The Barrow Will Send What it May by Margaret Killjoy

Author:Margaret Killjoy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

FIVE

“Rise and shine!”

It was still dark out. Midsummer, that far north . . . if it was still dark out, then whoever the fuck thought it was time to get up was wrong.

“Isola’s on the move, and Mr. Magic Death Door Man just left his house in his truck.”

It was Thursday banging on the door, being wrong.

“Give us a fucking minute.”

“You’ve got thirty seconds. Meet us at the bookmobile.”

Another beautiful day in the demon hunter business.

“Is there coffee?” Brynn asked. She was already standing, pulling on her work pants and buckling her belt.

“No,” Thursday shouted back.

Brynn was handsome. I knew that already. I mean, I’d had a weird sort of crush on her since I first met her. But it kind of just hit me again, watching her pull the shirt over her muscled torso.

Maybe I was delirious, thinking about that instead of what needed thinking.

Maybe I’d rather be delirious.

* * *

Thursday drove, conspicuously fast in the predawn light, taking turns far too quickly for a clunky old bookmobile van.

Doomsday had stayed at the library to keep Vasilis from doing something stupid. Brynn was sitting shotgun, and I was in the back with the books. Shelves lined the walls, with webbing straps holding in the mysteries and romances and sci-fi. Like how you batten things down on a ship. Which was good, even though we totally weren’t going to flip over. Definitely not.

I wasn’t strapped down myself, though. I was sprawled out on a beanbag, trying and failing to find things to hold onto every time we took a corner while I also tried to keep my wounded shoulder safe. From my vantage, I couldn’t see out the window. All I saw were the brief flashes of streetlights and headlights that fought against all that darkness.

Not half a minute later, we stopped. The side of the van slid open, and Vulture hopped in. He was panting, holding his side.

“Graveyard,” he said. “She’s at the graveyard. Take this road another mile and turn right on the first road after you see some tombstones.”

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I saw Isola leave her house,” he said. “So I followed.”

“And that warranted waking us up?”

“Mr. Miller left his house shortly after,” Vulture said. “Dressed all in camo with a duffel bag.”

“Okay that warrants waking us up.”

“Wait,” Brynn said. “They live on opposite ends of town. How’d you see them both?”

“I set up a camera outside Mr. Miller’s house,” Vulture said.

“What?”

“Yeah, you just take an old phone and set it up as a surveillance camera. I set it to stream video to my main phone video whenever I asked or it detected motion. Then I went to go watch Isola’s place myself.”

We must have gone that mile at a breathtaking speed, because Thursday yelled “Turn!” just as he jerked the wheel and sent those of us in back sliding into one another.

The books held.

Of all the ways to die, I think being pummeled to death by trashy hetero romance novels might be the worst. Or best. Either way, it didn’t turn out to be my fate.

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