22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

D on’t get me wrong. I was not, and had never been, big into the “great outdoors.” My mother might like roughing it in a little cabin with unreliable electricity, and I might have spent more than my fair share of days tied up in uncomfortably rural locations, but I’d never enjoyed it. It wasn’t the sort of thing I did for enjoyment―it was what happened when there were no other options and I had to suck it up. I figured it would be second nature for S?ren, though. After all, he was a freaking landv?ttir. If getting comfy on the actual land wasn’t a part of that, I didn’t know what was.

Living in ignorance was way better than finding out the truth.

I bought a couple of sleeping bags, some paracord, and a few tarps at an army surplus store, because there was no way I was fucking around with putting up poles in the dark, and then drove us out to the ass end of nowhere with no identifiable landmarks and rigged a shelter. It was warm and the sky was clear, so I wasn’t that worried about getting rained on, but I took the breeze into account when I tied down the plastic sheets so that our heads would be decently protected. I set up the sleeping bags and then called S?ren over so we—or I, at least—could try to get some sleep.

Any hope I had of that vanished in the first five minutes of him joining me.

“I don’t like it,” S?ren said just a few seconds after he lay down.

“Why not?”

“I just don’t . I want to find a hotel.”

I scrubbed the heels of my hands over my eyes, feeling dried out and worn down. Fuck, today had been such a— ha —roller coaster ride. From Denny’s to St. Louis, through our ill-fated theme park excursion and S?ren’s miraculous, heartbreaking reappearance, I was so tired I was almost too tired to sleep. I saw the muzzle of Art?r’s gun pointing my way every time I closed my eyes, felt the thud of paintballs that could have all too easily become real bullets. I still had paint on my hands and neck, and it itched. I was desperate for a shower and a drink, not in any particular order, and there was no chance of either right now.

I wanted to reach inside the v?ttir, grab S?ren, and pull him out by force, another completely unattainable goal. I wanted to lie on my sleeping bag in the middle of this damn field and try to ignore the insects that crawled beside my head and over my fingers and get some goddamn sleep. Needless to say, I wasn’t in the mood right now to cater to S?ren’s whims.

“Too bad.”

“I can’t rest like this,” he said, and the way it was phrased made me sit up and pay a little more attention.

“I thought you didn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t say sleep, I said rest ,” S?ren replied, and there was no mistaking the petulance in his voice. “I can’t be comfortable here.”

I sighed. “Look, if it’s too hard—”

“It is not a matter of the body’s discomfort. It’s that this land doesn’t like me.”

Well, that wasn’t what I expected to hear. Although maybe I should have, considering we were on our way to talk with a shaman about exactly this kind of problem. “How can you tell?”

“Oh, it’s letting me know,” S?ren said darkly. “Wild lands are so much more territorial about this sort of thing. It’s being very rude, actually.”

“It’s, what, talking to you?”

“If that’s how you need to think about it, then yes, it’s talking to me. And it’s quite upset that I’m here.” He glared at me. “Not that this was my idea.”

“Jesus Christ.” I could almost hear Marisol chiding me for that, but I couldn’t be made to care right now. “How was I supposed to know you wouldn’t be able to camp like a normal person?”

“You should have assumed as much, since I am not a normal person.”

I was so tired of being the person people shouted at or got indignant with. “Right, no. I’m not buying that. If you can’t sleep like this, go and get comfortable in the car, because I’m not going anywhere else right now.”

S?ren’s eyes narrowed. “That isn’t a very wise move, leaving me alone with your vehicle.”

“No?” I chuckled despite myself. “Why, are you going to drive off in it?”

“I might.”

“But you won’t.” I was becoming more and more convinced of that fact. “You’re the prize, but you’re also the prisoner. The terms have been set. The stakes are established. Sure, if you want to throw the whole competition, you can get in my car and drive back to Chicago. I can’t stop you.”

S?ren’s frown deepened, and I knew I was on the right track.

“But you want the competition. You want it for not just yourself but for S?ren—you told me as much already. You care about him, so you care about what happens next. He won’t be happy if you throw me to the wolves. So you’re staying with me, even though I’m not doing exactly what you want tonight, which means that yeah, I trust you in my vehicle. At least, I trust you not to leave me here without any way to compete for you.

