“All good?” Val asked from where he waited for me at the top of the stairs.
“You tell me. Has Card pilfered all my silver yet?”
Val grinned. “Nope. Nothing hinky, see how I worked the word in there—you’re welcome. He’s doing the dishes.”
“I do not need him washing my dishes.” I jogged down the stairs and hallway.
“He was almost done when I came up here.”
Card was in the kitchen, singing along with the radio, a Joni Mitchell song about ice cream castles in the air, and so many things that she would have done if the clouds hadn’t gotten in her way.
I slowed my approach and indulged in a moment of nostalgia. When he sang like this, I knew his eyes were closed, and he was holding very still, his head tipped toward the sky.
He was beautiful when he sang.
I pressed fingertips against my eyes. Nope. No. No falling in...whatever this was. Friendliness with him. I had one goal: Find the coins and send Card packing.
I cleared my throat and strode into the kitchen.
Just like I thought, Card was at the table, rocked back in a chair, his eyes closed, looking beautiful.
“Ready?” I asked, my voice a little gruff.
He opened his eyes and, for a moment, his pupils were huge and filled with stars. “What happened upstairs? Were you talking to someone?”
“When my life becomes your business, I’ll add you to my newsletter list.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “I’m already signed up. I used a fake name.”
“Nope. I deleted Dumbass McDumberson last month.”
“Well that explains why I haven’t gotten the latest issue.”
“You think we’ll need weapons?” I asked.
“Maybe. Better prepared than caught unaware.”
“Okay, then let’s swing by the mud room before we go.”
His whole face lit up. “Sure.” He pushed away from the table and stood. “Swing away. After you.”
He followed me to the room where I kept the weapons that were safe enough to handle. The really dangerous weapons, the ones that could turn the moon into mashed potatoes, or create time traveling frog overlords, were locked in the danger cupboard.
Card whistled softly as he entered the room. “You’ve been busy while I was gone.”
I glanced at the swords, daggers, axes, spears, guns, wands, amulets, tablets, rings, lightning rods, and crystals covering the walls, chests of drawers, and tables. The collection had, indeed, grown.
“Everyone needs a hobby.”
“Lots of ways to kill a person here, Ricks. Must be hard to choose,” he said. “I suppose instead of choosing your weapon, you could just invite people into the room and let them pick up something. Lure them to their death.”
“Maybe I’ll install a chute to the basement in here,” I mused.
Card paused, his hands carefully locked behind his back, the whole of him bent toward a set of very old wands that vibrated with magic.
“For the bodies?” he asked without looking my way.
“For the bodies,” I agreed. I scanned the room, wondering which weapons I should take, and decided on my tried and true: battle axe and short sword.
I hefted the axe off the wall. It was a beautiful weapon made by a royal smith from the kingdom of the Fae. She had a knack for carving fire and starlight into the curved blade’s spellwork and had done a hell of a job with this axe.
I secured it in the holster and slung the leather strap over my shoulder. I repeated the actions with my berserker short sword. Unlike the axe, the short sword’s magic wasn’t noticeable or activated until it drank blood.
“You could just adopt a hungry hell hound,” Card suggested.
“For the bodies?”
He’d been studying me and didn’t do a thing to hide it. I raised an eyebrow, not caring what was putting that appreciative look in his eyes.
“For the bodies,” he agreed.
I buckled and adjusted the belt at my hips. “Or I could just stop letting people into the place who I’d have to kill.”
He inclined his head. “But where’s the fun in that?”
“The fun is that there is no mess. I like things orderly. I like them in their place. I like things...”
“Boring?”
“Comfortable, you ass. Out.” I shooed him toward the door. “Stop,” I ordered just as he reached the doorway. “Did you steal anything from this room?”
“What? No.” He grinned. “I like that you think I might have. Can you imagine the nerve I’d have to have to show up here, beg you to save my life, get you tangled up in a deal with a god, and then steal something out from under your nose?”
I squinted at him. “Card.”
“I mean, there’s stupid and then there’s... What’s another word for monumentally stupid?”
“Cardamom Oak.”
“That guy? Naw, he’s not stupid. He’s just a coward. Ricky, I’ve wanted to tell you how sorry I am that—”
“Don’t.” It came out hard. “We’re not friends. I don’t like you.”
Very much.
“The only reason I’m digging you out of this crap circus is because I am fond of your tree. No, don’t smile at me like I just said we were friends. It’s just that your tree began here. Crossroads remembers it. I’m doing this for Crossroads and your tree, not for you and me.”
“Got it.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“You’re risking your life for your house and my tree.”
“Card.”
“Okay, for my tree. Because your house likes it.”
“Don’t make me rethink my decision.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. For the house’s tree buddy, tree friend, tree crush. Also, how do you want to get there?”
“Silently,” I said. “We’re going to go without any more talking.”
“That’s gonna make it difficult to tell you where the swamp siren is.”
“Honey Island?”
He smiled. “You cheat.”
“Having knowledge at my fingertips isn’t cheating, it’s efficient. The fastest way to travel is magic. You should Walk us there.”
He hesitated a moment, his smile fading.
“Is that a problem?” I asked, somehow knowing it was.
“No,” he said. “There was. A problem. But since I already used it, using it again won’t matter.”
“Famous last words,” I noted. “Going to tell me the problem?”
