26
Adam
Adam, Bobby, and Jodi were quiet as they stared at Tilla, waiting for her to speak. She trembled a bit.
Adam thought she might retreat to her bedroom to read her Bible and pray like she had whenever he and Bobby tested her patience, but she froze, cocked her head, considering.
“Your dad was your dad,” she said, looking insulted. “I would know if he wasn’t.”
“The druid doesn’t see me as a Binder,” Adam said.
“Maybe he’s wrong,” Bobby said, moving closer, always ready to break up a fight. “Maybe it’s something else.”
“Yeah, probably,” Adam conceded.
He rubbed his heart.
Maybe it was the warlock wound. Maybe he’d changed himself so much that he wasn’t like the rest of them anymore, not even in his blood.
That wouldn’t be so different. He’d never felt like he fit with his mother and brother.
Adam had to admit that there was a part of him who’d hoped he wasn’t Robert Binder’s son, and he realized he was mourning that, the chance for an explanation, a reason why his dad had treated Adam the way he had.
He could remember the slaps, his head rocking back. Thinking about the hatred, like hot knives digging into his chest, Adam almost reached, almost touched his own cheek out of memory.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he said. “I just don’t understand what’s going on.”
“You are my son, Adam,” she said in the tone she used when a decision was final. “And your dad was your dad.”
“Okay,” he said, accepting it.
“We have to tell the sheriff what we found,” Bobby said.
“What about the druid?” Jodi asked. “What if he kills the cops?”
“I don’t think they’ll matter to him,” Adam said. “He doesn’t want just anyone. He wants you two.”
“To eat us,” Bobby said.
“Yeah,” Adam said.
“But why?” Jodi asked.
“To live longer,” Adam said, realizing it had to be true. “If it’s great-grandpa John he’s pushing a hundred, but he has way more life than somebody that old.”
“You think he started with Jimmy?” Tilla asked.
“Yes,” Adam said. “I think that’s what Sue sensed, that John was grooming him. That’s why they were so close. He wanted to keep an eye on Jimmy.”
Adam looked back to the Bible.
“It says John died right after Jimmy vanished.”
“So he faked his death, went underground,” Bobby said.
“He went to work for Death,” Adam said.
“How do we know for sure?” Jodi asked.
Tilla walked over to the phone on the wall. It was beige, with an extra-long cord, practically an antique. She dialed the sheriff’s office.
“Yes,” she said to whoever picked up. “I need to report a body, an old one.”
“Will we be safe out there?” Bobby asked.
“We?” Adam asked.
“I’m not letting you go alone,” Bobby said.
“I think so,” Adam said. “The curse is broken, and the spell he was using on the snakes should be depleted. He had to build it up. If he’s going to use it again, it will take him a while.”
“What if he shows up?” Jodi asked.
“I’ll try to get the sheriff out of there,” Adam said.
Still, he wasn’t sure how he could help. He was still weak, exhausted from his trick with the snakes.
“If you’re coming,” he said to Bobby, “do you mind driving?”
“All right, but we’re taking my car.”
Adam didn’t mind. He loved the Cutlass but could admit that the passenger seats in Bobby’s white box were more comfortable.
He lay the seat back and dozed, his hands folded atop his belly. He felt empty, kind of bloodless, despite Vran’s pool and the magic it had fed him.
Adam hoped the druid didn’t show. He wouldn’t be up for any more duels for a while.
“You know, I’ve never seen you in action,” Bobby said. “You held back all those snakes. Then you saved us.”
Adam cracked his eyes open. He wasn’t up for hero worship. He’d had too much of that from Vic.
“It’s the job,” Adam said.
“Would it still be the job if you went to work for the elves?”
“I don’t know,” Adam said. “I’ll ask them when they’re done saving the world.”
“Early brought deputies,” Bobby said, slowing the car. “Good that he’s got some backup.”
Adam righted his seat to see them.
“It won’t help, not unless they also brought a bazooka,” Adam said.
“Should we get a bazooka?” Bobby asked.
“Maybe,” Adam said.
The cops stood on the road, waiting for the Binders to park and approach. At least the sun was high. Adam would not have wanted to come here or do this by night.
