Page 38 of Installment Immortality

“If they’re ex-Covenant and you’re planning to keep them, you are,” I said. “Tommy was—is—probably my best friend, because hewasmy friend. Not my work colleague, not one of my kids, my friend. And I betrayed him, because the crossroads didn’t give me a choice.”

They both blinked at me.

“Just hold on to that, all right? Apple is working for something just as big and just as alien as the crossroads, and she has to do what her master tells her to do, even if she’d rather not.”

“She didn’t look coerced to me,” said Elsie, sullenly.

“No, and maybe she wasn’t, but I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt until all this is finished,” I said. “You ready to go?”

“I’m not hungry anymore,” said Arthur.

“The cheeseburger was there before I pissed her off, and she knows better than to open by messing with a caretaker’s charges,” I said. “I’m sure the lunch she had set out for you was fine.”

“I feel better hearing that,” said Elsie.

“Good, I’m glad,” I said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Nine

“Don’t grow up to be your father. Don’t grow up to be me. Grow up to be yourself. You’re going to be amazing, I’m sure of it.”

—Jane Harrington-Price

On the highway, heading for Boston

FOOD DEFINITELY SEEMED TO HAVEimproved Elsie’s driving. She kept her hands on the wheel and her eyes on the road, trusting me to tune the radio to a local classic rock station while Arthur leaned over the seat and commented quizzically on lyrics she and I had heard thousands of times, but which apparently hadn’t been bundled with his new memories. It was a pleasant hour or so of travel before I realized the map in my pocket was getting hot.

Not warm—hot,like it had been replaced with a burning coal. “I think it’s time we start following the map,” I said, pulling it out.

“You sure?” Elsie asked.

“Pretty sure,” I said, trying to unfold the little rectangle without burning my fingers. Normally, while I can feel pain under a remarkably large assortment of conditions, I can’t actually behurt,what with me being dead and all. When the pain was coming from an enchanted item given to me by the queen of the routewitches and empowered by the Ocean Lady, I had to assume that it could do me actual harm.

I finally managed to peel back an edge of the map and shook it out, unfolding it into a massive sheet of highways, byways, and roughly outlined cities. That part was perfectly ordinary. Less ordinary was the route traced out in ink that gleamed red and gold like a raging fire, showing us exactly where we were supposed to go.

“That’s new,” said Arthur.

“That’s what Apple promised us,” I said, and tapped the map with the tip of my finger. “Looks like we’re heading for Worcester.”

“Worcester?” asked Elsie. She stumbled over the syllables, mangling the name of the town.

“Woost-er,” I said, purposefully exaggerating the syllables. “That’s not what it says on the street signs, but pronounce it any other way and the locals are likely to eat you alive. It’s not quite as big and old as Boston, but it’s close. Second-largest city in the state. It makes good sense as a place for the Covenant to post up and start hunting, and they’ll be able to get just about anywhere else they need to go from there.”

“Like Boston?” asked Arthur.

“Or Portland, or New York,” I said. “Or any of the little haunted farms in the area. Lots of people died hard in this area. Lots of spirits still hanging around being pissed off about it. You want to go ghost harvesting, this is the place to do it.”

“That’s… charming,” said Arthur. “I don’t like you being here.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “I don’t like me being here either. I don’t like any of us being here. But the anima mundi said I had to do it, and you both volunteered, which means this is where we need to be.”

Grumbling, he sank back into his seat and folded his arms. I moved the map to where Elsie could see it, and we drove on.

Before long, we were passing the Worcester city limits, and driving into the sort of beautifully bucolic New England city that has launched a thousand horror franchises, some more capable of independent flight than others. It wasn’t a small town by anymeans—the buildings were plentiful and tall, if not quite tipping over into skyscraper territory, and made of the red brick that spoke to me of my childhood, rather than the flexible wood and siding I had grown accustomed to in Portland.

It’s amazing how “normal” can shift with time. Elsie eyed the brick as we drove, looking dubious as only a child of earthquake territory can.

The map continued to gleam and glow, leading us deeper into the city, until we finally turned off into a residential neighborhood where every house was a mirror image of the homes around it, most with two cars in the driveway and several with sporting equipment scattered around the lawns. It looked like an area that could use a babysitter. It just wasn’t going to be me.

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