Wild Ride (33 page)

Ethan slid his dad's knife out. Probing with the point, he dug into the skin and extracted a spent AK-47 round.
The
round. Looking at the bloody piece of lead in his hand, Ethan barely registered the trickle of blood on his chest. It had been so close to his heart, the surgeons didn't dare go after it. So how . . .

He'd felt the pain changing, lessening, the longer he stayed in the park, the more he'd joined with his mother and her team. Something had made the bullet move away from his heart, something that wanted him strong to fight demons. Glenda was right, the Guardia had given him his life back.

Abruptly, he turned his head, listening. Someone was coming, even though it was an hour or so before dawn. Not a demon.
How the hell did he know that?
He looked at his chest. The bleeding had stopped. The scar looked as it always had. Shaking his head, he pulled on his shirt and combat
vest and slid the pistol in its holster. He pocketed the AK-47 bullet, then tucked the chalice under his arm.

He went outside and spotted a slender figure coming from the direction of the Beer Pavilion. Weaver. She had her demon gun slung over her shoulder and was wearing her goggles.

“You get any sleep?” Ethan asked, trying to keep from laughing. He wasn't going to die. His whole life was back in front of him again, with another mission to accomplish. One he could feel good about. One that saved people.

“No.” She pulled the goggles up and looked at him without warmth. “How did you know it was me?”

“Saw you under the trees.” A mission with Weaver by his side. Ethan smiled.

Weaver looked over her shoulder. “No way you could see me there.”

“I think it's part of being the Hunter.”

“Great,” Weaver said. “Now Ursula's really going to want me to bring you in.”

Ethan stopped thinking about the rest of his life—he had a rest-of-his-life, that was enough—long enough to notice that she was upset. “What's going on?”

“She was not happy requesting a covert ops Nighthawk and having it waved off. She was not happy learning I took an extra D-gun. She was not happy that I didn't bring her back anything more than your blood, which you'll be unhappy to know has francium in it.”

“You don't look so happy, either,” Ethan said.

Weaver smiled at him tightly. “How's Glenda?”

That wasn't good. “Still sleeping. What's wrong?”

Weaver lifted her chin. “Nothing's wrong, Ethan. I just put my career on the line for you last night and got it handed back to me with a ‘No, thanks, we'll use magic.' If you weren't going to use me, why was I there?”

“Because you asked to be,” Ethan said, exasperated that she was dwelling on the past when there was all this future before them. “Because I thought the D-gun might be useful. I was wrong.”

“Not a problem,” Weaver said, clearly lying. “Your problem is Ursula. She's coming to the park today. Wants to meet you.”

“No,” Ethan said, having enough women on his hands at the moment.

“She thinks the whole thing is a crock, but she's not sure. So she's going to find out.”

“Screw Ursula.” He shifted the chalice in his arms and hit the old wound and winced from habit but there was no pain. The bullet was gone, and he had his future back, and he did not want to talk about Ursula. “I'm sorry if I wasn't appreciative last night.”

“If?”

“I'm sorry I wasn't appreciative last night.” He hefted the chalice to balance it under his arm. “I have to lock this up in the Keep. Want to go with me, protect me from whatever is walking around out there?”

She looked at him as if she wanted to say something—probably
Up yours
—and then she sighed and said, “Sure.”

That wasn't good. He wanted her happy. Looking forward to the future. Maybe with him.

I have a future
, he thought, still amazed at the idea. So maybe it was time to start thinking about what he wanted to do with it.

“Glenda's got Hank's trailer all set up, ready to move into.” He took a deep breath. “I think you should move out here. Easier for you to watch the park if you're staying out here instead of in town.”

Weaver looked skeptical. “Does Glenda want that?”

“I want that,” Ethan said.

She shrugged. “Okay. Sure. It will be better for the mission to be out here.”

“And then after you're moved in, we'll . . . talk,” Ethan said, praying she wouldn't want to.

“Whatever you want,” Weaver said, and started down the path to the midway without him.

