Page 44 of Soothsayer

He huffed. “Fine,” he said at last. “But no more camping after this.”

“Deal.”

“And I want waffles tomorrow.”

“You got it.”

“With all of the extras.”

I could just imagine the expressions on the face of whoever was unlucky enough to serve us breakfast tomorrow. “Done. Waffles with everything.”

“Good.” For a moment there was no sound but crickets chirping, and then all of a sudden, he was pressed to my back, cool and soothing against my itchy, sweat-soaked skin. His lips touched my ear, and I stopped breathing. “Thank you, Cillian.” Then Sören got up and headed back to the car, taking his sleeping bag with him. I heard him recline a seat, put his feet upon the dash—Andre was seriously going to kill me—and then… Nothing. Sleep, or stasis, or whatever he called it. I was alone.

That was good, because honestly, Sören had a point when he called this uncomfortable. I wasn’t a kid anymore, who could fall asleep on anything and stay that way for hours. I rolled around on my sleeping bag, trying to find one position that was marginally more comfortable than another, but it was futile. My body was run ragged, but my mind couldn’t stop turning over the day’s events, considering and reconsidering and trying to fruitlessly strategize about—nothing. There was just nothing. Nothing more that I could do to prepare, except for getting in touch with Roger the Oil Man, and that had to wait until I was sure Bobby could do what I needed.

I finally gave in and grabbed my new cell phone. If things went well, Sören and I would be in New Mexico by tomorrow, and I needed advice about Bobby. Happily, Marisol’s number was one I had memorized. Not that my other phone was being tracked that I knew of, but I wasn’t going to take chances with it unless I had to.

She picked up on the first ring. “Cillian!”

“How did you know it was me?”

“The cards told me you would call. Where the hell are you?”

I rolled onto my back and tucked my free hand under my head, finally feeling some of the day’s tension leave me as I basked in Marisol’s concern. “On my way to Bobby.”

“And you’re okay? Not shot again?”

I frowned. “No, I’m not shot. What have those cards been telling you?”

“Lots of swords and pentacles in bad conjunction,cielito.” I could almost see her head shake. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m still here,” I said, not as comforting as I could be, but really, I wasn’t capable of doing better right now. “So’s Sören.We’ll be in Santa Rosa tomorrow, I hope. Any advice on how to reach Bobby? Is he still out in the desert?”

“Last I heard, yes. But I thought about it, and you know, he’ll probably answer if you use the gong, so it’ll be all right.”

“The…gong.”

“Yes, the gong! What, did I stutter?” she demanded. “You know where his place is?”

“Vaguely.”

“Two and a half miles past the Blue Hole down County Road 7, another half mile to the east when you see the rock shaped like a turtle,” Marisol clarified for me. “He’s got a gong set up outside his little hut. It’s only to be rung in dire emergencies, according to him, but I think your situation qualifies. You hit it, and he’ll hear it and come back to meet you. I’m pretty sure, at least.”

That was way better than going out into the desert to try to find Bobby myself. “Great. Thanks, Marisol.”

“You’re welcome.” She sounded subdued, though. She wasn’t even scolding me anymore, and she never missed an opportunity to do that.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Marisol laughed faintly. “Too much tarot on the brain, I think. Listen, honey, if you can’t reach me over the next few days, don’t worry about it, all right? I’ve got some business to take care of, so I might be out of reach for a while. But I’ll be fine. All right?”

She wasn’t exactly lying, I could tell that much over the phone, but there was something in her voice that wasn’t right. “What’s going down?”

“Nothing, honey! I don’t know anything for sure, and it’s better not to go borrowing trouble. Don’t worry about me. Just do what you need to do. I’ll talk to you again soon, okay?”

I wanted to force the issue, but my fatigue was finally winning out over my brain. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, Cilly. I love you.”

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