Is everything okay? she mouthed toward him, and nodded at Kyle.
Travers shrugged. Tell you later, he mouthed back.
A crunching sound came from behind her. Zoe turned in time to see Bartholomew inhale the last pizza crust.
“Oh, man,” Travers said. “He’s going to be sick later.”
“I don’t know,” Zoe said. “He’s an eating machine.”
“Wonderful,” Travers said. “So nice of you to share him.”
Even though his tone was dry, he smiled, and she felt weak in the knees. She also felt a surge of anger at her own susceptibility to him. She had resolved to keep her distance the night before, but apparently her body hadn’t gotten the message.
“Listen,” Travers said. “I’ve been thinking about the training and the case and I realized no one talked with you about money.”
Zoe shrugged. She hadn’t expected to be paid, once she figured out that she really was working for the Fates.
They had switched, somewhere in the last few minutes, to “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree (with Anyone Else but Me)” which was marginally less annoying, only because they were mispronouncing fewer words.
“We’re all going to be taking a lot of your time, and I think you’ll need to be compensated—”
“It’s all right,” Zoe said.
“No, it’s not.” Travers was cute when he was concerned. “The Fates can’t pay you, but I can and—”
“It’s all right,” Zoe repeated.
“No, seriously—”
“Seriously,” Zoe said, feeling more annoyed than she should have. He wanted to be fair to her, after all, and she wasn’t allowing it. “I can’t accept money for training. No mentor does.”
“But—”
“And as for the case, for all I know, this still might be a test on the part of the Fates.”
“You think the Interim Fates were fake?” Kyle asked from the floor. He was still going through the piles of videos and DVDs.
“I don’t know what to think,” Zoe said. “So it’s better if I just play this straight.”
“Which would seem to me that you’d need compensation,” Travers said. “It’s unusual for you not to take payment for your detective work, right?”
Zoe held up a hand. “It’s my decision. I’m not hurting for money.”
“And as for being my mentor,” Travers began.
“Yes?” Zoe’s hands clenched, and she had to will them apart. She didn’t want him to change anything, and yet she wanted everything changed. She wasn’t being as rational as she liked this morning, and it was irritating her.
“I thought we’d agreed that I just needed some tricks so that I could get to Oregon.”
“You don’t want me as a mentor?” she asked, and then wished she could take the words back. They sounded bitchier than she intended. Mostly, she was trying to clarify.
At least, she thought she was.
But with her emotions all over the place, she wasn’t sure what she was doing.
Except that she had been fine before he had arrived. Calm, planning ahead, barely annoyed at all by the Fates’ mess and their lack of timing.
“I didn’t say that,” Travers said. “I thought we decided yesterday that it was better for me not to take too much of your time.”
“I thought we decided that we’d decide later,” Zoe said. “Once you figured out what you needed to do for yourself and for Kyle.”
“No one ever exactly said that.” Kyle paused in his sorting of the videos. “You both thought it, but no one actually said it.”
He would be useful to have around. Useful and unnerving.
Still, Zoe smiled at him. “Thanks, Kyle. Why don’t we leave things that way? We need to get started today anyway.”
“I thought the Fates’ case took priority,” Travers said.
“It does.” Zoe bent over and grabbed one of the blankets. As she started folding it, Cheetos fell out. Those women were going to have to start watching their figures now that they didn’t have the magic to maintain them. But she wasn’t going to be the one to tell them.
“Then I don’t understand,” Travers said. “How will you do both?”
“There’s no formal program.” Zoe folded the blanket and set it on the couch. Then she grabbed the next blanket, this time shaking it to rid it of its Cheetos.
Oh, the maid was going to love this room.
“So?” Travers asked.
“So you’ll learn as the day progresses. Whatever happens to us will give me a chance to train you.”
Travers glanced at Kyle. He was reading the back of a video, and didn’t seem to be listening. Although Zoe had a hunch that boy heard more than he let on.
“Um, if I go anywhere with you, Kyle will have to as well.”
Zoe shook her head. “I did some Internet research on that wheel this morning. The places we’re going to go, you can’t take an eleven-year-old.”
“I’ll stay in the car,” Kyle said.
“Even then.” Zoe folded the blanket and set it next to the first one.
“We’re going to have to find another way,” Travers said. “I can’t leave him alone.”
“You could leave him with the Fates,” Zoe said.
