Good Bones (Wayfarer's End Book 2) Read online

  An Aching in the Bone

  Genevieve Mckay

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real events or persons is purely coincidental.

  An Aching in the Bone - Copyright 2015 by Genevieve Mckay. All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-0-9938025-3-9

  Cover design by the team at Damonza www.damonza.com

  Formatting by Polgarus Studio www.polgarusstudio.com

  Table of Contents

  A DROP OF BITTERS Little Monsters

  First Birthday

  That Boy and Ramsay

  Phineas

  Riding the Mountain

  Planning to Win

  The Thing about Nzumbe

  That Annoying Boy

  Lying to Leo

  Preparing for Battle

  Being Normal

  Repercussions

  All Alone

  The Spy Returns

  Secrets

  A PINCH OF SALT The Reason Horses Run

  The Countdown

  The Day

  Mrs. Cho

  Going Back for More

  Eliminations

  THE SHARPEST BITE Finding Cara

  In the Dark

  Heroics

  Out of the Woods

  Aftermath

  The Last Day

  Final Count

  A Sound in the Night

  Lurker

  The Nzumbe Effect

  Excerpt from Book Three: A Cold Breath of Air

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  A Drop of Bitters

  “Parents wonder why the streams are bitter, when they themselves have poisoned the fountain.”

  — John Locke

  Little Monsters

  Phineas crouched in the damp, chilly darkness by the barn and stared glumly across the lawn toward the sprawling farmhouse. He hid in the dripping wet bushes, growing steadily colder and more wretched with each passing minute. Sniffling, he wiped his nose unhappily on the back of his sleeve.

  He’d slunk out his bedroom window so quickly, he left his coat behind. It hadn’t been raining then, and he planned to be here and back quickly; no more than twenty minutes, tops. Now he was stuck soaking wet and shivering. He cupped his icy hands over his mouth to breathe some life back into them and stifled a cough from deep in his chest, tucking his chin down into his shirt as far as the thin fabric would allow. The real rain had stopped, but the air itself still dripped with moisture. Dampness surrounded him in a sodden cloud.

  Gusts of sharp, salty air blew miles up from the ocean; searching fingers poked through his threadbare thrift store sweatshirt as if it didn’t exist. The shirt was one of the few things he’d bought himself with Leo’s dirty money and it felt tainted somehow, like the faded black fabric let the wind and damp in on purpose.

  The whole world is against me tonight, he thought bitterly, hunkering amongst the wet ferns. He glanced quickly over his shoulder toward the dark paddock beside the barn. But I need to be patient. This might be my last chance to see him.

  Phineas had been spying on the farmhouse for his parents over the last four months, so he had a good idea of the family’s usual routine. The creature’s lights normally went out around nine-thirty, but tonight the whole house stayed lit well into the night. He suspected they were having some type of party. Occasionally, the sound of laughter and faint music floated toward where he crouched, damp and increasingly angry.

  The front door opened abruptly, spilling light and laughter onto the wide front porch. There were lots of people—more than he’d seen there at one time—laughing and hugging and saying their goodbyes in high-pitched, happy voices. Cars revved to life somewhere on the other side of the house, engines growling louder as they rumbled toward him. Headlights stabbed into the darkness; harsh floodlights piercing the branches protecting his hiding place. Phineas pressed back into the bushes with his face toward the barn. He held his breath and willed himself to be invisible, ignoring the sharp bits of wet wood digging into his neck and shoulders. Lights flashed across him, pausing long enough for him to be sure he was discovered, and then finally turned and were gone. The engine noise faded, tires crunched down the gravel driveway to the road, and finally he was alone again.

  He waited for his thundering heart to return to normal before turning around. He stood to relieve the tension in his legs then crouched back on his haunches to wait. The house lights winked out one by one until finally only the monster’s remained. He cursed the creature under his breath with every bad name he could imagine. Abomination. Freak. Unnatural Phenomenon. Nzumbe.

  They were his parent’s’ words, a vocabulary built over years tracking down monsters like this one, but they suited him fine right now.

  She’s probably already curled up in her warm room laughing at me, he told himself sourly. She knows very well I’m out here freezing. She’s leaving the light lit on purpose. That would be just like her . . . . It, Phineas reminded himself fiercely. I need to remember to call her It.

  He ground his teeth together and stubbed the toes of his battered running shoes into the soggy ground.

  He had some doubts the creature was what crazy Leo believed her to be. She looked like a regular human girl. A bratty, spoiled, nasty human girl who lived the life he himself should be living. She might be pale and rude and afraid of leaving the house, but she wasn’t anything like Leo described Nzumbes. She didn’t have blue skin and she didn’t look dead.

  Finally, the light went dark. Though he was half frozen, he waited a few minutes to make sure it wasn’t a trick. The creature caught him spying a few times in the past and he wouldn’t put it past her to have set a trap for him.

