Halfway Drowned (Halfway Witchy Book 4) Page 14

  “Old topographic map from the 1930s. Younger than me, that is,” Exit chuckled, unfolding the state map with care on the hood of Gran’s truck. It was an indecipherable maze of lines and curves, but Wulfric and Gran both made noises of recognition. To me, it was a map, albeit highly detailed. I picked out the lake and some other features, but as to the rest, it became less certain. “I think this is our best bet. Side road to this old pasture, then we turn away from the lake. The distance from water to the kettles is less than two hundred yards.”

  “How is that even possible? Kids would be all over it. Tourists would live there, and I’ve never even been to that part of the shoreline.” I couldn’t grasp how something like that could escape my notice. Halfway was McEwan land.

  “I think it’s this bay, and the creek. See the broken line? It’s intermittent water. That means it might go years without having enough water for a canoe, let alone a boat. There could be other factors, too. Like the deadfall, or leftovers from a flood. I’ve seen oxbows form behind huge piles of dead trees that get clogged like a drain. That would be tough to surmount, especially during black fly season.” Exit pointed at the bent lines on the map and I knew he was onto something. As far as black fly season, they could drive you insane with their stinging bites, and if there was stagnant water, then every kind of flying vampire death bug would be nearby. No wonder no one wanted to go there.

  “I think you’ve got the right idea, even though I need to see it to believe it,” I said, before the irony of my words could hit me. I of all people should know the world was filled with mystery.

  “Let’s go. Exit up front, the rest of you kids in back,” Gran said, smiling. The kids--me, Wulfric, and Eli--complied, though not without at least one wild look of concern.

  “I don’t mean to seem disrespectful, but is your grandmother aware of the highway statistics on truck accidents, especially in situations where”--Eli began, but I held up a finger to quiet him down. He was about to get worked into a lather, and I had to prevent some kind of nerd meltdown at all costs.

  “We’re going fifteen miles an hour,” I reported in what I hoped was an air of authority. And we were, as Gran turned out of her driveway and left Main Street for a dirt lane almost immediately. “We’re looking for something. So should you, right?”

  Wulfric smiled, letting his head fall back into the sun. He occupied two thirds of the truck bed and seemed on the verge of falling asleep. Gran picked her way along the dirt road that led to the north end of Halfway and beyond, ending in a fire road that went all the way into the park. A pair of ducks went quacking overhead, wheeling into a hidden creek nearby. The day was warm, and I could smell sunshine and grass.

  Eli wasn’t convinced that doom wasn’t close to hand. “Are you sure we should be going this way?”

  My eyes started to roll, but I stopped them midway. “You mean in the truck?”

  “No, along this road. If we’re looking for someplace with deep water, or whatever, shouldn’t we be on the lakeshore?” Eli asked. It was a reasonable question, but before I could answer, Gran applied the brakes and we rolled to a stop.

  I could smell the lake, which was just on the other side of some trees. We were in a scrubby pasture that I’d never seen before, hemmed in alder and birch. The flowers of summer were at their absolute peak, and buzzing insects added a chorus to the odd birds who were busy alerting everyone to our presence. Wulfric lifted me down from the truck, kissing me lightly before stretching in the sun like a lazy cat.

  Eli joined Exit at the front of our little party, Gran between them. They all looked at the map once again before setting off at a resolute pace.

  “Hey!” I shouted.

  Everyone stopped to look at me, eliciting a blush. I’d been a bit louder than intended, and the day’s heat was getting to me. A jay scolded me from his goldenrod perch, then flew off.

  “Shouldn’t we have spells ready, Gran?” I let the question hang for a second.

  “I don’t have one ready. I have four.” She looked to my charms, and I understood that we might appear casual, but we were going forward prepared. I let a spell dance on my tongue, able to fly out at the speed of thought.

  We’d gone less than a hundred steps when Exit muttered, “Well that’s a bit anticlimactic.”

