5
On a stretch of coast road between towns, where traffic was light and the wind
from the sea soughed through thick stands of hemlock and spruce, the Metro
blew a tire. The small car shivered under Pierce’s grip and tried to crawl up
a tree trunk. Pierce turned the wheel wildly, got it stopped before they met,
but not before something groaned under the car and he heard a crack like a
bone breaking. He sat a moment, breathing raggedly. Nothing passed him on the
road, which, he realized belatedly, was fortunate since the rear bumper was
angled out into the lane. He moved finally, opened his door, and got out to
survey the damage.
The right front tire was in a ditch and pretty much flattened. The right back
tire seemed to have run over a milepost, which had not gone down without a
fight; the metal had taken a bite out of the tire as it warped. The broken
bone had been a sapling caught under the car as it slewed off the road. The
slender trunk had splintered above the root; the rest of it was wedged under
the car.
Pierce swallowed dryly. He stood for a moment, listening, and heard only wind,
no traffic. He reached inside the car, loosed the handbrake, then got behind
the car and pushed. It rocked a moment wearily, then moved abruptly, mowing
down whatever it had left standing, and rolling the front tire deeper into the
ditch. At least the rear end was out of the road. He stood another moment,
looking helplessly at the car, then pulled out his cell phone to call a tow
truck. The phone rang in his hand, and he started. He should, he realized,
have expected the call.
“Hi.”
“Pierce! Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I’m fine. You must know that already.”
“Where are you?” Heloise asked. “I don’t recognize anything.”
He glanced around, looking for her borrowed eyes. A jay squawked at him
suddenly, harshly, as if he had trashed the neighborhood on purpose.
Mom? he thought, then saw the hawk circling high above the trees, silent,
dark-winged against the blue.
“I’m fine,” he said again. “I just had a blowout. I’ll call a tow truck
to take me to the nearest town, stay there until the car is fixed.”
She was silent a breath, circling with the hawk. “Wait. I think I know—”
“Mom—”
“That little town. Biddie Cove. I stayed a night there a long time ago, when
I ran away from Severluna. It has the highest sea stack on the Wyvernhold
coast, and a wonderful old diner that served the best chowder—”
“Mom. I have to call a tow truck.”
“No,” she said quickly. “No, you don’t. I’ll call Lilith Fisher. She can
get Tye to send someone to help you.”
He caught his breath, startled and suddenly panicking. “No—I’ve come all
this way—I don’t want to go backward. Anyway, who is Lilith Fisher?”
“She’s Hal Fisher’s wife.”
“How—how did you—”
“We’ve known each other for years. Of course I told her that you were
driving down this way. She called me yesterday when you pulled into the old
Kingfisher Inn. She said that Tye offered you a room.”
“You never told me we had family in Chimera Bay.”
“Of course I didn’t. Why would I want to give you any reason to find your
way there?”
He gripped the phone, his fingers chilled. “Well, I’m not there now, and
there’s no reason why I should go all the way back. I’ll get a tow to
whatever garage is around here.”
“But they’d be happy to help you, and put you up as long as you need.”
“I know.” He swallowed, his eyes riveted on the pack in the car as though he
could see the ritual blade and his guilt jumbled in there along with his
shirts and underwear. “It’s just that I need to solve my own problems. You
need to let me. How will I make it in Severluna if I run to you for help
anytime something goes wrong? Mom?” He listened to the sea wind, the silence
in his ear like a breath held. “Mom. Let the hawk get on with its life.”
Finally, he heard her sigh. “I know you’re right. It’s just hard for me not
to want—”
“I know.”
“Will you call me later and let me know where you are?”
“I will. I promise.”
—