Bigfootloose and Finn Fancy Free (48 page)

“Hey, beautiful. I'm really sorry to ruin the moment, but you've got a gig, remember?”

Dawn sat up, and rubbed at her eyes. “And you have to escort Ms. Breaking Bad to the brightbloods.”

“Yeah.”

Dawn pulled me in for a long kiss, then let me go. “Get going. Just don't lose your head and do something stupid to miss my show.”

I felt a chill. “Hey, knock on some wood,” I said.

Dawn rapped on my head, then gave me another kiss.

Pulling away from that kiss and the warmth of her bed, leaving behind the pleasure of her touch and the perfect contentment of her embrace to march off to my possible death in a cold damp forest was the most difficult move I'd made in my life.

 

32

Sowing the Seeds of Love

Heather stepped out of the forest near the Elwha Dam trail, a large black duffel bag hanging from each hand like balancing weights.

“You're late. Where's Dawn?” she asked as I grabbed my boom box and backpack out of the hearse.

“Getting ready for a show tonight,” I replied. “And that's as much as we're going to talk about Dawn.”

Her eyebrows raised beneath the flat bangs of her wig. “What, you guys don't talk about
me
?”

“Not so much. And you don't have Girlfriend Confidentiality Privilege,” I said. “Now come on, the sooner we get there, the sooner you'll be done.” And the better chance the Silver brightbloods would be up to strength for the showdown.

“Aw, you're no fun.”

“Uh huh.” I marched down the trail of packed dirt, and Heather hurried to catch up. We followed the river for several minutes, then turned onto the hidden trail to Silene's clearing.

“Halt!” Don Faun stepped out of the trees wearing his camo vest, Utilikilt, and Budweiser cap, with his crossbow loaded and raised. “Gramaraye. Who's she?” He nodded his horned head at Heather.

“She's a friend,” I said. “She's here to help you against the Shadows.”

“Yeah? She got one of them riot shotguns she's willing to use?”

“You've been hanging around hunters too long, I think,” I said.

Don spat. “Hunters. I've been watching drunk mundy idiots shooting up cans on hillsides—and sometimes themselves—with enough friggin' boomsticks to stop an army of shadowbrights. Meanwhile them DFM jerks won't let me use nothing but this—” He hefted the crossbow. “And that's only 'cause we managed to claim bows as part of our religious right or whatnot in the Pax.”

“Uh,” I said, “I'm sorry?”

Don took off his hat and scratched at his head. “Nah, not your fault. I just get a bit riled up at times like these, when an assault rifle or two'd come in pretty dang handy.” He replaced the hat and turned away. “Come on, I'll lead ya'll in. The main path's trapped. And everyone you're wanting to see is up at the cave, anyway.”

He led us uphill into the tree line, hopping easily on his goat legs up a path that Heather and I climbed with some difficulty. As the way leveled out, Don said, “I have to admit, Gramaraye, I'm a little disappointed you went and arranged to settle things with one little duel. Me and some of my boys, we were looking forward to giving them shadowbrights some payback.”

I sighed. “Well, you might still get your chance.”

“From your mouth to Ares' ears.”

We passed a wooden signpost, long overgrown with ivy and worn by time and weather, but I made out the word L
ODGE
and a sign pointing left.

“What's that?” I asked.

“Oh, that's from when the lodge was built. You didn't think we Silvers all slept in the woods and caves, did you?”

“I did wonder,” I replied.

“Naw. Cave's just for safety. We got us a real nice place a bit further in. Built to be a hot springs lodge way back when, but it got claimed for the Silver as part of some pact or other. The ARC chased off all the mundies, erased the records of the place, and we put up our diversions so as nobody finds it. Place is old, though. Could sure use someone who understands plumbing.”

“My brother's pretty handy with a wrench,” I said.

Don frowned. “That'd be the wolf fella?”

“Yeah,” I said.

Don was silent a minute as we continued marching, then said, “Look, we appreciate you helping and all, and I can't lie, brightbloods ain't easy on human plumbing so a handy guy'd be, well, pretty handy. But I just don't know as it would work so well, your brother living there, with being a wolf-bright and all that's happened.”

