Tanner slung the cue’s canvas case over his shoulder as Adam led him toward the lake.
Scrub oak and cottonwood blotted the lights from the bar. Tanner moved like he knew where he was going, like he’d been there before, and Adam watched the shadows. He had a pocket knife, but nothing else in the way of a weapon if Tanner turned out to be other than he appeared.
The sounds of the bar—the Eagles’s “Heartache Tonight” and laughter—fell away. A muddy shore of driftwood emerged. Waves tapped the shore. The lake air, wet with a little rot and water-logged wood, slid across Adam’s skin.
He took a breath and resisted the urge to hug himself. He wondered how many guys Tanner had walked down to the lake, wondered if any of them hadn’t made it back. He could feel the cue, muffled by the canvas, but still there, still evil, even if Tanner didn’t seem to be. Appearances couldn’t be trusted. There were spells, glamours, that could hide a creature’s true nature, but Adam didn’t sense any magic around Tanner.
Adam opened his mouth to ask about the cue when Tanner asked, “Where are you from?”
“Guthrie,” Adam said, surprising himself by being honest.
“Really? You don’t seem small town.”
Tanner clearly meant it as a compliment, but Adam bristled, too aware of his time-stained jeans and beaten work boots that weren’t really black anymore. Guthrie was a good place to be from, but it wasn’t a great place to live, not when you were like Adam, in all the ways Adam was like Adam.
They neared the water. Realizing he’d gone too long without speaking, Adam let his shoulder knock Tanner’s, and asked, “How about you? Where are you from?”
“Ardmore, Oklahoma.” Tanner waved to the lake like a salesman unveiling a car. “I go to school down in Sherman.”
“Ah, big city college boy.”
“Not exactly,” Tanner said. “But bigger than Ardmore.”
Pausing, Tanner peered out at the water.
“What?” Adam asked, straightening.
“Just making sure we’re alone,” Tanner said. He did that little head duck, blush thing again and Adam sort of wanted to kiss him.
“Yeah?” Adam asked. He took a step closer.
Tanner put a hand to the back of Adam’s head, pulled him in, and angled his neck to press his lips to Adam’s. A little beer lingered on his mouth. Adam didn’t mind the taste.
He didn’t even feel the cue’s magic as the kiss deepened. Adam almost broke it to sigh. It had been too long since he’d been kissed, especially by a handsome guy. Tanner’s hand slid down Adam’s arm. He laced their fingers, surprising Adam. Adam pulled away.
“It’s too bad,” he said.
“About what?” Tanner asked. He looked hurt.
“We’re not alone,” Adam said, turning to the trees. “Hey, Bill.”
The other pool player stepped out of the shadows. Tensing, Tanner stepped back toward the water.
“What are you doing here?” Bill demanded. He crooked a finger at Adam.
“Same thing you are,” Adam said, glancing at Tanner, who stared wide-eyed. “Well, not the same thing.”
“Give him to us,” Bill said.
“Us?” Adam asked. Three shapes slid out of the lake. Wet, glossy, and tall. He couldn’t see much of their features, but the smell of water-logged wood deepened when they opened mouths full of spiny teeth.
Adam suddenly recognized the flavor of the cue’s charm and wanted to slap his forehead. Not for the first time, or even that evening, he wished he was better at this.
For months, he’d been gathering dark artifacts like the cue and destroying them, trying to find their creator.
“You’re supposed to be extinct,” he said. “It’s lizard bone, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?” Tanner asked. He couldn’t see across the veil, couldn’t see the Saurians lingering on the Other Side, ready to cross and put their claws to use. Their tails lashed the muddy ground, their yellow eyes cut with black veins.
“It is,” Bill said. “Though we don’t like that word, monkey.”
Clueless about the situation, Tanner looked from Adam to Bill.
“Stay close to me,” Adam told Tanner. “Don’t run.”
“I tried to warn you off,” Bill told Adam. Green veins marked his face as his glamour cracked. “Tell you we were here.”
“Yeah, you did,” Adam said, squaring his shoulders. “But I missed your hint, and I’m not going to let you hurt him.”
He tried to sound intimidating, but his voice faltered. There wasn’t much he could do against four of them. Adam wasn’t powerful like that.
“He has a piece of us.” Bill pointed a hooked finger at Tanner. “Cut from one of us.”
“He didn’t know,” Adam said. “He’s just a dumb human.”
“I have a 4.0,” Tanner protested.
“He’s using it to make money,” Bill said. A thick vein pulsed along his cheek.
“Yeah,” Adam said. “Nasty piece of work, that. I’m trying to find the warlock who did it.”
“Why?” Bill asked.
“To stop him from making more charms,” Adam lied. “From doing it to others.”
Adam didn’t think now was the right time to mention he thought the warlock might be his missing father.
Behind them, the heavy tread of Saurian feet scraped against the sand. Adam didn’t know if Tanner could hear it. His own Sight was imperfect. Sounds from the Other Side came through in funny ways, but the Saurians were close to crossing.
Tanner heard something. His eyes widened, trying see what wasn’t quite there.
“What are those?” he asked.
“Give Bill the cue,” Adam said.
“What?” Tanner demanded, voice pitching higher. “No. Why?”
“Tanner,” Adam said quietly. He could take Bill. Maybe. But if Saurians were endangered, not just extinct, how much trouble would killing one get him? The Guardians would surely frown on it.
“My dad gave it to me,” Tanner protested. His eyes fixed on the shadowy figures. They were almost through.
“And it’s about to get you killed.”
Adam pushed what magic he had into the veil, trying to slow the Saurians’ crossing.
“You have to trust me,” Adam said.