The Wicker King Page 11

  They flew toward the light.

  Jack let out a cry when they burst out onto the open road. They both skidded to a stop. August couldn’t breathe. His heart was beating so fast that he felt like he was dying. Jack staggered a couple of meters ahead of him, looking up at the sky, panting just as hard.

  “What … the fuck … What did you see?!”

  Instead of answering, Jack gazed down at his hand. There were deep scratches from the tree bark, and they were starting to bleed.

  “Jack. Fucking … tell me what’s … going on!”

  “WOULD YOU JUST BE QUIET FOR A SECOND. Just a second … please.” He sank to the ground and covered his eyes with his hands, smearing his face with blood. He was shaking terribly.

  August knelt before him and pulled him to his feet. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

  WORRIG

  “It was horrible. It looked like a bison, but at least five times bigger. It was half rotten and its skin was hanging sloppily off its body. Its bottom jaw stretched all the way to the ground, and there was still meat stuck between its teeth. I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my fucking life.” Jack drank straight from the bottle of wine. When he put it down, Rina snatched it from him.

  “The worst thing of all was that when it finally turned to look at us, its eyes were almost human. Like, you know, that part in the His Dark Materials series, in the third book where—never mind. Anyway, it was like it was smart. Like it could probably have talked if its jaw wasn’t a gigantic gaping maw of rotting razor-sharp death.”

  “So I’m assuming this is the first time you’ve ever seen one of those,” August said dryly. He was still exhausted from having to sprint half a mile with absolutely no warning.

  Jack glared at him. “You know what this means, right? It means we’re running out of time. Quests always have an ending, whether it’s a good one or a bad one. Always.”

  August looked thoughtful. “I wonder what would have happened if I’d just let it get me,” he mused, rubbing his chin.

  “We’re not figuring that out.”

  “Why?” August insisted.

  “Because we’re just not, you insufferable asshole.”

  “I mean technically, I can’t touch anything in your world. Chances are, it wouldn’t be able to touch me either.”

  “What if? I just had to watch you get violently eaten? Then I completely lost the ability to see you? What about that?” Jack spat angrily.

  August went silent.

  TRUE

  August rested his forehead on the knob of Rina’s spine as she angrily did the dishes.

  “You need to take him to the hospital,” she whispered.

  “I know,” August said.

  “I can’t be held responsible for this anymore. I won’t have him drinking in my home to escape this.”

  “He won’t, I promise. He barely ever drinks. He was just scared.”

  Rina whirled around, eyes blazing. “If he’s your responsibility, you should be responsible enough to fix it. If you’re looking after him, look after him,” she whispered furiously.

  “What do you think I’m doing?” August shot back.

  “I think you’re doing your best,” Rina said, tossing the wet dishrag into the sink. “But your best is not good enough sometimes,” she said, deflating a bit. “Sometimes … you have to stop trying and just let someone else try their best. In order to survive.”

  It was the worst thing August had ever heard. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he could see that she knew what he was going to say before it came out of his mouth.

  “We can handle it. He won’t drink anymore. Thank you for your concern.”

  Then he walked out of her kitchen and took Jack home.

  WATER

  August turned over and blinked blearily in the early light. He frowned. Jack was sitting up, wide awake, and looking out the window. “Did you ever get to sleep?”

  “No.”

  August sighed. “Are you still upset about yesterday?”

  “No. I don’t care about that anymore. I’ve been thinking. I think I’ve figured out how to fulfill the prophecy.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Jack was silent.

  “Just tell me what you want. And stop looking so scared. I’m not going to say no.”

  “We can do it with either fire or water. Fire, you’re familiar with, so that shouldn’t be a problem. Water … water is what I’m worried about. There are two ways to make it so you can affect things on the other side. The first is manually: we create a large enough energy source around the Rapturous Blue to jump-start it. Or alternatively, by baptizing you. Ritually.”

  August laughed nervously. “The water one sounds easier.”

  “We have to drown you,” Jack continued bluntly. “Or just nearly enough that you pass through the gates, but not so much that you can’t come back from there. To face what is beyond this world, so you can be allowed to play in mine.”

  August looked at Jack. Really looked at him. He looked weak. Thoroughly spent. His skin under his eyes seemed so thin that it looked almost bruised. “Is this what you want?”

  “I don’t want it. I don’t want for you to … But I think that maybe the visions will end if we…” Jack swallowed hard.

  “I’ll do it,” August promised. “I’ll do it. Come here, go to sleep. Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it.”

  ROSEMARY AND THYME

  As soon as they got to the lunchroom, Jack stacked his books in a makeshift pillow and promptly went to sleep. August stirred his macaroni and cheese mindlessly and stared out the window.

  “You guys look awful,” Peter proclaimed.

  “You’re talking?” Alex said, in completely justified shock.

  Peter narrowed his eyes at her. “We can talk, we just don’t like to. But I thought it would be good to let August hear, verbally, how absolutely terrible and tired he looks. Like he’s had all the life sucked out of him … by … something. But I can’t imagine what it could be,” Peter said sassily. He popped a cherry tomato in his mouth and absorbed August’s glare with practiced indifference.

