by Jaime Rush
“Uh . . . that’s me.”
It had switched to the last photo she’d taken. She quickly flipped it back to Amy’s e-mail. “This baby. Maybe Yurek finds out about us before Amy has the baby, and she never even gets born. Or maybe he finds out afterward, and the baby grows up without her mom.” Her voice became soft. “She always wonders if her mom loved her, and what she was like. The baby girl grows up with an ache inside her that she can’t even fathom, with a need that will never be filled.”
“Is that what you felt?” he asked softly.
She shook her head. “I’m talking about the baby. And the golden rule, protect the innocent.” She whipped the knife from her holster, spun it in her fingers, and readied it for a plunge. “Now I understand why you do this.”
“I liked it better when you thought I was nuts. Get that gleam out of your eyes, like you want to do what I do.”
“Well, not, like, for a living or anything. Just Yurek. And the Glouk. Then I go back to my life and date normal guys and forget all about you.” As if.
She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he sure didn’t look pleased. His mouth tightened in a line and he looked ahead. She knelt beside him, her fingers lightly resting on his arm. “I’ve been afraid my whole life. My mom burned to death. Our house burned down when I was a teenager. Then there was my stepmother, who died in the fire. And thinking I’m going to die when I’m twenty-four, and then having people trying to kill me. So now people are trying to kill me again, and yes, I’m afraid. But I’m not too afraid to do something about it. If you’re stuck with me anyway, I might as well make myself an asset instead of a liability. Could you say something?”
He kept his gaze straight ahead. “God help us all.”
She wrinkled her nose at him.
He pulled up to a place blazing with lights and busy with cars and people, and yet it was in the middle of nowhere.
“What’s this?” she asked as he pulled to the outer edge of the dirt parking area. Just beyond that were makeshift tent buildings, a whole city of them. She could hear two different kinds of music blasting from somewhere, and everywhere people wandered and danced and laughed.
A big banner rippled in the breeze: THE SECOND BURNING.
“Have you heard of the Burning Man festival? It’s been going on annually for years now, out in the Nevada desert. From what I’ve heard, it’s turned into a Mardi Gras for the earthy crowd.” He was studying the lot. “There they are. The question is, what are they doing here?”
She watched the car that had run them off the road earlier as it idled in a parking spot, feeling some of her bravado trickle away. She breathed in the scents coming in through the vent. “Dinner? Smells delicious.”
The aroma of charcoal, meat, and spices filled the air.
“Or they’ve tracked us to the area and think we’re in there. So many people, keeping track of Yurek could be a nightmare.”
As a group walked out to their cars, she realized what seemed odd about the people she could see in the distance. “But we could even up the score a bit. A lot of people are in costume.”
His gaze found the group, dressed like desert nomads except for the vivid colors and makeup. One man wore a multicolored clown wig. A woman in the group wore tinsel hair. Many people, though, had given their costumes a lot of thought, obviously hand-making them.
The two men stepped out of the sports car. Baal was in human form, and looked homeless with his bedraggled clothing and sallow skin. She noticed that he walked without moving his body. It made her think of cartoon creatures when they tiptoed, their toes the only thing that moved.
Yurek looked like the man she’d seen in the parking garage back in Annapolis. Both scanned the area, but they weren’t looking for an RV. Yurek’s gaze scanned the dark interior of their vehicle. She held her breath, watching his body for any sign that he sensed them in there. She released it when his gaze kept moving.
“What are they up to?” Cheveyo asked, a rhetorical question. “We’ll follow them, wait for a chance to get Baal alone. Getting rid of one of them will help.”
She looked at the people all over. “Is hunting them down here the best idea?”
“No, but it’s an opportunity I can’t pass up. None of us can afford to make a spectacle. This is about subversive hunting. Find Baal, knife him, and get out. He’ll revert to dog. People will think a wolf crept onto the grounds and someone panicked. These people don’t want bad press. If they find a slaughtered wolf, they’ll quickly dispose of it. Yurek would also revert to his Callorian form, which looks sort of but definitely not human. There would be an autopsy and investigation, and Roswell all over again. Too risky to hunt him in a public place.”
