Path of Smoke (16 page)

Ingrid reached the car. She pulled out the keys, but her hands were shaking. The key ring dropped to the ground.

She sank to her knees. In that moment, she was every final girl in a horror film, losing her keys, pounding on the wrong door, hurtling down a sinister alley. Maybe Fortuna was shouting at her from the sky.
Not that way, idiot! What are you thinking?
She reached for the fob, but her body was electric with fear. She couldn't get her fingers to work.

You are not going to die on your knees in Wascana Park. You are a miles. The parking lot is your Hippodrome. The pavement is nothing but sand. Pick up the bloody keys.

Ingrid grabbed the key ring. She unlocked the doors.

“Get in!”

Carl slid into the backseat, slamming the door behind him. Shelby sat beside her. Ingrid started the engine and checked the rearview mirror. The silenus was about twenty feet away. Or were monsters in the mirror closer than they appeared? It didn't matter. She slammed the car into reverse and stepped on the gas. The tires squealed. Her little car slammed into the silenus. They collided at an angle. Carl, who wasn't wearing a seat belt, lurched forward with the impact. Shelby braced her hands against the dashboard.

Ingrid felt the collision rattle through her body, like a sudden current. She shifted into first. Suddenly, she could hear Paul's voice, shouting at her—
clutch, fucking clutch, you're going to kill the transmission
—but she ignored the startled cry of the engine. As the car began to tremble, she finally shifted into second, turning in a wide arc that left an acrid trail of rubber on the pavement. She could smell it. Beneath that, she could smell her own sweat. There was bile in her mouth. Heroes weren't supposed to throw up during a car chase, but she was certain that she might. The silenus was standing in the middle of the parking lot. She didn't even look winded. Her eyes were two amber slits.

“How strong are they?” Carl demanded from the backseat.

“I'm not sure,” Shelby replied.

“You should know—you've killed two of them.”

“That was Morgan, not me! And I had a bow.”

“Dear Fortuna,” Carl began. “Bless this hatchback—”

“What is she even doing here?” Ingrid stared at the hunter, immobile as a lamp in the middle of the pavement. “They can't cross the boundary.”

“Remember those coyote sightings, from a while back?” Shelby's voice was low. “I guess we were right. They weren't coyotes.”

“Since when can they cross over?”

“It's a brave new fucking world, who cares? Just step on the gas!”

Ingrid hesitated. “I don't want to kill her.”

“You'd need a tank.”

“There's a human under that fur . . . right?”

“I—” Shelby looked at her helplessly. “I don't know. Maybe.”

Ingrid gripped the steering wheel. She closed her eyes and slammed her foot against the gas pedal. The silenus didn't move. For a second, Ingrid thought that she might swerve, that she couldn't hit a living thing head-on. Surely not a living thing with intelligent eyes, regarding her as if she were a suicidal prairie dog. But she didn't swerve.

The impact tore through her. Every nerve caught fire, and she felt it in her teeth, behind her eyes, in the soles of her feet. The hood crumpled. She heard shearing metal. The glass of the windshield cratered, spiraling out in long, clawlike patterns. The silenus flew backward. She rolled across the ground, struck a concrete divider, and then was still.

Smoke was pouring from the hood. Ingrid could smell something chemical, something that she knew was dangerous. The superheated metal of the car made a
tick-tick-tick
sound. The headlights cast a mosaic of broken yellow, illuminating the ground in pieces. Nobody spoke. She could hear Shelby's ragged breathing. Carl was staring out the back window, like a kid trapped on a nightmarish road trip, hands pressed against the glass.

The silenus didn't move.

“Is she dead?” Shelby whispered.

Ingrid couldn't let go of the wheel. “I don't know.” She looked in the rearview mirror. The silenus was completely still. A light wind played with her fur. If you squinted, it might have been a deer. She didn't see any blood. Why wasn't there any blood?

“We should go,” Shelby said. “Right? Before she wakes up?”

“What if she doesn't wake up?” Ingrid asked.