  To August’s surprise, Roger didn’t even temper his brother. Instead, he reached out and put his hand over August’s so he would stop vigorously stirring his food.

  “Your time is running out,” Roger said gently.

  “No one is supposed to get hurt. Not even you,” Peter scoffed.

  Alex stared at them all, fiddling with her glasses in suspicion. “Am I missing something? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” August shook Roger’s hand off his. “We’re fine.”

  TIGHT

  August shut the classroom door behind him, ignoring Mrs. Sirra’s angry shouting, and walked quickly down the hallway. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. His heart slammed against his rib cage like it was trying to leap out onto the linoleum. He stopped and leaned against the lockers near the gym, gasping for air. Sliding to the floor, he pressed his face against the cold metal.

  He’d seen his mom have these. It was just a panic attack. He wasn’t dying, it was just a panic attack. They always passed. They were designed to pass.

  The hallway swam before his eyes, so he closed them. August couldn’t afford to leave school early today. He had history next and he was only 3 percent away from getting a solid D. His GPA was already lower than it had ever been in his entire life, but getting less than a 3.0 was not an option if he wanted to go to college.

  August pressed his cheek against the locker harder, squeezed his eyes so tight that tears leaked from the corners, and concentrated on getting his heart rate down.

  He could do this. It was just school. School was easy. He could make up work. He could send out apologetic e-mails. He could ask for more time. He could settle for less than his best. He could do this. All he had to do was get up and breathe and finish the day.

  Everything was going to be fine.

 
August pulled himself to his feet and lurched into the bathroom. He dug his lighter out of his backpack and flicked it on and off and on and off until the skin closest to the flames ran hot. Until his heart slowed down and he could see shapes dancing in the light. Until he could breathe again.

  And suddenly, with a jolt of horror, he realized that he couldn’t live without it anymore.

  It was as much a part of him as anything now. He couldn’t run from it any more than anyone could run out of their own skin. It would just keep coming back, over and over, curling up out of him, growing like hunger. He would crave the burn until he was dead. August curled up against the wall and put his head in his arms.

  He gripped the lighter so tightly that his knuckles went white.

  SAXON

  The new grass tickled August’s cheek as they lay in the field, their coats and backpacks strewn around them.

  “Tell me about the prophecy again.”

  “Only if you eat this apple.”

  August frowned at the request, but snatched it from Jack’s hand and took a large bite.

  “Basically, the Wicker King, which is me, must return to the citadel as one-half of the prophecy. And the Wicker King’s knight and champion, which is you, must put the Rapturous Blue on the stand. Without both parts, the Cloven King has access to an unclaimed throne and there is no protection against the darkness and his horde of life-draining wraiths. Or whatever. Plus, not to worry you or anything, but if we don’t work on this, the influence of the citadel will spread and this world will be shrouded in despair until the end of time.”

  “Okay … Now tell me about the fire.”

  Jack waved something August couldn’t see away from his face, then continued. “It’s not so much fire we need, but an energy source. The Rapturous Blue doesn’t care if it’s free energy or destructive energy, only that there is enough of it to jump-start it. We could use electricity, but that’s a bit too complicated. We’d likely need about a bolt of lightning’s worth, and as much as I’d love to risk getting shocked to death, I wouldn’t want to see you accidentally killed.” Jack grinned softly at that. “Fire is a good substitute because the energy to destroy is wild, rampant, and cheap. We just need to figure out a way to create a decent amount of it.”

  “We could burn a building.” August chewed contemplatively. “We could burn the toy factory around the stand.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Except that’s arson. Why can’t we just burn a bunch of stuff in the woods?”

  “Do you really want to intentionally start a forest fire? It will spread to the town. They’ll put us away forever.”

  “And they won’t if we burn down a whole fucking building?”

  “Dude. The toy factory is abandoned. It’s been abandoned for more than twenty years. No one cares.” August lazily tossed the apple core to the side and flopped over.

  Jack nodded slowly after he thought awhile. “Okay … Okay. If the water doesn’t work, we’ll do that. Whatever. We just need to hurry. The city is getting darker as he pushes closer to the citadel, and it’s wearing on me. The imperial hornets are coming out of the woodwork. We don’t have much more time.”

  August didn’t know what that meant, but still, he trembled.

  THREAD COUNT

  August went downstairs and sat next to his mom on the futon. The Price Is Right was on. The television was loud and abrasive and he wished he could just smash the thing against the wall. “I have a question.”

  She hmmed, but didn’t even blink.

  “Would you do something bad if you knew it would have more good in it, in the end, than bad?”

  “What’s good is good and what’s bad is bad,” she murmured, fiddling with the corner of her quilt.

  August gritted his teeth in frustration, but he continued in a soft voice. “I have to do something important. And dangerous—”

  “Is it for Jack?” she interrupted.

