* * *
Kory glanced carefully behind him, but saw nothing. Men in suits aplenty, of course, but none of them in any of the colors humans might call green. He glanced at Beth, worried.
"I see nothing," he said.
"Well, I know he's following us," she muttered crossly.
She looked worried, and Kory was worried as well. He'd had no idea this Comdex would be so big—and Beth hated crowds. No wonder she looked so drawn and fretful. He thought of suggesting that she go back to the hotel and leave him to complete their shopping, but he knew that Beth did not entirely trust him to be on his own in the World Above—and to be fair, Kory did not entirely trust himself either. Much as he loved the human world, it was an extraordinarily vast and complicated place, and the penalties for being revealed to be other than what one seemed were great.
But at the same time, he wasn't sure there was any present danger to concern himself with. It was true that there were still warrants out for Beth's arrest, but as Kory understood it, the hunters were not actively looking for her, and unless she ran afoul of one of their security databases, or returned to the San Francisco Bay Area, she should be safe from their hunt. The last time they had been captured, it had left Beth with a legacy of panic attacks, and it was possible that one had been triggered by the crowds surrounding them now. The press of people here even made Kory edgy—in comparison to human lands, Underhill was sparsely populated, and a quarter of a million of anything gathered together in one place was a sight one of the Seleighe Sidhe might expect never to see even in the course of his long life. In the World Above, of course, such gatherings were commonplace, but that didn't make Kory any more used to them.
"Do you see him now?" Beth demanded. "Look!"
Once more Kory looked where she pointed, and once more saw nothing.
"I see the booth where we are to pick up the computer," he offered, pointing in his turn.
"Good. The sooner we get this over with the better. I just wish he weren't following us. Whoever he is."
Kory looked again, hoping to see what she saw, and still saw nothing.
* * *
It could be worse. They could be wearing black. Sean Collins had heard all the MIB jokes he cared to since joining the PDI's field teams. At least the conspiracy nuts weren't looking for guys in green. Not yet, anyway.
The whole unit had been on alert since the incident with Booker yesterday. According to the tracking software, Travis'd left the airport, gone to one of the casinos on the Strip, and then gone back to his hotel. Unfortunately Booker couldn't explain why he'd done any of those things, because Booker didn't remember doing any of them. He didn't remember anything at all that had happened yesterday, or where he'd left his weapon and his optics. He had no idea why his PS detector had melted down. In short, Booker'd had a Close Encounter, and now they were all on alert. Sean had flown in from Washington last night, about the time the local shop reeled Booker in and found out what had happened. Now he and his team were looking for an answer the size of a needle in a countywide haystack, with precious little notion of where to start.
The others were checking out the casinos, but Sean had decided to cover the trade show almost on a whim—if Spookies were hitting Vegas now, it stood to reason that it might be linked with the other big event hitting town. He was wearing his PS detector, but not consulting it. The special optics would tag a Spookie just as fast—their special filtering technology cut through Spookie illusions as if they weren't there.
To his surprise, he hit paydirt almost immediately. A tall blond man with a redheaded woman, both dressed Corporate Casual. She was human, he wasn't. Sean wondered if she knew the truth about her companion. Best to bring them both in, just in case, but priority one, as always, was a live Spookie capture.
He phoned to bring the rest of his team in—the fact that they were in the neighborhood at all was the one lucky break they had from whatever had happened to Booker—and waited for them to get here. Meanwhile, he stuck close.
* * *
Beth was furious. Kory's air of gentle bewilderment was all too obvious: he didn't see the guy in the green suit with the green-tinted mirrorshades. He thought she was having visions, or some damn thing—but she wasn't, and she didn't dare point the guy out openly for fear of letting him know she knew he was there.
But why was he following them? There was no way for the government to know she and Kory were here, for one thing, even if they did know what ID they were traveling under. Sure, you had to show ID every time you boarded a plane, these days, but they'd used a Gate to get here.
And for another, he didn't really look like a Fed.