  “It is?” Eli asked, looking ahead at a bleached tumble of tree trunks. They were cloistered together like the bones of summer roadkill, forgotten and sad. They were not, however, impenetrable. In fact I saw no less than two ways through the jackstraw piles of stumps, limbs, and various whole trees that had been deposited by some earlier flood, probably well before I’d been born. There was a polish to the wood that made it look almost intentional, like folk art.

  “Not an accident, then,” Gran said, and I understood her meaning. Wulfric pulled his knife from somewhere and held it casually at his side, eliciting a look from Eli. There was purpose to the pattern, though the event had been natural. That meant someone or something had shaped the landscape to make it forgettable.

  We walked through, Wulfric in the lead and Exit alongside Gran and Eli. The logs soared up to a height of twenty feet, reaching skyward like the ribs of an ancient beast. Ten feet in, the grass turned lush and sodden underfoot. It was an undermarsh, the kind that can hold moisture even in the hottest parts of summer.

  “Look at the shape, Wulfric,” Exit stated, taking in the odd expanse of intensely thick vegetation. It was all low and plump, with orchids adding a blast of color to the variety of greens. A warbler called, then a swamp sparrow, their voices echoing musically around us as they went about the business of bird life in a bog.

  “Plenty of water here.” Wulfric scratched his head, almost comically. “Where does the--ahh, there it is. Look. This was an oxbow lake at some point, but it filled in over time. I see a deer path just over there,” he added, stepping quietly forward to the invisible trail. I nodded that Gran should go first as we shuffled across the hint of what might be a game path. I trusted Wulfric’s eyes more than mine, given his years in the forest.

  It was a bright place despite the crowding hulk of the deadfall, and the slow-moving water of a deep creek awaited us at the end of the path some twenty yards ahead.

  “Hi,” Alex said from behind us, nearly sending me to the stars. Wulfric smiled, as did Gran, but Eli clutched his chest after emitting a squeak like a dying balloon. His eyes were wild, then angry, and then he finally achieved that weird kind of Zen that Alex brings with him into the room, even though we were outside. His strange little bubble of calm swept over us after we got done with digesting the fact that he was even quieter than Wulfric.

  Alex was sitting on a rock, which wasn’t unusual given his nature. I’ve learned that cats have a mission in life--that being sitting on important things while you try to use them--but left to their own devices, they always go for the high ground. That can be a pile of clean laundry, a stack of vintage books, or a birthday present you’re trying to wrap with one hand while shooing them with the other. The object is unimportant, the height is, which sort of explained why Alex was casually perched on a stone that was taller than my head and half as broad.

  “Like it?” Alex asked, in his mild voice. His eyes flashed with humor, sparkling darkly in the sun. He pushed his black hair back with a hand to clear his vision, and I realized he was sweating slightly.

  “Hi yourself. Did you try to move that stone? Is that why you’re sweating?” I asked. I could smell him from ten feet away. He’d been doing something strenuous.

  “Hello, Gran. Wulfric. Hi, Exit. This is?” Alex nodded to Eli, whose lips twitched with a grudging smile. If Alex wasn’t going to make a big deal out of nearly scaring Eli to death, then neither was he.

  “Eli Delacourt. Science guy, super genius, all that stuff. I’m here for the ship,” he said, eyes locking on the stone’s unusual markings. “And that.”

  “I am too,
” Wulfric said. He moved with authority to the stone, watching in amusement as Alex leapt nimbly off to squish in the damp soil.

  “We all are, I think. Alex, where is Anna?” Gran asked, looking around.

  “She took Amelia to a pay for the cupcakes and some sort of crafts table?” Alex said, but he was uncertain about a part of his answer.

