Americana Fairy Tale by Lex Chase

Author:Lex Chase [Chase, Lex]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

CHAPTER 20:

THE LINE BEGINS TO BLUR

Somewhere on the Open Road….

June 9

CORENTIN FELT the change stir in his gut as he guided the truck down the dark, abandoned interstate. He tightened his grip on the wheel. He glanced at Taylor. The princess slept peacefully in the passenger seat. Of course, the knot on his head had something to do with it. Ringo kept his post on the dashboard. His head and wings drooped on occasion and then stiffened back into wakefulness.

Corentin spoke to Ringo in a calm tone. “Hey, little man, you need to check Taylor’s seat belt. Now.”

Ringo shot Corentin a sour look over his shoulder. “You better not be driving us off any bridges again.”

Corentin flicked his hand in a shooing gesture. “Just check on the seat belt. In twenty seconds the day’s going to change,” he said sternly.

“Your magic-impaired driving is really getting to be my favorite thing,” Ringo said, then sighed. He hopped off the dashboard and into Taylor’s lap. After tugging at the belt, he gave a thumbs-up. “Just keep the fucking truck straight.”

“Will d—” Corentin cut off with a strangling gasp. He forced himself to release the wheel and let off the gas. The truck coasted, then slowed, then finally came to a stop.

Ringo remained in Taylor’s lap and watched Corentin. “Good job on not nearly killing us today, boyo.”

Corentin coughed twice and then took a breath. “Thanks,” he croaked, then coughed again. “I’m trying.”

Ringo beat his wings and rose from Taylor’s lap. He gasped and zipped to Corentin. Corentin frowned. Apparently the blood from Phillipa’s nick had soaked into his jeans.

“You’re hurt,” Ringo said, staring in wide-eyed shock.

Corentin waved him off. “It looks worse that it is. It’s just a scrape. Bleeds like crazy, though.” He gestured to the backseat. “See if you can dig up some napkins back there. Look in the McDonald’s bags in particular.”

“Finally, the trash is useful….” Ringo made a dive to the back. The sound of him tossing trash around made Corentin hold back a laugh. “Man, this is nasty.”

“You’ll live.”

Ringo returned with a stack of napkins. “I need a bath in bleach now….”

Corentin took the napkins and pressed them to his hip. He blotted up as much of the blood as he could and then shoved the remaining napkins into the waistband of his jeans over the wound. He pressed the gas, and they carried on down the road.

Ringo resumed his place on the dashboard, and his shoulders drooped in what seemed like defeat.

Corentin caught the expression of exasperation. “Problem?”

Ringo gestured to the ever-changing scenery. “You know, you’d think this would be pretty awesome with being in completely different parts of the country every few miles. But it gets pretty monotonous. Pretty”—Ringo shrugged—“depressing, I guess. You see a sign for Akron, and then you see one for Santa Monica, and then Augusta, and then St. Paul. You get all turned around. You don’t know where you’ll end up.”

“You don’t get your hopes up…,” Corentin said sadly. He drummed

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