctor, but is there something I can do? I think there’s an all-night pharmacy open—I
know
there’s one in the next town.”

“Actually, yeah, there is. Over on Metalhead, the left saddlebag. There’s a jar with some waxy-looking stuff in it. If you could grab that, please?”

Staci jumped up and ran for the motorcycle; the correct saddlebag obligingly unlocked and flipped open as she got there, and the top of a jar poked up. “Thanks, Metalhead,” she said, feeling very weird to be talking to a motorcycle, as she grabbed the jar. “You’re awesome.” The elvensteed revved his approval.

“Don’t tell him that, his ego already needs its own house.” Dylan chuckled as she ran back to him. She knelt down next to him and handed him the jar, which was made of pottery rather than glass, and had a cork stopper. He opened it, handed it back to her, and started taking off his jacket and shirt. “I need you to put that on my back.”

Before she did, she dug out her cell phone and concentrated on the charm, making it glow. “Hey do—” Dylan began, then shrugged. “Oh well. Don’t freak out on me, it looks worse than it is.”

In fact, his back looked horrible—black and blue and greenish. She bit back an exclamation. “I’m afraid to touch you now!”

“It’ll be all right. Besides,” he said, flicking his chin at Metalhead, “he can’t reach behind my shoulder blades.”

She dug some of the waxy stuff out of the jar with her fingers. It had a curious scent she couldn’t identify. A little like pine, but not that, a little like eucalyptus, but not that either. The scent had a bitter undertone to it. But it didn’t make her fingers burn or tingle or go numb or anything so she gingerly started to apply it to Dylan’s massive bruises, trying not to put any pressure on his skin. She couldn’t help but notice that underneath the swelling and bruising, he was, well,
built.

Awk-ward…
This was the part in a movie or TV episode where things would get hot. Except they were
right
out in public, and anyone could drive up here at any time. In fact, given that this was
Makeout Hill,
she was kind of surprised there wasn’t anyone here when they got there. Bad enough she was out here after curfew, with a guy the cops in Silence already didn’t like, but…

“What do you
do?”
she asked. “When you aren’t rescuing girls from monsters and jocks from evil witches? Do elves have jobs or anything?”

“Actually, I used to have a pretty normal gig. Well, normal for my kind. I was a motorcycle test driver for Fairgrove Industries. Racing bikes, mostly. They’re based outside of Athens, Georgia. The company is a mix of elves like me and mortal magicians. Pretty cool stuff, really. It was a lot of fun.” There was a moody rev from the elvensteed. “Not like riding Metalhead, of course; nothing could compare to you, old chum.”

“‘Used to?’ Did you get laid off or fired or something?” Somehow she could see that.
Somehow? He’s the original Bad Boy.

“No, nothing like that. I quit, to be quite honest. Caused a bit of a stir, too, from what I’ve been told.” She waited to see if he would tell her why, but when he didn’t, she decided he probably wasn’t going to tell her. Unless she asked, of course…

“Why did you leave? It sounds like it would have been a dream job for someone like you.”

“Philosophical differences.” He sighed, flexing his back a little bit. “I thought that my kind should be doing more to combat the Fae out in the world that were operating quietly, doing their dirty deeds under the radar. The company disagreed. Balance and keeping the peace were more important than saving lives.” Dylan went very quiet at that, and tensed up.

She decided to change the subject a little. “So what do you live on? Air and sunshine?” She made a face. She was halfway down his back now. The bruising was really bad here. Wasn’t this where they punched people if they were trying to hit the kidneys? “I figure Metalhead doesn’t need gas, and he can probably eat flowers or something, but you?”

He laughed at that. “Oh, we have ways. It’s called
kenning.
It’s a magic spell, I can duplicate pretty much anything I care to, as long as I’ve seen and handled it. And don’t start in on duplicating your stupid paper money and serial numbers, we figured that part out a long time ago. When I need money, I duplicate a couple of gold chains or rings and sell them at a pawn shop.” He looked back over his shoulder at her, smirking. “Nobody’s ever surprised to see a biker pawning gold jewelry.”

“I guess…so where do you live?”

He waggled a finger at her. “Ask me no secrets, I’ll tell you no lies. But I can tell you that camping is very comfortable if you’re elven.”

She blinked in the light from her cell charm, considering that. If all he needed to do was see and handle something…well, he could probably have the most comfortable camp on the planet just by visiting a sporting goods store.

