by Nina Berry
“Inevitable,” said Siku. “And if they know where our families live, they also know where Arnaldo is. We should be prepared for that when we get close to his house.”
“Do we really have to drive there?” November asked, riffling the tickets in Siku’s hand. “It’s pretty far from here, like, six hours.”
“Airports are easier to watch than roads,” I said. “It’s a numbers game.”
“Like gambling.” November grinned, showing all her tiny teeth. “It’s one of the reasons I like hanging with you, Dez. Life is never dull.”
“It’s a gamble whether you’re hanging with me or not,” I said. I wanted to say how much I longed for a dull life, how hard it had been to leave Mom and Richard in their new secret apartment. Their life here was just as much of a gamble as our lives as shifters. But this wasn’t the time or place for that. I could talk about such things with Caleb, when we were alone. The ache inside me was growing.
I caught a familiar scent of fur and snow and turned my head. November and Siku must have caught it too, because they also swiveled to look down the row of shiny metal and neon to see London sauntering toward us with that long, loping gait. She was letting the hair dye grow out, so her roots were now three inches of pale blond, darkening suddenly to pitch black down to jagged ends that swung near her shoulders. A new gold nose ring glinted in her left nostril, and she’d added a few pounds to her lanky frame. They filled out her once-starved face and made her silvery T-shirt and jeans cling becomingly. Like me, she wore a large backpack.
“Wolfie!” November practically leaped on London, clinging like a monkey. “Girl, you look righteous.” She pulled away, head cocked. “You’ve been snacking.”
“On rats.” London smothered November’s angry squeak with a proper hug. I embraced the two of them, and then Siku lumbered over to wrap his long arms around all of us.
“Okay, Siks.” November’s voice came out muffled. “Eventually, we’ll need to breathe.”
London hugged me a little longer, then pulled away, not meeting my eyes. I went immediately on alert. “I have a message for you.”
At the word “message,” a chill ran over me.
Could it be something else coming via Othersphere? Or from Lazar? But no, he wouldn’t use London for that. “From whom?”
Her thin lips twisted, as if pushing back reluctance. Then she smiled, but it was forced. “Just follow the snow.”
She pointed. Puzzled, I saw, falling onto the loud, semi-Egyptian carpet, a few flakes of snow. I looked up, but there was no hole in the ceiling or snow machine above. The snowflakes were wafting down from nowhere. I caught a whiff of pine sap, and something else—something unearthly, yet strangely familiar.
I walked toward the snow flurry, vaguely aware of London following, Siku and November close behind her. The flakes fell out of nowhere on my face and hands, pinpricks of cold. Others dusted my shoulders.
“Over there,” November whispered.
I looked up to see the branch of an evergreen tree wedged between a wall and a plastic sheet which blocked off a quiet area in the dark lobby, marked with an orange cone and a sign that said PARDON OUR DUST.
From the tantalizing scent creeping through the plastic, there were trees and more snow beyond it. I hesitated. It could be a trap. London had seemed unwilling to tell me about this . . . whatever it was.
But November was beaming at me like a searchlight. She gave me a shove. “Go on, stupid!”
So I pushed aside the curtain.
And stepped into the winter forest from a dream.
What should have been half-painted walls, pillars, and bare floor awaiting new carpet was instead a moonlit clearing in a woodland hushed with snowfall. Pine trees twenty stories high reached their dark fragrant branches toward a clouded sky that shook snow down upon me.
A fluffy white rabbit, big as a poodle, hopped over a frozen stream that wound between white-outlined bushes and snow-covered grass. And all the clanging and itching that invaded my senses from the machines outside was blown away on a night breeze full of scents I both recognized and did not. It was not a wind from this world. I breathed it in, and something else. A hint of once-stormy sky, of leaves quiet after a rain.
Caleb.
He walked toward me, dark eyes burning, his long black coat brushing the snow off encroaching branches. The snow rabbit paused to watch him go by, unafraid. A flood of heat pushed my heart into my throat and filled me with something so light I thought I’d float away, or faint from the pleasure. I tried to say his name, say anything, but I couldn’t speak.