“Oh, great,” Ethan said, wondering how long she was going to be mad, and then he remembered he had a future. She could be mad for a while and it was okay because he wasn't going to die at any minute, he had a future. It was still a shock every time he realized it, it was going to take some getting used to, but it was there. “Great,” he said again, and took off to catch up with Weaver.

 

M
ab's plan to get up early and move out to Delpha's trailer that morning ended when she woke up and immediately rolled over and threw up into her wastebasket. “Oh
god
,” she said, and stumbled into the bathroom, where she threw up again.

Frankie did his raspy raven coo, which was a comfort but not a help.

“Flu,” she told Cindy when she got downstairs with Frankie on her shoulder. “Or maybe I'm still barfing from that stuff Ethan made me drink last night. Whatever, I feel like hell.”

“Yeah,” Cindy said, looking down the counter to where Coke-bottle-glasses guy was sitting next to a middle-aged woman with tightly waved dark hair wearing an expensive powder blue suit and an unpleasant expression. Except for a mother and a couple of kids, they were the only ones in the place.

“What's wrong?” Mab said. “Why aren't there more people here?”

Even as she spoke, somebody rattled the doorknob, and Mab saw that Cindy had put the
CLOSED
sign on the door.

“Cindy, it's Saturday, you need to . . . ,” she began and then got a good look at her roommate.

She looked panic-stricken.

“Are you okay?” Mab whispered to her.

“That's a
bird
,” the woman called down the counter to Mab. “Birds are unsanitary.”

“Thank you for sharing,” Mab called back while Frankie glared at the woman from her shoulder. Then she turned to Cindy. “Okay, I had a bad night, and now I'm sick, and I need a big dose of cheer and whatever ice cream you've got that cures flu, but first, what's wrong?”

“I said,” the woman at the end of the counter said more loudly, “that bird is unsanitary!”

Cindy's gaze wandered toward the ceiling again, as if she were concentrating very hard on not paying attention.

Mab leaned toward Cindy and whispered, “Who is that woman?”

“She's something to do with the government,” Cindy said, still staring at the ceiling. “She was asking me questions about the park.”

“Government,” Mab said, thinking of black helicopters. “That's not
good.” She looked down the counter at them. The woman was exactly the kind of person who would think a black helicopter was a good idea.

“You have to get that bird out of here,” the woman said to her. “That bird is a violation of health department regulations.” She transferred her attention to Cindy. “You're in charge here. It's your responsibility.”

Cindy looked at the woman without speaking, her whole body tense.

“Are you okay?” Mab said to her.

“Yes.” Cindy refocused on her. “Did you say you had a bad night?”

“Yeah, Glenda died.”

“What?”

“And then we brought her back. It was not fun.”

Cindy was really focused now. “Is she okay?”

“She was a little shaky the last time I saw her, but I think she's going to be fine. Can I have breakfast or do we have to do something to the government first?”

The woman straightened on her stool, probably so she could threaten louder. “I'm going to make a formal complaint to the health department about that bird.”

Frankie cawed at her, which did not help, and Cindy stared at the ceiling again, clenching her jaw, as if she were holding back a scream.

“Okay, now you're creeping me out,” Mab said. “And given my life lately, that is not easy to do. What's wrong with you?”

“I woke up funny,” Cindy said tightly.

“Funny how?” Mab said.

“Stuff has been happening.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Are you listening to me?” the woman demanded. She turned to the guy in the Coke-bottle glasses. “Stop eating that damn waffle and do something about that disease-carrying bird.”

The man lifted his head from his ice cream and said, “The bird is fine.” Then his glasses became round shiny eyes and his body began to elongate, looming over her, muscles rippling as his pin-striped suit turned to scales, his coattails shooting out to become a long, thick, lashing—

“Dragon,” Mab said, fascinated.

—tail spiked with green trilby hats, just as he opened his mouth, filled with rows of serrated teeth.

“You, on the other hand, are a pain in the ass,” the dragon said calmly.

The woman froze, staring at him, and then toppled off her stool onto the tile floor, out cold.

