Queen Of Blood

Marcy remembered how she’d fretted over the course of that grim hour, worrying that Dream’s confidence in her ability to negotiate the rapids had been unfounded, that she’d drowned out there in those cold depths. But Alicia kept going, staying as close to the water as possible. And then they’d seen her, sopping wet and sitting cross-legged in the grass by the side of the road. Shivering and smiling in a vacant way as she waited for them.

Ellen turned from the steering wheel and stared through the gap between the front seats. “We should get out of here.”

Marcy frowned as Ellen took the bottle. “What?”

Ellen sipped some wine. “You heard me. We should toss Dream out while she’s unconscious and that freaky bitch is away.”

Marcy shot a nervous glance back toward the gas station. No sign of Alicia. And the bathroom door was still shut. She frowned and looked at Ellen again. “Why would we do that?”

Ellen rolled her eyes. “Because something bad will happen if we don’t. Duh. We might even get ourselves killed trying to find these people Alicia is after.”

Marcy’s frown deepened. “So…you want to ditch our friends and step out of the line of fire? That’s kind of a shitty thing to do. Cowardly, even.”

“They’re not our friends.” Ellen’s tone was thick with exasperation. “You seem to have forgotten that somewhere along the way. We had some real friends, but you fucking killed them all. Remember?”

Marcy’s expression hardened. “They would have gone to the police. They would have ruined everything.” Her hands curled into tight fists. She didn’t like talking about this, and Ellen fucking well knew it. “And anyway, I’m really only talking about Dream. I don’t care what you think about her. She’s my friend. I won’t abandon her. I sure as shit won’t leave her alone with Alicia.”

Ellen scowled. “I can’t believe you. How anyone can go from wanting to kill a person to being their best pal is beyond me.”

“I’m not asking you to understand it. Just accept it.”

“Unfuckingbelievable.” Ellen passed the nearly empty wine bottle back to Marcy. “Take this shit. It’s awful.”

Marcy took the bottle and drank from it again. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she knew her sister had a point. They were well out of their league. Yes, the impulsive murders she’d committed at the farmhouse constituted a spectacular lapse of sanity. But anyone could snap and go off like that. It happened several times every year. Regular, everyday people who suddenly lose it and shoot up a schoolroom or workplace, with images of the aftermath beamed into your living room courtesy of CNN and Fox News. But these were tragedies rooted in the real world. They were almost mundane, despite the immense horror and grief suffered by the survivors and loved ones. There was nothing the least mundane about Dream Weaver and Alicia Jackson.

She looked at Dream and thought about that night on Rainbow Bridge. That was when it had all changed for Marcy. In many ways it had been an awful and tragic evening, but for Marcy it had also possessed a kind of strange and dark beauty. She recalled with a shiver the frisson of that moment just before Dream had taken her dive into the river, a sudden shock of recognition that had passed between them, an awareness that beneath the hate and their differences they were kindred souls. Marcy couldn’t explain it to Ellen in any way that didn’t make it sound like she had some kind of dippy girlcrush on Dream. That wasn’t the case. Rather, she understood Dream and her compulsions. She’d come to feel more closely bonded to Dream than she ever had to her own flesh-and-blood sister. So, no, she would not abandon Dream. If necessary, she would follow her to the ends of the earth. With or without Ellen.

Dream stirred and lifted her head off the frosty window. She looked at Marcy through bleary eyes and smiled. “Have I told you how good your hair looks like that?”

Marcy blushed. “Yeah. A few times. But thanks again.”

Dream took the bottle from her and knocked back a belt. She looked at the bottle and shook it. “We’re gonna need more booze soon.”

“I saw a liquor store back down that way.” Marcy nodded at the road. “We could stock up before heading out to the highway again.”

Dream yawned and stretched. “Sounds good.”

Ellen sighed. “Wonderful.”

Marcy felt her anger come back in a rush. She leaned forward in her seat and thumped the back of the driver’s seat. “Something you want to say, Ellen?”

Ellen met her sister’s gaze in the tilted rearview mirror. “Yes. You’re all drinking too much. It’s not a moral fucking judgment or anything. I’m just worried someone will get sloppy and somehow make a cop look at us a little too hard.”

Dream drained the rest of the Boone’s Farm and flung the empty bottle through the gap between seats. It exploded on the dash, making Ellen shriek and jump in her seat.

Then Dream was laughing. “Sloppy like that, you mean?”

Ellen sat very still for a moment. Marcy’s heart pounded as she waited to see how her sister would react to the sudden violence. Then Ellen undid her seat belt and reached for the door handle. “Fuck this, I’m out of here.”

The humor drained from Dream’s face at once. “Stay.”

Ellen’s hand froze on the handle. “Please. I can’t do this anymore.”

“You can and you will.” Dream’s voice was cold. Devoid of compassion. “I don’t want to hurt you, Ellen. So put your seat belt back on. Please.”

Marcy let out a relieved breath as Ellen relinquished her hold on the door handle and did as instructed. Though her loyalties had shifted somewhat, she didn’t want to see her sister suffer. And Ellen would damn well suffer if she resisted Dream’s will.