I sighed. “Well, thanks for being honest.”

*Perhaps his view is not the more common,* Alynon suggested.

Yeah. Maybe.

We reached a small bluff overlooking the river.

“There's the cave,” Don said, and waved to a crooked, narrow gash wreathed in ferns in the side of the hill. “Good luck.”

Don Faun tipped his hat at us, then disappeared back into the forest.

Heather eyed the cave entrance. “I'm pretty sure I've seen this in a horror movie. You positive we're not just walking into an all-you-arcana-eat buffet?”

“Fairly sure,” I said, and led her to the cave entrance.

“Wait!” Heather said, looking at the pink and purple bell-like flowers growing along either side of the cave entrance. “Are those … brightlilies?”

“Looks like,” I said. “Sal gave one to Silene. She must have grown these from the seeds.”

“I—do you know the kinds of potions I could make with that?”

A hummingbird zipped in front of us, flitting up, down, over, its head tilting to examine us. It shimmered, and a fairy hovered between us and the cave entrance in a dress of glowing red and green feathers.

“You're Gramaraye?” she asked, her voice chirpy and sweet.

“As long as that's a good thing,” I replied.

“Sunny! I'm Flidais. Everyone's inside. Well, not me. Or the others protecting the tree. But everyone else. I'll take you to them. I like your hair.” She zipped to Heather, and flicked one of the black strands, then flitted back into the cave entrance. “Come on!”

We followed her into the narrow entrance, Heather gazing thoughtfully at the brightlilies until they were out of sight. The cave opened up almost immediately on the other side, and a grizzly bear stood on his hind legs, one enormous paw raised and ready to rip our heads off. “Who's this?” he rumbled.

“It's Gramaraye,” Flidais said, zipping behind me. “The arcana who's helping. I don't know who she is.” The fairy flitted around in front of Heather. “Who are you?”

“Heather,” Heather replied, her tone nervous. With her hands occupied carrying the duffels, she would have a hard time reaching a potion before the bear's claws shredded her. “I'm here to help, too. I'm with Finn.”

Flidais clapped her tiny hands. “Yay! More help! This is Garl. He's nice. Except when he's hungry. Come on!”

Flidais flitted along deeper into the cave, and disappeared where the passage twisted down and around a pillar of rock.

“Wait,” Garl garumphed. He plopped down on his rear, his back legs sliding straight out. He tugged a wool blanket over his legs, his paws settling on his lap with his Freddy Krueger–like nails crisscrossing each other, and Garl transformed into a man. For some reason I expected a chubby, hairy German-looking dude, but Garl was a leanly muscled and largely hairless Native American. He sniffed at the air. “Got any candy?” he asked.

“Oh, uh, no, sorry,” I said.

Heather blinked as if Garl had hit her with a Waerbear Stare, and then said, “Oh, uh, I do. Here.” She dropped a duffel, and pulled a Twix out of her jacket pocket. She handed it to him. “So, I've always wondered, do waerbears hibernate in winter?”

Garl laughed, the kind of genuine belly laugh that made you instantly like him. “No more than the rest of the year. I'm a big fan of naps.”

“Right,” I said. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Garl, but we really should get going.” I motioned for Heather to follow after the fairy.

“Wait,” Garl said again. “You guys watch
Downton Abbey
?”

“Uh, what?” I replied.

“
Downton Abbey,
” he said, carefully enunciating the words. “You watch?”

I looked to Heather.

“It's a TV show,” she said to me; then to Garl, “No, sorry, we don't.”

He grunted. “An old couple up at the RV park were watching it on their big TV, but they left. I'm dying to know what happens next.”

“Uh,” I replied.

Flidais flew back into sight. “Hey! Over here! Come on!”

“Sorry, Garl,” I said. “We have to go.”

We followed quickly after the fairy before Garl could ask anything more.

The passage went sharply downslope a dozen feet, the walls bumpy brown stone, then opened up again into a wide cavern. The smell of earth was quickly overwhelmed by the odors of sweat, animal fur, and sickness.

At least a dozen brightbloods lay on inflatable mattresses and sleeping bags around the cavern, some whose brightblood nature was obvious, such as the fauns, and many who appeared simply human. All looked in terrible shape. Those that didn't have clear injuries from battle moaned and twitched and sweated, the victims of Grayson's Curse.