She turned to Cheveyo. “Give me a second to grab my makeup. I can work up a sort of costume really fast.”
“We don’t want to lose them. As soon as they move, we move.” He opened a small closet and extracted a long beige coat, handing it to her as he reached for the doorknob. “Tuck your hair inside the hood.”
She smeared purple and teal eye shadow over his cheeks as he watched them from the window, hardly any light in which to work. He had great cheekbones, high and prominent.
“They’re on the move,” he said, ducking away from her ministrations.
She did hers on the fly and blind, her most challenging makeup session ever.
They stepped out and walked across the shadowy parking area. He led her to the first booth they came up on, his gaze on Yurek, and bought a burlap-type cape with a hood. He threw it over his shoulders, covering his head, and ducked behind the booth.
Looking like a desert nomad on an alien planet, Cheveyo paused at the rear corner of the booth. “He senses me here, but even Baal won’t be able to pinpoint our exact location in this crowd.”
Both men were on alert, so obviously not there to enjoy themselves. Their eyes searched the crowd, and they didn’t even return the greetings of those they passed. They began moving apart as they worked through the area.
“That’s a good boy,” Cheveyo said under his breath. “Move away from the Callorian.”
They closed in on Baal as Yurek moved farther away. She clutched her knife beneath the coat she’d draped over her shoulders for better movement. Cheveyo was steps behind her, his body in predator mode. Interestingly, he looked as casual as anyone else in the crowd. It was the gleam in his eyes, a shade darker, and the stealthy way he moved. She knew his knife was in hand, too.
Could she stab someone with intent to kill? Her fingers tightened on the handle. Yes, she could. For her friends and family. For baby Vanderwyck.
Yurek must have sensed their nearness. He spun around, raking the crowd with his gaze. She pulled Cheveyo toward her and planted a kiss on his mouth, putting both their faces at an angle Yurek couldn’t see.
“He’s looking this way,” she whispered.
When she checked again, he melded with the crowd and . . . disappeared. No, he’d taken on the appearance of someone else. Her heart tumbled. In the blink of an eye they’d lost him.
“Where is he?” Cheveyo asked, shifting his gaze to search.
“Gone. Sorry.”
They stepped apart, but he kept looking for Yurek.
“I think he shifted,” she said. “One second he was there, and then he was gone. Do all Callorians shift?”
“No. Even fewer can mimic like Yurek.”
Cheveyo was searching, too, without appearing to do so. His mouth tightened. “You watch Baal, I’ll look for Yurek. They’ll probably communicate. A nod, some kind of signal.”
Knowing Yurek was out there, anywhere, scared the hell out of her. She’d had enough of unseen enemies. Baal was easier to keep an eye on, but they couldn’t let their guard down. Whoever Yurek looked like now, his face would be tense, eyes searching.
They kept Baal in their sights, weaving in and out of the crowd. They neared one of the stages where an acoustic band was playing some kind of strange new age music, with one guy chan
ting or screaming, she wasn’t sure which. Across the expanse of booths a rock band counteracted their sitar with heavy bass and drums.
Arms grabbed her and pulled her toward a sweaty, hard body. With a gasp she had the knife poised beneath her coat, ready to stab him. Except he reeked of alcohol and could hardly stand up.
“Hey, baby, I—”
Cheveyo knocked him to the side, keeping the man in sight as well as watching around them. “Stand back.”
The man wobbled but kept his balance. He took in Cheveyo’s stance. “S-Sorry, dude. I thought she was someone else.” He ambled off.
“I almost stabbed him,” she said, her eyes wide.
“But you didn’t. Come on.”
Now they’d lost Baal. He was easy to find again, hovering near one of the roasted meat stands. When the proprietor wasn’t looking, he snatched one of the sandwiches. His eyes watched for them, and his canineness showed in the way he tore at the bread and shoved the pieces into his mouth.
