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Chapter thirty-seven

The Cavalry

P oppy realized what Rai was planning before he had taken more than two steps, but her mind and body were sluggish and her voice was weak, and when she tried to stand, to run after him, the pain in her ankle sent her back down to the ground, black spots clouding her vision.

She fought it, twisting up to her knees to watch through the windows of the open car doors as Rai—

He was glowing. Actually glowing, crackling with lightning, his grin as huge and joyful as she had ever seen it, his wings spread out behind him like the banners of a conquering army.

She tried to shout his name, managed to squeak it, watched in horror as the glowing faded and faded, and he and his wings wilted like an orchid flung in a bonfire, disappearing out of sight beyond the hood of the car.

She could just see the ends of his wings against the dirt road, rippling like discarded grocery bags in the breeze, but otherwise unmoving.

“Oh, fuck !” That was her mother’s voice.

Poppy swiveled her head, fighting dizziness, in time to see her mother leap out of the driver’s seat and run around to the front, where she, too, disappeared, bending down out of Poppy’s sight.

The car was idling, vibrating in the familiar way that said it needed an oil change but was otherwise as operational as one could expect a duct-taped-together relic of a previous decade to be.

Cool air was blowing from the vents in the front, filtering around the seats and the doors to caress Poppy’s face.

Rai had done it again, except this time he wasn’t pretending humility and giving her sultry pet-me looks, he was—

Oh, god was he—?

Poppy shoved her shade umbrella away and scrabbled at the back seat of the car, the open door, anything she could reach and grab, yanking and pulling until she was standing on her one good leg.

She was nauseated, and her head ached, and her whole body hurt, but she had to see what was happening.

From the higher angle, she could see her mother’s face, which wore a familiar expression of confused distress as she gazed down at where Rai had to be, but as Poppy watched the expression shifted, become more determined.

Her mother bent out of sight for a moment, then heaved back up, this time with Rai’s arm over her shoulder. She looked up, meeting Poppy’s gaze.

“He’s alive.” She struggled to her feet, dragging Rai up with her.

He was limp and pale, his skin no longer anything Poppy could argue was purple or even lilac, more a sickly shade of gray, but his chest was still moving with stuttering, shallow breaths. His wings drooped behind him, their proud flare now bedraggled.

Poppy tried to lick her lips, but her tongue was swollen and dry. “Water,” she scraped out. “He needs water.”

“So do you.” Her mother let out a huff of frustration. “He’s the one carrying the fucking water in his—” She shrugged vaguely. “He didn’t explain it to me. His hole in the air. I gave him the signal to get more.” She started to walk, laboring to heave Rai’s limp body toward Poppy’s side of the car.

“He gave me some. He—” Poppy looked down at the empty bottle she’d dropped on the dirt, then at the beer helmet he’d flung into the car.

“I think he gave me the last of it,” she said.

“He’s not stupid. If he had more water stored in faerie, he would have gotten it out before he…

was stupid. Brave. Brave and stupid.” She swallowed harshly, digging for strength, a new plan.

“We have to take him to water. Back seat?”

Her mother shuddered, beginning to shiver, but she nodded and kept walking. Her lips were moving, and as she neared, Poppy could hear a whispered litany of fuck fuck fuckety fuck .

Even though her body was heaving, trying to sob, too dry for tears, Poppy managed a broken laugh. “Language,” she husked out. She couldn’t step aside, but she hopped as close as she could to the car door, squishing up against it.

“Oh, who do you think you picked it up from?” her mom snipped between gasps of effort. “All that driving in the suburbs…and you in your car seat behind me repeating everything I said.” She stopped, glancing between the open car door and Rai. “Wings,” she said.

“Wings,” Poppy repeated, seeing the problem. “Can we… The window?”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed in thought, then she nodded. “Are you able to get in? It’ll take both of us.”

It wasn’t easy, and it hurt like hell, but Poppy flopped onto the seat and inched her way across it until she could reach the far door, yank it shut, and crunch up against it.

She pushed Rai’s helmet and everything she hadn’t stuffed in the trunk onto the floor, clearing as much space as she could, and settled her injured ankle at the least painful angle she could find.