The brothers climbed out. Bobby’s car wasn’t so white anymore. Oklahoma’s red clay and mud had stained its side panels and bumpers, making it look like it had been dipped in old blood.
“What brought you out here?” Early asked them.
“It was our conversation at the library,” Adam said, glad he was able to tell the truth. “I talked to Mom and she mentioned that the family still owned the land, so we came to have a look.”
“Strange that no one found him before,” Early said.
He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses this time, and his blue eyes narrowed.
“It was something she said about our great-grandpa, John,” Bobby said, shuffling a little. “That he doted on Jimmy, and that Sue disapproved.”
“You think John killed him?” Early asked.
“If that’s Jimmy in the well,” Adam said, “then yes, yes I do.”
“Let’s go have a look,” Early said. “What made you peek in there?”
“Just wanted to see,” Adam said. “It’s a creepy old house. You never know what you’ll find.”
“Guess you found it,” Early said with a shake of his head. “I’ve called the forensics team in Oklahoma City. They should be out tomorrow.”
“You don’t have anyone here?” Bobby asked.
Early laughed. “You watch too much TV.”
A truck came up the road, kicking up bits of mud and gravel.
“Tommy,” Adam said.
A wave of despair wafted from their cousin as he leaped out of the truck. He looked haggard, wild-haired, and rumpled like he hadn’t slept.
Adam took a deep breath and called up his defenses, putting a wall between him and Tommy’s live wire of feelings.
“You called, Sheriff?” Tommy demanded. “What’s this about a body?”
“They think it’s Jimmy,” Early said, nodding to Adam and Bobby.
“I’m sorry, Tommy,” Adam said, hanging his head. “We just came out to look at the place, see some family history. Then we took the cap off the well . . .”
Tommy started in that direction but Early held up a hand, holding him back.
“If it’s a body,” Early said, nodding in that direction, “we don’t know who it is yet.”
“But it could be him?” Tommy asked, voice torn. “It could be Jimmy?”
Adam’s wards were still tattered, his magic too thin. A thread of hope, the need to know, mixed with Tommy’s despair.
Adam understood it. He’d felt it often, wondering if the druid was his missing father, hoping for answers.
He’d felt it just that day, hoping that Robert Senior hadn’t been his father and had some reason for hating his youngest son.
Early looked to Bobby.
“We didn’t see much, just a bundle in the right shape,” Bobby said. “But it’s been there a while, probably long enough.”
“It’s like we’re cursed,” Tommy said.
Adam could not help but nod along. It was exactly like that, and if he was right, if it was his great-grandfather who was preying on his descendants, then Tommy had every reason to feel that way. Adam wondered about Tommy, his wife, and his girls. John had left them alone so far, likely so they’d keep the line going.
Red and black surged in Adam’s chest. He scanned the grass for more snakes, trying to scan for more spells, more traps.
He’d wanted to know so badly if the druid was Jimmy. He’d rushed out here with Bobby. He shouldn’t have. The druid was after them. The druid was hunting them.
Adam had done it again. He’d gotten cocky, and now he’d put all of them, including Early and his deputies, in danger.
“What do you know about your grandfather’s relationship to Jimmy?” Early asked Tommy.
“Grandpa John?”
“Yeah,” Early asked. “He died back around ninety-eight didn’t he?”
Tommy nodded.
“He loved Jimmy. Spoiled him, Mom always said so. Noreen hated him for that.”
“She hate him for any other reason?” Early asked. “What about John?”
“What do you mean?” Tommy asked.
“Word is that Jimmy was . . .” Pausing, Early looked to Adam.
“Gay,” Adam said.
“Well, yeah,” Tommy said. “I mean, Jimmy was gentle. It was Dad who tried to make him different, make him play football, always taking him hunting and fishing.”
“How do you think John would have taken the news?” Early said. “That Jimmy liked men?”
“I don’t think he would have cared,” Tommy said, hedging. “He was quiet. He liked to read. Jimmy did too. They had that in common. What are you thinking, Sheriff?”
“At the moment, I’m thinking Jimmy came out here and something happened.” Pausing, he looked at his phone, scrolled through some notes or something. “And John buried him in the well.”
“You think grandpa killed Jimmy because he was gay?”
