humans are stupid enough to stay in an area where rock scorpions and dire boars both like to live.”
“How does the Red Angel stay open if this is a mostly human town?” The question came from Sam, back in his human form as he stepped up on my other side.
“Cynthia owns most of the lakeside property that isn’t actually inside city limits, and this is a popular vacation spot,” I said, linking my arm through Sam’s as we followed my grandmother toward the woods. “She makes enough in rent from the summer people to pay her power and liquor bills, and while she doesn’t gouge, this is the only cryptid bar left in Michigan. Her customers are happy to chip in when she’s feeling skint.”
“Sounds real community-minded of them,” said James.
“She averages a wedding a week during the busy season,” I said. “You and me, we’re sorcerers, but we’re still human. You just have to find a girl who’s understanding about frostbite when you get frisky, and you’ll be fine. Someone like Fern, on the other hand, has to do a lot more work if she wants to find Mr. Right. Cynthia didn’t set out to be a matchmaking service, but she provides a safe place in a township the Covenant actively avoids, and plenty of alcohol. That’s more than good enough for this modern world.”
James flushed red and looked down at his feet, kicking a rock down the road without breaking his stride. Sam frowned.
“Why does the Covenant avoid Buckley?” he asked.
“Because they believe it’s haunted by the ghosts of three generations of Healys, all of whom are pretty pissed off about being murdered,” I said blithely. “It’s a long story.”
“Is everything in this family a long story?” he asked reproachfully. “Do you think there’s a chance you could make me like, some index cards with the short version on them, so I don’t completely embarrass myself when I meet your parents?”
“Since you’re adopting me, I’d like a set of those cards, too,” said James. “Just with the little things I need to know. Like you’d mentioned that your grandmother carries grenades the way most little old ladies carry those funky violent-scented candies, but you never said anything about her being younger than you. No wonder you jumped straight to time travel as a solution.”
“When something is normal for you, it doesn’t necessarily occur to you to mention it without a good reason,” I said. “Isn’t there anything you haven’t gotten around to telling me?”
“Nope,” said Sam. “My life is an open book where you’re concerned. Also, I think your grandmother is more dangerous than mine, which is sort of reassuring if you think about it, since my Grandma is pretty pissed off at me right now. If it comes down to Grandma-on-Grandma violence, I think yours will win.”
“We are not starting a Grandma fight club!” I said firmly. She was far enough ahead of us that I wasn’t worried she’d overhear, although Cylia looked back and smirked at me, clear amusement in her eyes. I did the mature thing and stuck my tongue out at her.
“I might have a few things,” said James, ears still red as he kicked his rock around the road.
“It’s all right if you have a crush on my girlfriend, my dude, even if she is volunteering to be sort of your sister,” said Sam magnanimously. “I don’t know whether you’ve noticed, but she has an absolutely fantastic rack.”
“I have honestly not devoted much of my time to contemplating Antimony’s breasts,” said James.
I smacked Sam on the arm. “Don’t say things like that where people might hear you.”
“Why not? Your boobs come into a room before you do. People notice them.”
“It’s a good thing I already love you,” I said. “If I didn’t, I might shove you into the lake for the bloodworms to swim off with and find myself a boyfriend who doesn’t try to make my adopted brother uncomfortable for fun.”
“You’d miss me.”
“I would,” I allowed.
We kept walking. The trees grew closer, dark and tangled and menacing. There was nothing forgiving in the shadow of those trees. I couldn’t imagine growing up here in Buckley, in the sight of that forest. The trees in Portland were dense and tangled, but they were forgiving. I had always known that they were on my side.
These trees weren’t on anybody’s side but their own. These trees had no interest in showing people where the bodies were buried; those bodies belonged to the trees now, and