Fate's Edge (15 page)

She took the turn too fast. The Honda careened, threatening to veer off the road. She gripped the wheel and steered it back into the lane. Why was it that every time things went well, someone showed up to shatter it all to pieces? Her father, her brother, this idiot. She was so mad, she had almost run over some blond child in the parking lot. He actually fell off his skateboard in his rush to avoid her. She’d stomped on the brakes so hard, she’d hurt herself. The boy had scrambled off before she had a chance to ask him if he was okay.

It was good that she had no superpowers because she would have burst into flames and left a trail of charred trees in her wake.

She didn’t even ask “Denis” who he worked for. It wasn’t the Hand—all of Louisiana’s spies were so twisted by magic, none of them would make it through the boundary into the Broken. The more magic you had, the harder it was to travel into that world, and he seemed damned comfortable in it. Wasn’t a Claw, either. He didn’t look Egyptian.

She wasn’t sure what nationality he did look like. Dark hair, honey-colored eyes—those she remembered very well—Caucasian features, but there was something else in there. Some Native blood, maybe? Whatever it was, he had an interesting face. Handsome. Really handsome. He used it well, too. He probably thought his smile was dashing.

Moron.

For a moment, when he sat there and listened to her with that smile on his face, she almost thought he bought her naive Georgia peach act. She even pulled out her best “sweet tea” Southern for the occasion. But no. God alone knew what Alex had told him.

“That sonovabitch.” She slapped the wheel with the heel of her hand. “That damn bastard.” It wasn’t enough he had screwed up her childhood. He kept screwing up her adult life, too. She’d moved across the bloody continent to escape her family. Wasn’t far enough.

The Honda jumped over the roots and popped out into the driveway of her house. Audrey shut off the engine and jumped out. Her getaway bag waited in the closet, already packed. It was always packed. She ran across the lawn to the front door, unlocked it, and ducked inside.

“Ling!”

She hoped Denis would buy her cold killer act. Either way, her life here was over, but extra time would be a great thing right about now. Even if he didn’t, it would take him at least a few minutes to break free. He didn’t seem the type to call for help. He’d want to get out all by himself, except that she made sure the zip ties on his hands were nice and snug. Eventually, he’d call for help, then there would be explanations, delays, and so on. By the time he was on her trail again, she would be long gone.

Audrey yanked the getaway bag out of the closet and pulled the zipper. “Ling!”

Money in a Ziploc bag, clothes, camping kit in another Ziploc bag: matches, Band-Aids, painkillers, wound disinfectant, antibiotic ointment.

“Ling the Merciless! Where are you?”

No answer. Where had that raccoon gotten off to? They didn’t have time to waste.

Audrey threw the bag out onto the porch, grabbed Ling’s carrier out of the bedroom, set it on the porch, added two full five-gallon gas cans—the less she stopped in places with people and cameras, the better—and went to grab the bow from the bedroom. The crossbow was already in the car, securely hidden under the tarp. She had briefly considered taking it out that morning, not sure if she would be expected to chauffeur Johanna around. She didn’t want to answer awkward questions if the older woman had glanced into the backseat, but her paranoia had won, and she’d kept the crossbow where it always was.

Awkward questions. Ha!

Audrey swiped the bow and quiver from the shelf and marched onto the porch.

“Ling, I swear, if you don’t appear this instant—”

A familiar figure stood by the car. Denis.

Audrey planted the arm of the bow into the porch boards and strung it in one swift movement. How the hell . . .

“Leave, or I will kill you.”

He gave her a bright predatory grin. “Now, you know, I can’t do that.”

She notched the arrow and let it loose. The arrow sliced through the air with a long whine and buried itself at the man’s feet.

“A warning shot. Just one. That’s all you get.”

He spread his arms. “Audrey, let’s talk.”

“Let’s not.”

She notched the arrow, took aim, and shot. He spun out of the way. The arrow glanced off the door with a screech.
Damn it, now I’ve dented the Honda’s door.

“I’m beginning to suspect you don’t like me.”

“Really? What gave you that idea, I wonder?”

“You don’t want to kill me. I’m your ticket out of this—”

She fired again.

“—mess. Could you stop shooting at me for a moment?”