  With a groan, he uncurled his stiff, frozen body and pushed through a gap in the white railed fence. Then he stood completely still in the paddock, waiting. After a moment, he heard the sound he’d been longing for—a low nicker in the darkness. He reached his hands in front of him, sending them trustingly into the blackness with his palms turned outwards. At first there was only chilly darkness and silence; then he felt a puff of warm breath against his skin and knew he was no longer alone. Warmth flowed over his chilled hands as the horse slid past him, rubbing its soft, furry sides along his palms like a dolphin in the ocean might if it wanted to make friends.

  The horse’s fur was damp with rain on top, but Phineas burrowed his fingers underneath, to where the warm protected undercoat was wonderfully soft and dry, radiating heat. The horse nuzzled his velvety nose over Phineas’ face, exhaling sweet, warm puffs of breath which filled his cavernous heart with something close to happiness.

  He wrapped his arms around the animal’s neck, burying his face in the hollow above its shoulder. He closed his eyes, basking in the heat coming off the animal’s skin.

  It’s not fair, Horse. You should belong to me. Now I might never see you again.

  Angry tears stung his eyes and he wiped his hand furiously across his face to keep them back. He took a deep breath, shaking off the darkness settling over him. He didn’t want to think about that right now. He wanted to enjoy the short time he had before his parents realized he wasn’t in his room.

  He pulled a couple of limp apple slices out of his back pocket and gently slipped them between the horse’s teeth. He ran his hands over the animal’s smooth, rain-spattered fur, then bounced a couple times on the balls of his feet before springing lightly onto its back. The horse didn’t mind. It turned its head around to lip contentedly at Phineas’ shoe, dropping slobbery apple all over his foot. With a sigh, it turned to amble slowly around its paddock, nibbling the brown winter
grass.

  Phineas let his legs hang loosely against the animal’s warm, damp sides and leaned way back until his head rested on the animal’s rump. His body rocked soothingly with the swaying motion. The worries from the past week drained out of him like water. He wasn’t afraid to fall; he’d been around horses off and on since he was a kid and felt closer to them than to his own family. Besides, this horse had grown to trust him. It was nervous around him at first, but over time he’d managed to make it understand he was not here to cause pain. He only wanted to be friends.

  The horse stopped walking and began eating from a pile of hay; leftovers from dinner. The animal’s ribs moved steadily in and out, and Phineas slowed his own breathing to match until they were almost two parts of the same animal. His head bobbed and his eyes slowly drifted shut. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, but when he opened his eyes again, he knew his time was almost up.

  He sat up abruptly, a surge of excitement flowing through him. This was the moment he felt most alive. He leaned forward with a grin and gently but firmly brushed his calves against the horse’s sides with his legs.

  “Okay, boy. Are you ready,” he asked softly. The horse threw up its head and swiveled its pointy red ears backwards, listening. Its whole body coiled, muscles bunching until Phineas felt he was riding a lit keg of dynamite ready to explode. Phineas wrapped a loop of mane tightly around one hand and with his other he lightly swatted the horse’s shoulder. “Now, go!”

  The horse sprang away, its powerful hind legs propelled them across the soft, damp ground, mud flying up around them in all directions. They cleared the distance from one end of the paddock to the other in a handful of strides before, without hesitating, the horse leapt over the fence separating them from the world outside.

  “Fly,” Phineas urged in a low cry. “Run!”

  The horse ran flat out around the pasture, twisting sideways and throwing out an excited buck for good measure, then turned abruptly and headed back toward the paddock gate. Phineas crouched forward, getting ready for the jump, but at the last minute the horse changed its mind, dropped its shoulder, and spun the other way. Phineas clenched his thighs, trying desperately to stay on, but it was no good. He shot forward over the horse’s shoulder and hit the ground with a squelchy thump, skidding through the mud until he slammed against the fence post with a final thud.

  “Arg.” He groaned, pushing away the horsey nose nuzzling his face. He hurt all over, but didn’t think anything was broken. He cracked open an eye and glared at the animal.

  “Why did you do that,” he demanded in a painful whisper. “You were supposed to jump.”

  The horse prodded his shoulder, then went to push its nose against the gate; bumping the wood expectantly.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Phineas pulled himself slowly to his feet and reached over to lift the latch. “I get what you’re telling me. You’re done playing. You could have at least warned me, though.”

  The horse snorted and trotted past him through the open gate to its hay pile.

  Phineas glared half-heartedly, but was really angry at himself. The horse was an animal after all, not a human, and falling was a chance you took when you rode bareback without any control. He didn’t hold a grudge, but it had been a disappointing end to what might be his last night to sneak over here.

  His parents warned him; he’d used up his last chance. Either he agreed to let Leo use him to catch the monster or he had to stop coming over here to spy for good. Either way, it was time to quit stalling and make a decision or he would make Leo angry.

  Phineas walked over and gave the animal a final pat before climbing stiffly through the fence rails. He limped down the narrow deer trail, pushing automatically through the damp ferns and ducking to avoid half-fallen logs. He didn’t need a flashlight. He’d walked this path so often; he could do the trek in his sleep. His steps faltered the closer he got to the oversized rental house his parents had temporarily taken over.

  Warning bells went off in his head, screaming for him to get out of there as fast as possible. Go back, steal the horse, and ride off into the night. Go anywhere but inside.