  “Crafts table? For three year olds at a birthday party, hopped up on sugar and running around like a tiny army of killer robots? I don’t think so,” I said, feeling smug. I knew more about kids than Anna, and she had one. At least that’s what I was telling myself, because it was entirely possible she was doing the whole cool mom thing, and I was missing the point. That led me to a moment of reverie in which I reconsidered some of my musical taste and sweater choices, but then I did have a hot Viking boyfriend, so I might be able to call my sweaters vintage instead of what I found on eBay for six dollars. That made me feel better, especially knowing how good Wulfric smelled when he was just lying there, the sun in his hair and--

  “Carlie? Love of my life, would you like to join us in examining this amazing Viking relic that has tales to tell?” Wulfric said, ending my moment of victory. I looked at him as the smug feeling of being better than Anna fled from me, replaced by something like shame. I admit it; I spend a lot of time in the shower making up conversations of what I would like to say to her. I sighed and looked at the big dumb rock with the stupid snakes carved on it.

  Not snakes. A snake, and then I realized--not a single snake. Something bigger, and it was in the act of pulling a man under the water.

  “Wulfric?” I asked, and my voice sounded small to me. I felt something in my guts go to water as he dribbled water over the carving, making the lines stand out in relief. “What is that?”

  “It’s been here for a long time, I know that,” Alex said. He put a hand on the lines, tracing whatever story uncoiled on the stone.

  “Longer than the McEwans.” Gran said. Her voice was neutral.

  We ringed the object, our heads cocked in thought as we all considered the wild array of engravings that went down into the soft earth. A part of the stone was hidden, of that much I was certain. As to the runes that crowned the whole thing, I had no idea.

  But Wulfric knew.

  His lips pulled to one side in something close to a sneer, an expression so alien for him that I had to look twice to make sure it wasn’t a trick of the sunlight. It wasn’t. Disgust and fear warred on his face, compelling me to take his hand. It was warm, almost hot to the touch. He was angry and keeping it inside, I thought.

  “This is a border stone, made from the largest anchor I’ve ever seen,” Wulfric began, with a look at Eli that invited comment.

  Eli held up his hands. “Hey, these are your people. I’m the novice here.”

  Wulfric’s smile was warm. “Thank you, good doctor, but your input will matter. Bide a moment and let’s see what you can add.” He began to run a finger over the top marks on the stone. They were deep, and free of moss. They weren’t clean, but it appeared as if rain had scoured them occasionally, keeping the jewel-green mosses and pale lichens from taking over the surface.

  “Why there, Wulfric?” Gran asked, pointing at the water a few feet behind the stone. There was a hint at some larger body under the sprawl of the bog. I could smell the rich minerals, and knew that somewhere, deeper water lurked, even if it was covered.

  “Is it a warning?” Eli asked.

  “No. It’s a call of victory.” Wulfric touched the runes, his lips moving gently. “This was an oxbow lake, long ago. There was a--- a battle, you would call it. This is the declaration of victory.”

  “Who fought here?” Eli asked. Exit began looking around, as if horsemen were going to come charging out the deadfall, spears at the ready.

  “My people. And something else.” Wulfric paused, looking at the final score of runes with a frown.

  “Can anyone read it?” Alex asked in his quiet way. When I shook my head, he looked off into the distance, neither angry nor pleased.

  “I’m going to, ah, advise my sister about the party, then. I’ll see you in town. Nice meeting you, Eli.” To my relief, Alex merely walked off at a brisk pace. Seeing him change into a werecat may have sent Eli over the edge. I appreciated how careful Alex could be, unlike his sister and her hula-hooping six pack abs.

  Wulfric continued to read, then his shoulders fell. “My people lost. They are here. Some of them survived and fled.”

  Gran stepped forward to take Wulfric’s arm. “Did your people often flee?”

  He shook his head. “Rarely, and not this far from home. The beast lead them here, overland. It wanted them far from the coast, so that it might harvest them at its leisure.”

  “And you say some of them survived? Does the stone tell you where they went?” I asked, dizzy from the reek of the bog. I couldn’t understand how everyone else was ignoring it. The water was oppressive.

  “Only in a general sense. North, and east. More importantly, it tells me who they were.” Wulfric dropped my hand and gently untangled from Gran, moving around the stone to look at the back side.

  “More stuff over there, but looks like a kid drew it. Carved, I mean,” Alex said.

  “Different runes. Different author. This stone was brought here from another place,” Wulfric said.

  “How?” Eli asked. The thing had to weigh a ton, easily.

