“He’s not a
thing
,” Taylor insisted. “Corentin is my true love. If you think I’m going to stand by as we try to help one another, and you try to constantly insult him, you have another thing coming.”
Ray frowned. “Listen. I’m trying to help you out of the deepest respect, Sleeping Dragon.”
“Help?” Taylor asked in disbelief. “Why do I need help?”
“What if I told you this man you love, this man you trust and insist on protecting, has no intention of doing the same? In fact, it’s much worse than that,” Ray said as they watched each other. “You’re the latest to be caught in the Axeman’s web.”
Ray’s words hit Taylor like a punch in his ribs. He clutched his chest as his heart raced. Two days ago, an all-too-happy kindergartener had scrawled a disturbing stick figure of what she called the Axeman. She had said he lived in her backyard, and the sentiment made Taylor’s skin prickle then, and it made him shiver now.
Not only was the incident subtly creepy at the time, it confirmed something else Taylor had once decided to deny.
He studied Ray’s expression to understand if he could believe him to tell the truth. “Have you heard of the Queen of Hearts and the Library?”
“Fuck!” Corentin roared from across the street.
Taylor jumped at the outburst, and Ray held out a protective arm.
“Corentin!” Taylor hollered as he slipped around Ray’s arm and ran after him.
“Bitch took my wallet!” Corentin shouted and darted after an escaping pickpocket.
“Dammit,” Taylor grunted. “Ringo!” he hollered over his shoulder.
In a puff of gold glitter, Ringo appeared at Taylor’s side, his arms laden with two éclairs. “Got you some donuts.”
“Later,” Taylor said. “We got drama.”
Ringo looked up, and together they watched Corentin dash down the snowy road. “You kids.”
Taylor understood Ringo’s exasperation as they hurried after.
May 6
Moonwalk along the Mississippi River
WHERE DID
she go? Even without a hunting dog, Corentin would sniff her out.
In his fury, the time change from midnight May 5th into May 6th slammed into his chest. He stumbled, and his momentum carried him across the slippery ice. Corentin flailed before latching on to sidewalk railing. He maintained focus and bolted off again.
He dashed down the ruins of Decatur Street, skipping over the snowbanks and clambering over debris for a higher vantage point. As he stood atop what used to be Jax Bistro, he caught sight of his prey.
A flash of pink hair whisked by his peripheral vision. He picked up the trail once again and leaped into the cavernous shell of the souvenir shop across the street.
The woman with the pink hair darted by the broken window, and Corentin dived out onto the street in an attempt to tackle her. He missed and rolled helplessly into a fluffy snowbank.
Taylor rounded the corner, with Ray puffing and panting at his side.
Corentin shoved his way out of the snow, then started off again, following the brilliance of pink hair.
“Where are you going?” Taylor called out to him.
“Follow her!” Corentin yelled back. “She’s got my wallet!”
He ran onward, figuring sometimes the best way to have a chase is just to follow in a straight line.
Only it was all for naught when she turned a corner once again and Corentin slipped, his momentum carrying him straight into a lamppost. He caught himself on the frigid metal, the fibers of his glove sticking to the surface. The heat of his chem pack thawed the frost and caused him to slingshot into the street. His hand stung with the icy moisture sinking into his glove.
He hurried along, tracking where he last saw her. Deciding she went toward the Moonwalk, he went on.
Taylor and Ringo appeared out of the corner of his eye, with Ray close behind.
“The Moonwalk,” Corentin instructed as they ran.
Ray stopped, huffing and puffing for breath. “You two… go ahead…. I can’t keep up with… you kids….”
Ringo hesitated by Ray. “I’ll stay behind with him. You guys got this, and I’ll be there in a second if there’s trouble.”
Corentin nodded, and Taylor fell in step. They dashed off, following the stream of pink hair.
“How the hell can she run that fast?” Taylor asked as they hurried.
“Anything is possible when you’re motivated enough,” Corentin said. “And I’m pretty fucking motivated.” Before Taylor could ask, Corentin threw his arm out in front of Taylor, forcibly making him stop or risk crashing into Corentin and getting clotheslined.
“What did you do that for?” Taylor growled.
Corentin pointed at the streetcar rails running the length of the frozen Mississippi, the rail lines just exposed enough to indicate their existence.
