Heather shook her head. “I’ve been dead before. I’m not afraid to be dead again.”
“Fuck that,” I said. Heather turned to me, surprised. “It’s up to you. I get that. But really and truly, this man is about to die. Let him not have killed you too.”
“Um, the apocalypse,” Thursday said. “Remember how every resurrected person brings us one step closer to the apocalypse?”
“A million to one,” Vulture said. “A million to one odds in our favor, that we don’t destroy the gates between heaven and earth.”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” I added.
“Okay,” Heather said. Hope broke across her face like dawn, brightening faster and faster.
“I can’t fucking believe . . .” Thursday said. “Gertrude. You’ve got to be against this, right?”
“I don’t want another living soul on this earth to have to go through what I went through,” Gertrude said, “knowing that an innocent person died so that you might live. But he’s dying anyway.”
“Apocalypse!” Thursday shouted.
“If Heather’s the second coming then she’s the second coming,” Gertrude said, “and that’s God’s will.”
“I can’t . . . I don’t . . .” Thursday took a deep breath, then calmed down. “Heather, you okay with this?”
“Okay,” she said. She had tears in her eyes and a smile quivered on her lips, coming in and out of existence.
“Then we better hurry,” I said. “Bullet hole in his leg and two doses of god-knows-what.”
Thursday threw Sebastian over his shoulders and walked sideways up the steps like he was moving an awkward piece of furniture. Trent and his friends stared at us as we trooped past them through the gift shop.
“Gertrude put two of those darts into him before having a change of heart,” I explained. “We’re getting him to the library, Vasilis knows a lot about this stuff. I have a feeling, though, that we’ll be right back here to bury him.” None of it was technically a lie, even.
Trent nodded.
On the way out the door, I swiped a Pendleton shot glass.
NINE
There aren’t so many glaciers in Glacier National Park anymore, but the vistas are still something special. Clouds sat heavy on the horizon, threatening rain, but the lake below us shone a heavenly blue and earlier that day I’d seen a mountain goat and its kid.
My left arm was in a sling. I’d ripped a stitch after all, and while Vulture had been happy enough to sew me back up, he insisted that I try harder not to mess up his handiwork this time.
Brynn lay on her stomach next to me, stick-and-poke tattooing my leg. The ouroboros. It’s never too late to start again.
The bookmobile was parked nearby. Vasilis and Heather had given it to us, and I have to admit it’s a step up from the Honda Civic, at least for traveling with five people.
The ritual had gone without a hitch, and Heather got to stay living again. Despite what Vasilis had figured, she decided to stick around Pendleton. She told us that new beginnings don’t have to involve new places or even new people. Which is obviously wrong—new places are the only thing worth living for. But I suppose not everyone is a traveler.
“Demon Crew,” Vulture said, sitting in the open door of the van.
“No,” Thursday said.
“Anarcho-Team.”
“No. You’re not even trying anymore.”
“The Children of the Road.”
“Now you’re just saying random things.”
Those two had been at it all afternoon. Brynn had mentioned us needing a crew name, and Vulture couldn’t seem to get the idea out of his head.
“The A-Team,” Vulture said.
“That’s taken,” Thursday said. “Twice over.”
“I changed my mind,” Brynn said. “I don’t think we need a name.”
“Is that actually true or do you just want me to stop brainstorming?” Vulture asked.
“I honestly don’t know the answer to that,” Brynn said, her voice low enough that only I could hear her.
“Cain’s Children,” Vulture said.
“No,” Thursday said. “Wait. I don’t know. That’s pretty metal.”
“No!” I shouted.
“Grumble, grumble, grumble,” Vulture said. Like, he actually said the word grumble three times.
“I thought you all were going down to the lake,” Brynn said. “To leave us alone?”
“We were,” Thursday said. “But then Vulture and I agreed it was more fun to argue where we had a peanut gallery.”
I looked around for something to throw and saw an empty soda can left by some other picnicker before us. It didn’t fly well, but it made my point. They left.
“Should we do this then,” I asked, “while they’re gone?”
“Totally.”
“You sure? You’re not worried they’ll come back and catch us at it?”
“Absolutely.”
I reached into the top pouch of my travel pack for the book I’d hidden there.
“A Lustful Bride for the Horseman Prince,” I read, “chapter one.”
Brynn smiled.
“‘I first came to these lands in search of fame and glory, because I believed those things mattered. Instead, I found her.’”
Brynn giggled as she stabbed my leg repeatedly with an inked needle, and I read to her.
I didn’t tell her anything about love, not yet. There would be time enough for that.
* * *
“Hey, guys, time to go, we gotta, so let’s go now.” Vulture was out of breath. I woke up, my head curled up in the nook of Brynn’s arm. The book lay across my hip, folded open on its spine. Which is a terrible thing to do to a library book.
“What?” I was groggy and mostly thinking about the book and whether or not Vulture had noticed it and read the title.
“Magic feds. Gotta go. Magic feds. More this time. Go go go.”
I staggered to my feet and Vulture handed me a pair of binoculars.
There on the road, a string of three identical black SUVs threw up dust.
“Those could be any three identical black SUVs with tinted windows,” I argued, but I handed Brynn the binoculars and grabbed my pack.
Thursday had the engine running by the time we climbed into the back of the bookmobile. Brynn slammed the door shut, and we were off.
No specific destination, not yet, but I had a feeling one would find us soon enough.
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