Travers raised his eyebrows as if she had suggested leaving his son with a group of well-known cannibals. “And who would take care of all of them?”
“The Fates are older than all of us combined, and they have run an entire justice system. They know a lot about crime and punishment and—”
“And magic,” Travers said. “And they have evil mages after them, they’ve lost a spinning wheel, and they don’t know what a dollar bill is. They’re not appropriate guardians for my son.”
Zoe took a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm. If Kyle were her son, she’d be just as worried about him. But there were other considerations, ones that Travers didn’t know about.
“Let me take your concerns in reverse order,” Zoe said. “First, Kyle knows what a dollar bill is, so he’ll be able to help the Fates with the practical modern stuff. You and I are going to search for the wheel, and the faster we find it, the faster all of us can leave each other’s company.”
She hadn’t meant for that sentence to have as much bite as she put into it. It made her sound like she didn’t want to be with him, either, which wasn’t true.
“And finally,” she said, “I’ve taken care of the mages, at least for a couple of days.”
“What if you’re wrong,” Travers said. “It’s my son’s life you’re risking, and the Fates can’t do any of that stuff you did yesterday to save him. What’re they going to do, get hotel security because some evil magician tries to kidnap them?”
“They’re not as helpless as you think,” Zoe said. “They do know how magic works, even if they can’t practice it themselves right now. They survived with you and Kyle before either of you knew about their powers. I think they’ll be just fine with Kyle, and he won’t be in any danger.”
“But you don’t know that,” Travers said. “You’re asking me to risk Kyle’s life on a guess.”
Zoe felt her cheeks heat. What was it about this man that had revived her talent for blushing?
“So we’re at a stalemate. Either Kyle comes with us, or you go off on the case alone,” Travers said, “and train me at some other point.”
The music stopped. The air rang with the echoing last chord. The Fates weren’t bad musicians; they just weren’t very good with lyrics.
Kyle had set the last video down. He stood beside the television, looking as uncertain as he had at the door. Something had bothered him this morning, and Zoe couldn’t tell what it was.
“Kyle,” she said, “has anyone trained you to project?”
“Huh?” he asked.
“To send your thoughts, like a shout, into someone else’s mind?”
Kyle shook his head slowly, as if the idea of anyone training him at all—maybe even noticing him—was foreign to hi
m.
“Can I teach you?” Zoe asked.
“To what purpose?” Travers asked.
“To great purpose,” Zoe said. “He should have learned this one long ago.”
Travers crossed his arms, and Zoe got the sense that he interpreted her words as a criticism of his parenting.
“Unlike mortal children,” Zoe said, “Kyle doesn’t need to carry a phone to stay in touch. If he’s in trouble, he can project his need for help to you—like a shout over a very long distance. Once you learn how to use your own magic, you can transport from wherever you are to wherever he is, taking care of the problem right away.”
Travers’ shoulders relaxed, and he glanced at Kyle. “Really? He can do that?”
“Anyone with his powers can do that,” Zoe said. “He just has to know how to use them.”
Bartholomew had stopped eating pizza crusts and had waddled to the center of the conversation, sitting near Travers as if Bartholomew were protecting Travers from Zoe. Zoe would have thought it cute if Bartholomew hadn’t had an orange Cheetos mustache. That dog had apparently been snacking while he had been finishing off the pizza.
“How long will it take to train him?” Travers asked.
“Not long,” Zoe said. “Half an hour at the most. Less time than it’ll take for the Fates to get dressed.”
Travers sighed, bent, and absently petted Bartholomew. For a man who claimed he didn’t like animals, he was very affectionate with this one.
“I still don’t like the plan,” Travers said. “The Fates aren’t going to know how to take care of him. They’ll let him do all sorts of things that I wouldn’t let him do.”
“So does Aunt Viv,” Kyle said, “and you let me stay with her.”
Travers gave Kyle an exasperated frown. Then Travers let his arms drop. “Tell you what,” he said to Zoe. “You train Kyle how to—what is it? Project?”
She nodded.
“And I’ll call my sister, Megan. Maybe she can get a few days off, until you have me as trained as we can get me for that trip to Oregon.”
Zoe had to ask: “Will your sister be able to handle the Fates?”
“Megan?” Travers looked at Kyle, who smiled for the first time since he came into the hotel room.
“My aunt Megan makes my dad look like he’s flexible.” From the way Kyle said that, Zoe could tell Kyle had used that example before.