“Look—” Carl began. “I'm all for silenus equal rights. Satyr pride, you can't judge a monster by its hooves, and all that. I get it. But this isn't Mr. Fucking Tumnus, okay? Shelby's right. We have to go, before that thing eviscerates us.”

“She's human.” Ingrid closed her eyes for a moment. “I don't know how she crossed over in this form. I didn't even think that was possible. But it's happened before. The coyote attacks—you said it yourself. They're all human. Part of the time.”

“You have no proof of that,” Carl said. “They're a wild gens. We don't even know if they were human to begin with, or if they've always lived on the other side.”

Ingrid turned to look at him. “Maybe you're right. But what if the sun rises and that monster turns into someone like us? She must have internal injuries—I mean, God, I hit her
twice
with a car. She could be dying.”

“She wants to eat us!”

“I don't think they actually eat their prey.”

“Oh, right. They just carve out our hearts and sacrifice us to their crazy forest god. That's so much more humane.”

“I don't see how their forest god is any less—”

Shelby grabbed her shoulder. “Ingrid.
Look.
”

She craned her neck to see through the rear window. The body of the silenus was gone. There was only a smooth patch of concrete. Not a drop of blood.

Her heart was pounding. She could taste acid. She wanted to run, but she was strapped into the seat. Ingrid tried to look through the cracked windshield. Nothing but shadows and dancing lights.
Tick tick tick.
The wounded groans of the car, whose front end was a wreck. The wind was starting to pick up. There was a knife edge of cold to it as it swept across Wascana Lake. A goose approached the car. He seemed quite unafraid. For a moment, that made Ingrid feel better. Then he hissed, eyes flashing in the headlights.

Ingrid checked the rear view. She saw a shadow, then—

“Carl, get down!”

The glass of the rear window exploded. Carl dove forward, just as a wooden plank tore through the opening. Her makeshift spear. It buried itself in the bottom of the car, whose insides gave a shuddering cry. They'd been harpooned, like a white whale. Carl was pressed against the passenger-side window, knees drawn up to his chest. His hair was covered in glass, and he looked more dazed than frightened. Ingrid saw blood on his forehead. She realized, through her own haze of fear, that Shelby was right. The silenus might be human, but not at the moment. She would take apart the vehicle, one bolt at a time if necessary, until there was nowhere left to hide. They were already running out of windows.

Ingrid floored the gas pedal. She felt Carl slam against the back of her seat. The car was making every terrible sound that she'd ever heard before, all at once. Wind sang through the broken window, as chips of safety glass danced around them. But the check engine light hadn't yet come on. That was oddly reassuring. As long as the light stayed off, it meant that the car wasn't quite dead. Just mostly dead, in the words of Miracle Max.

They tore down the footpath, which followed the Albert Street bridge. The park lights flared as they passed, making rainbows on the cratered windshield. It was hard to see through all the cracks, but Ingrid had walked this way hundreds of times. It was how she relaxed after long days of studying. She'd breathe in the night air, letting the silence relax her. She remembered every shadow, every curve of the path. This wasn't so different, save for the fact that they were going a lot faster, and her legs were covered in bits of glass, like snow.

Shelby twisted around in her seat. “Carl, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said weakly. “Although I may need that shower after all. I've got a feeling that these pants have been compromised.”

“You're bleeding.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised. “Huh.”

“How bad is the cut?” Ingrid asked. “I can't see.”

“I'm not sure. His hair's a mess.”

“Try getting Moby-Dicked in the back of a car,” he shot back. “Then we'll see what your precious curls look like.”

“Actually, it was Ahab—”

“Turn,”
Ingrid yelled. “Grab onto something!”

She swerved to avoid the reservoir, next to the bridge. For a moment, she saw a buffalo's face in terra-cotta, looking at her curiously. The wheel was like a rock. But she wrestled it with both hands, and the car gave a horrible shudder as it turned, kicking up dust and gravel. They drove over one of the park lights, which had been artfully arranged by the edge of the lake. She heard a
pop
as the tires crushed it.

The city would have to bill her, if they survived. What was the protocol for that? Should she leave a note?

Dear Regina—I owe you one decorative light, regrettably destroyed in a satyr chase. Please accept this money order.

