"Wrong zipper," he gasped. "Try lower."
"In your dreams." I reached into the inner pocket and pulled a plastic pack free. The maps. "Stealing's a crime. Thank you for returning the Pack's property. Your cooperation has been noted."
He looked me straight in the face, smiled, and vanished.
I scrambled to my feet. The red bolt punctured the dirt between my feet, catching me on the way up. I straightened very slowly.
He stood a few feet away, pointing the crossbow at me. It was loaded. The hand-sharpened bolt head stared me in the eye. I couldn't dodge a crossbow bolt from nine feet away. Not even on my best day.
"Hands where I can see them," he ordered. I showed him my palms, the Pack maps still securely clutched in my right hand.
"You cheated!" Julie's outraged voice rang from above. "Leave her alone!"
His nose no longer looked broken. No blood, either. Wonderful. Not only could he teleport, but he also regenerated while he did it. If he started spitting fire, we'd be all set.
Keeping his crossbow leveled, he reached down to his thigh and pulled my needle out with a wince. "That hurt."
"Serves you right," Julie yelled.
"I suppose you're rooting for her?"
Julie's eyebrows rose in trademark adolescent scorn. "Duuuuuuuh."
"Don't make me come up there." Steel vibrated in his voice and Julie ducked behind the crates.
"Leave the kid alone," I told him.
"Jealous? Want me all to yourself?" He jerked the crossbow right a little. "Turn around."
I turned my back to him, expecting the bite of a steel bolt head between my shoulder blades any moment. "Very nice," he said. "Turn around again."
I turned around to see him frowning. "I can't decide if I like the back view or the front one best."
"How about a view of my sword up very close?"
"That's my line, dove."
His leer left no doubt as to the meaning of his "line."
"Turn around again. That's a good girl."
I heard him walk toward me. That's right, come closer. I'm very helpless. With my hands held up and everything.
"Nothing funny," his voice warned in my ear. "Or next time I pop in, I'll pin your lass to those crates."
I clenched my teeth and stood still.
"You broke my ward. I'm put out - those bitches are hard to pin down and now I'll have to do it again. I should put a bolt through your neck." His fingers brushed the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "But I'm a nice guy. I'll give you a piece of advice instead: gather your kid and go home. I'll even let you take the maps back to the furries, since you fought so hard for them. Stay out of my way from now on. This isn't your fight and you're in over your head."
"What fight? With whom? Who are you?"
"I'm Bran. The hero."
"The hero? Humility is a virtue."
"So is patience. And if you're patient and lucky, you might just be the girl I bed on my last night in town."
His hand squeezed my ass. I spun about, intending to punch him in the nose. The hangar lay empty, except for the gossamer trail of mist. It lingered for a long breath and then dissipated into the breeze.
I battled a very strong urge to kick something.
Julie stared at me from the crates. "He went poof."
"Yes, he did."
"He likes you. He grabbed your butt."
"Next time I see him, I'll cut his arm off. We'll see if he can grow it back."
I glanced to where the skeleton once hung. The bolts were missing. How the hell did he manage that?
All my precious evidence was gone. I didn't even have a chance to m-scan the scene to get a fix on what kind of magic was used. All in all, this had not gone very well. I didn't have a clue as to what was going on, and I'd just had a conversation with the guy who could explain everything and learned absolutely nothing. Except for the fact that I had a shapely ass. Healthy self-esteem is a good thing. If I didn't have any, I'd be beating my own stupid head against the first available hard surface.
"Are you leaving now?" Julie asked from the crates.
Hell no. Nothing that involved several women missing, a bottomless pit ringed in blood, and an inhuman skeleton could possibly amount to something benign. And Mr. Grab-ass apparently wanted to keep me as far away from it as possible. I wondered why.
"You want to find your mom?"
"Yeah."
"Do you want my help?"
"Sure."
"You know who was the head witch in the coven?"
"Esmeralda."
Esmeralda. Oh boy. "Where does she live?"
"The Honeycomb."
This just got better and better. "Climb down. We're going to pay her a visit."
Chapter 5
WE CLIMBED UP THE SCRAP-METAL EVEREST, WITH me leading the way and Julie slightly behind. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps. Too little food. Julie wasn't much stronger than a mosquito. In fact, if a big one rammed her, she might fall over. She didn't complain, though.
About halfway up the slope she finally gave in. "How far?"
"Keep climbing."
"I just want to know how far!"
"Don't make me turn this car around, missy."
"What does that even mean?" She mumbled something else under her breath but kept moving.
The edge of the Gap crept closer. The rhythmic whoom, whoom, whoom grew louder. Had to be a beacon of some sort. I climbed onto the narrow ledge and reached for Julie. "Give me your hand."
She stretched a matchstick arm. I grabbed her wrist and raised her over the jagged remains of the refrigerator onto the ledge next to me. She weighed next to nothing. "We'll take a little break."
"I can keep going."
"I'm sure you can. But Honeycomb isn't a nice place. By now someone probably knows we're here and they have a welcoming committee prepared."
"Oh boy! They'll throw us a party!" She sat in the dirt.
Heh. I sat next to her. "You're not from there, by any chance?"
She shook her head. "No. I'm from White Street."
White Street got its name during the snowfall of '14, which refused to melt for three and a half years. When a street can hold three inches of powder despite the hundred degree heat, you know it's packing some serious magic. Anybody who could afford to move did.
"How old are you?"
"Thirteen. I'm only two years behind Red."
Looking at her, I would've guessed eleven tops. "How old is your mother? What does she look like?"