The afternoon slipped away beneath a bright blue sky. Iris, Attie, and Tobias didn’t stop until every wounded soldier was safely evacuated and Keegan gave them the signal to depart.
It was much later than they had anticipated leaving, with the sun sinking toward the western horizon and spring’s chill blooming into shadows. But a strange energy stirred Iris’s blood; it cut through her exhaustion and held her fear at bay as she followed Attie and Tobias to the roadster. It felt triumphant to slip into the car’s familiar leather seat.
The three of them had warned Keegan’s brigade in time. They had seen the wounded safely loaded and driven to the east, troops that Dacre wouldn’t capture and turn. It was a sweet victory, and Iris leaned back with a smile as Tobias cranked the car.
“We make a good team,” he said, as if he also felt the same thrill in his blood.
“I can already see tomorrow’s headline.” Attie propped her elbows on the back of Tobias’s seat. “It’s sure to sell a thousand papers in Oath.”
“Two brave reporters save Enva’s last brigade?” Tobias guessed as he drove through the streets. The roadster’s engine purred a familiar tick-tick-tick as they followed the army’s trail.
“I think you’re forgetting someone, Bexley,” Attie drawled. “He has nine lives, if you recall.”
Tobias laughed, but Iris didn’t hear how he replied. Her attention was snagged by a few privates who lingered behind, boarding up lintels, garages, and windows of buildings on the outskirts of town. Iris turned to watch them, hair tangling across her face. Cold dread began to seep through her bones.
She wondered if this was a last-minute order of Keegan’s, to make it more difficult for Dacre’s forces when they arrived by inner doorways. But Iris couldn’t deny that it felt more like the town was bracing for a windstorm. Something that would level every building into rubble.
The roadster passed the last barricade, reaching the open high road. Up ahead was the line of lorries, fading into the distance as they drove eastward. The motorcar followed for half a kilometer before the road branched.
“Hawthorne Route is notorious for its bends,” Tobias said as he turned the car, taking the shortcut. “You might need to hold on.”
“Might?” Attie said dryly as she slid across the seat, bumping into Iris. “I thought I was promised a smooth ride.”
“And I have a retort to that statement,” Tobias said, meeting Attie’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “But gods know I shouldn’t say it.”
Attie took hold of the rope handle in front of her, drawing closer to him. “Is that a challenge, Bexley?”
Iris, who had been watching them with an amused smile, suddenly felt like she needed to glance away. She did, looking through the mud-speckled windshield at the serpentine road they raced along. Her eyes widened when she realized the shadow up ahead was something else entirely.
“Tobias!” Iris cried just as they hit the pothole.
Tobias jerked the wheel. The roadster spun with a stomach-churning lurch. Both girls scrambled to hold on as Tobias recovered control.
“Again, a smooth ride,” Attie teased, attempting to lighten the mood. But Tobias’s posture had gone rigid. Iris felt him gear the car down, the engine whining.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
Tobias didn’t answer as he brought the roadster to a sudden halt in the middle of the road.
He vaulted over the door, frowning as he studied the left side of the car. Iris didn’t have to see for herself; she felt how the roadster listed, and she held her breath as Tobias knelt.
“A flat tire,” he announced in a clipped tone. “I shouldn’t have hit that pothole.”
“I’m sorry,” Attie breathed. She chewed on her lip as she slipped out the door, standing beside him to survey the damage. “I shouldn’t have distracted you.”
Tobias stood, brushing his hands on his trousers. “It’s not a problem. I have a spare in the boot, but it’ll take me a moment to fix.”
“Let me help.”
As Tobias and Attie began to pull everything out of the trunk to find the spare and the jack, Iris set their luggage off to the side, feeling the tension brew in the air. Night was fast approaching. The first stars had broken the dusk when Tobias let out a curse.
“I can’t find my tire iron,” he said, racing a hand over his black, crew-cut hair. “Iris, will you light that lantern for me?”
Iris reached for the glass lantern and matchbox she had set beside the luggage, items that Tobias always carried in case of a night emergency. Which was unfolding at the moment, making Iris’s heart pound. Her fingers felt numb as she struck the flame and lit the wick, holding the lantern up so Tobias could see.
But his eyes weren’t on the car. They were fixed upon Attie, who was wringing her hands and rambling off another apology.
“I’m terribly sorry, this is all my fault, and I—”
Tobias reached out, gently taking her arm. “It’s not your fault, Attie.”
“It is. I took your attention off the road!”
An awkward silence welled between them. Iris rushed to say, “If you’re missing a tire iron, maybe I can run back to town and find one? We passed a garage right before the barricade.” In all honesty, she wanted to be back on their way as soon as possible but also give the two of them a moment alone.
“Run back to town?” Attie cried. “For gods’ sake, Iris!”