“Didn’t you say Glouks could only take on human form temporarily?” she asked.
“Yes, but I don’t know time limits. He won’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight, for instance. Or after twenty minutes.”
Baal definitely sensed them. His eyes, beady even as a human, slid over the crowd. She and Cheveyo stayed at the edge of one of the booths, looking like a cozy couple picking out jewelry.
“Ooh, this would go great with the vest I just bought,” she said.
“You’re really thinking of buying a necklace? Now?”
“Just putting on the act. Sort of.” It was a rockin’ necklace.
Her hand was sweating where she held the knife, and she switched hands and wiped her palm on her pants. Her chest felt tight, body on edge. Yurek could be anyone, even a child, though he’d likely choose a form that would allow him to kill.
Baal was on the move again, and he led them on a slow-motion chase toward the other stage, where a band was playing Led Zeppelin classics. This time she definitely smelled marijuana, drifting in clouds above the clusters of people listening to the music.
Cheveyo moved closer. “Something’s not right about this.”
“I was thinking the same thing. It’s like he’s leading us into a trap.”
Cheveyo spun around. “But I don’t sense Yurek anywhere.”
Baal drifted to another booth, pretending to watch the band.
“Go with your instinct. I’m sure that’s what has kept you alive all these years.”
Cheveyo snapped his fingers. “Baal is leading us, but not to anyplace in particular. See, he’s not watching for anyone. He’d be communicating with Yurek like two predators working together would. So if he’s not leading us to somewhere—”
“He’s leading us away. We’re at the rear of the grounds now.”
He grabbed her hand and threaded through the crowd, still watching all around them. Her heartbeat thudded in her chest, tightening her breathing. Was this a setup? Would Yurek be waiting for them at the Tank?
They were nearly at a full run by the time they reached the parking lot. Yurek’s snazzy sports car was gone.
“Hell,” Cheveyo said. “He’s gone after Pope. I’ve got to warn him.”
“Could he have gotten to your place by now? I have no idea how far we are from there.”
He glanced at his watch. “Possibly.”
“You haven’t been alerted by Pope through your connection.” Because if Yurek got hold of him, Pope would have to die. That was their agreement. Her fingers tightened on her knife handle at that thought.
Cheveyo pulled out his phone. Something came at him from behind, shoving him to the ground and sending the phone flying. Baal was on Cheveyo’s back, not quite man, and not dog either. He was trying to hold onto human form, but bloodlust fired his eyes red and his head was misshapen.
She lunged at him. He deflected her, but the blade sliced his arm. He snarled but turned his attention back to Cheveyo, pinned beneath him.
Cheveyo took advantage of Baal’s momentary distraction, shoved up with his knee and then rolled so Baal was beneath him. Now this was the kind of two on one she wanted. Except as she approached, so did a group of people.
No way would Cheveyo change to cat at the risk of someone seeing him.
She said to the group of people, “They’re blowing off some steam. Keep moving, nothing to see here.”
“We’re going to let security know,” one man in the group said. “We’re about peace and love here, man, not rage.”
She stared them down and they slowly moved on. She turned back to Cheveyo. The two men, verging on beasts, wrestled for control. She kept her knife hidden from view as she approached the wriggling, grunting mass and searched for the phone. Hers was in the RV.
“Call Pope,” Cheveyo said in a tight voice.
“I am. Or I’m trying to, anyway.” She found the phone and pressed the speed dial for Pope. It rang. Rang. Rang. Then a generic message announced that the person being called wasn’t available. Waiting for all the outgoing messages drove her nuts, but finally she was able to say in one breath, “Yurek may be on his way. Get out.”
She shoved the phone in her pocket and angled in toward Baal’s leg with her knife. Except the men were moving so much, she was afraid she’d stab Cheveyo instead. There were no lights here.
She saw two men approaching who, while not wearing uniforms, looked to be authority figures.
“Cops are coming!”