When she’d thought about him, she’d vaguely pictured him living in seedy motel rooms, the kind you saw drug dealers and hookers using on TV. It sounded like he was doing all right instead, which kind of vaguely annoyed her, though she couldn’t have said why.

She realized at that point that she’d finished putting the stuff on his back and already the bruises did seem to be fading. He pulled his shirt on almost immediately, somewhat to her disappointment. “That’s great, Staci, thanks.” He took the jar from her, putting the cork back in and setting it down before shrugging his jacket back on. “Any other questions?”

“Do I keep doing what I’m doing?” she asked. “Because…I dunno, I think I’m okay with that, but I don’t want to run into any more monsters.”

“I think you should keep doing what you’re doing, yes. You’ve already helped to save one life…maybe more than that; who knows what Finn could have done with that Fae backing him? Nothing good, that much I’m certain of. As for running into monsters…” Dylan shrugged. “I can’t promise that. I also can’t make you help me, only ask. You’ve been doing great so far; I would have never been able to get as far as I have with this without your help.”

She let out her breath in a sigh. “Okay then. I can do that, I think. I’ll just be more careful.” She smiled a little. “No more running into mazes alone when I don’t know what’s in there.”

“Remember, if you ever get into trouble, I’m always available.”

She started to put her cell phone away, after dimming the charm—and that was when she remembered the rest of it. “Dylan! After I left the maze, I was trying to tell myself that I’d imagined everything—you know, so I could look calm? Except that the further I got back towards the rest, the more I actually started to believe it, until by the time I got back to Sean, I thought all I’d seen was a bunch of Finn’s friends playing some kind of game.” She took a deep breath and continued. “It was kind of like a haze. We went into the club room to watch a movie, and it wasn’t until I accidentally touched my cell charm that it kind of disappeared, and I remembered everything again.”

Dylan sat up straighter and turned around to face her. “That, dear Staci, was a spell. Designed to cover someone’s tracks when they’ve been up to something; I’ll give you one guess who it was. Your boy Finn is playing fast and loose, operating out in the open like he is. The spell was probably an afterthought, a just-in-case sort of thing. It’s a good thing you have that charm; it warded you, knocked you out of the mindspace where you wouldn’t think about anything that didn’t fit in your ordinary world.”

“He’s not
my
boy Finn,” she said sharply. “I didn’t like him before you told me he was working with this Leannan Sidhe thing that
kills
people.”

He made a conciliatory gesture. “Poor choice of words. I apologize. He’s bad news. We’re going to have to find a way for me to get closer to him. We’ll need to find out what he’s ultimately planning. You said that there’s a bit of a power play going on now between him and the other one, Sean?”

She nodded. “Sean. He’s supposed to be the heir, but he said that Finn is trying to prove that
he
is the better choice. Could that be how?”

But Dylan shook his head. “No way of telling. Truth is, we divide ourselves between
Seleighe
and
Unseleighe Sidhe,
but there are a lot more shades of gray than that divide allows. There are
Seleighe
—my kind—that aren’t too particular about where their power comes from, as long as it isn’t
overtly
from dubious sources. They won’t dirty their hands with death and misery themselves but they aren’t all that careful with their…toys.” He smiled sadly. “You might look up the ballad of
Tam Lin
some time. The Queen takes a mortal lover, but she really doesn’t care that he has a girl of his own pining for him. And once she tired of him…well…” He shrugged. “Cautionary tale. Creatures that can live for thousands of years tend to think of creatures that can’t as disposable and interchangeable.”

He gave her a long, hard look when he said that. And for a moment, she felt a chill. Not the chill of fear, but something more subtle…more like being out on a lonely highway in a growing fog…the chill of uncertainty, maybe.

But then he smiled, pulled on his jacket, and got to his feet, offering her his hand to get up. “And that’s enough depression for one night. You did a great job, Staci. You helped save someone’s life tonight. And we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

She got to her feet with his help, and watched him as he mounted Metalhead, and tucked the jar away. With a wave, he was gone.

Now I just hope I can bike home without the cops catching me out after curfew.
Of course they would probably just give her a warning. And she could say she was starving and there was nothing in the house so she had been going to that dockside place. When the cops heard who her mom was, they’d probably believe there wasn’t anything to eat.