Taylor gave him a questioning look. “How much did you have in your wallet?”
“Enough,” Corentin said as he narrowed his eyes from the cold.
“It’s only money,” Taylor tried to plead with him. “It’s not a big deal.”
“I don’t care about the money,” Corentin said and gnashed his teeth.
Even without a hunting dog, Corentin would capture his prey. The snow crested and rolled like dunes of beach sand. And there it was. Footprints leading the way.
“Getting sloppy,” Corentin said and traced the path down the rails.
Taylor followed, and they studied the tall fluffy banks, looking for clues.
On the center rail, a snowbank rose and crested into a jagged monument between them. There the footsteps ended.
Corentin and Taylor glanced at each other. “Streetcar,” Corentin mouthed to Taylor and pointed. He gestured for Taylor to circle the back and he’d take the front, blocking both entry points.
She was in here, and Corentin would ferret her out. It was more important than the money. She could keep every last dime. It wasn’t even the principle of the thing. It was just a simple series of objects tucked into his billfold that meant more than any sum of money could replace. Bits of his own soul.
Corentin listened to the
clickkity-click
of her high heels, then puzzled how the hell she even ran in those things. She was agitated, pacing back and forth and mumbling to herself. If she was confused and upset, it made her sloppy, dangerous, or likely both.
As she paced, the snow around the streetcar fell away bit by bit. Corentin ducked out of sight when the snow dropped from the windows and gathered around his feet. Taylor did the same, staying low.
“What the hell are y’all doing?” Ray grumbled as he caught up to them. He made a B-line for the streetcar door.
“
Wait
!” Taylor and Corentin shouted in unison.
But it was too late. The girl darted out, aiming directly for Ray and seeming to make every attempt to bowl him over. Ringo was with him and seemed just as confused at Ray’s tactics for direct confrontation.
She didn’t make it that far. Ray flicked his ear, as if tossing back an imaginary lock of hair. Instead, a lock of spun gold curls shot up from the snow and ensnared the girl around the ankle. She tumbled forward and collided with him. Ray grasped her hard, and the jolt sent Corentin’s duct-taped wallet skidding over the sidewalk and onto the iced grass.
Ringo hung back and whistled. “Phantom Rapunzel hair magic stuff. That’s kinda nifty.”
Corentin bypassed her and chased his wallet.
She struggled in Ray’s grip.
“Gave us a lot of trouble, didn’t ya?” Ray jerked her closer. “What the hell would you want with a wallet? Oh? Yeah? I think I know.”
“Dust…,” she said, her voice rough from inhaling cold air. “Please. I just wanted Dust.”
Corentin snatched his wallet from the frozen grass and fished out a handful of bills. He didn’t keep track of the amount. He had written down the total he started with, so he’d just subtract what was missing at the end of the night.
Corentin took the initiative. He reached out to hand her the money, only to have Ray bat away his hand.
“Don’t you get it?” Ray said. “She’s a fucking Duster. That’s what she’s taking the money for.”
Corentin withdrew the money from her line of sight. “Duster?”
Ray jerked her straight to her feet as if displaying her like a mannequin. “This? This here is the face of an Enchant drug addict.”
She shivered and moaned in Ray’s grasp. “Please…,” she said. “I’ll do anything you want.”
Taylor frowned and shot a worried glance to Corentin. “Look.” He tilted his chin to indicate her clothes, or what passed for clothes in these below-freezing temperatures—a silver sequined miniskirt, stiletto heels, short thin jacket, and plunge-neck bustier that left zero to the imagination.
“Are you cold?” Corentin asked her.
“What’s it matter?” Ray hissed.
“Are you cold?” Corentin repeated firmly.
“Dust… makes the cold stop…,” she stuttered. “Please… I’ll do anything.”
“You know what else stops the cold?” Corentin said. “A hot meal.”
Ray stiffened, and by proxy their prisoner did too. “Feeding her? You’re not serious.”
Corentin nodded. “I am.” He extended a hand to the girl. “You saw what happened here, right?”
She nodded quickly and mumbled incoherently.
“Come with us,” Corentin said. “You tell us what you know, and I’ll give you this.” He held up the handful of bills. “Deal?”
“Deal, deal!” she squeaked quickly.
“You really are a piece of work,” Ray grumbled.