  He stopped, half-turning to look up the path behind him, weighing his options. He stood rigidly, fists balled at his sides, wracked with indecision.

  Finally, he shook his head with a sigh and hunched his shoulders in defeat. He was only a teenager. Where would he live if he ran away? How would he feed himself and a horse? He didn’t have a job or money or any skills at all. He’d never been to school in his life, though he’d begged to go. If he ran away, they would track him down and drag him back.

  Phineas scuffed the rest of the way up the path, his head bowed. He was sore and tired right to his bones—way older than his fifteen years, as if heavy weights dragged behind him in the dirt, chaining him to a life he hated.

  The house was completely dark except for a tiny stream of light escaping around the blankets tacked over the windows. It gave the place a vacant, haunted look; as if bad things happened behind those doors.

  He was halfway up the steps when the front door inched open and his father’s head peered out. The dim light glinted off the crooked tinfoil cap his father almost always wore when he got nervous. It covered his blond curls like a misshapen silver melon.

  Phineas groaned. His dad was clearly having a bad night. He looked like someone dressed up as a cartoon Martian for Halloween. Only for his dad it was no joke; he was deadly serious.

  “Hello,” his dad whispered, blinking near-sightedly into the darkness. “Is that you, son?”

  “Yes, Dad,” Phineas said reluctantly. There would be no turning back now.

  “Oh. Good. Well, you’d better get inside. He’s here and he’s not happy.”

  “He’s insane,” Phineas grumbled under his breath. He stepped into the dirty front entranceway and kicked off his shoes. They landed in the corner with a sodden squelching sound, splattering muddy water on the wall. The mess didn’t matter, though. Nobody cleaned or tidied anything here.

  His dad shushed him loudly.

  “Shhh! He’ll hear you!”

  He raised a finger and held his breath, listening intently. His other hand fidgeted anxiously with the worn silver edge of his battered foil hat.

  “He’s in a foul mood,” he hissed. “He blames us for not catching the creature sooner, Phineas. He’s thinking of withdrawing his funding or—or worse.”

  He pulled the battered cap reluctantly off his head, stroking it lovingly. With a sigh, he stuffed it into the drawer of the small wooden table next to him.

  “He doesn’t want me to wear the hat,” he said, so low Phineas had to strain to hear him. “Says we should try to blend in more. Be less noticeable. But we know he’s sneaky. He wants to hear my thoughts, doesn’t he?”

  Phineas watched his dad’s anxious, twitchy movements with growing apprehension. His father had always been as eccentric and driven as his wife, but this year was different. His dad became crazier with each passing minute.

  But then, Phineas thought, having Leo for a boss was enough to drive anyone insane.

  “We’ll go to the living room,” Mr. Miller said in an overly loud whisper. “They’re waiting there.”

  Phineas followed his dad down the hall into the big room they had commandeered for their headquarters. All the couches had white sheets thrown over them to keep the dust off. The walls were covered with maps, charts, and various papers to help the Millers with their research. Grey blankets were pinned over each window to keep the light in, or out.

  His mother barely glanced up as they came in. She sat at a desk in the corner, staring intently at her laptop screen, her lips moving slightly as she read. She’d traded in her usual floor-length hippy skirt and crystals for a dark black pant-suit. Her unruly blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun at the base of her neck. The change made her a completely different person, not like his mom at all.

  Lounging on one of the draped couches with his eyes closed, polished black and w
hite shoes propped up on the arm rest and a thin cigar draped casually between two fingers, was Leo. He resembled one of those old time gangsters from the black and white movies Phineas watched on TV when he was a kid. His oily black hair was slicked back against his head. On the floor beside him sat the bowl-shaped brimmed hat he often wore and a shiny black cane. He gave off a faint spicy odour—cologne he constantly sprayed on his clothes and skin.

  Leo’s eyelids snapped open. Phineas stood transfixed by an icy glare. He always froze when he was around Leo; a scared rabbit caught in the gaze of a cougar, his willpower slipping away until he wanted only to lie down and submit. The man radiated cold, raw power.

  The room shrank, fading away until there was only him and Leo locked in silent struggle. Those terrible eyes were pools of unending darkness, dragging him into the void. Drowning. His mind drowned in darkness and despair.

  Leo blinked and straightened with a smile.

  Breath rushed back into Phineas’ lungs with a roar. He backed toward one of the other couches and sat with a thump.

  “Phineas, my boy,” Leo said jovially, his blindingly white teeth glinting in the dim lamp light. “You’re awfully filthy. Been out on a mission of your own, have you? Finally showing initiative. So, what did you discover?”

  Phineas looked down; his shirt and pants were crusted in a layer of thick mud and bits of grass. He could only imagine what state the rest of him must be in. He shrugged miserably and kept his gaze firmly on the floor, thinking as fast as he could. So far Leo had been satisfied with the half-truths he’d fed him. He would give him as little information as possible and hope for the best.

  “They were having a party,” he said, fidgeting nervously. “The lights stayed on, but nobody came outside. I didn’t see anyone.”

  “Do you know what type of party?”

  Phineas looked up in confusion. “Type? I don’t know. I heard music and people laughing and some singing.”