Chapter Thirty-Four – Stephanie

 

“Whatcha thinking about?” Jeff asked as we cruised down the road.

I’d been slowly swiveling my head from one side to the other, my hands in a death grip on the shotgun between my legs. Something about this all seemed off to me.

I mean, I’d never been to a big music festival, but I’d been to concerts before. Sure, there were drugs, and there was raucous debauchery. And, of course, cheering. Lots of cheering and excited hooting.

The only problem was, that’s exactly what the festival on the other side of the fence seemed like to me. No yowling, no screaming in terror. Just music, and people my age having a good time in the sun, while drinking and doing some recreational drugs.

“Doesn’t this seem just a little odd to you?” I asked.

“You mean in general, or…?”

“You know what I mean,” I snapped. “This concert just seems like a normal concert, Jeff! There’s no giant cats, no crazy people!”

Before he could respond, the cats I’d been so surprised to not see finally arrived.

They came out of the trees and bushes to either side of us, their eyes shimmering and practically glowing in the late morning light as they bounded over the road at us. Black ones, white ones, even reddish brown, their fur thick and lustrous, their claws long and deadly. A dozen or so of them streamed out of the woods, racing on all fours, their tails high in the air behind them as they chattered back and forth with some incessant clicking noise.

I nearly froze. My hands closed tightly around the shotgun, and I willed my muscles to move. But my arms wouldn’t lift it to my shoulder, my fingers wouldn’t go through the trigger guard.

“That still normal to you?” Jeff shouted, breaking me from my trance.

“What do we do?” I asked, as the first one leaped onto the front fender of the truck, rocking the suspension as its weight settled.

“You’re the one with the goddamn shotgun, not me!”

“Right,” I said, my breath nearly catching in my throat, my heart racing faster. “Right. Yeah.”

“Shoot ’em!”

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” I asked as I began to roll down my window.

“Not if you want a good circle drawn,” Jeff said, just before the truck swerved dangerously to the side as another cat jumped on the truck. The mirror on my side showed two more of them racing along behind us, their tails twitching in the air as they sped to keep pace with us. “Now get them off of here!”

Window down, I brought the shotgun up to my shoulder. I leaned out the window, the shotgun as ready as I was going to get it.

The cat-thing was trying to climb across the hood, to get a better grip, its claws scraping and leaving deep gouges in the painted steel.

“Hey!”

It turned to look at me, its cat-eyes narrowed to fine slits as it hissed.

The shotgun roared as it bucked in my hands, slamming back hard against my shoulder as I unleashed a load of rock salt into the giant cat’s chest.

The cat wailed and yowled, smoke rising from its fur as it flew off the truck and down to the roadside.

“We got more!” Jeff yelled, the fear crawling into his voice. Glass shattered as he lurched towards the center of the truck, but forgot to release the wheel. The truck swerved hard, slamming my hip into the door and nearly knocking the shotgun from my hands.

“Hold it still!” I shouted, without even looking in his direction.

“Can’t!” The truck swerved again, nearly throwing me out of the cab. “They’re trying to come inside!”

Shit! I turned back around, pumping the shotgun and sending a spent red plastic shell tumbling through the air.

“Goddammit!” Jeff shouted, slamming his elbow into the creature’s furry white face. He kept pounding away, but couldn’t dislodge our feline hitchhiker. “Dammit!”

“Duck!”

“What?”

I brought the shotgun back up to my shoulder, sighted down the barrel at Jeff and the thing. “Duck!”

He looked at me, wide-eyed, released the wheel, and dropped in his seat. The back of the truck sagged again, sending us bouncing as another cat mutant or two jumped on board.

I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. As soon as Jeff presented me with an opening, I pulled the trigger.

Ryder’s shotgun roared like a cannon in the confines of the small space, and the unwelcome white passenger went flying back with a screeching yowl.

“Drive!” I shouted.

“This isn’t going to work,” Jeff shouted through clenched teeth, his right hand gripping his other arm. “There’s too many of them, champ!”

God, he was right. We needed Ryder out here, or some more help, to take these things off of us. If we didn’t get help soon, there was no way this salt circle would get drawn.

How had they known where we would be? How could they have known our plans? Was Marguerite that powerful, that she could hear our thoughts?

Shotgun resting in the crook of my arm, I snatched the radio up from where it had fallen on the floor. I pressed the button, put it to my lips. “Ryder!” I shouted. “Ryder, we need help! We can’t do this on our own—they were waiting for us!”

I released the button, waited for an answer.

Nothing. Just static.

Jeff and I exchanged a brief, pained look. His from the slash on his arm, mine from Ryder having abandoned us.

I pressed the button again, brought the radio up to my lips. “Ryder? You there? Esther? Anyone there?”

Still nothing.

I stared down at the radio in my hand, the disappointment flowing through me, invading every part of my body till my arms and legs felt like they were made of lead.

“What do we do?” Jeff asked in disbelief. “What do we do now?”

Ryder had left us. He’d completely abandoned us. My whole being seemed to sink into the seat, the realization that we were on our own sweeping over me and pulling me down with it.

But, no, he wouldn’t have done that. Would he have? Not unless the ticket had completely taken over, or he’d been forced in some other way. He was a soldier, and a good, honest man who kept his word. I’d seen that already, and knew it to be as true as the sky was blue, and the grass was green.

And then something flashed in my mind. A mental image of Esther’s brand new guest book back at the Camelot High Street Hotel. Of the dozen or so names, with Ryder’s at the bottom, and just Chad’s crossed off the list.

Hadn’t she told Ryder that someone had canceled their reservation before he arrived? But, Chad and his girl had been staying there, together. Why was his name the one crossed off the list?

Then, I thought about the consent, informed or otherwise, that Esther had been talking about with the ticket. Of how she said it was used to form a bond between the holder and the witch casting the spell.

Maybe it wasn’t the ticket, after all? Maybe it was something else?

I shook my head.

“Steph?” Jeff called. “Earth to Steph! Hey! We need to figure this out! We need to get Esther and Ryder’s help!”

I gasped a little as I turned to the best bartender I’d ever had the privilege of working with. “No!” I said. “No! We’ve had it all wrong! We need to help Ryder, not the other way around!”

“What? What in the hell are you even talking about?”

“Ryder’s in trouble, Jeff, and we need to go save him!”