“So go. Lean a seat back, stretch out in the backseat—fuck, pop the trunk and get cozy for all I care. But I can’t go any farther tonight. I’m exhausted, okay? I’ll do better tomorrow, I promise.”

S?ren stared at me for a long moment, maybe trying to evaluate the truth of what I was saying, maybe so he could try to intimidate me into getting up. I broke the eyeballing contest after about a minute and rolled over onto my side, away from him.

He huffed. “Fine,” he said at last. “But no more camping after this.”

“Deal.”

“And I want waffles tomorrow.”

“You got it.”

“With all of the extras.”

I could just imagine the expressions on the face of whoever was unlucky enough to serve us breakfast tomorrow. “Done. Waffles with everything.”

“Good.” For a moment there was no sound but crickets chirping, and then all of a sudden, he was pressed to my back, cool and soothing against my itchy, sweat-soaked skin. His lips touched my ear, and I stopped breathing. “Thank you, Cillian.” Then S?ren got up and headed back to the car, taking his sleeping bag with him. I heard him recline a seat, put his feet up on the dash—Andre was seriously going to kill me—and then… Nothing. Sleep, or stasis, or whatever he called it. I was alone.

That was good, because honestly, S?ren had a point when he called this uncomfortable. I wasn’t a kid anymore, who could fall asleep on anything and stay that way for hours. I rolled around on my sleeping bag, trying to find one position that was marginally more comfortable than another, but it was futile. My body was run ragged, but my mind couldn’t stop turning over the day’s events, considering and reconsidering and trying to fruitlessly strategize about—nothing. There was just nothing. Nothing more that I could do to prepare, except for getting in touch with Roger the Oil Man, and that had to wait until I was sure Bobby could do what I needed.

I finally gave in and grabbed my new cell phone. If things went well, S?ren and I would be in New Mexico by tomorrow, and I needed advice about Bobby. Happily, Marisol’s number was one I had memorized. Not that my other phone was being tracked that I knew of, but I wasn’t going to take chances with it unless I had to.

She picked up on the first ring. “Cillian!”

“How did you know it was me?”

“The cards told me you would call. Where the hell are you?”

I rolled onto my back and tucked my free hand under my head, finally feeling some of the day’s tension leave me as I basked in Marisol’s concern. “On my way to Bobby.”

“And you’re okay? Not shot again?”

I frowned. “No, I’m not shot. What have those cards been telling you?”

“Lots of swords and pentacles in bad conjunction, cielito .” I could almost see her head shake. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m still here,” I said, not as comforting as I could be, but really, I wasn’t capable of doing better right now. “So’s S?ren. We’ll be in Santa Rosa tomorrow, I hope. Any advice on how to reach Bobby? Is he still out in the desert?”

“Last I heard, yes. But I thought about it, and you know, he’ll probably answer if you use the gong, so it’ll be all right.”

“The…gong.”

“Yes, the gong! What, did I stutter?” she demanded. “You know where his place is?”

“Vaguely.”

“Two and a half miles past the Blue Hole down County Road 7, another half mile to the east when you see the rock shaped like a turtle,” Marisol clarified for me. “He’s got a gong set up outside his little hut. It’s only to be rung in dire emergencies, according to him, but I think your situation qualifies. You hit it, and he’ll hear it and come back to meet you. I’m pretty sure, at least.”

That was way better than going out into the desert to try to find Bobby myself. “Great. Thanks, Marisol.”

“You’re welcome.” She sounded subdued, though. She wasn’t even scolding me anymore, and she never missed an opportunity to do that.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Marisol laughed faintly. “Too much tarot on the brain, I think. Listen, honey, if you can’t reach me over the next few days, don’t worry about it, all right? I’ve got some business to take care of, so I might be out of reach for a while. But I’ll be fine. All right?”

She wasn’t exactly lying, I could tell that much over the phone, but there was something in her voice that wasn’t right. “What’s going down?”

“Nothing, honey! I don’t know anything for sure, and it’s better not to go borrowing trouble. Don’t worry about me. Just do what you need to do. I’ll talk to you again soon, okay?”

I wanted to force the issue, but my fatigue was finally winning out over my brain. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, Cilly. I love you.”

“Love you too.” Marisol hung up, and I put the phone down, frowning. There was nothing I could do from here, I knew that, but the way she sounded…

I fell asleep thinking about Marisol, and dreamed of her pancakes. It was my best rest in days.