Storm's Heart (38 page)
He said in a mild tone, “Not a thing, my good woman.”
“Keep it that way.” She darted to a nearby trash can, tossed away the spray-paint can and dashed across the path to dive into a nearby pond. Soon the quiet sound of brokenhearted sobbing came from underneath a weeping willow at the pond’s edge.
Rune walked over to the sign. It was one of the myriad signs that were posted throughout the Bay Area ponds, lakes and rivers that warned tourists: PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE WATER HAUNTS.
This particular sign had one word blacked out with spray paint. It now read: PLEASE DO FEED THE WATER HAUNTS.
Welcome to the Nightkind demesne, the home of water haunts, night Elves, aswang ghouls, trolls and Vampyres. He strolled over to the willow tree and cocked his head to look underneath the dripping leaves. The water haunt sat in the water, her bony, thin shoulders hunched. She caught sight of him and sobbed harder.
He dug in his duffle bag. The water haunt gave a piteous whimper, her lips trembling, as she tracked his movements with a mud-colored gaze. He pulled out a PowerBar and held it up. The haunt’s eyes fixed on it. She wailed as she crept close. He raised a finger. Her wailing sailed upward on a questioning note and hitched to a stop.
He told her, “I’m on to your tricks, young lady. You try to bite me and I’ll kick your face in.”
The water haunt gave him a crafty grin that had far too many teeth. He indicated the PowerBar and raised his eyebrows. She gave him an eager nod. He tossed her the bar, and she snatched it out of the air. With a whirl and a splash, she dived to the other side of the tree to devour her prize.
He shook his head and checked his watch. He had about a half hour to sunset. Plenty of time to walk west, connect to Market Street and find out if he needed to hook either a left or right.
Bob started up in his head again as he headed out of the park.
Every little thing is going to be all right.
Oh no. Not again. He wanted to at least start out this venture with some semblance of sanity. As he strode down the street, he unzipped a side pocket on his duffle and fished around inside until he nabbed his iPod. He popped in the ear buds and scrolled through his extensive playlists for something else. Anything else. Anything at all.
“Born to Be Wild.” Yeah, that’ll do. He punched play.
Steppenwolf’s strong, raw voice sang in his ears.
Fire all of your guns at once and explode into space.
It was twilight, one of the world’s threshold places, the crossover time between day and night. The dying sunshine caught in his lion’s eyes. They flared with lambent amber as Rune smiled.
Berkley Sensation Titles by Thea Harrison
DRAGON BOUND
STORM’S HEART