Baal lifted his head, his misshapen nostrils twitching. He didn’t want to be caught. That was the one thing all beings from other dimensions had in common, Cheveyo had told her: the desire to stay hidden from the human race. Baal sprang away, and she saw him change to dog mid-leap, out of sight of the approaching group of people.
Cheveyo’s eyes were nearly black as he got to his feet. His face was smeared with the dirt he’d been scrabbling in. He grabbed her hand and stalked to the Tank. “Did you get hold of Pope?”
“No answer. I left a message.”
His expression became grimmer.
“How does this connection between you two work?” she asked. “You’ll know if something happens to him?”
“I’ll see it happen. And I’ll be able to find him. His capture activates the connection, like one of those flashing lights on an emergency vest. Until then, I have nothing.”
“So we know he hasn’t been captured.”
“Yet. We’d better get to the house before Yurek does.”
Yurek made his way down the road where he’d picked up Pope’s Essence, and where Baal had sensed Cheveyo’s scent. Some creature cried out in alarm and scurried away. He broke out of the woods and into a clearing. The lights from a cabin at the center of it glowed, welcoming. He flexed his fingers.
His cell phone vibrated. The Glouk, given the number on the screen. Yurek had gotten the beast a pay-as-you-go phone when he’d come up with the plan to get the hunter and the woman out of the way. It clipped onto a collar.
“They’re on to us,” Baal said. “Be ready for them.”
“I will come back for you when I’m done with Pope. Unless you can get here on your own.”
He heard a low chuckle over the line. “I’m hitching a ride . . . on top of their large vehicle. Be there soon.”
Chapter 12
Petra sensed someone behind her. She was in the Tank standing behind Cheveyo’s seat, so no one should have been behind her. She spun and screamed before stopping the sound short.
“Pope!”
She couldn’t help it; she gave Pope a hug. When he remained stiff and even a bit at a loss, she stepped back. “I’m . . . just glad to see you.”
His mouth moved into something like a surprised smile. “Thank you.”
He was growing on her. Of all the people who’d abandoned her, Pope never had. He’d certainly never meant to expose her to danger.
Cheveyo pulled off the side of the road and spun out of his seat. “Your skills are getting better?”
No doubt he was thinking she could stay with Pope if that was the case. That might have been her preference at one time, but not now.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Pope said. “It took several minutes to do so, and the process felt unsteady, as though my molecules might splinter. I’m not sure I could do it again.” His eyebrows furrowed. “What has happened to your faces?”
“Oh, our makeup!” She rubbed her hand across her cheeks. Cheveyo’s face was also streaked in dirt. “We were at a festival.”
“A celebratory gathering of people? Now?”
“Not for fun. We—”
“No time to get into it,” Cheveyo cut in. “Have you ever driven one of these?” He gestured to the Tank.
“No, but I’m proficient in automobile navigation and have been trained in all manner of vehicles.”
“Good. You’re going to drive this all over the place. They won’t be able to zero in on you if you’re constantly on the move.” He pulled out a map from one of the overhead cabinets. After spreading it out on the small table, he pointed to a spot on the map. “We’re here. See this triangular loop? Keep driving it. That’ll keep you within reach of us. If you run into trouble, you can take one of these roads, but they’re going to be pretty rough. They cut through the national forest. Petra and I are going to take the bike and head back to my place, see if we can catch Yurek there.” He took out his wallet and handed Pope a credit card. “Use this for gas and whatever else you need.”
Pope shook his head in a tight back and forth motion. “I have plenty of resources. It’s my other resources that I’m lacking.”
Cheveyo paused for a moment. “Maybe I’m feeling your Wave, but something’s not right.” He cut the lights. “Stay inside and away from the windows.” He pulled his knife and slipped out the side door.
Her heart rose in her throat. She couldn’t see anything out there, except for movement by the front window. Cheveyo? She angled herself so she could see out without getting close. Black fur glided by, too graceful to be the Glouk. It made sense that Cheveyo would stalk Baal in cat form. The Tank tilted slightly. Footsteps sounded on the roof. More movement.
