Texas Gothic - By Rosemary Clement-Moore Page 0,108
behind us, following in the Jeep with Phin. A stretch of highway, two gates, and a lot of dirt road later, we reached the coordinates Ben had entered into his GPS from Phin’s map. It was a rugged stretch, where years of water runoff had carved ravines and arroyos into the limestone hills. And it was deserted, as far as we could see.
“No search party, and no Grandpa Mac,” said Ben. “This is a wild-goose chase.”
“This is where he is. Trust me.”
“How can you be so sure?” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t believe I got so caught up in this crazy idea.”
I let all the pitfalls in that statement lie and concentrated on the important part. “Phin may seem like a nut, but there’s no one smarter about this stuff.”
He dropped his hands and looked at me, reading the certainty in my face. After a long study, I read the recommitment in his. To the plan, anyway.
“Okay,” he said. “What’s next?”
I scratched Lila’s ears as she panted eagerly on the seat between Ben and me. On the drive over, I’d read Aunt Hyacinth’s instructions, and they weren’t complicated, especially since I’d done some casual training with the dog already. “Next, Lila narrows the search.”
We climbed out and I held the door open for her. She jumped down, circling without taking her eyes off me. As if she knew how important this was.
Ben gazed over the daunting stretch of terrain. “But it’s a big spot.”
I crouched in front of the collie. “That’s why we need the dog.”
Mark’s headlights swept the truck as he reached us. Phin rode with him, and as Ben and I conducted this part of the search on foot, they would follow.
Clenched tight in my hand, I had the soaked and wrapped guitar pick. It was staining my palm purple as I held it out to Lila to sniff. She snuffled it, inhaling the essence, then licked my face. With a scent item, I’d take it away so it wouldn’t distract her from what she was supposed to sniff out. But this wasn’t about a physical scent—it was about a supernatural bond.
Lila turned in a circle and looked expectantly from me to Ben.
“Tell her to find your granddad,” I said. “Picture him really clearly in your head, and then tell her to go.”
As far as he’d come with me—with us—he still hesitated. “This is crazy.”
“Ben.” I stepped in front of him, took his arms, and willed him to look at me. It was hard to meet his eye. I felt like I was standing there naked, letting him see a part of me, my life, that I kept hidden away from everyone. Even myself.
I was the gatekeeper. And tonight I’d thrown the doors open to the enemy forces. I was full of anxiety: that breaking my rules would let something bad happen, that I wouldn’t be able to protect myself or my family from a world full of contempt. I had to push worry aside and show Ben that I believed in magic completely and this would work.
“You don’t have to trust in magic,” I told him. “You don’t have to trust Phin or my aunt. But trust me. This is the best chance of finding Mac in a hurry. Please. You don’t even have to trust me for long. Just long enough.”
He gazed back at me, doubt behind his eyes. “You and your magic dog.”
“Me, my sister, and my magic dog.” I smiled, reassuring.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I wondered what he was picturing behind them. “I’m ready.”
“You have to have Grandpa Mac firm in your mind. Clear. Vivid. His smell, his voice. His essence.”
“Got it.” Then he looked down at Lila and said, “Find Granddad Mac.”
Lila barked and spun on her back legs. She set off in one direction, then the other, then back again, tracking. I heard the change in the tenor of the Jeep’s engine as Mark put it in gear, ready to trail us as we followed Lila on foot.
We were able to keep up because, while she ran side to side, narrowing each time as she homed in on the target, we could take a straighter path. But at the top of a hill, the dog raised her head, gave a loud bark, and took off like she’d been shot from a cannon.
“Come on.” I broke into a run, with Ben behind me. We skidded down a valley, then climbed up the steep