  “Oh. Um. Yeah,” August said, surprised.

  “You think I don’t notice things. But I do.”

  SEMPER FIDELIS

  “Are you scared?”

  “No.”

  “Yes, you are. But you’re very brave, too…” Jack fidgeted anxiously as he sat on the edge of the tub. “I understand now why they chose you over me. Why the council wanted you as their champion, and why I was unfit.”

  August turned on the tap.

  “They have stories about you, songs. They call you the Raven, the Golden Bird, the King’s Lionheart. Women smile at you as we walk in the streets; men talk about you over their fires. It’s written all over the walls. They love you and you can’t even see them … my Lionheart. Can you imagine?”

  Jack steadfastly kept his eyes on the tile as August pulled off his shirt and jeans, dropping them in a heap in the corner. He stepped gingerly into the tub and lay down in the water, his boxers soaking through.

  “I hope this works,” Jack sighed.

  August sat up suddenly and gripped Jack’s forearm. “I am doing this for you. Not the Wicker King. Not what we have become. But for you. If anything goes wrong, I want you to remember that.”

  Jack nodded. August slipped beneath the water—and breathed.

  CLEAR

  He came to. Hacking water onto the tile. His nose was bleeding. The room tilted and whirled. Distantly, he could feel Jack brushing his hair back from his forehead, frantically trying to help.

  August pinched his nose until the flow stopped, then collapsed to the floor in exhaustion. Jack pulled him up and cradled him in his arms.

  “Did you see anything?” he asked, sounding both terrified and hopeful.

  August swallowed. His chest burned and spasmed. It took him a minute to answer, though he valiantly kept trying to get the words out. “No,” he choked. “I’m sorry.”

  Jack curled around him, pressing their foreheads together in sorrow. They breathed the same air. So close but not touching. Never touching. Through the haze, August wondered if Jack could taste the remnants of stardust he’d brought back with him from the edge of death.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Everything is going to be okay.”

  TARTARUS

  They went to school the next day as if nothing had happened. August had a test in math. Jack slept though British Literature.

  Alex and the twins said nothing about the bruises under August’s eyes.

  Or the way his hands shook when he picked up his water.

  Or how his food sat on his tray, untouched, for the third time that week.

  August burned a paperback book out in the parking lot again because his hands had begun shaking uncontrollably from stress, and he couldn’t find anything else on such short notice. He was more careful this time, though, and managed not to get caught. Afterward he doused the fire with Coke, put his backpack on, took a breath, and went back inside.

  BLUEBERRY

  The next day August woke up to his doorbell ringing. That hadn’t happened in … years. Even the mailman just knocked and left packages on the doorstep. August crept downstairs suspiciously and peered through the keyhole. To his surprise, Alex was standing on his doorstep. He barely saw her outside of school, much less at his actual house. He opened the door and leaned against the frame.

  “Hey … what are you doing here?”

  Alex was holding a box and looked uncomfortable. She pushed the box into his arms and flipped the top open. “I made you some muffins,” she blurted.

  “Thank you … It’s not my birthday?” He picked one up and smelled it. They had to be home baked, they were still warm.

  “I know we’re not really close. And that’s totally fine; this isn’t some weird bribery gift or anything. I have enough friends.” Alex wrung her hands. “I just wanted to make something for you that you would like? You don’t seem very … I mean, it’s not my place to say anything about it or criticize you … I know I’m hardly perfect, and I just … I … don’t know what’s going on in your life, but you don’t seem … okay?
And I just wanted you to know that if you ever ever ever need anything, you can come to me about it.”

  “Wow … Thank you,” August said quietly, holding the box a bit closer.

  “Okay, I’m going to walk away now. This is probably the most awkward thing I’ve ever done.”

  August took a bite of one of the muffins as he watched her scamper down his front walk. They were delicious. Perfect in every way. “Hey, Alex?” She turned around. “You’re a true MVP.”

  Alex grinned.

  GOLD

  August knocked on Rina’s apartment door. She opened it only halfway and stood in the entrance, blocking him from coming inside.

  She looked radiant. Her hair was piled on her head in a messy nest. She was wearing boxers and a frumpy gray sweatshirt. Her lips were painted brilliant red.

  “Hey,” she said curtly before he could say anything. “I’ve made a decision.”

  August rocked back on his heels and put his heavy backpack on the floor. “Okay. What is it?”

  Rina drummed her nails against the wooden frame of the doorway. “I’m not going to let you guys come here anymore. I’m just helping to make a space for the both of you to think that all of this is okay. I don’t want to be an enabler. It’s not fair. You need to get him help, August. You can’t come back here until you get him help.”

  August swallowed hard and looked down at his shoes.

  “It doesn’t make you a bad friend,” she said softly. “It doesn’t mean you love him less. It doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

  Rina took his hand and squeezed it, then tugged him close and let him bury his face in the curve of her neck. August snaked his arms around her waist and held her tight for as long as he could. Then he picked up his backpack and swung it onto his shoulders.