Page 81 of Spring's Arcana
“Take it.” Another brief beckoning motion. “Christmas gift,da? Very useful. Light cigarettes, candle for birthday cake.”
“It’s really nice of you.” Nat jammed her hands deeper in her peacoat pockets. “I’m okay, though.”
“Fucksake.” The lighter vanished. He was back to snarling; the sudden change was almost comforting. At least when he was being an asshole she knew how to deal with him. “You take cup of coffee from him, but nothing from Dima, huh? Stupid little girl.”
“Yes. I really am.” If this was what being a divinity was like, Nat didn’t think it was such a hot deal. She just got more emotionally exhausted the longer this trip went on, and it wasn’t anywhere near finished yet. “But it’s not entirely my fault. I know you hate my mother, but she might have been trying to protect me in some weird way. And I can see why. I’m sorry you’ll have to find a hotel for tonight, but it’s going to get you what you want, right? A chance to kill me and take your heart back. So just go, please.”
The stars faded one by one as the weather to the north moved in. She liked that, how you could see something coming out here even at night. The nail-paring moon slipped behind a veil. The metallic tang of snow sharpened, and somewhere close by were naked branches rattling together. That probably meant water; on the prairie, everything dug in to find moisture and hide from the wind.
“Fine.” Dmitri took another drag, and a plume of smoke was torn into pieces, snatched from his mouth. “But I come back at dawn to fetchzaika moya. And if you not with him all safe and sound, I burn his place down.Allhis places, and him inside them.”
The gangster hopped down the steps, landing stiff-legged, and stalked for the corner of the building. Nat pushed her hands even deeper into her pockets, and shivered. Not with the cold, no.
Because she believed him.
YOUR OWN GROUND
Inside, it was much warmer. Ranger leaned hipshot against the wall near two pay phones that probably even worked; the arched doorways to the restrooms past him were stenciled neatly withBUCKSandDOES. The light was kind, burnishing a ghost of stubble on his dark cheeks and catching in his short springy hair. “Guessin’ he ain’t happy.”
“I don’t thinkhappyis a word that ever applies, to him.” Nat’s lower back was damp, despite the cold. Maybe divinities only sweated when stressed. “Was he always like that? Or do you know?”
He nodded. “Never did meet a contented horsethief. You ready?”
I don’t think I am. “Of course.”
“You can relax.” Ranger didn’t move, still eyeing her. “I ain’t gonna do anything ungentlemanly. I just figured you’d have a question or two, since it’s not your mama comin’ out to collect. And, well.” A slow grin stretched his sculpted lips. “A man always likes welcomin’ springtime.”
Oh, boy howdy and beans. Was she blushing? Nat hoped not. She settled her backpack strap a little higher on her right shoulder. “I guess that’s more my mother than me. Once I get what Baba de Winter wants, she’ll make Mom better. At least, that’s the deal.”
The song on the jukebox ended, and a hush settled over the bar’s interior. It happened sometimes in crowds, but raised gooseflesh on her every time.
There was a hiss of static, the juke changing songs, and a woman began crooning about who was sorry now. It sounded like Connie Francis, or maybe Patsy Cline.
Did country singers have a divinity?
“That the deal?” Ranger’s eyebrows had lifted. “Huh. I see.”
Did he think she was lying? “Unless Dmitri kills me first, I guess.”
“Now that ain’t right.” He peeled himself away from the wall, a restless, liquid movement. “Man ain’t a man if he goes liftin’ a hand to a woman. Not that I ain’t but met some what deserve it, but still. Now tell me, Miss Drozdova, do you like drivin’?”
“I’m not that good at it.” She had her license, sure, but Mom’s old Léon-Bollée wasn’t exactly modern and why bother wheedling permission to take it anywhere when there was the bus system, let alone the subway? Not to mention it had been out of commission for at least a month before Mom’s collapse, despite all Leo’s babying. “But I can. If I have to.”
The fact that she did like it, and maybe secretly longed to get behind the wheel of Dmitri’s car just to see how fast it could really go, was beside the point.
“You just sit and look at the scenery, ma’am.” He tipped his head, turned smartly, and set off; there was a small soft sound and that dove-gray hat appeared, swinging from his hand. “I’ll do the rest.”
They plunged into the crowd; the bar was still full and conversation reaching highway-roar levels. Nobody paid any attention to him or Nat, but nobody jostled them either. There was probably some sort of magic involved in that, too, and suddenly Nat’s head hurt. Stumbling from one place to the next, trying like hell not to put a foot wrong—oh, it was what she’d been doing all her life, but this time the stakes were so high and she was already so tired.
Not physically, though. Her body blurred and buzzed with bright good strength. She was exhaustedinside,and wondered if Mom’s illness was infecting her too.
By the time Ranger opened the front door, ushering her out with a slight bow, the black car was nowhere to be seen in the parking lot. There was an angry screech in the distance, rubber tires smoking on pavement, but the wind whisked the noise away. Cold winter night swallowed her and the cowboy, who jammed his hat firmlyatop his head. It didn’t look like it would dare come off even in a tornado, he was so self-possessed.
Boots crunching in gravel and frozen weeds, he headed straight for a cream-colored pickup just this side of antique. Heavy chrome fenders glowed under the failing starlight, its bed was a wide pale plain, and its wheel wells bulged cheerfully. The passenger side door opened silently; he didn’t need to unlock it.
Who would steal a divinity’s car, after all? Nat clambered up onto a seat upholstered with faded blue stripes, glad she didn’t need help.
Although old, the truck was lovingly maintained. It probably ran on the same thing Dmitri’s did, and she wondered why Mom’s Léon-Bollée needed gas and Leo’s constant fixing.