“I can't stop doing that,” Cindy whispered to Mab.

“Uh-huh,” Mab said, still staring at the dragon, the muscles moving under its beautiful scales, the grace in the way it turned its head on its long strong neck to look at her, the heat in its sharp gray eyes.

Then it disappeared and the guy with the glasses was back. He looked away from Mab and down at the woman.

“Now what's wrong?” he said to her unconscious body.

“I think I'm losing my mind,” Cindy whispered to Mab. “Those two little kids were whining while their mother talked on her cell. The marshmallows in their hot chocolate turned into little white dragons and sang ‘You've Got a Friend in Me.' Off-key. Marshmallows are evidently tone deaf.”

“Who knew?” Mab said, trying not to stare at the guy. He'd been such a great dragon.

“Exactly. Their mother couldn't see them at all. Just me and the kids. I think the only people who can see them are me and the ones I'm annoyed with.”

“
I
saw them,” Mab said, wishing the dragon would come back.

“Well, yeah, you're a
Seer
,” Cindy said.

“Right.” Mab gave up on the dragon and turned back to her.

There was panic in Cindy's eyes. “Mab, what's happening to me?”

“You're creating illusions for people,” Mab said as things clicked into place. “Like Young Fred. No, wait, that's not right, you're not becoming somebody else but . . .” She thought for a minute. “It's like your ice cream. It really is good ice cream, but when people eat it here in Dreamland in front of you, it's a religious experience. You create the illusion that it's otherworldly.”

Cindy blinked at her and Mab tried again.

“You make people believe what you want them to believe. Like Glenda.” Mab stopped. “
Oh.
That's it. You got a bump up the ladder in sorcery at midnight last night when Glenda died.” Mab looked back at the unconscious woman, still dumbfounded. “Wow.”

“I was in bed at midnight,” Cindy said. “I did not bump.”

“Yes, you did. Glenda died, and a new Sorceress was called. You. You've been practicing to be her successor all your life, and now she's passed the baton to you, and you're casting illusions. Beyond the ice cream. Only dragons. Wow. This is very cool.” Mab took out her cell phone and punched in Glenda's number.

Down the counter, the woman stirred on the floor and tried to sit up.
“I saw a dragon.”

The guy took off his glasses and helped her up. “Sure you did, Ursula.”

He always looked so different without the glasses, Mab thought. It surprised her every time, sharper planes to his face, sharper eyes, sharper everything. Plus, he'd been a
great
dragon.

He put the awful glasses back on again as Ursula said,
“There was a dragon.”

“I don't want a baton,” Cindy whispered to Mab. “Glenda's not dead anymore. She can have the baton back.”

Mab heard Glenda's “Hello?” on her cell phone and said, “This is Mab. How are you feeling?”

“Alive, thanks to you,” Glenda said. “What can I do for you?”

Mab lowered her voice. “Get down to the Dream Cream and talk your replacement off the ledge. She's making dragons instead of ice cream.”

“It's Cindy?” Glenda laughed, the lightest sound that Mab had ever heard her make. “Of course it's Cindy. I'm on my way.”

“Thank you very much for the ice cream,” the guy with the glasses said as he guided a shaken Ursula toward the door. “I'll be back.”

“No, no,” Cindy called after him. “We're closing for the season. Try us next May.”

“And miss Halloween?” the guy said, and Mab met his sharp eyes and realized Ursula hadn't been the biggest danger after all.

“I thought I saw a dragon,” Ursula said, still sounding dazed, and he guided her out the door.

“That's not good,” Mab said, sitting back down.

“Make the dragon not come back,” Cindy said, holding on to the edge of the counter.

“And the little singing marshmallows,” Mab said, nodding.

“I like the marshmallows,” Cindy said. “But that dragon is dangerous.”

“I know,” Mab said, thinking about all the power that had been there. “I know.”

 

E
than caught up to Weaver, Tura's chalice still under his arm. “Look, I know you're mad about last night, but we did what had to be done.”

“I know.”