The Living End (Daniel Faust #3)(79)

“Not the most elegant of plans,” Caitlin said. “But it should work nicely.”

I nodded. “We take her down fast, before she even knows what’s hitting her. Toss her in the trunk of my car, bring her to the Scrivener’s Nook. Bentley and Corman should have the back room set up by now.”

Jennifer wandered over to the window, pulling back the edge of the curtain. A shaft of sun pierced through the dusty gloom.

“Still not sure about this plan, sugar. Not the smash-and-grab. The part after that.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” I said, “but we don’t have a lot of options. Now remember: she relies on her puppets to do her dirty work, but that doesn’t mean she can’t scrap. She’ll fight like hell.”

“No guarantees she won’t get a little more banged up than strictly necessary,” Jennifer said.

That was what worried me. Every member of my family had a personal reason to want Meadow Brand in the ground. I hadn’t put Bentley and Corman on the sidelines because I was worried about their safety. Given that one of Meadow’s victims was an old friend of theirs, I was more afraid they’d “accidentally” kill her before we got what we needed.

As for Spengler’s death, well, we all owed her for Spengler.

After the setup, we had nothing but time on our hands. Time to sit in the dark, bracing for a fight, watching the minutes crawl past like an hourglass filled with molasses. My watch said 8:42. I could have sworn it said 8:41 ten minutes ago.

I figured I had time, so I stepped into the bathroom for a minute. When I came back out, rubbing a cheap washcloth between my damp hands, Caitlin and Jennifer were sitting dangerously close on the edge of the bed and talking in hushed tones. They both looked over and giggled at the same time.

“What?” I said.

“Just talkin’,” Jennifer said.

“What? About me?”

Caitlin rolled her eyes. “Yes, pet. When two women have a conversation, it’s only natural to assume they’re talking about you. That’s a perfectly reasonable conclusion to jump to.”

“If you really want, we could talk about ya,” Jennifer said, grinning. “Hey, Cait, does he still do that thing in bed where he gets that whole-body shiver and his leg twitches when you bite his neck? That always worked for me.”

Caitlin nodded solemnly. “Every time. But if I really want to get him going, I simply need to curl my finger, just like this, and slide it—”

I threw up my hands. “Okay, okay! Point taken! Stop. Please. Really. Sorry I asked.”

“We were talkin’ about Pix,” Jennifer said.

I valiantly resisted the urge to bury my face in my palm.

“Jen,” I said, “we don’t even know if Pixie is into girls. Or sex. With anyone. She might be, I don’t know, robosexual.”

They both stared at me.

“You know, because…computers,” I said.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I quickly tugged it out halfway and shot a glance at the screen. Mama Margaux.

I snapped my fingers and pointed to the connecting door. Jen nodded, darting through to room five and out of sight. Caitlin bounced off the bed and ran to the edge of the curtains, peeking out as far as she dared. I moved up behind the door. Outside, I heard a car door slam.

My heart pounded, pushing a straight shot of adrenaline to every nerve in my body. This was it, the dizzy-sick drizzle drip of time right before a brawl breaks out, the moment when every animal has to choose between fight or flight.

My phone kept buzzing. Margaux wasn’t signaling—she was calling. She wouldn’t do that unless it was an emergency, but with Meadow coming up the walk I didn’t have time to talk. Caitlin looked over from the edge of the curtains and gave a sharp nod, letting me know Meadow was outside.

With seconds left I grabbed my phone and caught the call. “What?” I whispered.

“Something’s wrong, Danny.” Margaux hissed in my ear. “It looks like her, but it’s not her. There’s nothin’ inside there!”

I dropped the phone and freed up my hands. Right now, Jen would be coming up from behind, putting herself in danger. Couldn’t risk it. I flung open the door, reached out, and grabbed Meadow Brand’s hand.

I had just enough time to recognize her dead eyes and slack expression, and the way her moves couldn’t quite mimic a real human’s. A second later I yanked my hand back, jolted by a lance of pain as a serrated knife slashed across my palm. The illusion ripped away in the space between breaths, and the wooden mannequin on the threshold raised its knife hand to stab me dead.

I caught its wrist and grappled the creature, trying to force it into the room. Tires squealed as a Jeep Cherokee spun out from its hiding spot behind the building and came to a stop in the parking lot.

Meadow Brand grinned from the driver’s seat, her scar twisting along her face. She gave me a gleeful wave and drove off, launching over a speed bump and out onto the street.

Jennifer ran up, trying to grab the mannequin from behind, but I waved her off. “Go, go! Catch her!” I shouted. I didn’t have to tell her twice.

Caitlin stepped back to open up some space in the cramped motel room. “Here, throw it!”

I ducked back from another frenzied swing of the puppet’s knife, grabbed its shoulders, and shoved, sending it staggering off-balance right toward Caitlin. She spun on her heel and lashed out with a roundhouse kick straight to the creature’s abdomen, crunching home with more force than any human could muster. Wood splintered, and the mannequin wobbled on its bent inner core. Before it could recover, Caitlin grabbed it under one arm, turned, and used her momentum to ram it headlong into the television set.