Sparrow Hill Road 2010 By Seanan(69)

The truck rocks and rumbles to a stop, and I hear the driver's-side door slam before the previously unseen driver himself is there to open the back of the truck, offering me his hands. I could balk, but it's better to pick your battles when you can. I let him help me down. The feeling of solid ground beneath my feet is a comforting thing. My type of ghost exists because of rides freely given, not because of rides we never agreed to take. The L'il Abners climb down after me, bowing deeply to the whisper-thin Japanese teen now walking toward us.

"Thank you so much for coming," she says, like I had a choice. Her gaze flicks past me to her subjects. "Thank you for bringing her. You're free to go. The Lady's hospitalities are open to you all."

Whatever that means, it must be good, because the routewitches are gone almost before she's finished speaking, offering quick apologies and goodbyes as they hustle toward the building. In a matter of seconds, the three of us—me, the Queen, and the routewitch I don't know—are alone. I fold my arms, trying to look defiant. "You could have called."

"You don't have a phone," counters the Queen. "He still hasn't taken you."

"Not for lack of trying." But that, right there, is what gives the Queen of the Routewitches the authority to interfere with one of the restless dead. A man named Bobby Cross wants my soul more than just about anything else—I'm the one that got away—and the tattoo the Queen arranged for me to wear has stopped him at least once. I owe her. "I'm guessing you didn't ask me here for dinner. What's going on?"

"Dinner is a part of things. I asked you for a favor, and you promised to grant it to me. Will you keep your word, here on the back of the Ocean Lady?"

"Do I look like an idiot? Of course I will."

"Then come, sit down, and eat with us. I'll explain what has to happen tonight." The Queen gestures to the picnic table. I'm smart enough to recognize an order when I see one, and so I walk past her to the picnic table and sit down across from the older routewitch. The Queen follows, sitting next to me.

"Who's your friend?" I ask.

The older routewitch raises her head and looks at me. That's all she has to do, because her eyes are familiar, even though they're filled with shadows, and with screams. There's a thousand years of screaming in those eyes. Some small part of me isn't quite convinced that that's enough.

"Oh," I say. "Hello, Bethany."

"Hello, Aunt Rose," she says, in a quivering voice that's just as old as the rest of her.

The Queen of the Routewitches is laying out a picnic spread fit for, ironically, a queen, and for once, I don't have any appetite at all. "And this started out as such a good night," I say, plaintively.

Thankfully, both Bethany and the Queen have the grace not to reply.

***

"When Bobby Cross carried Bethany into the dark, I'm sure he meant to kill her and render her soul for fuel," says the Queen matter-of-factly, as she spreads mustard on a slice of white bread. "Unfortunately, he hadn't reckoned on her belonging to your bloodline—which is ironic, given that it was her relation to you that enabled her to trap you in the first place."

Something neither of them has apologized for, by the way. I frown. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're protected from him. As blood of your blood, so is Bethany, if not quite as...directly. He was able to take her into the twilight. He was able to steal her youth, her innocence, and her hope. But he couldn't take her soul. In your own way, you stopped him." The Queen's gaze is level as she turns it on Bethany. "Amusing, given the situation."

"I could die laughing," I say, deadpan. Bethany reddens, looking down at her untouched sandwich. "So why am I here? It sounds to me like things are in balance. She tried to fuck me over, she got fucked instead. Case closed."

"Those books are balanced," the Queen agrees. "But as a routewitch, she has the right to ask the Ocean Lady to aid, and the Lady answered her. I wouldn't have called you if she'd come to me alone. As you say, some punishments, we earn."

The routewitch relationship with the Ocean Lady—ghost of the oldest true highway in America—is complicated. They treat Her half as a place, half as a person, and all as a goddess. I've been learning a lot about routewitch religion lately, and believe me when I say that I am not qualified to even begin to explain. "So the Lady said she'd help. Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning you have to take me to the crossroads before the stroke of midnight," says Bethany. It's the first time she's spoken since we acknowledged each other.

I stare at her. "You're kidding."