“It’s not far,” Iris insisted. “I can still see the second-story windows of a few town houses from here. You two can get the car raised with the jack, and I’ll return with the iron. Then we’ll be back on our way as if this never happened.”
Tobias was quiet, but he eventually nodded. “All right. But take the lantern. If there’s any trouble, give us a signal by blowing out the flame from one of those upper windows.”
“Of course. I’ll return in a few minutes. Don’t worry.” She took two steps and then spun back around with a grimace. “Just one last question. What exactly does a tire iron look like?”
Hawk Shire was a different town in the evening with abandoned streets.
Iris’s breath was ragged by the time she passed the barricade on the high road, her muscles burning as she eased to a stilted walk over the cobblestones. It was that eerie hour when night had almost swallowed the last threads of sunset, and shadows felt crooked and sinister. Iris startled herself a few times, searching for the garage she had seen earlier. She paused, wondering if a platoon of Enva’s soldiers had been left behind, but it was nothing but a play of the darkness and the wind, whistling through the streets.
Iris stared at the quiet town, lantern in hand.
No, she was utterly alone here, and what triumph she had tasted earlier suddenly went sour on her tongue.
Find the tire iron and get out, she told herself, at last locating the garage.
It hadn’t been boarded up like the nearby windows and doors, and she sorted through a cabinet of tools, her options sparse as she frantically examined them by firelight. None fully matched the description Tobias had given her. With a sigh of defeat, she retraced her steps down the thoroughfare until the outermost street caught her eye.
Iris decided to take it, seeking another garage.
She passed house after house, all which were boarded up, until she reached the place where the soldiers had abandoned their hammers and planks. A few homes beyond that was another garage, sitting open like a monster’s maw. Iris was approaching when she heard a noise from within the shadows. A clink of metal, like something had fallen from a shelf.
“Hello?” she called, but her voice was fragile in the sudden gust of wind. She held her lantern out stiffly, letting the firelight guide her, and it wasn’t until she was in the garage that she saw a wrench gleaming on the floor.
She studied it a moment before noting the shelves before her were empty, and there were no other tools save for this one. How odd that it had fallen the moment it did, as if desperate to catch her eye. Disquieted, Iris bent down and took the wrench in hand. It was heavy, speckled with rust. For some odd reason, it made her think of the grocer in Oath. How those enchanted shelves had known the amount of coin in her purse, easing the items she could afford to the forefront.
I’m standing on a ley line.
The realization shivered through her. A magical place to be, as well as a dangerous one. No sooner had that thought unfurled in her mind than she heard another noise. The door to her right creaked open, as if beckoning her into the adjacent house.
Iris flinched, fear coiling tight in her body. Fight or run, her heart pounded, the indecision burning through her chest. But as she continued to stare at the doorway, studying the moonlit interior of the empty house, she reached another acknowledgment.
This house is rooted in magic, and it knows what I need.
She decided to trust it, even as sweat gleamed on her skin. The magic of a quiet, abandoned house. She stepped inside, wrench gripped in one hand, lantern in the other.
The tiles beneath her feet were glazed blue, eventually transforming into scuffed hardwood. Stray leaves gathered in the corners of a parlor. A chandelier hung from the ceiling above, as if it had blossomed from a crack, its crystals glittering in the lantern light. But it was a stairwell with a fancy banister that drew Iris’s attention. The steps led to a darkened second floor, and an idea occurred to her.
As Iris took the stairs up to a narrow hallway, she didn’t know if the house had magically prompted her, or if it truly was a thought of her own. In the end, it didn’t matter, as she entered a bedchamber at the back of the house. The room was reminiscent of her own, with a mattress against one wall, a desk piled high with books, and a wardrobe door that was open, revealing metal hangers. Most of all, there was a window that overlooked the way she had run to town. Iris held her lantern up to the glass panes as well as the wrench, waiting to see if she could get a signal from Attie and Tobias.
“Will this tool work?” she whispered, hoping Attie would use her binoculars to get a closer look.
A moment later, she spotted a firefly of light in the distance. Attie had struck a match in reply. When Iris squinted, she could even see the faint trace of the roadster, a dark shadow on the road.
Attie waved her small flame. Iris couldn’t tell what that meant and was debating on what to do when she felt the floor tremble. She thought she had imagined it until the walls shuddered, making a nearby picture frame fall from its nail.
Breath suspended and feet rooted to the spot, Iris strained her ears against the roar of silence.
A door opened below. Boots began to tromp along the floor. Voices rose like smoke.
Run or fight.
The magic she stood upon now felt treacherous. A net that had caught her limbs. Her hands trembled as she opened the lantern. With her eyes still riveted to Attie’s distant flame, Iris blew hers out.
