Between the Spark and the Burn (7 page)

And above it all Duncan Begg telling people to be quiet.

I looked behind me.

Neely wasn't there.

River, where the hell did your brother go?

“Who are you, girl? Where did you come from?” Duncan Begg's eyes were on me now, oh yes they were.

I couldn't see Neely anywhere.

I started walking down the aisle toward Duncan, and my mouth opened and words started spilling out like they'd given up hope on me and were trying to get out while they could. “The real devil-boy is named Brodie. He's from Texas and wears a cowboy hat. He can do things with his mind, make people see things. He has red hair, just the same color red as that boy's, but—”

“Shut your mouth, girl.” Drood, the man with the sores, dragged the last word out, long and slow. He pointed at me, and then at Aggie, with his thick finger. “Looks like what we've got here is some redhead-boy sympathizers. You know what my grandmother always told me? She said witches love red hair, red as the setting sun. The redder the better. And she said they can't stand to see a true reddie harmed. She said they'll band together to rescue one in danger. That's how you can catch yourself a bundle of witches—threaten to hang a reddie and they'll come right to your door. So here's what I think. I think we need to have a hanging tonight, and a burning, just like in the old days—”

That's when the yelling started.

Aggie and her husband stood up and started backing toward the doors.

Drood moved toward Aggie, the whole crowd moved toward Aggie.

Maybe Brodie had left, maybe he was long gone, but the whole town was still sparked, he'd sparked them up, they had to be sparked, this wasn't normal, even for a backwoods forgotten town with a Duncan Begg. Brodie ran and left poor Finch in his place to take the blame, that's exactly what he would do, let some other boy get burned, oh, how that would make him laugh—

And that's when I saw him. Neely, slipping through the shadows, hugging the wall, moving toward Finch. I saw the ropes around Finch's wrists fall away, and Finch's hand reach out . . .

. . . and I ran up, and took it, and then Pine was there, and she was pointing to a small side door half hidden in the shadows and then Pine was pulling me through and I was pulling on Finch's hand and Neely followed behind all of us and then we were out in the snow. We ran to the side of the church and Finch bolted up the steps and shoved a thick tree branch through the front door handles just in time and the people inside began to bang and scream, and I heard the wood splinter, but then we were gone, gone, gone.

Luke had the car running. Sunshine was sitting in the front seat and I pushed Finch into the back between Neely and me, and
go, go, go.

But there was Pine standing stock-still in the beam of the headlights, wearing her little home-sewn dress and black boots and my striped scarf.

Hurry, Vi, hurry, they're coming, damn it, hurry . . .

“You can come with,” I said, quick, quick, quick, trying not to look over my shoulder at the woods spreading toward town. “You can come with us. Just—just get in.
Hurry . . .
”

Pine's gray eyes were shiny and big in the winter moonlight. “Not yet,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

And there wasn't time, and Sunshine was screaming
Vi, Vi, Vi,
and I said, “Will you be okay? Will they hurt you for helping us?”

But Pine just shrugged and shook her head and then Luke screamed,
“Violet, I hear them,”
and so I jumped in the car and said, GO.

Luke threw the car in reverse and we all lurched sideways in our seats. I leaned to the side and rolled down the window—

“Come to Citizen Kane, it's up north, by the sea, in a town called Echo . . .”
and Pine nodded quick and fast and then Luke spun the car out of the trees.

I turned and looked out the rear window, and there they came, the people of Inn's End, running out of the woods, sweeping Pine up in their wake, running, running straight toward us.

But we'd already reached Witch William's bridge and they were too damn late.

December

Will walked in on us. Lucas was kneeling at my feet and asking me to marry him.

I was bad. Will was bad. Lucas was good.

Sometimes life is that simple.

Will stood in the doorway and stared at me, and then down at Lucas, and his eyes were full of the flash, the flash that screamed burn, burn, burn.

Lucas, his knees by my feet, his shoulders solid and his eyes steady.