Maybe he thinks we're somebody else. The thought made her smile humorlessly. No matter who he thought they were, the moment he arrested them and ran their prints through VICAP, her outstanding warrants would show up—and she wasn't sure what Kory's fingerprints would look like. Elven glamouries and spells couldn't do a lot to fool machines, only the people who ran them.
But the green man wasn't going to arrest them. Not if Beth had anything to say to the matter. :Bredana? Can you hear me?:
There was a long wait—seconds—before she felt the elvensteed's faint reply. Bredana and Mach Five were at Elfhame Misthold, but they were stabled in the World Above precisely in case Beth or Kory needed to Call them. :Come here—quietly—and bring Mach Five with you. I think we may need a quick exit.:
She felt the faint tickle of the elvensteed's assent. San Francisco was at least eight hours away by car, and while the 'steeds could duck back Underhill to make their way here swiftly, she couldn't count on them to be here much inside of half an hour—twenty minutes if they really pushed things. She knew Kory would think she was just being paranoid to summon them—or, worse, that she was seeing little (or big) green men who weren't there. To be honest, she'd spent enough time jumping at shadows before they'd gone Underhill to live to give him good reason. But this time it was different.
He is there. I do see him.
Why can't Kory?
They reached the Hesperus Microsystems booth, and Beth pulled Kory past it. No sense in giving the Man In Green their whole itinerary. It was bad enough that their watchers would be able to find out everything they'd already bought—and while the information couldn't help them, nor could they trace the equipment once it had been taken Underhill—Beth resented giving up any information to her persecutors.
She stopped a few booths down from Hesperus, in front of a booth that seemed to be selling very large concave mirrors. She could see herself and Kory in them, weirdly distorted.
And she could see the green guy.
"Look," she said, in a teeth-gritted voice. "There. Look in the mirror. See him? Behind the booth with the yellow banner."
"I see him," Kory said.
Relief washed through her. Oh, thank the Mother! I wasn't completely sure I wasn't losing my mind. "He's the one that's been following us since we got here."
Kory turned slightly, pretending an interest in the booths on the opposite side of the aisle, and looked behind him. His hand closed over Beth's, and she could feel his shock.
"I don't see him."
He glanced back at the mirror. "Only here. In the mirror. Not there."
"What? That's not possible." Elves were immune to most broad-spectrum glamouries. If Beth could see him, there was no reason Kory shouldn't.
"It is true," Kory said. "I see him in the mirror. But when I look directly at him, he isn't there."
"Let's get out of here," Beth said in a low voice. "I called our rides, but I don't know when they'll get here."
"And they cannot enter the convention center in any case," Kory said practically. He began moving toward the exit, pulling Beth with him. "We must get back to the hotel. Prince Gelert will know what must be done."
"What about our stuff?" Beth asked in spite of herself. They couldn't just abandon it, not when it was their passkey into Chinthliss' library.
"We'll get it somehow.
I was a fool to bring you here and expose you to such danger," Kory said bitterly.
"Hey—my choice," Beth said reassuringly. "I just wish I knew what the hell's going on."
* * *
Something had spooked the Spookie. Sean grinned mirthlessly at his own joke. He wasn't sure what—the stealthtech woven into his suit should keep the thing from reading his brainwaves, much less seeing him unless he directly approached it, but there was no point in trying to argue with the facts. The Spookie and the redhead had stopped wandering and were heading purposefully for the nearest exit.
"Caboose. All units, move up. On me," he said into his throat mike.
* * *
"There's another one," Beth exclaimed, alarmed. Same suit, same glasses. Proof, if she'd needed or wanted it, that something big and dangerous was after them both. Or . . . just after Kory? If he'd been here alone, he couldn't even have seen them until it was too late.
Someone hunting elves with magic they can't sense? Well, that makes my day complete.
"Where?" Kory demanded, his voice filled with exasperation and fear. Beth's heart sank. If Kory couldn't see them, how could they get away?
"Two o'clock. Moving toward the exit. Hold on to me, and don't let go."
