Even if it’d only been half an hour.
People waved to them as they headed for the gate, calling out wishes for safe travel and goodbyes. A cluster of children raced up to Bus, playfully trying to keep him from leaving before he managed to chase them away. Tala and Mischa emerged from wherever they’d been hiding, and the burrs stuck in their dense coats made Carter shake his head.
Leaning on a crutch, Samson stood on the cabin porch, his free arm around Spider’s shoulders and her forehead resting on his chest. As the others passed, the girl turned swiftly and followed them, not looking back.
Pretending they saw nothing, Carter and Bus continued to the end of the gravel path, where Magnolia, Jericho and a handful of people stood waiting. At the sight of them, the woman smiled, and wrapped Ashe in a hug as soon as she came near.
“Take care of yourself, sweetie,” Magnolia said.
Ashe nodded.
“Was good to have you here,” Jericho told them all.
Carter and Bus agreed, and shook hands with their friends who’d come to say goodbye.
It only took a few moments, and then suddenly they were leaving the Abbey behind.
At the edge of the dirt path, Ashe glanced back. Children ran between the houses as the adults went back to what they had been doing. A dog chased off a few chickens from where he’d been sleeping, and birdcages swayed in the breeze.
And in the distance, she could see Samson standing on the porch, unmoving.
She turned away and followed the others down the narrow trail between the trees.
*****
Over the bridge guardrails, Ashe watched the river and ignored the rush hour traffic hurrying home for the evening.
“See the wall there?” Bus called from the front, glancing back at her and then pointing to a rugged stone wall running along a service road by the riverbank.
“Yeah?”
“We call that one Seagull.”
Ashe nodded, studying the scene and trying to burn the place and its corresponding code word into memory.
“You sure you’re remembering all this?”
She looked back at him. “Seagull, the stone wall by the river near the bridge,” she said, listing the locations and trying to keep the annoyance from her tone. “Tumbleweed, the abandoned lot behind the gas station off exit one-twenty-three. Angel, the northeast sanctuary door of the cathedral on East Seventeenth on the south side of the river. And Pepper, the service entrance to the sandwich shop on South McLane.”
“You forgot the pawn shop. What’s that one again?”
Biting back her frustration, she started to reply when Spider rolled her head across the headrest and saved her the trouble. “Bus, relax already. She’s got it.”
Spider raised an eyebrow at him and reluctantly, Bus gave in and turned around. Without another word, the girl rolled her head back and resumed staring out the window.
Glancing to Spider, Ashe tried not to let her gratitude show. Ever since they’d hit the suburbs, the old man had been drilling her relentlessly on the Hunter’s pre-arranged meeting places, in case they became separated. In an emergency, she’d head to the nearest one, waiting for the others or leaving messages about where she’d gone.
It wasn’t that the information wasn’t useful. Like everything else, she knew it could save her life. It was just that Bus seemed to take any slip of her memory personally, despite the massive amounts of detail he was trying to force into her brain.
Cutting across two lanes, Carter sent the van up an exit ramp and into the city. Commercial districts passed, filled with stores whose signs were so crammed on top of one another, she could hardly read them. Cars crowded the parking lots around them, and stoplights seemed to interrupt Carter’s driving every few feet.
“That–” Bus began, pointing toward a strip mall before catching himself.
“Another one?”
Faintly chagrined, he nodded. “Shoebox.”
“I’ll remember,” she assured him.
Hesitating a moment more, he went back to watching the road.
A small grin twitched her lips, and she hid it quickly.
Past banks and houses, schools and churches they drove, winding through the city till at last Carter pulled the van to a stop by a curb and sighed. “This is why I let you drive,” he told Bus, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
The old man clapped him on the shoulder sympathetically and then set to work detaching the police scanner from beneath the dashboard.
Ashe tugged up the hood of her jacket and then jumped out after Spider and the dogs. Across the street, teenagers lounging on a porch watched them, and down the road, music pounded from a house converted into a bar. Old trees cast long shadows on the cars lining either curb, while a few blocks away, traffic rushed by yet another stoplight.
Shouldering her bag, she followed Spider up the steps from the curb and past the sidewalk, and then thanked Carter quietly as he held open a chain-link gate. A yellow cottage stood atop a small rise, its walls bordered by scraggly bushes and creeping ivy.
Pulling back the screen door, Carter knocked and was instantly rewarded with the sound of a tiny dog yapping madly.
“Every time,” Bus muttered, shaking his head.
Letting the screen close, Carter sighed.
A moment passed. From the opposite side of the street, the teenagers studied them.
The door swung open. “Oh!” cried an old woman. “You–”
She cut off as a small, fluffy dog charged the door, barking furiously. “Mitzi! Quiet!” she commanded, though the dog paid no mind. “Quiet!”
At her helpless look, Carter opened the screen and stepped inside. Torn between fierce determination and cowardice, the little animal retreated, still barking for the world to hear.
Bus groaned quietly and followed.
“You got here sooner than I expected,” the old woman said, sounding flustered as she herded the dog toward the basement stairs. Shutting the door on the noise, she exhaled in relief and put on a pleasant smile as she waved them all farther inside.