Corentin held out his hands. “I got this.”
Ray hesitated and then released the girl into Corentin’s care with a shove. “Don’t make me regret it.”
Corentin pulled the girl to him. Her skin was like brittle broken glass, and she shivered from withdrawal and the lack of protection. He glanced at Taylor and shook his head. He tried to smile. “How do you feel about pancakes?”
May 6
IHOP, Canal St.
SHE TREMBLED
like a timid fawn learning her first steps. The coffee cup rattled in her hands, and the café au lait sloshed against the sides.
Corentin narrowed his eyes, intensely interested in the pink-haired girl.
Taylor puffed a breath into his cupped palms and then propped his elbows on the table and watched her in silent contemplation. Ringo stayed out of sight underneath Taylor’s coat. It was a safe bet that all of the currently sane storm victims were Enchants, but they couldn’t risk it for the relief workers from out of town.
Ray, on the other hand, was not the least interested or impressed.
The waitress arrived with steaming plates of pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, and sausage. She winked at the group, her eyes a little too blue to be a mundane woman. “On the house,” she said casually and wandered off to help the equally cold and ravenous gathering of customers.
The pink-haired girl took her fork and solemnly pushed a strawberry around her plate.
Taylor took a bite of his pancakes and pointed to her plate with his fork. “You need to eat,” he said with his mouth full.
“I-I’m sorry. I-It’s hard,” she stammered.
“From Dust, right?” Ray asked pointblank.
Her shoulders shook as she nodded. “I’m… I’m… trying to quit….”
Ray tilted his head toward Corentin as he watched her. “Stealing his wallet and begging for Dust definitely looked like quitting,” he said, unimpressed.
“It’s hard, y’know,” she spat. “It’s how I deal. Especially when a blizzard fell out of the sky! You’d want to forget that happened.”
“It’s called reality,” Ray said firmly. “You cope. You don’t need to get high to cope.”
Corentin grunted under his breath and raised his knife high over his plate before dropping it like a dive bomb onto the porcelain. The crash and clatter jolted the conversation into silence. “Let’s start over,” Corentin said calmly. He gave a soft smile to the girl. “What’s your name?”
“Lacey,” she said. “Lacey Palmer.”
“And you’re from here?” Corentin asked. His tone was patient with her as he gave a challenging glare to Ray, daring him to say anything.
All the while, Taylor peacefully crunched on bacon.
Lacey shook her head. “N-No….” She pushed the strawberry around her plate some more. “San Francisco.”
Taylor pointed at her plate again with the tines of his fork. “Eat.”
She nodded. “Y-Yes. Sorry.” Lacey speared the strawberry and took a small bite. She concentrated on chewing and choking it down.
Ray ate his omelet in glowering silence.
Corentin waited for her to try her pancakes and watched her take four tiny bites before he spoke again. “So,” Corentin said, then sipped his café au lait. “Dust. What is it?”
“Pixie dust,” Ray interjected into the conversation.
“Not like… Pixy Stix?” Ringo asked, from under Taylor’s coat.
“You wish,” Ray said. “It’s the substance between a pixie’s skin and muscle. They’re skinned, and it’s harvested and refined into Dust.”
Ringo’s eyes widened, and Corentin caught his panicked look as he glanced from Taylor to him. Corentin pressed his lips together and made a slight nod, trying to puzzle his way on how to comfort him.
Ray went on and glared at Lacey, already passing judgment as he elaborated. “The Chinese found Dust useful for medicinal purposes. Everything from Alzheimer’s, mental illness, painkillers… and not your momma’s ADD medication.” He held out his hand in a half shrug. “The US naturally found a use for its highly addictive, mind-altering properties.”
“Enchant LSD,” Taylor said in contemplation.
“I-I’m trying to quit,” Lacey said as her hands trembled. “I don’t want to do it anymore. Zane gets it for me.”
Taylor passed a piece of bacon to Ringo, and he gnawed like a terrier on a bone. “Who’s Zane?” Taylor asked as he readied another bite of pancakes.
“He’s my friend,” Lacey said, nodding with excitement. “He takes care of me while Aliss is away.”
Taylor coughed, and his fork tumbled out of his grasp and bounced off Ringo’s head.
“Fuck, dude!” Ringo squealed and tried to rub syrupy pancake crumbs from his hair.