“Nothing that you need to worry about. It’s a me thing, not a you thing.”
He held out his hand. When I didn’t take it right away, he tipped it slightly. “It’s been awhile. I don’t want you to get lost.”
“I’m not going to get lost.” I patted the pebbles in my pocket. The stones had been a part of the Crossroads since it began. The pebbles would let the Crossroads draw me across the world like metal fillings to a magnet.
“I promise I won’t let go,” he said.
I dropped my hand into his without a comment.
I had forgotten how warm his hand was, how wide. I had forgotten that it was permanently calloused, whorled softly, like the ridges of tree rings had been imprinted into his flesh. I had forgotten the muscles beneath his palm, the careful grip of his fingers.
Fingers that had untangled the pain of my life and helped me weave it into something good. Something beautiful.
I had forgotten that before my anger at him leaving, I’d been sad. I hadn’t wanted to lose him, even though I knew no one but a tree could hold a dryad’s heart.
“Ready, now?” he asked gently.
I nodded, because there was no turning back. There hadn’t been from the moment he’d showed up today. Or really, from the moment I’d met him.
“I’ll count down from three,” he said. “One...”
—magic crashed like water breaking a dam. The world blurred, becoming a river of color, a shout of voices, songs and shattered whispers skipping across my brain like technicolored barbed wire tumbleweed —
—I gasped, my heart stuttering as my knees went weak—
—and got hit in the face with air so hot and thick, I groaned.
“What happened to two and three?” I wheezed.
“It’s easier when you don’t tense up. Need water?”
What I needed was for the world to stop riding a seesaw.
“No, I’m fine.”
He squeezed my hand once, and I realized I was still holding on to him.
I pulled away and stuck my hand in my pocket, folding the stones against my palm.I studied the watercolor landscape and waited for the nausea to pass.
He’d taken us to a soggy bank covered in tall grass. Moss curtained the branches of cypress trees growing so close together, they blocked out the sky. The brown and green water that flowed between the trees was brushed with ripples of soft silver light.
It smelled of wet wood, moss, and an earthy, almost sulfur scent.
“Where’s the siren?” I asked, slapping at a bug biting my neck.
“This way.” He nodded to where the land met water and started toward it. I followed his lead and couldn’t help but watch him.
No, I couldn’t help but appreciate him.
There was strength in his body. In the ease with which he moved through the world. Card was built like his oak tree: solid, strong, steady. Patient and protective of those who rested in the shelter he offered.
Maybe I should just ask him why he left. He’d promised to tell me the truth. But the past should stay in the past. Even Fate had told me not to look backward.
Wounds healed. People grew and changed. I’d changed, finding my footing on my own, holding strong against the storms that had washed against my shores. I’d built a life for myself I loved.
Maybe he had too.
“Awful quiet back there, Ricks,” Card said. “Contemplating my demise?”
I slapped at a mosquito on my arm.
“No.” The tall grass pricked my fingertips like serpent tongue needles before bending away in hushing shuffles. “That’s already penciled in on the calendar.”
“Oh?” he asked without turning back. “Want to share the date, so I can made sure I don’t double book the day?”
I shook my head. “You’re a smartass, Cardamom.”
“And you’re just smart. Which is why I am curious about why you said yes to all this: saving me, saving my tree, speaking for me against Fate.”
“Told you already. Your tree needs help. Someone responsible needs to look after it.”
“Ouch again. Aim for the heart next time, why don’t you?”
“How did Fate find it, anyway?” I asked.
He ducked a low-hanging branch, pushing moss out of the way as he passed, and holding it for me to walk through.
“She’s a god, so I’d say she knows how I began and which threads connect me to what and who.” He gave me a half smile. “You have,” he brushed fingers over his hair, “in your hair.”
I lifted my hand and brushed away moss and little bits of bark. “Did I get it?”
“Enough.”
I shook my head like a dog, and ran fingers through the short, choppy layers one more time. “Better?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Real good. Look, Ricky. In case anything else happens, in case... Well, in case. I want you to know that I know I screwed up. You are an amazing person. You didn’t deserve me leaving like that, without a word.”
It was heartfelt. It was kind. It was more than I’d hoped to hear out of him.
“No,” I said, “I didn’t. I can’t forgive you for it, Card. I’m not built that way.”
“I know. Thank you for this generosity. The time you’re giving me now. I owe you, and I promise if you ever need my help, or need something I have or can find...or can steal,” he added, “it’s yours.”
“Thanks so much for offering to add even more chaos into my life.”
“Who said I’d bring you chaos?” At my look, he said, “Well, not just chaos. Isn’t it nice to spice things up with a little of the unexpected? No. I see your face. Right. It is not nice to spice things up.”
“You know what? All right,” I said, taking him up on his offer. “Let’s do this. I want you to answer some questions. Non-spicy answers. Nothing but the truth. Can you do that?”
“Here,” he said.
“Yes, here.”
“No,” he said. “I mean, not no. Yes. But also no. She’s here.”
“What the hell do you mean...?” The water boiled, sending a thick, muddy stink into the air.
A voice crackled across the limp breeze.
“You come back to my home?” The voice was female and sweet as slow water. The moss shivered, though the air had gone flat. Then the voice was hard, angry. “You come to cheat me again, little leaf?”