I said yes.

Will raged and raged and raged and raged.

Later that night Lucas fell down the grand staircase on his way to dinner and broke his arm in three places.

≈≈≈

After we crossed the bridge, after we took turn after turn after turn, we landed on a paved road again. Finch leaned into me and fell asleep, just like that. He smelled like dirt and snow and fear, but I didn't mind. In the front seat Sunshine sat snug with Luke, her brown hair cascading over his right arm as his hand clutched the steering wheel. Neely was on the other side of Finch, looking over his red head at me, and smiling every once in a while like nothing at all had happened.

I was still shaking and far from sleep, so I clicked on a flashlight and read the next entry in Freddie's diary.

But it just stirred me up, rather than calming me down.

We hadn't found River. We hadn't found Brodie.

But we'd saved a kid from being strung up and bled dry by a sparked-up stranger-hating town with dead birds on its doors and blood on its gravestones.

So that was something.

I turned off the flashlight. The car went dark except for the lights from the dashboard and the blue pre-dawn outside. Every time I closed my eyes I began to feel that it hadn't been real, none of it, but then I'd open them again and there he was right next to me, red hair on my shoulder. My Inn's End souvenir.

Dawn broke, and Luke pulled over at the first sizeable town. I liked it on sight—it had so many trees squeezing between its clean streets, it seemed about to burst. We parked by the university and piled out to look for food and coffee and shake off Inn's End as much as we could.

The university was white and shining and beautiful and old and regal and proud, and I thought it was just the kind of college I wanted to go to and maybe I would. Someday I wouldn't be Devil hunting and then I would have time to think about applications and pamphlets and Go Wildcats or Cavaliers or Vikings.

There were coffee carts stationed where the sidewalks ended, still open even with the holidays, run by students that loved to talk joe. Which I'd missed doing since Gianni at the café back home had stopped speaking to me after that night with tied-up Jack and the fire in the Glenship attic. I looked around and imagined professors strolling by looking pleased with themselves and full of things to say, and kids carrying books and backpacks and wearing fat knit scarves. The sun was out and Inn's End already seemed like a damn half dream.

We bought coffee from three of the four carts and then sat down on the stone steps of the library. Everyone looked red-eyed and shaky and pale, but the coffee would help, soon enough. That, and the bright light of day.

“Riddle,” I said, quiet, almost under my breath.

Luke and Sunshine sat next to each other, their knees touching. Sunshine's hair looked soft and pretty in the early light. Luke kept running his hand over it, like he thought so too, or like he was trying to keep her calm.

“It's close,” Luke said.

“Close to Echo,” Sunshine added, her eyes big, and dark.

“Jack,” I said. “All I can think about is Jack. If it's Brodie in that barn . . .”

I turned to Neely, but he was already shaking his head. “I'm going to North Carolina. Sea god, haunted shack—I'll get to the bottom of it. Wide-Eyed Theo's devil-boy story proved true, in the end, and . . . and River always had a fascination with the Outer Banks, ever since we spent a summer there as kids, in a house built on stilts right into the sand.” He paused. “So. You coming with, Vi, or you going north?”

Neely smiled like he didn't give a damn about my answer, and then tipped his coffee cup back so he could get the last drop.

But I caught the look in his eyes.

And I saw it, plain as day.

His blue eyes were twinkling, but underneath that twinkle . . . he wanted me to come with. I saw it, damn it all.

“Yes,” I answered. Just like that. “I'll go with you.”

Neely grinned.

Luke and Sunshine stared at me.

I could feel Finch's gaze on me too. His brown eyes looked different now that there wasn't fear in them. He was still covered in twigs and leaves and looking like he'd been raised by wolves, but his expression was strangely . . . peaceful.

“No,” Luke said. “No, Vi. You hunted a devil and found another redheaded orphan to bring back to the Citizen. We're done here. We need to go home, and look into this barn boy, and make sure Jack is safe.”