"Always," Kory answered grimly.
They turned away from the exit, trying to keep the crowds between them and the men in green. But Beth spotted a third one, and realized there was no point any longer in pretending not to look. Please, oh, please, let them be trying to get us somewhere quiet before they try something. She pulled Kory to a stop.
"This would be a good time to tell Bre and Mach to hurry," She said tightly. Three that she could see—and how many she couldn't spot?
"They say they're coming." Kory was better at communicating long-distance with the 'steeds than she was. "But can we get to them?"
"Bring 'em in here if we can't get out. Ten to one everybody'll think its another floorshow." She turned back toward the center of the hall, where the crowds were thicker. As she did, she caught the eye of the green-suited thug she'd first spotted. As she did he smiled and nodded, cocking thumb and forefinger in a make-believe gun and pointing it at her. Gotcha, he said silently.
"Oh, Sweet Mother," Beth groaned, looking sharply away. She felt panic well up inside her. They were after her—after them—and didn't care if they knew it. The exhibition hall reeled around her, and everything was suddenly too bright and too loud. She couldn't breathe.
No! Not here—not now—no matter how good a reason she had, she couldn't lose it and leave Kory helpless. She took a deep breath, half choking, fighting back the panic.
"I will not let them take you," Kory said. Comfort and calm flowed into her from their clasped hands.
"Funny," Beth said in a strangled voice, "but I don't think it's me they're after. If it was, how come I can see them but you can't?"
"Then leave me," Kory said promptly. "Get away while you still can."
He tried to pull away, but Beth wouldn't let him. "No! They've seen us together. They'll want me, too, now. And if you think I'm throwing you to the wolves, Mister, think again. If we can just get back to the hotel, we'll be safe. Gerry can glitter them to death."
"Good idea," Kory said, smiling tightly.
Trying to make headway through the crowds was like swimming upstream through day-old Jell-O. Several exits loomed temptingly near, but if Beth was right in her guesses, to leave the main floor for any of the stairwells or walkways would play right into the hunters' hands. They had to stay in plain sight until the 'steeds were near, and then run like hell.
She'd never felt so exhausted. Tension, and the cat-and-mouse game they were playing, sapped her strength and will. The exhibit hall was a blur of sound and color around her, every display a place the enemy could hide. Kory had little strength to loan her—he needed to save his own in case they had to fight their way out. As the long minutes passed, she tried to keep herself from looking at her watch—Bredana and Mach Five would get here when they got here, and not a moment before. She concentrated on watching for telltale flashes of green clothing among the eclectically-costumed press of attendees—dressed in everything from three piece suits straight off Savile Row to Hawaiian shirts and Birkenstocks—that filled the convention space. She wasn't sure now whether there were dozens of them or she was seeing the same few over and over.
"They're here," Kory said, and a moment later Beth, too, could feel the elvensteeds' worried presence.
"Okay," she said. "Time to make a break." She was glad her voice sounded steady, because she felt about ready to burst into tears. At last they began slowly working their way toward the exit.
* * *
"Two more Spookies," Cat said over the radio link. "Outside on Paradise Road near the Visitor Information Center. You won't believe this one, Chief. They're horses that look like motorcycles."
"Nothing surprises me about Spookies," Sean answered, into his throat mike. "Okay, kids. Looks like our boy is trying to make a break for it. Move up. Cat, stay away from whatever those things are. We don't know what they can do."
"Gotcha, Chief. I've called up the Fantasticar, just in case."
"Good girl." No matter where the Spookies ran, the Special Ground Vehicle could catch them. It was packed with gadgets that made everything here look like a set of Legos, and its built-in AI was smarter than most of the field team. If only they had more than the one prototype, they could wrap up the Spookie threat over the weekend and all go for a nice six-week vacation in Aruba.
We do what we can with what we've got, Sean told himself philosophically. As Wheatley always said, there were better days ahead, providing you got through today alive.
"Let's catch ourselves a Spookie."