“No.” That last one had to have nicked his thigh. She plucked another arrow from the quiver.

He swiped the first arrow off the ground. “I bet you this arrow against the knife you took from me that I will make it onto your porch unharmed.”

There were sixty feet between him and the porch, and she had a full quiver. “I’ll take that bet.”

He grinned. Clearly the man was some sort of deranged lunatic with a death wish. Audrey shot again. The arrow pierced the air, heading straight for the man’s chest. At the last moment he jerked out of the missile’s path with unnatural quickness, almost as if he had a rope attached to his waist and something had yanked him out of the way.

He took two steps forward.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

Fire. Miss.

Missed.

Missed.

Missed, God damn it.

Missed again.

He put his left foot onto the first porch step. Panic swelled inside her, a feverish stupefying jitter that threatened to turn off her brain. Audrey stared past him at the line of arrows neatly puncturing his trail.

“My knife,” he said.

“You cheated.” It had to be magic.

“I did no such thing.”

She pointed at the trail with the arrow in her hand. It shook in her hand. “Yes, you did.”

“You are a lousy shot.”

Audrey jerked the bow and fired an arrow point-blank into his chest. The string snapped in her fingers. The arrow went sideways. It was magic.

She pointed the bow at him. “Cheated.”

In her head a tiny voice cried,
Run, run away! He could be anyone. He could be the Hand, he could be a California robber baron. He could be a slaver. Run!

For all she knew, Alex had told him that she still had the West Egyptian box. Or worse, her brother had sold her to him, just like he had before. Audrey felt a phantom hand squeeze her throat. She would not be anyone’s punching bag again. Never again.

He stepped onto the porch. “I’m still waiting for my knife.”

She pulled the knife out. The beautiful black blade curved from her hand. “Come and take it if you can.”

“If I can, huh.” The man rolled his eyes and lunged for her.

She sliced across his arm, cutting the heavy fabric of the sweatshirt rolled up at his sleeves. Red stained his sleeve. Audrey reversed, sliced again, quick. Somehow she missed. His fingers clamped her wrist. She rammed her knuckles into his throat. He stumbled back and turned sideways, falling into some sort of fighting stance.

His left hand snaked out, too fast. A punch rocked her shoulder. He punched again, quick combination, left, right, left. She lunged into it, aiming to cut his forearm. If she bled him enough . . .

His fingers clamped her wrist like a steel vise. Audrey swung to punch, but he caught her other arm, stepped forward, and drove her back, tripping her. She knew exactly what he was doing; she just couldn’t stop it. A moment, and he was on top of her, pinning her to the boards.

“Let’s review,” he said. “So far, you Tasered me, tied me to a chair, shot me, cut me, and punched me. Did I miss anything?”

She pushed against him, trying to throw him off, but he outweighed her by at least sixty pounds, and those pounds seemed to be made of steel because he wasn’t budging.

“Have I hurt you in any way? Did I threaten you?”

She tried to kick him, but he clamped her leg with his thigh.

“Audrey, I just want to talk like two civilized people. If I let go, will you gouge my eyes out?”

“Probably.”

His face was too close, and his eyes looked straight into hers. She searched his face for cruelty, anticipating a punch in the gut or a jab in the face, but found none. He was pissed off, but he didn’t have that icy reptilian coldness she’d seen in Alex’s drug dealer.

She was breathing hard, and he was, too. Time to end it before he got any ideas. Audrey jerked her head up and rammed her forehead into his nose.

“Damn it, woman, I said I just wanted to talk.”

The accent broke through his words, and she caught it. “Louisiana.” Oh crap.

“What?”

“You’re from Louisiana. You’re the Hand.”

“I’m from the Mire, in the Edge.” The silver earring in his ear flowed into a single mirror drop. “And I work for the other side.”

She strained, trying to jerk her arms free. “You’re all the same.”

The sound of someone clearing his throat made them both turn. A boy stepped out from behind the tree across the lawn. The stray ray of sun breaking through the cloud cover played on his blond hair. The skateboard punk from the parking lot.

What in the world . . .

The blond boy called out. “I’m terribly sorry, but is there any way we could grab that cage off the porch? We won’t disturb your dalliance.”

Dalliance?