“I found all this in the shadow here,” he said. His voice was more harmonious in person than on the phone. I felt like I could dive through its depths. “And I knew it was meant for you.”
I didn’t need to talk. I ran one hand along his strong jaw, up into his dark tousled hair. In his night-black eyes I saw a glint of gold. His lips bent into a knowing smile. Then his arms were around me, warm and strong, our bodies pressed hip to hip, heart to heart.
“I love it,” I whispered.
“I love you,” he said, in that low murmur that was, yet was not, a whisper. His mouth brushed against my eyelid, soft and warm. I inhaled, taking in all of him; then he stopped my breath with a kiss.
Time held its breath along with me. The boundary between our bodies melted, and the whole world seemed to melt right along with it.
Tap, tap, tap.
I brushed at something on my shoulder, wondering vaguely if I could somehow make a living kissing Caleb for the rest of my life.
Caleb looked up and frowned past me. His lips were reddened, his eyes unfocused.
“I said, there’s an old woman outside wearing an earpiece and whispering into a microphone, pretending not to look at us.”
It was London’s voice, with a harder edge than usual. Caleb’s gaze sharpened, and I turned to look. London stood there, brow creased with embarrassment. “Sorry to interrupt your faery forest and all. I didn’t say anything to ’Ember and Siku because the old lady is at the slot machine right next to them.”
I blinked. “An old woman with white hair wearing a white sweater with sequins on it?”
London nodded. “Yeah.”
“I saw her earlier. She was at least five rows away before. If she’s right outside now with an earpiece, she’s got to be following us.”
“The Tribunal.” Caleb swept the forest clearing with a commanding glance, and around us, trees and snow began to vanish. The stream faded away, and a workbench covered with paint cans popped back into existence. Caleb’s power had grown since I’d last seen him conjure things from Othersphere.
“We’ve got to ditch her and anyone else following us before we go to Arnaldo’s,” I said.
“There’s a security door this way,” Caleb said, gesturing toward the back wall I could now see behind us. Someone had started to paint it lapis blue. “Amaris is waiting in the car.” He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed. “I’ll tell her to get ready.”
“November and Siku are still out there,” said London, starting back toward the plastic sheeting.
“Wait.” I grabbed her arm. “If we all bolt, they’ll know we’re on to them. We’ve got a better chance of giving them the slip if we don’t seem alarmed. Look casual, go out there, and send November in, but don’t say why. They’re listening. Then you and Siku follow one at a time.”
“Why does November get to come back in here first?” London said, frowning.
“Because we need her lock picks,” I said. “The hotel’s not going to leave security doors unlocked.”
London’s face cleared into an appreciative smile. “I hate you, smarty pants,” she said, then did her best laid-back amble past the plastic sheet.
“No, get the car close to the exit. We’ll find you,” Caleb said into his phone, speaking to his sister. He intertwined his warm fingers with mine and pulled me toward the back wall, where I spotted the outline of a door, unlabeled. “You r
eleased the parking brake, right? Okay. Just back up slowly out of the space and you’ll be fine. You’ll be fine, Amaris. See you soon.”
He hung up and shook his head. “Doesn’t officially have her license yet, but it’s not a problem.”
“She doesn’t know how to drive?” I asked.
“We’ve been practicing for weeks.” A flicker of worry narrowed his eyes; then he shook his head. “She’ll be fine.”
“She’ll be fine,” I repeated, like a mantra.
November came bouncing up, wheeling her bulging suitcase precariously behind her. “London said to come in, but she looks like she’s got a stomachache. Did she catch you guys making out or something?”
“That’s not—” I cut myself off and lowered my voice. “That little old lady outside is following us,” I said. “That’s why London’s upset.”
November’s spiky eyebrows rose. “Oh, Tigger, you are so wonderfully clueless. That’s not what’s making Wolfie so grumpy. Don’t you see how she—?”