“Can you see anything back there?” Ingrid demanded. “Is she following us?”

“Yes!” Carl screamed. “Very much
yes
! Drive faster!”

She glanced at the rear view. In the distance, she could barely make out a dark form, keeping pace with them. She was running on all fours now. Ingrid tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. The engine screamed. The tachometer was redlining, and she could feel the gearshift trembling violently beneath her hand. In a few moments, the transmission might drop out of the car. This wasn't a James Bond movie, after all. Her little gray four-banger couldn't handle this kind of pressure. Most likely, it was a write-off. How was she going to afford a new car? How would she get Neil to day care? It was amazing that her mind kept distracting itself with these questions, even as her stomach churned and she feared that she might throw up.

They tore past the educational signs, which told the history of Wascana Park in helpful infographics. Light cast golden sparks upon the lake. A few ducks swam in the dark, unruffled by their passage. No doubt, they'd seen worse. Luckily, the paths were empty at this time of night. Up ahead, she saw the dome of the parliament building, ringed by lights.

“Hold on again,” she said.

“Again?” Carl asked. “I've got a death grip on the holy-shit handle.”

“Good thinking.”

She drove over a concrete divider and down the pathway that led through the gardens. Neat plots of flowers whipped by them in explosions of color. There was the occasional palm tree, which struck Ingrid as an impossibility in Saskatchewan. How did they survive the winter? Maybe it was just the park's magic in action. She tried to keep the car steady without crushing too much of the local flora. She could smell their scent on the wind. It reminded her of incense. For a moment, she felt relaxed. She forget that they were driving down a pedestrian path, murdering the greenery. Then she saw the shadow in the rearview mirror. It was closer.

They passed the statue of Elizabeth II astride a horse. The queen regarded them coolly, her features lit from below.
If this were a fantasy novel,
Ingrid thought,
the statue would come alive, and fight for us. Elizabeth in all of her martial glory, protecting the colony.

But the horse didn't move. Like the park itself, the statue was ornamental. A pattern laid atop stolen land, meant to distract everyone. A lake diverted, so that citizens could walk along its edge, holding waffle cones and smartphones. What chased them was older than the park, older than anything within the city limits. Perhaps she belonged to the land itself. She remembered the feel of red clay beneath her hooves, the wind, the endless skies. The silenus was a force of nature, like the cyclone that had destroyed the original parliament building. There was no escape. They might as well try reasoning with a storm.

The car was slowing down. Ingrid pumped the gas. The engine was barely hanging on, but it was only a matter of time. Behind them, the shadow was closing the distance. She drove to the foot of the golden edifice, with its neo-Victorian façade. Rows of pitiless windows stared down at her. The seat of provincial government, as big as a castle. It remembered everything, from the first unions to the current Sask Party. It would protect them. Surely, there was some place in that massive building for them to hide. Some marble statue that they could use as cover while they waited for the sun to rise. If push came to shove, they could topple some of the busts and use them as weapons.

“Why are we stopping?” Shelby asked.

“The car's about to die, and we've got nowhere else to go.” Ingrid gestured toward the parliament building. “If we can get inside, we should be able to wait it out.”

“Wait it out?” Carl leaned forward in the backseat. “And what if your theory is wrong? What if she doesn't turn back? She'll be eating us by sunrise.”

“I told you, they don't eat—”

Shelby flung open the door. “If we're going to make it, we have to go now!”

They abandoned the car and ran up the marble steps. Ingrid took them two at a time. She couldn't look behind her. She could feel the shadow approaching. Oscana's avenging angel, or whatever else she might be. She was hunger. That was all that mattered. Shelby was dragging Carl behind her. The windows bore no expression. They would admit nothing.

They reached the entrance. Panting, Ingrid looked around her for something, anything that could break the glass. Why hadn't she taken the makeshift spear? Or a rock? Her brain seemed to be on a permanent delay. The adrenaline was still spiking through her, making her knees shake. The bile was rising in her throat. Carl and Shelby stood next to her, holding each other up. She could hear them breathing.