Lindsay stopped trying to work out how to put the holster on—he’d figured out that it was a shoulder holster, at least—and gave her a curious look. How...? He would, he knew it, but Kristan didn’t have reason to think so.
“I’m not stupid, Lindsay.” She shook her head as she turned away. “I wouldn’t waste my time teaching you if you wouldn’t shoot someone with it,” she called over her shoulder.
Lindsay pulled on the holster and pulled himself another step closer to the man his father had wished he’d become. The man Lindsay had been certain he would never be. A man like his father, who wore a gun, who went to war and never regretted what he’d done. Well, this was war now.
He loaded his gun, then slipped it into place in the holster. He felt a little better, having it right there.
Kristan had bought him a jacket, an old suede thing that looked like it was from the seventies. When he put it on, it covered up the gun, and even in the heat, he didn’t mind an extra layer. When he stepped into the bathroom, someone he didn’t know looked back at him from the mirror, a stern, thin man with hard gray eyes and fine white hair, a tight mouth and a smudge of pale stubble on his jaw.
He looked like a survivor. In the moment before he recognized himself, he saw it clearly. He could do this.
They could do this. Kristan was downstairs talking to Noah. Even if they failed to save anyone else, the three of them would survive together. Maybe even get strong enough to make Moore regret being born.
And that idea made him feel more secure than he ever had, at a time when he’d expected to feel utterly lost.
“Yes, you’re pretty.” Noah’s low voice shook Lindsay out of his haze, and he realized he’d been staring through himself in the mirror, imagining all the things he’d like to happen to Moore.
“Hush.” Lindsay made a face at Noah. “Are you going to get some rest now?”
“Only if you come with me.” Noah leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. Lindsay didn’t pretend he was going to resist.
“There’s no bedding,” he warned, “but go lie down. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Noah went obediently, and Lindsay was left to shrug out of jacket and holster. When he came into the bedroom, he hung them on the back of the door as he closed it behind him. He couldn’t help Noah work out where they were going, but he could do this.
Noah was lying in bed, using the bag of bedclothes as a pillow, and Lindsay crawled in beside him.
Wordlessly, Noah rolled into his arms and Lindsay held him close, pressing a kiss to his softly fuzzy head.
“Sleep sweet,” Lindsay ordered. He had no idea when the joy of having Noah whole and well would fade.
“Make me.” There was only a little challenge in Noah’s voice, and Lindsay could hear the ache under it. He didn’t know what had caused it—Noah had a wealth of reasons—but he didn’t question. He let a web of magic drift down over Noah and wrap him up in sleep.
They left the house as the sun was setting. Kristan brought the car around to the alley so they wouldn’t draw attention out on the street. When Noah took the keys from her, she opened her mouth to protest, but shut it just as fast. She gave Lindsay a questioning look, and he only shrugged. He trusted Noah. To his surprise, Kristan got into the backseat without comment. It was time to go.
Noah pulled in at the last coffee shop before they cleared the outskirts of Detroit, and Kristan slipped out to get three cups for the road. Lindsay flailed at the map Noah handed him, trying to fold and settle it in his lap so it wasn’t obscuring the windshield. He still had only the vaguest understanding of what Noah had done to figure out their destination. The map was marked with symbols he couldn’t decipher, even once he had it properly folded and oriented.
“We’re here.” Noah held his hand over the map and a tiny drop of flame fell onto the paper.
Lindsay startled, ready to slap out the fire, but the paper didn’t burn. Instead, the droplet cracked like a minute egg, turned inside out, and became a tiny, tiny snake. It was only a half-inch long, but Lindsay could see that it had scales and pinpoint bright eyes, and a flicker of a tongue. It raised its head, testing the air, and settled itself along the highway that led out of town, wriggling impatiently.
“Oh.” Noah never ceased to amaze him.
“It’ll show us where to go.” Noah sounded distant, but Lindsay let him be. He was doing enough already.
Now they knew how to get to where the “old ways” predicted Cyrus would tell the others to meet them. They were finally on their way to finding Ylli and Zoey. As long as Cyrus had managed to tell them where to go before he died.
“Coffee for you two.” Kristan passed them through Noah’s open window. “I’m going to sleep. Some of us didn’t get a nice cuddle this afternoon.”
Lindsay rolled his eyes at her and busied himself putting his coffee where he could get at it without disturbing the little snake. Once they were on the road, everything was dark and quiet. He sipped his coffee and tried to make himself ignore Noah’s tension. He did well enough for about twenty minutes, when he finally cracked.
“Are you sure you want to drive?” Even in the dark, he saw how tense Noah was behind the wheel.
Kristan could drive if she had to.
“Yes.” Noah reached for the coffee waiting for him in the cup holder, but stopped and put his hand back on the wheel. It was the third time he’d done it, at least that Lindsay had seen. “I can feel it better if I’m controlling our movement. If I have to stay on the road, I’ll find the way by the road. Otherwise, we’ll be trying to find the closest road and guessing all the way there.”
“All right. Then drink this.” Lindsay brought his own coffee cup to Noah’s lips. He held it carefully, so he wouldn’t spill and Noah wouldn’t have to take his eyes off the road or hands off the wheel to drink.
“You don’t...” Arguing about it was going to spill things. Noah shut up and took a drink. “Thanks.”
Lindsay heard him hold his breath as he stopped white-knuckling the wheel to touch Lindsay on the thigh, a light touch that was gone as soon as it came. “I need to get back to normal. To feeling normal.”
“Good fuckin’ luck with that,” Kristan mumbled sleepily. She was supposed to be asleep, but apparently she couldn’t resist being smart-mouthed.
“Play nice, kids.” Lindsay was trying to adjust to the way Noah and Kristan teased each other. There didn’t seem to be any heat behind the taunts, not anymore, but it still sent tension racing up his spine.
A couple large green signs mounted over the road warned of an upcoming split in the highway.
Lindsay checked the map and pointed to the left. “The little snake says we go that way.”
“Okay.” Noah checked his mirrors and changed lanes to accommodate the shift. “If you’re going to be up running your mouth, dick-wrapper, you can light me a cigarette.”
“Insult’s only good if it doesn’t apply to both of us, bitch.” Kristan didn’t sit up, but Lindsay could hear her rummaging around.
Noah had said he’d stop, but maybe insults didn’t count as hair-pulling. Or maybe he was so wound up that he couldn’t remember what he was doing, and it was as automatic for him as being polite was for Lindsay. Wound up hardly covered it, but he was doing a better job of driving than Kristan did.
At least the highway was relatively empty. They were one of only a few cars on the road; the rest were semis, but they generally stayed in the right lane. Once Kristan handed over Noah’s cigarette, she lay down on the backseat again and was silent, actually making an effort to sleep this time.