Several brightbloods moved among those laying on the floor, men and women with hints of animal or elemental natures, offering water or clay bowls full of berries or what looked like raw meat, but most of the ill and injured seemed too far gone in pain or exhaustion to accept.

If Jim Henson had directed M*A*S*H, it might have looked something like that cavern.

In a far corner of the cave, Dunngo held a small man, pressing him down by his shoulders as he convulsed and kicked. No taller than three feet, the man's red hair and pointy ears marked him as a leprechaun, but he seemed a feral beast as spittle flew from his mouth and he clawed at Dunngo's arms. A gaunt man with antlers looked on, his body language saying he wanted to help, but had no idea how.

The leprechaun screamed a terrible, heart-wrenching wail. And then he collapsed, and lay still.

“Oooh,” Flidais said, her tone deeply sad. “I don't like this. Excuse me.” She flew back out of the cavern.

“Come on,” I whispered to Heather, and we wove our way to Dunngo and Antler Head.

Heather looked from the dead leprechaun to another nearby brightblood, the young will-o'-the-wisp that the centaur had brought to Silene for help that first day I met them. She looked even worse than before, her delicate features now emaciated, her hair lank and lacking its normal shimmer, her lips cracked and brushed with flecks of blood.

“I—I can help,” Heather said.

Dunngo rose up on a pile of dirt, his fists clenched and shaking. “Help? Finghin dead! Seven friends dead! Dunngo's son—” His whole body began to shake as if in an earthquake. I placed myself between him and Heather as he shouted, “Arcana no help! Arcana kill!”

“Dunngo!” I shouted back. “Stop! She
is
here to help. If you hurt her, you will be killing all the rest of your clan who are sick!”

Antler Head also stepped between Dunngo and us. “Dunngo,” he rumbled in a James Earl Jones bass. “Go outside. Find your center.”

Dunngo pounded his fist into the ground. “Dunngo want vengeance!”

Antler Head sighed. “You will have your fight soon enough, I fear. Save your anger for the Shadows. We will need it, my friend.”

Dunngo rumbled in his chest like a rock tumbler, then grunted and left the cave, leaving a trail of loose dirt and an awkward silence behind him.

“Uh, thank you,” I said finally.

Antler Head turned to me. “I did not do it for you.” He looked after Dunngo again. “I fear he will seek out conflict until it brings him release from the pain of his son's death. Though even his own death may not be enough to bring him peace.”

“I'm … sorry,” I said, not sure what else to say.

“You have brought the alchemist?” Antler Head asked, looking at Heather.

“Uh, yes,” I replied. “This is Heather. She has figured out how to make the drug and is going to give you guys enough to keep anyone else from dying. Help her get set up?”

Antler Head nodded.

I stayed long enough to make sure Heather would be safe with Antler Head, and had what she needed.

“I have to get going,” I said, and turned to Heather. “Will you be okay?”

“Yes.” She didn't face me, but looked again to the will-o'-the-wisp.

“Okay then.” I turned to leave, but Heather said, “Finn.”

“Yeah?” I stopped.

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Oh. Well, you're welcome?” I replied. “Thank
you
for—”

“No, really, thank you. You could have reported me to the ARC after I showed up in your driveway. You could have probably hunted me down yourself, you and your family, even before that. And after the way I betrayed you all I wouldn't have blamed you. But you gave me a chance. More than one. And—just thank you for being a good friend, better than I deserved.”

“I didn't have the heart to send you into exile,” I said. “I'm not sure that makes me good.”

“Yeah, you're not good, you're
grrreat
!” Heather replied, the way she would when we were teenagers. She smiled at me, her eyes glistening with tears.

“More like I'm coo-coo for cocoa puffs,” I replied, and felt a sudden surge of my old affection for her. I pulled her into a tight hug. “Stay safe,” I said, and let her go. “I'll be back.”

“Okay, Arnie.”

I gave her a smile that I almost felt, and headed for the exit.

Flidais waited outside, and happily guided me downhill through the various physical and magical traps that now surrounded Silene's clearing.