Sunshine tucked her chin into the thick cornflower-blue scarf she was wearing in great folds around her neck, and didn't look me in the eye. “You put all of us in danger at Inn's End, Violet, and what about Jack and your parents, alone at the Citizen? Even if the Riddle story isn't true, Brodie could be anywhere”—her words were going fast, fast, faster—“he could be crawling through your house right now, hiding in closets, and watching, watching, just like last time. We shouldn't have left, we shouldn't have—”

“Hey,” Neely said. I saw the fingers on his right hand twitch. “We all chose to go on this road trip with Violet, Sunshine. She didn't keep anything from us. We all heard Wide-Eyed Theo's story, whether or not we believed it. And I, for one, have no intention of running back to Echo. Not yet. My gut tells me to go to North Carolina. And I have the car. So who's in?”

Neely wants me to come with him, River.

Freddie, and now me—

We can't seem to turn down a Redding, with or without the glow.

“I'm in,” I said. Just like that. Again.

“No,” Luke said. “No, you're not, Vi.”

“I
am,
Luke.” I held his damn gaze, didn't flinch, didn't blink. “It's not about choosing North Carolina over Jack. It's about not knowing where the threat is. We have no idea where Brodie and River are. You and Sunshine need to go to Riddle. And you need to stop at Citizen Kane on the way and make sure Jack is all right. But I have to go to this island.”

Quiet. A raven flew overhead, and I watched its shadow float over the brick walkway.

My wrists started throbbing again. I rubbed them with my thumbs. Luke and Sunshine wouldn't look me in the eye. Finch sat on his step and was stoic and calm.

Neely stood up finally, and stretched, his back arching toward the blue sky. “Then it's decided. Luke and Sunshine, you'll follow the barn boy rumor. Take the train back north, get as far as you can, and then call for a ride or hitchhike the rest.”

Luke stood up too, and looked at the clock that hung high up on the library wall. “Fine. We don't have time to argue. But if Brodie's really back in Maine and something happens to Jack . . .” He paused, and his eyes met mine. “You'll never forgive yourself, Vi.”

I nodded. Because he was right.

I looked up at Neely—his tall body was lean and graceful, framed by trees and white columns.

“But I'm still going with Neely,” I said. For the third time.

Luke gave me one last, long look, and then pulled Sunshine to her feet. They started walking back to the car.

Neely went to get another coffee.

Finch stayed where he was, staring off at nothing.

“And what will you do?” I asked, sitting down beside him, so close his red hair touched my shoulder. “You can't go back to Inn's End. You could stay here in this town, I guess, if you wanted. It seems nice. But you can come with us too. We're going to look for a sea god and a haunted hut in North Carolina. Long story.”

I paused.

“Or you can go back to the Citizen, with my brother. It's a crumbling mansion on the sea with seven or eight guest bedrooms and you can stay as long as you like. You can help Luke keep an eye on our cousin Jack. I worry about him.”

Finch turned his head and looked right at me, and his eyes were deep and feral and . . .
wild
 . . . suddenly.

Those wild eyes reminded me a bit of someone.

River.

Cooking me supper last summer, the heat from the pan making his hair stick to his forehead, and he'd looked over his shoulder at me, and smiled, and there was something fierce there, something hungry and held back and . . .

Finch crossed his arms and leaned into the step behind him, and tilted his face to the sun. “I've never seen the sea. I'd like go with you and . . . ?”

“Neely.”

“With you and Neely, to North Carolina,” he said, his words soft. “And so I guess I will, if that's all right with you.”

And that was that.

≈≈≈

There was a 10:00 A.M. train going north. The rosy-cheeked woman at the train station counter was cheerful and energetic—she offered us free coffee from a silver urn on a table near the door, and it was dark and hot and good.

I unfolded a hundred-dollar-bill origami mouse and gave it to her in exchange for two train tickets.