Spider closed the door behind her, but Ashe barely noticed. A time capsule surrounded them, as different from the neighborhood outside as another reality. Floral wallpaper covered the walls, edged by dark mahogany trim. Pale rose carpet absorbed the sound of their footsteps and thick satin curtains shrouded each window. In the living room, a vintage couch and loveseat occupied two walls, and from beneath the lacy shade of a gold-plated lamp, the porcelain forms of a shepherd and shepherdess dangled.
And on every wall, pictures hung. A much younger version of the old woman smiled out at the world from the arm of an equally youthful man, and though the scenery and decades shifted from image to image, the subjects remained.
A lifetime, chronicled in gilt frames.
“I don’t believe we’ve met, dear,” the old woman said to her. “I’m Elsa.”
Blinking, Ashe dragged her gaze from the walls and introduced herself.
“A pleasure,” Elsa replied. “Well, I’ve got the bedroom down the hall set up for the girls,” she continued to the others. “But I’m afraid you boys will have to take the living room. There’s some blankets in the hall closet…”
Stepping aside, she waited for Bus to precede her. Glancing to Carter, the white-haired man worked to keep a straight face as he dutifully headed for the designated closet.
“You kids must have had a long drive. I can brew some tea before dinner if you’d like? Or I might have coffee. I… where’s Samson?” Elsa asked suddenly, glancing around.
“He needed to stay behind,” Carter told her. “Is there a place I can set these bags?”
Distracted by the question, she nodded and showed him another closet as Spider slipped down the hall toward the bedroom. Ashe followed.
A twin bed and a lower trundle sat in the small room, matching quilts covering them. Spider glanced between the beds. “You want that one?” she asked, motioning for the twin.
“Doesn’t matt
er.”
Shrugging, the girl dropped her stuff by the trundle and busied herself with sorting through the ammunition in her bag.
Hesitating briefly, Ashe set her own bag down and then headed back to the living room. The kitchen adjoined the room by way of a dining area, and beside the polished white sink, Elsa was instructing Carter on how to prepare the salad. Ignoring them, Bus nudged aside the thick curtain by the back porch and studied the yard, while Tala and Mischa flopped onto the floor nearby. The dull thud of music from the bar undercut the quiet, and occasionally someone outside would shout.
Ashe glanced around, uncertain what to do, and then crossed to where Bus was standing. “So what now?” she urged softly.
“Dinner.”
She paused uncomfortably.
“Take it easy, girl. Carter’s got a couple things going right now, but don’t worry. We’ll find your monster.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion.
“Look around,” Bus said quietly. She surveyed the quaint decor, still lost. “We’re damn near the heart of wizard territory. And yet…”
He saw the understanding come into her eyes as she glanced at Elsa.
“She seems so…” Ashe trailed off, unable to find the right word.
“Oblivious? Trust me, she’s not. At least, not underneath. She’s just determined to pretend the war isn’t happening, even if it gets her killed.”
Impatience churning, Ashe watched the woman. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked finally, working to set the frustration aside.
“Keep watch on the front. And for the love of everything holy, don’t freak if you see anything. Elsa won’t handle it well.”
Taking a breath, she started to nod and then froze, suddenly realizing that if the Blood showed up, she wouldn’t see anything at all. She wouldn’t know them from the kids across the street, while they could spot her in the window and tell instantly what she was. And then there was the issue of wizards coming by, and protecting her friends while not giving herself away.
Heart picking up speed, she made herself keep breathing. She hadn’t thought this through. In all the training and planning, this fundamental issue simply hadn’t crossed her mind.
Her eyes slid back to Bus, but he was studying a car driving down the neighboring street. How could this not have occurred to her? She’d been so focused on hunting the Blood down, and yet…
Nauseated and working to hide the feeling, she headed for the kitchen window.
Meatloaf eventually emerged from the oven, and accompanied a meticulously prepared salad to the table. Carter gave Ashe a humored smile as he passed, careful not to let Elsa see. Upon joining them in the living room, Spider was instantly assigned to setting the table, to which she wordlessly complied. China plates and antique silverware appeared and, unfolding a napkin and laying it on her lap, Elsa smiled. “It’s so nice to have you all back again.”
Carter made a noise of agreement and sat down.
Glancing up, Elsa caught sight of Ashe. “Oh, do come sit at the table, dear,” she called.
Ashe glanced to Carter. He hesitated and then looked back at Bus, twitching his head toward the front window. Elsa made a movement as though to call him over as well, but at a soft sound from Carter, she bit back her protests with a look of faint displeasure.
“Yours will reheat,” she told Bus.
He thanked her and then tweaked back the kitchen curtain, watching the road.
“So I was talking to Serenity,” Carter started after a few moments.
“Carter, no,” Elsa said sharply, setting down her salad bowl. She paused and then took a breath to calm herself. “We’ve been over this.”
He said nothing else, and Spider kept her eyes on dinner. A minute passed in silence.
“You told Blackjack you saw one of the Blood,” Carter said.
Elsa’s fork clattered onto her plate and she turned to him angrily.
