That Ain't Witchcraft (InCryptid #8)

by Seanan McGuire

Antimony sometimes thought that if she were to total up the amount of time she spent upside down—between her work with the family and taking the occasional header during roller derby—she’d probably be able to qualify as an honorary bat.

THE WIND BLEW ACROSS the corn with a sound unnervingly like a million bones rattling in the distance, a skeleton army marching on our position. I’ve never seen a skeleton army, but if they exist, I’m absolutely positive they’d be marching on Ohio. There’s nothing else to do in Ohio. It’s just corn, corn, skeleton army, possibly evil corn maze, football, corn.

In a just world, Sam Taylor would have found a nice carnie girl, someone who planned to spend her whole life on the flying trapeze, someone who didn’t come with a complicated family history and an even more complicated personal present. He deserves better than me. He deserves the world. Too bad I’m going to kick the world in the teeth if it ever tries to come between us again. I already did the “running away for his own good” routine, and it wasn’t enough to save either of us from the inevitable. So screw nobility. Annie Price loves Sam Taylor, and that’s how it’s going to be.

“Thinking what?” “That it’s awesome how my job involves making out with my boyfriend in the middle of a potentially haunted cornfield.” Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re so weird sometimes, Annie. You get that, right? You understand that you’re not a normal girl?” “That’s why you love me, right?” His smile was bright enough to make up for the lack of light, and even sappier than mine had been. “Damn straight,” he said, and leaned forward to kiss me.

My parents started my self-defense training when I was four years old. It would have been sooner, but I’d been the youngest and quietest of three, and I guess they’d thought they had a little time. The only reason they’d figured out how wrong they were was because I’d started setting tripwires around the living room, which was pretty impressive for someone who was still figuring out how to tie her own shoes. What can I say: I’ve always been an overachiever.

You know the only thing worse than developing semicontrollable pyrokinesis? Losing it and being suddenly faced with the reality of a world that refuses to burn just because you asked it to.

Well. They probably knew I was alive. I was pretty sure my dead Aunt Mary was allowed to tell them if I died, and the mere fact of that sentence making sense is proof that my life is damn weird.

(Always assume the giant snakes are real. The alternative is finding yourself being slowly digested in the belly of something you didn’t want to admit existed, and while I’m as fond of healthy skepticism as the next girl, I’m a lot more fond of continuing to have my original skin. As in, the one I was born with, not the one the snake has left me with after a little recreational swallowing me whole.)

“See?” he said. “I’m way more fun than some random asshole. I’m your favorite asshole.”

“You need to carry a pair of flip-flops if you’re going to do stuff like this,” I said. “Normally I do. I was just so excited by the idea of actually stretching out some of the kinks in my back that I forgot.” He shrugged, expression wry. “Next time.” “Every rock you step on will be a reminder of that promise.” “Gee, you’re sweet. How did I ever find a girlfriend as sweet as you?” “Just lucky, I guess.” I leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“Never go into a book. Either it’s a dimensional portal, which is bad, or it’s some sort of Dungeons and Dragons-style mimic-thing, which is also bad, although in a less ‘we’ll never find your body’ sort of a way.” Sam blinked at me slowly. “You know,” he said finally. “I like you exactly the way you are, because I am not stupid and do not want you to hit me with a shoe for implying that there’s something wrong with you, but you were a lot easier to understand when you were just the annoying chick who wanted to throw knives at my head.” “Don’t worry.” I got out of my seat, setting the books I’d been reading carefully aside for later. “I’m still the annoying chick who wants to throw knives at your head. I’ve just diversified my interests.” “See, you say that like it’s reasonable, but all I hear is ‘blah blah blah, I’m probably going to stab you in my sleep.’”

James took a deep breath, clearly steeling himself. Then, choosing his words with exquisite care, he said, “There’s something horrible feeding on people who don’t know what else to do, who think they don’t have any other options. I need the books here so I can stop it.” “Oh,” I said faintly. “Is that all?”

“He already knows who I am,” said Sam amiably. “If he touches you, or comes anywhere near me, I’m gonna twist his head off and use it as a basketball.” We were all quiet for a moment. “Too much?” asked Sam. “The sad part is, no,” I said. “That’s actually really sweet. Thank you. All of you.”

“I love you,” he said, kissing the crown of my head. “I’m going to go check the woods for more unwanted guests. If I find this Leo guy, I’ll bring back one of his arms. Maybe with the rest of him still attached. Maybe not.” “More practical than roses,” I said cheerfully as I went back to my book.

“Neither of us has been a teen for a while,” I noted. “Yes, but if we were in a movie about adults, we’d have a car. And we’re in our mid-twenties, which is basically the same as being sixteen in Hollywood years.” The gravel twisted beneath my wheels as I trudged along and considered his depressing pronouncement. “I have way too much sex to be in a teen movie.” “CW show, then.” “And what, we’d be a modern-day Buffy spin-off? No, thanks. If someone popped up and told me they were the chosen one, destined to save the world from darkness, I’d ask them very nicely to get away from me, in case it was catching.”

“I mean if they had all the advantages he,” James flapped a hand at Leonard, “wants to claim they have, why is this happening? Why is any of this happening? You’re one woman. Granted, you’re faintly terrifying, and I’m not sure I’m going to survive knowing you, but you’re not worth delaying an invasion. He’s either exaggerating his position or downplaying yours.” “There’s a third option,” I said. “He’s doing both, and he doesn’t have the authority to be here.” Leo stiffened. I’d hit a nerve. Slowly, I smiled. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re the one who brought me into the recruiting center, even if you didn’t realize you were doing it, and once you realized who I was, you were so excited by the idea of bringing a Price back into the fold that you kept it a secret because you wanted all the credit. Only you lost me, and there were too many witnesses you didn’t want to kill—at least, I’m assuming you didn’t kill your own sister—for you to bury it completely. You’re supposed to be back in England getting punished for your hubris right now, aren’t you?”

“That is a terrible way of proving a point no one was contesting,” said Cylia flatly. “Do not prove any further points in this manner, all right? I don’t want to explain any of this shit to your cousin when we get back home.”

“You’d have me look like a fool for losing track of you.” I scoffed. “A fool who just got full credit for destroying the crossroads, much? Maybe you’ll look a little heartless for letting poor me get eaten by ghouls or whatever while you were distracted by cleaning up an actual threat to mankind, but I’m pretty sure your superiors will forgive you. The Covenant has always been willing to make sacrifices for the greater good, right? Gryffindor bullshit.” “Are you making Harry Potter references because I’m British and you assume that’s the way to reach me?” “No, I’m making Harry Potter references because I’m an enormous nerd and it amuses me to remind you of that,” I said.

“That man is either very brave or very stupid,” said Sam. “Or both. Can I vote both? I’m going to vote both.”

In the liminal space between worlds . . . because that’s a great idea

“It’s going to be okay,” I said, with a confidence I didn’t entirely feel. “Trust me. I’m a professional.” “Professional pain in my ass,” he muttered.

“You did just break about a hundred rules of dealing with the crossroads. We’re standing five hundred years in the past. Do you understand how much trouble you’re in, young lady?” “Are you going to ground me for irresponsible time travel?” “I might!”