“That’s better.” Dream pushed up out of her seat and moved into the gap between the front seats. Marcy couldn’t see Ellen now, but she heard the other girl gasp. Then Dream went to her knees between the seats and laid a hand on Ellen’s arm. “Listen up. I know you don’t like me and I guess I can’t blame you for that. But you’re gonna have to work at putting all that shit behind you, because we’re a family now.”

“Right.” Ellen’s tone dripped sarcasm.

“Yes, a family, goddammit.” Marcy hadn’t heard Dream speak with such conviction in weeks, if ever. Okay, we were forced together by circumstance. It’s a fate thing, you see. And so we’re like any other clan-we don’t get to choose family. And you don’t run out on family. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Marcy blinked tears from her eyes. “I do.”

“I know you do, Marcy. I’m proud of you. We’re sisters, all of us. I love you like I would a birth sibling.” Dream moved further into the gap between seats. “So I want to feel the same commitment from you, Ellen, and know you’re in it to the end, too.”

Ellen didn’t respond at first. Marcy leaned forward and saw that her hands were locked in a death grip on the steering wheel. Then her sister’s head dipped forward and touched the hard molded plastic. She sniffled once, her shoulders heaving. Then the floodgates opened and her body quaked with a series of sobs. Dream stroked her back and made sounds of reassurance. Marcy wiped hot moisture from her cheeks. Nothing had ever moved her as strongly as Dream’s speech. Never had anyone so plainly expressed love for her. She swiped at her eyes again, then a flicker of something in her peripheral vision made her head snap to the right.

Alicia was there, standing just outside the open side door. Her mouth was twisted in a smirk. “Sheesh, I go away for ten minutes and you fuckers start writin’ your own motherfuckin’ Lifetime movie.”

Marcy turned up a middle finger and extended it.

Alicia’s smirk deepened. “Crying fits and obscene gestures.” She opened the front passenger door and began to pull herself inside. “Time for the Estrogen Express to hit the road before one of you bitches starts quoting lines from Thelma and Louise or some dumb thing.”

She paused at the sight of the glass shards sprayed across the front seat area. “I missed some kind of drama, I guess.” She looked hard at Dream, her dark eyes flat and unreadable. “Anything I need to be worried about, Dream?”

Dream did not wilt beneath that unforgiving gaze. Her lips curved upward. “Of course not. Just having an old-fashioned heart-to-heart with Ellen. I think we’ve come to an understanding.” Her eyes flicked toward the still-sniffling girl. “Haven’t we, Ellen?”

Ellen at last managed to compose herself. She lifted her head off the steering wheel and wiped her face dry with a sleeve. Then she did something that astonished Marcy-she looked Alicia in the eye as steadily as Dream had a moment ago and said, “That’s right. I had a weak moment.”

Alicia’s trademark smirk returned. “Latest in a long, long series, I’d say.”

“That’s right.” Ellen reached for Dream and clasped hands with her. “And Dream called me on it. Think what you want, but I see things differently now. Wherever this road takes us, I want to be there. I want to see what’s at the end of it.”

Alicia picked glass shards off the passenger seat and tossed them on the parkling lot asphalt. “Whatever, Dorothy.” A small piece of glass nicked the ball of her thumb and drew blood. She popped it in her mouth and sucked on it. “Mmm.” She withdrew the glistening digit and stared at it. “I don’t know exactly what’s at the end of our yellow brick road, but I know it’s a bad place, a place like the one where I died.”

Marcy said, “The House of Blood.”

Alicia wiped her thumb on her jeans and climbed into the van. She pulled the door shut and turned in her seat to look at Marcy. “That’s right, girl. And I know one more thing. There’ll definitely be a wicked witch waiting for us when we get there.”

Marcy shoved her hands into the pockets of her brown hoodie and slumped further down in her seat. “Ms. Wickman.”

“Damn straight.”

Marcy’s brow furrowed. “And you’re sure you can kill her.”

“Ain’t sure about shit. But I’ll either kill the bitch or die trying.”

Marcy’s mouth twisted in a humorless smile. “That’d have to be a real kick in the ass. Dying twice at the hands of the same person.”

Alicia scowled. “I don’t-”

“Any a you ladies spare some change?”

Marcy jumped at the sound of the gravelly voice and turned to look at the homeless guy standing outside the van. He smelled like a sewer and Marcy was surprised he’d gotten this close undetected. He had limp brown hair tucked under a ratty New Jersey Devils cap. His face was seamed and his nose sat like a swollen red ball in the center of his face. He wore a heavily stained yellow windbreaker over raggedy clothes.

He leaned in through the open door and sniffed. “Smells like wine in here. Good stuff. ’Spose I could get a taste?”

Ellen piped up from the driver’s seat. “Fuck off.”

“We don’t have anything for you, bum.” Alicia directed her eerily intense gaze at the old drunk. “I’d advise you to leave before you stir up trouble you can’t handle.”

The man sneered at her, displaying a mouth missing most of its teeth. “Whaaaaat?” He drew out the syllable and laughed. “You ladies don’ wanna tussle wit’ the likes a me. Tell ya that much.” He leaned further into the van and his rheumy eyes roamed over its interior. “Aw shit, just gimme a bit of pocket change and I’ll be on