“Not now, ’Ember,” Caleb said in a warning tone I didn’t quite understand. “Focus. See this? It’s a locked door, and we need to get through it. Now.”
“So we’re making a quiet break for it back here?” November showed all her teeth in her hungry smile, and reached into her pocket to pull out three slim metal tools held together with a shiny chewing gum wrapper. “That’s my cue.”
A large shadow cut across our faces, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“London said it would look better if I came in first.” It was Siku, his booming voice low. “Who we running from?”
“Little old lady,” I said. “White sweater, earpiece, following us.”
“Little old lady . . .” Siku looked over his shoulder at the plastic sheet. “At least we can outrun her.”
“Probably,” I said. “But there has to be more of them than just her. How’s it coming, ’Ember?”
November’s sharp face was screwed up with concentration as she jiggled the pick in the lock. “Almost there. Maybe I should’ve raked this baby, but that’s risky, and I didn’t want to . . . Ha!”
The lock turned, and we all heard the deadbolt slide back. “Wait for London,” I said. “In case it’s alarmed.”
“I’m here, I’m here.” London jogged up. “She’s talking to some dude in a white blazer now.”
November let out an annoyed whoosh of breath. “Even in Vegas these creeps wear white. Don’t they know that doesn’t make them the good guys?” She yanked open the door, and looked up at Siku. “After you.”
He grabbed her bag and palmed the door, pushing it farther open. A cement hallway stretched right and left, lit by bare bulbs. “No. Me last.”
“I’m not shy about going first,” said London, slipping under Siku’s arm and into the hallway.
“Go, go,” I said, shoving November. At least no audible alarm had gone off.
November scooted into the hall, turning right after London, just as the plastic sheet behind us trembled and wafted aside to reveal the little old lady. Her rhinestone-speckled sweater glinted, her heavily mascaraed eyes narrowed right at us.
Siku didn’t wait, stomping through the door.
Caleb squeezed my hand. I felt a familiar lift in my chest as he pulled me through the door. “Just like old times,” I said.
A wry grin lit his face as a heavy-shouldered man in a white blazer with a bulge beneath it loomed behind the old woman. The man reached under his coat as I slammed the door shut and rammed the bolt home.
CHAPTER 4
Caleb and I ran hand in hand after our friends, our footsteps echoing down the cinderblock hallway. Yellow-green lightbulbs lit the way. My backpack bounced painfully on my shoulders, but my spirits were high. I was on the run with Caleb again, only now we were a team in company with friends. Nothing could stop us.
London skidded to a stop up ahead in front of a door with a push-bar handle and threw us a look. “Here?”
“Sure!” Caleb shouted to her.
London shoved the door open. November reached her, and looked back at Caleb. “You have no idea where it goes, do you?”
“No, but neither does the Tribunal.”
“Fair enough.” She slipped through the door past London, and we heard her voice echo back. “Stairs. Up or down?”
“Not up,” I said between breaths as we came pounding up behind Siku. “Upstairs will be nothing but long hallways of locked hotel rooms.”
“Down we go,” said November. And down she went.
As London and Siku followed, I cast a glance down the long hall. The door we’d come through was shuddering, as if from blows. “I think we pissed them off,” I said.
We sped down the metal stairs, as silently as they allowed. Ten stairs down and turn, then ten more and turn. We did that four times before we found London stock-still on a landing with her ear pressed against a door marked LL1. Caleb and I looked at each other and mouthed at the same time: “Lower Lobby One.”
“Footsteps out there. Lots,” she said.
“Go anyway,” I said. “This is a busy hotel. Most people won’t care what we’re doing. Look for a sign to the parking garage.”
She yanked the door open, and we stepped out into another hallway, much like the first, only this one had people in it. Two men in white gave me pause until I realized they were kitchen staff, hustling a wheeled cart with a half-eaten lobster, an empty champagne bottle, and crumb-covered plates in one direction. Farther down the hall, three women wearing white tutus and swan-feathered headdresses were walking away from us, spooning yogurt into their mouths and chattering.