“One of them killed her family,” he said, nodding toward Ashe.
Elsa’s eyes darted to her and away. For a moment, she seemed to struggle with herself. “He was horrible,” she allowed, her quiet voice carefully controlled.
“Does he know you’re here?”
Annoyance flickered and then was smothered. “I wouldn’t think so.”
“You mean you don’t know,” Bus called from the kitchen.
The anger returned and she gave him a glare before burying the expression beneath deliberate good manners. “I will not discuss this again.”
Silence fell, broken only by the faint clink of silverware.
“What’d he look like?” Ashe asked softly.
Elsa looked up from her meatloaf, defensiveness at the ready before the question sank in. The expression dwindled into a mixture of fear at the memory, and pity.
“Tall,” she said after a moment. “And big. But not fat. More like a giant than a man. He was white, and had reddish-brown hair. He was riding in a black sedan, but not driving it, and stopped to speak to a few other men outside the bar before he left.”
“Wizards?” Carter asked, his attention on the meatloaf.
The old woman gave him an irritated look which he pretended not to see. “Surely not. Mitzi would have warned me.”
Spider closed her eyes briefly, and then kept eating.
“When did you see him?” Carter asked.
Elsa hesitated. “Once yesterday,” she admitted. “And again today.”
“Then you’re staying away from the windows and keeping that dog downstairs, while we watch the bar to see if he comes back tomorrow,” Carter said with finality.
“Now, I can’t stay hidden the whole time,” Elsa protested. Carter’s gaze slid to her and she flustered. “Norman is coming by in the afternoon to help with the garbage, and he’ll be concerned if I don’t answer the door.”
“Norman.”
“He lives down the street,” she explained. “And you needn’t look at me like that. I’ve known him for thirty years. He was a great friend to George before he passed on, and he stops by every other day to take out the garbage, bring me groceries, that sort of thing. He’s terribly protective, and just the most thoughtful man – but not more than George was, of course.”
She paused. “Though he might be surprised to see you all here.”
“We’ll stay out of his way,” Carter assured her.
Elsa returned to her dinner, missing the quick look he gave Spider and Bus.
Dinner completed in silence, and Elsa thanked Ashe after she helped wash the dishes.
As Ashe left the kitchen, Carter stopped her momentarily. “You take first watch,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Back window. I’m going to keep an eye on the front.”
She nodded, glancing toward Elsa, who was watching them with thinly veiled suspicion as she put the dishes away. Biting her lip briefly, Ashe walked to the bookcase and then drew a random novel from the shelf. Flipping it open, she carefully pretended to read by the backyard window, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Carter smile.
Cautiously, she studied the neighborhood, while glancing to the book intermittently. Sunset gilded the grass and leaves, and threw long shadows in which nothing moved. Overhead, birds darted between the trees, making their own dinner of the early evening insects.
But her heart was pounding. If a wizard appeared, or even one of the Blood, she still had no plan.
She hadn’t felt this helpless in weeks.
A warm weight brushed her leg and she looked down. Bumping her hand, Tala signaled her ever-present need for attention before leaning on Ashe with her deep brown eyes on the yard.
Relief hit her. Tala could spot the wizards, and nobody would think anything of it. And if someone came near and the dog didn’t react, she’d assume it was one of the Blood and call for Carter.
It wasn’t much of a strategy, but she couldn’t think what else to do.
Digging her fingers into the dog’s coat, she watched the sun slip behind the houses and sile
ntly begged the animal not to leave.
Chapter Fifteen
He’d had some success, and Harris supposed he should be pleased. Over the past few weeks, he’d determined with reasonable certainty the identity of the boy from the security camera outside the café. With only one person missing for a month from the school, it hadn’t been hard to narrow down the suspect list. He’d tracked the boy’s friends, retraced his movements from the day before he vanished, and discerned the obvious fact that something strange was going on.
On the flipside, he’d yet to catch anyone, see hide nor hair of the younger girl, or find the boy anywhere.
So really, success was a debatable word.
Following their discussion, Brogan had summarily taken care of IA, though in Harris’ opinion, his solution left a lot to be desired. Memory returning, the ostensible FBI agent recalled voices in the hall prior to the explosion, and thus claimed the girl had an accomplice who must have taken out the cameras and arranged her escape. As cover stories went, it lacked a certain finesse, since now Harris’ claims of the girl being a human torch automatically left him looking insane.
He’d been dropped on leave faster than he could say psychosis, and now was required to attend counseling sessions twice a week.
It was insulting. And damned inconvenient.
They’d taken his gun and badge, as he’d expected, and to the department he became something of a pariah. For their part, Malden’s family quickly learned of his apparent breakdown through the grapevine, and now treated him with kid gloves the likes of which he’d never seen.
On some level, he supposed Rhianne and the kids’ reactions were to be expected. Due to heavy doses of painkillers and general trauma, Scott couldn’t remember the afternoon of the fire, and Brogan’s story contained no trace of anything abnormal. In light of that, the most rational conclusion seemed to be that stress had made Harris lose his mind.
Except that now every conversation began with questions of how he was feeling and whether the counseling was going well.
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