Earth's Requiem(36)

He lost his entire family. She didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry” seemed inadequate. She laid a hand over his, trying to infuse compassion through her touch, but he shook her off.

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Makes it worse.”



Yes, it does. She thought about her own closet full of skeletons locked away in a corner of her mind where they couldn’t hurt her anymore—or at least, not as much. Dragging out a couple, she told him about Bolivia and the Surge. About her father being murdered and her mother going mad. “The madness turned out to be a good thing,” she said, grateful to be close to the end of her tale. It had hurt more than she’d thought it would to dredge up the memories. “Being checked out shielded Mom from what the world had turned into. I don’t think she even knew what was happening when they herded her to her death.”

Aislinn looked hard at Fionn. “Do you know why they thought they had to kill everyone without magic? I’ve wondered about that.”

“No, but it’s why I think there has to be some connection between the dark gods, those who serve them, and the Old Ones.”

“Maybe they use our magic—you know, siphon off little bits of it—to somehow help themselves,” she ventured. “The rest of humankind would only have been a drain on resources—”

“—and if they’d left enough of us alive, there could have been some sort of unpleasant uprising that might have sent the whole lot of them back across the veil,” he finished for her.

She smiled bitterly, mouth puckering as if she’d bitten into something unspeakably sour. “Well, now that we’ve solved the puzzle, what do we do about it?”

“Nothing. We do nothing, or they’ll ship us through the vortex. I’ve spent the past three years shielding my thoughts.”



“Oh.” She felt woefully unequipped to deal with the squatters who’d taken up residence on Earth. “Have you ever talked about any of this with anyone else?”

He laughed, but it held a chilly edge. “Of course.”

“And?” She thought she knew the answer, but needed to hear it out loud.

“Everyone told me I was nuts. Like I said, it’s as if there was some sort of mass hypnosis that passed me by.” He paused. “And apparently you as well.”

Rune loped back to her, a marmot hanging out of his mouth. “Bella has one, too—a small one,” he informed them.

“Do you think we could risk a fire?” she asked, looking from Fionn to the wolf.

Rune bristled. She knew his opinion about fires.

“Better if we cook with magic,” Fionn concurred, apparently having read the wolf’s stiffened posture.

The raven’s wing beats filled the air. She dropped her kill into Fionn’s outstretched hands.

Aislinn grinned. It was obvious they’d done this before. “I hear running water,” she said. “There has to be a creek not far from here. Let’s go. It will give us fresh water for the cook pot—and maybe some greens, too.”

“Grand idea.” Rune’s tail swished. “Bella and I will get more meat.”

Aislinn watched his retreating form, glad he’d forgiven her for forcing him to her will.

It all worked out. We’re still alive. Now if we can just stay that way.





After they’d eaten, Fionn pulled some badly stained topographic maps and a compass out of his rucksack.

She drew close, fascinated. “Do you know where we are?”

“Not precisely. Give me a minute.”

“I always wanted maps to help me figure things out—”

“It’s like with the books. The Old Ones either took them all or destroyed them,” he cut in.

“But you still have these.” She tapped the map with an outstretched finger.

“Only because I didn’t give them up, and they don’t know I have them.”

“You have books, too.” And so do I. She wasn’t sure why she was reluctant to let him know about their shared civil disobedience. She opened her mouth, but shut it before her secret could spill out. He’s not telling me everything, either, her inner voice noted, as if the quid pro quo made it all right to keep things hidden.



Fortunately, he wasn’t looking at her, or he might have read guilt on her face. He was doing something with the compass; it lay against one of the sides of the map. “We’re here.” He stabbed the map with a begrimed finger.

She bent over his arm, looking. “So that roadway we ended up on earlier was Interstate Five.” Her nostrils flared and her eyes widened. “We’re practically walking distance to Mount Shasta.”