Wicked Circle

CHAPTER SIX

After crawling up the embankment—swearing all the way over the ruined dress—I hurried into the fog. Just as I was sure my feet had veered to one side, the light of the candles brightened the mist. On target, I was able to locate the parking lot.

In the days that had followed my mother’s accident, we’d all understood that Eris wasn’t ever again going to drive the old stick-shift Corvette. So, partially as a pity-present and partially as a thank-you-for-acting-to-save-my-boyfriend, I offered to buy her an automatic vehicle that she would be able to drive when the doctor gave her the okay.

She’d picked a ten-year-old Dodge Dakota SLT from the third car lot we’d visited. It was a high-mileage vehicle, but neither the rust edging the wheel wells nor the American flag and eagle decorating the rear window had deterred her decision.

I think she decided the candy-apple-red vehicle was perfect when she saw the SLT emblem on the side. She laughed and said, “Get the salesman. Tell him I want to take the Slut for a test drive.”

Of course I hadn’t repeated that to the salesman, but the truck’s name had stuck.

I ended up driving the Slut here tonight. That left Nana to drive the Corvette—the image kept me amused the whole way. Zhan, my personal bodyguard from Menessos, had been reluctant to let me out of her sight; I’d only been able to get her to stay behind by giving her orders to obtain some sneaky cell phone video footage of Nana getting into the low-riding sports car.

By the time I made it to the Slut, I was limping. My foot ached where it had been sliced by rocks.

After changing into my jeans and T-shirt, I donned the hoodie. The solidity of my hikers was reassuring. Once the hood covered my wet hair, I felt warm enough to function.

Despite being certain this was illegal, I drove the Slut into the park itself, jumping the curb and rolling slowly through the fog. Past the circle I veered around and backed the Slut to the edge of the embankment, where I cut the engine. Outside, I rolled under the truck’s back end.

Eris asked, “What are you doing?”

“Getting the spare tire.”

As I tried to loosen the rusty bolt holding the tire on, Eris checked both sides of the truck. “The Slut doesn’t have a flat.”

My fingers slipped and I scraped a knuckle. “Damn it,” I muttered. The bolt was rusted in place. Louder, I said, “I know.”

“Then what the hell are you doing?”

“You’ll see.”

I squeezed the metal nut holding the bracket and concentrated, moving a little energy into my hand. “Loosen, loosen steel I hold, must get Nana out of the cold.” I pushed the energy into the nut. Pain zapped through my thumb. I jerked away and swore.

When I tried again, the rusted-on nut turned easily. I figured the jolt meant I had a little lightning left over.

With the huge tire loose, I dragged it to the edge of the embankment and heaved it down.

Nana gawked at the tire. “What’s that for?”

“Getting you up to the parking lot.” I retrieved a rope from behind the extended cab’s backseat and returned to Nana, silently praising the glorious traction of the average hiking boot.

She said, “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Would you rather I call the emergency squad?”

“No,” she snapped.

I unwound the rope, looped the middle of it through the center a few times and hauled the tire closer to Nana. “C’mon.” I offered her my hand. “Sit on the tire.”

“What?”

“Give me your hand. I’ll pivot you onto it.”

She assessed the all-season radial, then the rope. “Are you shitting me?”

“Just hold onto the tread. It’ll be fun.”

Nana glowered but gave me her hand. “It better be.”

Once she was maneuvered into the center of the tire, she said, “I’m relieved I got to play the crone tonight.”

“Why?”

“If I’d played the maiden and worn all white, I’d look like the Michelin Man on this thing.”

I laughed, proud of her for finding some humor in the situation. Our three-generational trio was a kind of triangle, too. I didn’t trust Eris, but I could always count on Nana.

Perception hit me harder than the river rock that had knocked me unconscious: With all I had to do, knowing Menessos and Johnny would be there for me gave me strength. Hecate was right. If either one of them faltered . . . none of us could succeed.

“Keep your legs straight.” I tossed the rope’s length onto higher ground and gave Eris my arm. “Your turn.” My mother’s teeth were chattering. “You’re soaked! Why aren’t you in the truck and out of the wind?”

“I’ll get the seats wet.”

“The seats will dry.” We trudged cautiously up the bank.

“Are you seriously going to do what I think you’re going to do?”

Feeling like an ass for not noticing sooner that she was wet and shivering, I studied her and saw the cut and bruising on her cheek. “Yup. Unless you have a better idea.”

She snorted in answer.

“Just one more minute in the cold for you,” I said as I tied the rope around the trailer hitch. “I won’t be able to see Nana with my mirrors, so you have to watch her. Signal me when she’s level.”

Eris nodded.

In the truck, I twisted the key in the ignition. The engine rumbled to life, and I smiled to myself. When I’d brought this thing to Eris’s apartment, Lance had teased her that it was only a gun rack shy of being officially redneck. I hadn’t argued.

With the brake fully depressed, I put the Slut in gear. I slowly let off the brake, and the vehicle inched forward. When Eris gave me the signal to stop, I put it in park and cut the engine.

“That was not fun,” Nana proclaimed. “But it wasn’t terrible,” she added with a wink.

Once I had completed the not-so-easy task of getting Nana in the passenger seat, I put the spare tire in the truck bed and the rope in the backseat. “You’re going to have to drive,” I said to Eris. “Get her to the hospital.”

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Nana grouched out her open door. “It’s just a sprain.”

“It may be more than that.”

“It isn’t. Eris needs to go home and get warm and dry. All I need is some ice and Aleve. I’ll be fine.” She dangled the Corvette keys from her finger, then tossed them to me.

I caught the key ring. “How are you going to get up the stairs?” Eris’s apartment was on the second story, above her tattoo parlor.

“Lance will help me.” Nana slammed the truck door.

“And she has spoken,” Eris said through chattering teeth. “I may not have been around her for years, but I still know when her mind is made up. That hasn’t changed.”

She was right. “Drive the Slut home.”

Eris barked out a laugh. “I’m telling Nana what you called her.”

“Her knee’s sprained and I can still run. I’m not scared.” And besides, Nana knew the joke behind the truck’s name.

“I was scared.” Eris reached up and stroked my hair, pushing a wet tendril off my brow and under the hood. “I tried to get you. I swear I did.” Tears plunged down her cheeks again.

I wanted her to realize the magical impact of having lost her arm. I wanted her to get creative and figure out how to work around it. She had tried to save me, but Hecate had intervened, and Eris had failed to get me. That failure had frightened her more than I could gauge. I worried the failure had emphasized what she couldn’t do in a way that would make her withdraw to an inward and needy place instead of standing up and fighting to retain independence.

Eris wiped her eyes and asked, “What about you?”

“I’ll gather up our stuff here. Fifteen minutes. I’m right behind you.”

She didn’t budge. She simply stared at me, as apologetic and guilty as was humanly possible.

“Go.” I spun her gently toward the truck. “You can do this.” I was mindful of her awkward climb into the cab, and how she settled into the driver’s seat. Securing the seat belt was tricky, but it was easier than turning the key and putting the truck into gear.

Neither the doctor nor the Pennsylvania Department of Motor Vehicles had cleared her to drive, but we had no options just now and I was sure she would manage the actual driving just fine. Driving herself and Nana home was something she could do.

I didn’t offer to help; Eris was going to have to learn she could do these right-handed things for her left-handed self.