Another boy emerged carrying a fuzzy gray creature by the scruff of its neck. “You can keep making out,” he called out. “We just want the cage. This raccoon is really hard to hold, and she doesn’t like me.”

They had Ling, and they thought that she and this idiot were getting hot and heavy on the porch. “Get off of me, you fool!” Audrey squirmed. “Get off, get off, get off!”

The man let go, and she rolled to her feet. “Let my raccoon go!”

The second boy looked at the man next to her. Audrey glanced at him, too. He was holding his knife. She hadn’t seen him pick it up. The “dashing” smile was back, too.

“Tell him to release my raccoon.”

An evil spark flared in his eyes. “Trade: raccoon for some answers.”

“Fine,” she ground out.

“Let the little beast go,” he called. The boy dropped Ling, and she streaked across the lawn and hid behind Audrey’s legs, hissing and spitting.

“My name is Kaldar, by the way,” the man said.

“Not interested,” Audrey told him. “This is strictly a business conversation. You step a hair out of line, and I will hurt you.”

He tossed the bow to the ground. “With what? I took my knife back, and your bow is gone. You’re out of weapons.”

She headed for her door. “Oh, I have more inside. Don’t you worry. I always have more.”

 

AUDREY leaned against her kitchen counter, arms crossed. Kaldar sat on her love seat, as relaxed as he could get. Mr. Smooth Operator. The man was handsome, he knew it, but if he was waiting for an acknowledgment from her, he would be old and gray before he got it.

The boys had taken the chairs. The blond sat with an inborn elegance, back straight, one leg over another. A shockingly pretty kid. A few years, and he would be crushing hearts left and right. Of course, if he kept hanging out with that fool, he might not survive that long.

The brown-haired boy sat in the chair like it was a rock in the middle of a raging river, and he had to defend it from gators. As she watched, Ling snuck closer to him and showed him her teeth. The boy’s eyes flashed amber. He hissed, and Ling beat a strategic retreat. A changeling. Well, at least Kaldar was telling the truth. The Louisianans murdered changelings on sight. Kaldar probably was Mirror, which didn’t explain anything. The Mirror had no reason to get involved.

The four of them looked at one another. Inside Audrey, irritation fought with her sense of hospitality, but the South was too deeply ingrained into the core of her being, and it won.

“Would you like some iced tea?”

“Sweet?” Kaldar asked.

“Well, of course it’s sweet. Who do you take me for?”

Kaldar arranged his face into an angelic expression. “I’d love a glass.”

Wicked. That was the right way to describe him. Wicked to the core and full of himself. She had to get him out of her house. Audrey took out four glasses. The blond boy rose. “Please let me help.”

“Sure. What’s your name?”

“George.”

“Nice to meet you, George.” She distributed the ice into the four glasses and poured tea into each one. “Did I hurt you in the parking lot?”

“No, m’lady. I fell, so I could put a tracker on your car.”

Great. At least that explained how they had found her. She took two glasses, George took the other two, and they brought them to the table.

“Should I check it for poison?” Kaldar asked.

“I would,” she told him.
Waste your time, go ahead.

The blond boy passed a glass to the dark-haired boy. The changeling sniffed, took a sip, held it in his mouth, and swallowed. “It’s clean.”

“First you let one child get hit by my car, now you make the other one act as your human poison detector. You really have no conscience, do you?”

Kaldar leaned back. “
I
didn’t ask him to check for poison. His
brother
asked him.”

Audrey shook her head and turned to the changeling boy. “What’s your name?”

“Jack.”

“Jack, there are poisons that are tasteless and odorless, the kind that even a changeling can’t detect. Next time, let Kaldar drink first. If he dies, no big loss.”

Jack snickered.

Kaldar sighed. “Tell me about the heist.”

Audrey shrugged. “My father needed money to put my asshole brother into rehab. Yet again. I agreed to help them for the last time. My father and I took a plane to Orlando and met Alex there. We crossed into the Weird through the Edge in Florida, broke into the pyramid, and nabbed the box. It was a plain wooden box, about a foot and a half long, a foot wide, eight inches tall. We took it, popped back into the Broken, and drove up I-95. When we reached Jacksonville, I left them and flew back to Seattle.”