* * *
The exhibit halls were arranged on both sides of the Grand Concourse, which had a second floor that led to skywalks that connected both with the Hilton and one of the parking lots. Beth had been tempted to try for the hotel earlier, but had been afraid of what would happen once they left the safety of the convention crowds. With the elvensteeds waiting just outside, however . . .
She and Kory hurried out into the concourse and turned west. They'd have to go up a flight of stairs to get to the walkway. That would be the danger point—when they were away from the protection of the crowds, easy prey.
Hand in hand, the two of them hurried past a number of closed doors—meeting rooms, with programs going on inside—drawing curious glances from passersby still wandering the halls. She didn't see any of their pursuers, and for one sweet moment, Beth thought they were home free.
Then the original man she'd seen—their leader, Beth was morally certain—stepped out of the stairwell and walked toward them, hands open, smiling.
Beth glanced toward Kory. He was looking in the other direction, back the way they'd come. She squeezed his hand frantically. He looked where she was looking, and she saw sudden awareness in his eyes, as if he could at last see what she was seeing.
"Hi," the stranger said. "I wonder if you could—"
The air crackled as Kory let go of Beth's hand and flung a spellbolt that would knock the stranger senseless and clear their way. It splashed against his shirtfront, going from invisible to visible, from violet to pale yellow.
And nothing happened.
"Not very friendly," the stranger said, reaching into his jacket. Beth could see now that he was wearing one of those Secret Service earplugs. "Zeppelin. All units converge." His hand came out of his jacket holding a small pistol-shaped object. "Stay where you are, both of you."
Kory stepped back, dropping the glamour that made him appear human and calling up his elven armor as well. There was a hissing sound as his sword cleared its scabbard.
Though the stranger apparently knew a great deal about elves, this move—and Kory's appearance—seemed to take him by surprise. Beth could not see his eyes behind the green sunglasses, but the rest of him was eloquent of disbelief. Kory swung the flat of his sword at
the hand that held the pistol, but even in the face of a Sidhe warrior in full field plate, the stranger's reflexes remained good. He jerked his hand up and fired.
Beth expected a loud explosion, but the strange gun only made a short hiss, like a sneeze. Louder than the sound of its firing was the plinking sound made as its projectile struck Kory in the chest. Kory uttered a startled cry. There was a short, dull-gray dart sunk into the armor's elvensilver breastplate. The armor smoked and melted around it like dry ice around a red-hot coal, and magic flared and sparked unevenly.
"I can put the next one through your eye, if you move another inch. It's Cold Iron. I imagine it will hurt."
Kory froze, sword half-raised.
Beth flung herself at the stranger, terrified into bravery.
His gun went off. She felt a burning, cramping pain high on her left shoulder as the dart sank in, but she was no creature of magic to burn at the touch of iron. She scrabbled for the gun, trying to get her hands on it.
There was a sound of glass breaking in the stairwell, as thick, crack-resistant, shatterproof glass gave way beneath the assault of elvensteed hooves. Kory jerked her away from the stranger—Beth yelped in pain as his hands closed over her injured shoulder—and pointed his sword at the stranger's chest. The man froze, hands spread wide.
"I do not know what quarrel you think you have with us, but I will tell you plainly: leave us alone!" Kory said.
Beth ran past him, to the door to the walkway, and jerked it open. The elvensteeds—in equine form—floundered up the last of the stairs, clumsy in such close quarters, and trotted into the hall. Bredana nuzzled Beth anxiously, smelling the blood on her, and Beth pushed the 'steed's head away before she could be burned by the iron. She reached up and grasped the end of the dart, pulling it free. It looked like a golf pencil, or a child's crayon: harmless, not powerful enough to penetrate more than an inch or so.
But deadly to elves.
Her left arm felt numb and tingly, too weak to be of much use in mounting. Bredana shivered all over, and suddenly in place of the gleaming white mare stood an equally-gleaming motorcycle. Gratefully, Beth threw her leg across the seat and settled aboard.
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