Page 27 of Sinistram
When he finished, Travis returned to Brent and checked the punctures where the gnome had grabbed him.
“You need to see Matthew again and make sure those don’t get some freaky gnome infection.” Travis tried to lighten the moment. “They probably hurt like a mother, but there’s not a lot of tearing, and they don’t look as deep as they probably feel. Although you’re going to be riding home in your boxers.”
“They felt like he was going straight through the bone,” Brent said through the pain as Travis helped him to his feet. His bad leg hurt, but it held his weight. Brent looked over toward the mine. “Do you think what we did will hold him?”
“I hope so,” Travis said. “We’ll check back in a few weeks. But I do wonder what people will make of the cement.”
“Given the attacks, it might not seem mysterious,” Brent said, “although they might question who did it.” Travis stayed close to him, and they headed back to the car.
“How bad is it?” Travis asked after he had done what he could to wipe off the wounds with antiseptic and bind them enough to stop the bleeding.
Brent shifted in his seat. “I’ve had a lot worse. Uncomfortable, but not terrible.” Time in the military had taught him an entirely new scale for what hurt. “And of course, it’s the leg I already fucked up.” A long-ago shattered bone left Brent with screws and pins, and a leg that functioned but ached when it rained.
“Did I imagine it, or were the ghosts fighting the gnome?” Travis changed the subject.
“They definitely were, just like with the tommyknocker,” Brent confirmed. “The spirits were able to make themselves visible, and they kept trying to get between me and the gnome and throw it off. Which makes me question the accounts we heard.”
Travis nodded. “Someone could misunderstand and think the ghosts were attacking them instead of being protective, but I think you’re right that the people who were attacked and killed weren’t hurt by the ghosts. And now that the gnome is locked up again and hopefully asleep, there shouldn’t be any more casualties.”
“Which makes me wonder about the two hunters who died near here in a car wreck. We were quick to think the ghosts caused a problem, but what if it wasn’t either the ghosts or the gnome? What if whoever summoned the gnome was watching and playing backup?” Brent asked.
“Shit,” Travis muttered as they buckled in, and he turned around. “Then I’m gonna need to ask you to ride shotgun and help me, in case whoever-that-is has some sort of way to know if someone is near the mine.”
“I didn’t see any security cameras.”
“If they used magic, they wouldn’t need it,” Travis replied. “And that’s likely, since whoever is causing the problems is tied in somewhere to the supernatural community.”
Nothing had tried to stop them on the way in. The Crown Vic had its own protections, marked in hidden places with sigils and warded with protection and distraction spells. That should have made it easy to evade any arcane traps set to stop hunters who survived the gnome.
But as they neared the top of the approach road, the car suddenly jerked toward a stand of old trees, their thick trunks scarred from the last fatal crash.
“Grab the wheel!” Travis shouted.
Brent lurched toward the driver’s side to wrestle for control as Travis slammed on the brakes and shouted words of power.
The car fishtailed, taking all of Brent’s strength to keep them on the road as Travis spoke defensive spells. At this speed, the big trees would make a mess even of the heavy steel in the Crown Vic. Worse, Brent thought he glimpsed rocks and a ravine.
Travis chanted and Brent swore. It felt like invisible hands fought for control of the steering wheel as Brent felt the strain in his shoulders and arms.
Just when Brent felt certain that he was losing the battle, the force vanished. Travis’s hands joined his on the wheel as they corrected to keep from slewing across the other lane and into the trees. The maneuver slammed them into each other and threw Travis into the door.
“Hang on,” Travis warned. He kept driving for another mile or so, but when nothing else tried to kill them, he eased off the side of the road and put the car in park.
Both men were wide-eyed and breathing hard from the near miss.
Travis slowly relaxed his white-knuckled grip on the wheel, ready to grab it again. “Well, now we know what killed the other hunters.” He willed his heart to stop pounding.
“That’s gotta be magic,” Brent said. “There wasn’t anything on the road to make us lurch.”
“I’ll see about getting some of our witch friends out here to un-hex whatever caused the wrecks,” Travis said.
When they reached the main road without incident, Brent let out the breath he had been holding. “Whoever set that wanted to give the gnome the first shot at killing them, and finish the job if necessary,” Brent said, feeling the attack in sore muscles and new, bleeding wounds, although it was a toss-up whether the cuts from the tommyknocker or the punctures from the gnome hurt more.
“Maybe you should get some body armor,” Travis said. “To help you keep the blood on the inside.”
Brent flipped him off, but without heat. “You could be right.”
Travis called ahead,so Matthew was waiting for them when they arrived. Brent looked over to Travis. “I appreciate the concern, but it’s not like I need to be wheeled in on a gurney.”