Her mom eased Rai onto the seat beside her, and with more yanking and tugging they managed to get his head sideways on Poppy’s lap and his body draped and folded along the rest of the seat.

Finally Poppy wrapped her hands around Rai’s wings, trying not to recoil at their papery, plasticy dryness, and aimed their tips at the car door’s open window so that Jen could ease the door shut around them.

She gazed down at Rai. His face was drawn and sunken, almost shriveled, his high cheekbones like razors about to burst his skin.

He was still as death, the only sign of life the faint rise and fall of his shoulders, the slight rasp of his dry wings as he breathed.

She placed one hand on his upper back to feel his aliveness, the stuttering breaths terrifying and comforting at once. How much time did they have?

Her mom laughed, a high-pitched giggle that roused Poppy’s protective instincts. “Mom,” she called through the window. “Are you—”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can do this. I can rescue you.” She started to walk, her movements jerky, and then she bent down.

Panic welled in Poppy’s throat and she sat up straighter, trying to see past the fluttering tips of Rai’s wings. “Mom!”

“I’m fine ,” her mother repeated, turning.

She had picked up Poppy’s shade umbrella, which she folded before scurrying back to the car and stuffing it in the front seat.

She smiled shakily past the headrest. “What else is there?” Her face shifted, and she turned to the console, twisting the air conditioning all the way to max .

“My phone,” Poppy said, relaxing slightly. The blast of cold felt like heaven, though there was still heat radiating from the outside through the open doors and window. “Charger, tarp…and the cooler…” She couldn’t remember what else had ended up on the ground outside, but her mom had sharp eyes.

With a nod her mom ducked away, then returned with Poppy’s phone, the solar charger still attached. Poppy tucked the phone on the seat beside her while her mother bustled around gathering the rest of her detritus, tossing it all in the front before hurrying around to seat herself behind the wheel.

She set her hands on the steering wheel, took a deep breath, and sat still for a long moment, shaking like a leaf.

“Mom?” Poppy leaned forward, setting a hand on her mother’s trembling shoulder. “Are you okay to drive? I could—” No, driving with probable heat stroke and a maybe-broken ankle was not in fact a thing she could do. Even the little lean had sent waves of dizziness through her.

“No,” her mother said, bringing a hand to squeeze Poppy’s. “I can do this. It’s just…been a while.” She heaved another shuddering breath and shifted the car into gear. “Which way do I go?”

Poppy pointed. “There’s a place to the north once we hit the highway.”

Her mom gave a jerky nod and turned the wheel, setting off down the dirt road in a spray of dust. Her knuckles were white, her fingers rigid, but she had stopped shaking.

Poppy sighed and returned her attention to Rai’s face, bringing the hand that wasn’t measuring breaths to stroke his hair.

It felt like tinsel, dry and crackly, and she shuddered.

“This is why you were supposed to leave,” she whispered, curling down to press her lips against his temple.

She wasn’t sure it counted as a kiss, when they were both practically mummies. “Why didn’t you leave?”

The road was bumpy, and it was hard to keep her injured foot from banging into things, but Poppy was too exhausted, physically and emotionally, to do more than whimper.

Even with the air conditioning blasting from the front, she still felt feverish and dizzy, and she was wafting in and out of lucidity.

After fruitlessly trying to pick up Tucson radio, her mom had finally found one of the border-wilderness radio stations that played mariachi and torrid telenovela theme songs, and the rich voice of the DJ was weaving into Poppy’s dizziness, half-understood Spanish that was comforting in her clearer moments, disturbing when her mind went fuzzy.

She glanced down at her phone, tucked next to her hip.

Maybe she should pass it forward, have her mom plug it in to the media port so they could access her trove of MP3s.

She could use something familiar and shouty right now.

As if in response to her thoughts, the phone started to vibrate.

She blinked at it several times before she realized what was happening.

Notifications. Her phone was buzzing with messages, all the text messages and voicemails and app pushes and emails that had been lurking in the ether waiting for her to get back to civilization.

Which was a grandiose title to bestow upon the landscape they were driving through.

It looked exactly like the landscape they’d passed through five minutes before.

The only change was the bars saying they were in range of a cell tower.

No difference she could see, but all the difference in the world.