I had three River-animals left in my pocket. I'd never considered myself sentimental, but I really hated parting with the little folded creatures. They meant something. More than money.

I held out the tickets to Luke, plus the leftover cash the ticket woman had given me. He took both, and said nothing.

Finch was quiet in the station lobby, just eyes eyes eyes, taking in the hustle and bustle like it was the circus come to town instead of just regular people moving around in a neat red building with a dozen wooden benches and white columns out front.

But then, I'd never been in a train station either. I kept picturing the movie
Brief Encounter
and wished I could order a cup of tea with sugar in the spoon.

People were beginning to stare at Finch, at his leaves and twigs and dirt.

“Here.” Neely handed some of his rich-boy things to Finch and the redheaded ex–Inn's Ender went off and changed in the train station bathroom. He came out with his face washed and his hair brushed sleek and shining. He fit into the clothes well, his shoulders wide and his spine straight, even if the pants were a bit long. He looked like some trust fund kid on his way to a private prep school . . . except for the feeling of wilderness about him, of wide-open skies and long twilights and quiet and dirt-under-the-fingernails and waking-up-all-alone-every-day.

Finch seemed older suddenly, all cleaned up. I thought he might be seventeen, not the fifteen I'd first thought. I'd have to ask him, once I knew him better.

We moved out onto the wooden platform, and then, in a blink, the black train was pulling up and good-byes, good-byes.

“Last chance, Violet,” Luke said. He stood on the bottom step of the train and looked down at me. Sunshine was already inside, having walked right by without a word.

I shook my head.

Luke sighed. “Be careful, sister.” And his face told me how much he meant it. “I was . . . a coward, back at Inn's End. I'm not proud of it, Vi. But you're making the wrong choice. You are. If a person goes looking for trouble, they'll find it.” The train began to howl. “What if the barn boy is River?” he shouted over the noise. “What if it's Brodie? What will we do then?”

I didn't answer.

What would any of us do with either Redding boy if we found him? I hadn't figured that out yet. Sometimes it just wasn't worth thinking ahead. Because then you'd freeze and never end up doing anything, anything at all.

Luke stared at me, and I stared at him, and I could see he was pissed, and sad, and a little scared still. But mainly, mainly he just seemed kind of . . . lost, all of sudden.

“We've never been apart, you know,” I said, because we hadn't. But Luke didn't hear me over the howling. He turned and went up the steps.

The train left, and he was gone.

That's when the bad feeling started. Deep in the pit of my belly. Thick and bitter and sweaty.

Luke was right. I'd made the wrong choice.

And I supposed I should have wondered right then if I would ever even see my brother again. But that seemed too dark a thought, even for me.

≈≈≈

We left the college town behind a half hour later, though I didn't want to. The way Inn's End had played out didn't make me all that eager to follow another one of Wide-Eyed Theo's stories down the rabbit hole.

No, that wasn't true. I wanted to go to North Carolina. I did. . . . I just needed one more cup of coffee first.

Finch was quiet as we wandered back through the campus. He didn't seem to understand money very well, let alone have any of his own, so I paid for his coffee and he didn't mind a bit. He winced each time a car went by, and I watched him stand by an overflowing garbage can for a full minute, a melancholy look on his face.

But he watched other people closely and learned fast. The day before, he'd been a cabin-dwelling mountain boy. By the time he'd finished his whole-milk latte, he was leading the way back to the car, cutting through alleys and jaywalking across busy intersections like some true-blue city kid.

“Finch, have you ever been to this town before?” I asked, looking at him out of the corner of my eyes. “Have you ever been anywhere?”

“No.” He paused, and glanced around, serious and big-eyed like a deer that had taken a wrong turn and ended up in the middle of town. “The world is a lot bigger than I thought.” A truck rambled down the road in front of us. “And a lot louder.”

“A lot bigger?” Neely repeated, and laughed. Though not in an unfriendly way. “We haven't even left the state yet. You wait.”