“I don’t know more than you do yet,” Early said. “We’ve got human bones at Sue’s trailer. We’ve got a body in the well out here. Something is going on with you Binders.”
He looked between the three of them and Adam realized why Early hadn’t talked to Tommy in private. He wanted to see their reactions, all of their reactions.
Early was good at his job, and good enough at reading people that he’d picked up on Adam flinching at his use of the word queer.
“If it was foul play,” Early continued with a nod to the well, “then forensics should let us know.”
“I don’t know what to think,” Tommy said. He deflated. “What to feel. It’s been so long. It’s been almost thirty years.”
“I’m so sorry,” Bobby said.
Adam knew Bobby was remembering the times he’d almost lost Adam, all the times their dad had nearly killed him—until Bobby had decided enough was enough.
Adam didn’t know what to say to his cousin. Tommy was watching his family vanish, one by one. A year ago, Adam might have shrugged and said it wouldn’t be so bad, but that wasn’t true anymore.
He considered taking Tommy aside at some point, telling him the truth, but Adam had no idea if he’d listen or think them crazy.
All Adam was certain of was that he wanted to put a stop to this before Tommy lost anyone else.
“I need to know,” Tommy said. “I’ve always needed to know what happened to him.”
The deputies lifted the well cap. Early and Tommy peered inside.
Adam and Bobby held back, not needing another whiff of that stench, not needing to see it again.
Adam watched the grass. He reached out, feeling for trouble.
Are you there, John? he asked. Is it you?
But all he felt was Bobby watching him.
The deputies dropped the cap, startling Adam.
“It’s a body all right,” Early said. “And that makes this a crime scene. You can all go. We’ll tape it off and wait for forensics. We won’t have any answers today.”
Adam nodded to Tommy, not wanting to touch him and absorb more of his despair. Bobby hugged their cousin before they all returned to their cars.
“I need gas,” Bobby said. “Let’s stop on our way back.”
Adam nodded. He could use a cup of coffee.
He missed Sue’s coffee. The way she’d make it in an ancient, crusty percolator that she refused to ever bleach out. He’d offered to clean it and she said she liked it that way, seasoned. He’d offered to buy her a newer pot, something that wasn’t from the 1950s and she’d said she liked the one she had.
She’d been set in her ways.
Adam wondered for the hundredth time why she hadn’t asked him to look for Jimmy. True, Sight was often blind when you were too close to the person you were trying to read. Jimmy had been her son, but Adam hadn’t known him.
All those years. He’d been missing all those years. Maybe she’d already known.
Adam would never get the chance to ask her. Maybe there would be a point when her death, when missing her, wasn’t like a boulder on his back, but he wasn’t there yet.
Bobby pumped gas while Adam got coffee.
He picked up a package of donuts for their mom; the yellow ones with the waxy chocolate shell. She should have something sweet on hand in case Early dropped by.
“What do you think of Mom dating?” Adam asked when they were on their way again.
“Seriously?” Bobby asked.
“Seriously.”
“I think it would be good for her. I don’t think she’s unhappy. She’s smoking less, since Annie, but I think she was telling the truth when she said she gets lonely out here.”
“Me too,” Adam agreed.
He hadn’t missed the hitch in Bobby’s voice when he’d mentioned Annie.
“And I worry about her,” Bobby continued. “If she got hurt, would an ambulance even find her?”
“Yeah,” Adam said, squirming a little.
This was getting dangerously close to the conversations they’d had in Denver, when Bobby had tried to manage Adam’s life.
“It’s about what she wants though,” Adam said.
“Yeah,” Bobby agreed.
He imagined that even Bobby balked at trying to tell Tilla Mae how to spend her time.
He knew there would come a day when she wouldn’t be able to manage on her own, but Tilla wasn’t even fifty. They had time.
Adam imagined how it would have gone if Tommy or someone had tried to uproot Sue from her trailer.
She hadn’t been that alone. She’d had neighbors, her clients. People had dropped by all the time.
Out here, in the grass and scrub oak, it was just Tilla Mae.
She met them at the gate, running toward it as they pulled up.
“What is it, Mom?” Adam asked, climbing out of the car.
“It’s Jodi,” she said. “She’s gone.”