I was still gripping the wheel. “The fuath said they could sift through memories and learn things. They’re starting to take the knights’ memories. They saw us driving through the scrying spell, and they acted.”
A graveyard of stalled vehicles spread out over the highway. No one was getting out of their cars yet. They were all probably as baffled as we were, although within an hour they’d be baking to death.
“And it lasts for days? Gina’s tied up in a basement right now.” I snatched the gum off the dashboard and pulled out another piece. “We can do this. Let’s think rationally. Are you sure you can’t get the key back from the Winter Witch?”
“I’m sure, yes. But we can walk. We’re already a third of the way there.”
I glanced at the blazing sun. “How far is it, exactly?”
“If you walk fast, we can maybe make it in nine hours.”
Wonderful.
Clutching the pack of gum, I opened my door, stepped out, and shielded my eyes in the sun. Nothing to do but walk in the heat, I guess.
“Come here.” Lyr was holding the plastic bag from the gas station. He was holding something else, too: thick string threaded through baggies full of basil. “Our scrying protection.”
“Aren’t you crafty?”
I stepped closer to him, and he tied a charm around my waist. He wore his as a sort of bizarre necklace. “They won’t be able to see us now.”
“We just need to get off the highway, fast, because they know we’re here. We don’t want to be standing around here when they send minions.”
Before we took off, I turned back to the car and ripped off one of the side mirrors. I now had my own personal scrying tool to take with me.
And so we began our journey on foot, running fast over rocky, forested terrain, our bodies slicked with sweat.
Chapter 30
After running fast from the highway, we’d spent the day walking for about five hours in the heat. The path took us over rocky, tree-lined hills. I gripped my little scrying mirror the whole time, and Lyr carried the bag of food and water.
I wasn’t complaining about our death march through the burning heat, but nor did I particularly feel like chatting as we walked. Neither did Lyr, it seemed. The only noise we heard was the wind whistling through the branches above us.
Along the way, we shared a single bottle of water and a bag of chips. Every hour or so, I stopped to scry into the car mirror, making sure Gina was still okay. She seemed to be sleeping for most of the time.
I swear steam was rising from my chest, the moisture on me evaporating. Sweat had dripped down my temples and between my breasts as we walked, and I imagined myself showering in cool water. I tried not to imagine Lyr showering with me, or washing my most sensitive parts. Just showering alone, the ice-cold water running over my body.
At last, the sun slipped down behind the trees, and the sky darkened to the color of plums.
Lyr turned to look at me and handed me the bottle of water. To be honest, he’d hardly drank any of it all day.
“Don’t you need some?” I asked.
He shook his head.
As we walked through the darkening trees, the hair on the back of my arms stood on end. The temperature was dropping fast, and clouds were rolling in above us.
“A storm is coming in,” said Lyr.
No sooner had he said the words than a light rain started to fall. Within moments, it had turned into a torrent, slicking my hair to my head, plastering my clothes to my body. Looked like I’d be getting my cold shower after all.
After walking all day in the heat, dehydrated, the rain was glorious.
At least it was, until the wind picked up, whipping dirt and leaves into our faces.
Lyr turned to look at me, his brow furrowed. “This doesn’t seem quite natural.”
“No, it’s picked up too fast. I don’t suppose any of your knights know a spell for storms?” I asked.
“They can access books.”
Everything seemed so dark with the moon and stars hidden.
A high-pitched keening floated on the wind, then the rumbling of thunder. Lightning touched down, hitting a tree just below us on the hill we were climbing.
When we reached the summit, I peered out between the trunks at the hilly terrain around us. When lightning cracked the sky, I could see that the storm stretched out for miles around us.
The fuath didn’t know where we were exactly, but they’d spread out the storm for miles, covering lots of area. The air smelled like ozone and burning junipers.
The rain picked up even more, hammering my skin so hard it hurt. Another flash of light touched down, striking a tree only a hundred feet from us.
“We have to find shelter,” he said. “I think there are caves nearby.”
He started walking fast, and I hustled to keep up.
Lighting struck again, igniting the branches on a juniper tree even closer to us. The needles ignited like little torches, some of them smoking as the rain extinguished the flames.
With another strike of lighting, I saw a flicker of movement between the trunks. Maybe the night had shielded us from the burning sun, but it also gave cover to the gwyllion. I sniffed the air, confirming their presence with the stench of rotting plants and their high, keening call. My stomach turned.
“Do you smell that?” I said.
Lyr nodded. “Yes.”
The gwyllion hunted by scent.
I pulled the dagger from the sheath. When a twig cracked behind me, I whirled. A gwyllion lunged for me, claws out. My blade was in his eye within the next heartbeat.
Lightning cracked the dark skies, and I caught a glimpse of gray gwyllion eyes in the distance. Many, many eyes, moving for us. Any army of claw-fingered hags.
“Did you see that?”
There were too many of them to fight, crawling toward us up the rocky hill. We were surrounded.
Lyr turned to me, eyes tinged with a gold that told me the Ankou was flickering in his consciousness.
“We’ll go faster if I carry you.”
“Seriously?”
He pulled me to his back and hoisted me up by my rear. “Legs around me.”
I gripped the scrying mirror as I held onto his neck, and I wrapped my legs around his waist.
He took off at a shockingly fast run, like the wind rushing through the trees. I nestled my head into Lyr’s neck. I could feel his pulse throbbing under his skin. As he ran, his heart was beating against mine.
I had no idea where we were heading, but I was sure we were moving faster than the gwyllion could.
He hadn’t been running for more than five minutes when he took a sharp turn, veering off the rocky path into a cave. I unwrapped my legs from him, and he let me go.
Lyr—the Ankou—turned and flicked his wrist, sealing up the cave. Dark, glittery magic blocked the cave entrance.
Lyr caught his breath, then called up a spell for a glowing, golden light.
I slumped against a cave wall, my legs burning after the day of hiking. “We can wait here till the sun rises,” I said. “The gwyllion will have to slink away as the sun comes up.”
Lyr started pacing the cave, his body tense. “What?” I prompted.
“I’m shifting more than I once did. At the wrong times. I’m losing myself.”
The curse. “What exactly did you do that was so terrible?”