“Kitchens must be that way.” Caleb pointed in the direction the men were going with the cart.
“Theater dressing rooms that way.” I pointed toward the vanishing ladies in the tutus.
“I hear they’ve got a cool magic show at this hotel,” said November. “I vote we go in the theater direction.”
We all drew back as a man in enormous green shoes, purple fright wig, and a big red nose clomped past us chewing on a drumstick. His bare arms rippled with smooth muscle, and his red shirt was covered in orange pompoms that helped hide a built-in harness circling his waist.
“Acrobat clowns?” Siku whispered.
“Welcome to Vegas,” said Caleb.
“The kitchens will be close to some kind of delivery dock or place where trucks drop off supplies,” said London. “We could slip out of the building that way.”
“Plus, kitchens usually have cupcakes and pastries in them,” said Siku.
“We will need a snack for the road. . . .” November was being persuaded.
“No doubt we can get out of the building via the kitchens,” I said. “But that’s the obvious way to go.”
“The Tribunal will probably send someone to that delivery area to watch for us,” Caleb finished my thought. “If they haven’t already.”
“To the theater!” November scuttled off down the hallway, Siku in tow. “I want a tutu!”
“I want big green shoes,” said Siku.
As we hustled after them, I noticed Caleb scanning the ceiling. “Cameras?” I said.
He shrugged. “It’s Vegas. They’re everywhere.”
“You think the Tribunal might’ve hacked into them?”
“Lazar’s almost as good with a computer as he is with a rifle,” Caleb said, his voice thickening with anger as he said his half-brother’s name. “It’s possible.”
“You think Lazar’s here?” I hadn’t had a chance yet to tell Caleb that it had been Lazar who stole my DNA, or about his useless apology.
“I hope so,” Caleb said. “Because this time he won’t get away alive.”
We were passing the women in the tutus. As Caleb spoke, one of them swiveled her head to stare at him with eyes painted like elaborate black-and-silver wings.
“Ssh,” I said. “I know you’re angry, but this isn’t the time to talk about this, let alone confront Lazar or anyone. . . .”
“He killed my mother, Dez,” Caleb said. He lowered his voice, but that only made it darker, more deadly. “How would you feel if he killed yours?”
That shut me up. I squeezed his arm and let it go. I’d always been able to tell Caleb everything, and once we were on the road and out of immediate danger, that’s what I’d do. Now was not the time for a confrontation.
We rounded a corner and went through a double door, where the population of tutus increased, and several curvy women dressed like showgirls crossed with Mary Poppins adjusted their hats. We passed a black coffin engraved with silver swirls, a human-sized glass cage half filled with water, and another woman with enormous breasts bursting out of the her low-cut Victorian wedding gown, which had been cut away in front to show off her elaborate ivory garters.
But no one told us to stop. Maybe it was the way we hurried, as if we were late to get ready for a performance. Or maybe no one gave a damn.
The space around us opened up into a poorly lit jungle of cables and pulleys. Something hummed, and the four-by-four-foot patch of ceiling a few feet away from me lowered down to reveal an empty electric chair. Above it, another four-by-four-foot slab rapidly closed off the hole, and I realized that we were below the actual stage.
“Do you think there’s a show going on above us right now?” London asked.
“Probably rehearsal,” said Caleb.
We followed a narrow river of clowns, sexy nannies, and dark-shirted stage crew walking along the wall to avoid the cables. I glanced back at the electric chair and spotted a flash of white behind it. Someone else from the kitchen?
Caleb was staring at the electric chair too. He caught my questioning glance. “It has a powerful shadow,” he said. “I think people really died in it. What’s that?” He stopped dead, eyes fixed on something near the chair.
A man in a top hat and tails smacked right into him, cursed, and went around. Caleb muttered an apology, scanned the chair again, then turned and moved on.