  “Floated, most likely, but then there’s the problem of a single being lowering it into the setting. That would require inhuman strength,” Wulfric muttered, looking at the opposing runes. “More than I could have managed. Before, when I was, ah, alone.”

  Stronger than a vampire. Half-vampire, technically, but that still indicated horrifying strength. Whatever happened here, it wasn’t by human hands.

  And it was still alive. I knew it. So did Wulfric and Gran, and Exit sensed that something bad had been here long ago. Only Eli stood before the stone with curiosity lighting his face.

  Gran helped him understand. With a muttered word, she cast a spell on the stone, unleashing a torrent of flickering gold lights. The motes swirled about like bees, gaining speed as the column wrapped tighter around the relic, blurring it into a glowing smudge of buttery light.

  “What--it’s beautiful.” Eli’s whisper pierced the light rushing water sounds of Gran’s spell.

  “Sometimes, magic and science overlap. I’m suspicious of this--declaration,” Gran explained. She watched the spell come to a conclusion, racing wild and free to spin itself into an audible crackling as the magical energy dissipated. “And now we are answered, unfortunately.” Grans’ sigh was tired and sad.

  I was stunned. Eli recoiled, but Exit and Wulfric nodded as if they’d been expecting something grim.

  Across the stone, spatters of something glowed in cool green light despite the sun. “What is that, Gran?”

  “Luminol. She made luminol out of . . . magic?” Eli asked, his voice a wondrous croak. Luminol was a chemical used by the police. You sprayed it on a surface to look for blood at crime scenes. The stone was a crime scene, but not the kind that any police would ever encounter.

  “Yes.” Gran’s answer was simple, as the real question was before us.

  “What did you, um--what is all of this?” Eli pointed to the bright sprays of color across the stone. Even Exit stepped around the stone, looking up and down at the array of lights.

  “There’s a reason this place has remained secret,” Gran said.

  “She killed the artist.” Wulfric stated acidly. It was unusual for him to show anger, so I knew he was masking some inner turmoil.

  “Why?” I asked no one at all, peering at the loops of colored spots that pulsed gently on the dark gray rock. Whatever had been done to the victim came from behind. I recognized a fatal strike when I saw it, even second hand and a thousand years later.


  “Like the pharaohs in Egypt. They would kill the workers who built their tombs, so that grave robbers would leave their bodies alone, to transition to the afterworld in peace. All of that wealth laying in a hole was a powerful temptation,” Exit said, squatting to look at a vibrant area of light. It was pretty, but sad to see, like something beautiful that decayed before your eyes.

  “That would imply there’s treasure in this bog, or where the oxbow has filled in over the years, right?” I asked. I thought the ship was the treasure. The idea of incredible wealth on our lands made me shiver. I wasn’t strong enough to shield the entire area from hordes of treasure seekers, and neither was Gran. We would lose the sanctity of Halfway to greed and sickness, and there would be precious little defense against both. People found the truth, no matter what, and that wasn’t always a good thing.

  Gran waved a hand and the ground rippled. Eli yipped like a dog, and even I staggered under the force of her casual spell. “We’ll see about treasure.”

  The water began to roil in a polite manner that reflected Gran’s personality. Our magic was an extension of us, which meant that the spell of discovery she’d cast would be thorough, yet minimally destructive. If an ancient critter popped out of the water and offered us tea, I wouldn’t have blinked.

  “And here were are. Your treasure, gentlemen.” Gran waved again as something broke the dark water’s surface, bringing up dripping mud and water plants in a shapeless, sodden tangle.

  “Is it safe to touch?” Eli asked, as he was closest to the watery eruption.

  “Quite, but you won’t have to. Step back, please. I’ll have it free momentarily.” Gran lowered her hand and slid it forward to her in a silky gesture. Her silver ring flashed, the hand wearing it rock steady and confident.

  Wulfric broke our collective awe at Gran’s power, stepping forward to grasp the dripping mess in both hands. He began flicking chunks of water plants and mud with swift, efficient movements of big hands.