“I am flexible,” Travers said with only a little irritation.
“Not compared to Aunt Viv,” Kyle said.
“Perhaps you should call that aunt,” Zoe said.
“Can’t,” Kyle said. “She’s on her honeymoon. She’d want to hear from me and Dad about as much as Dad wants to have his day disrupted.”
Zoe looked at Travers. “Your sister Megan doesn’t sound appropriate. Is there someone else you can call?”
Travers shook his head. “I’ll call Meg. When she gets here, we’ll make sure she and Kyle stay away from the Fates. That’s all it’ll take.”
The man was truly an optimist, but Zoe didn’t say that. He had only had a few days to get used to the ways of magic and of the Fates. She had had an entire lifetime, and she knew that getting rid of them wasn’t all that easy.
“The best thing to do,” she said, “is find that wheel. Once the Fates have it, we can continue with our lives.”
“Whatever that means,” Travers said.
Zoe smiled. “Let’s hope you get a chance to find out.”
Eighteen
Against his better judgment, Travers left Kyle with the Fates. Travers also left Bartholomew Fang there for good measure. While waiting for the Fates, Travers had checked with the hotel about a baby-sitting service, then decided that wouldn’t work, either.
Kyle was too old for conventional baby-sitting, and the Fates probably would be in and out. They were trouble enough when they were behaving. Travers couldn’t imagine what the hotel would do when the Fates got out of hand.
Instead, he called Megan and left a message on her voice mail and another with her secretary. Megan would return his call as soon as she was back in the office. By then, he’d be out with Zoe, but at least he had made contact. Maybe in a few days (or less!), Megan would be able to join him in Vegas; maybe she could even take Kyle home. It wasn’t too late for him to start those classes.
In the short term, however, Travers had to count on Kyle’s ability to “project,” and the Fates’ good sense, neither of which seemed exceedingly reliable. While the Fates got dressed and while Travers was on the phone, Zoe taught Kyle how to send his thoughts outward.
Kyle practiced on his father. The scream was so loud, it felt like someone had blatted a trumpet right next to his ear. Yet somehow Travers had known that the sound was internal. Or maybe the resulting headache, which only needed circles, stars, and little cheeping birdies going around his head to complete it, convinced him.
Zoe saw Travers’ distress (or maybe she saw the circles and stars and little cheeping birdies), and touched his forehead. The headache had disappeared as magically as it had arrived.
Then Zoe pronounced Kyle fit for projecting. He would have to learn control, she said, and Travers could second, third, and fourth that, but once Kyle had the control, he would have a very subtle ability to project his thoughts.
Which was just exactly what Travers needed from a son about to head into puberty.
Travers didn’t object, though. He left his son with three women who had taken forty-five minutes to put on blue jeans, matching white blouses, and sandals. All three Fates wore their hair down, and none of them were wearing any makeup.
For the life of him, Travers had no idea what had taken them so long to prepare for the day and he knew he never, ever wanted to find out.
He and Zoe didn’t even discuss it as they left the hotel. Zoe had questioned Travers’ judgment just once, when he gave Kyle enough money to get him and the Fates lunch, dinner, and tickets to the Star Trek Experience. The Fates, it turned out, were big Star Trek fans; while they were staying in Dexter’s coastal hideaway, they saw every single episode of every single show.
Travers also gave Kyle his cell phone, along with Zoe’s number. With every base covered, Travers hoped that nothing would go wrong.
Of course, with the Fates involved, that was a pretty big hope.
This morning, Zoe was driving. Her car was a racy red Jaguar convertible, which she used with the top down. The car didn’t surprise Travers—somehow the Jag suited Zoe—but the top-down part did. Even though it was only eleven a.m., the temperature hovered around 110 degrees. Air-conditioning wasn’t advised at this temperature—it was a requirement.
And Zoe didn’t seem to notice.
Travers would. His blond hair would be blonder, which was actually a look most women liked. Unless it was coupled with the beat-red sunburn on his scalp, along with the tiny sweat blisters that he always got when he was in the heat too much.
By the end of the day, he would look like Lobster Man in a blond wig.
He hadn’t complained yet. He had used the drive from the Strip to downtown to examine the car’s dash, looking for signs of working air-conditioning.
He found two: a dial and a lever, both of which were in the “off” position. The Jag was old enough, and had been refurbished enough, to make the assumption that the air-conditioning worked an iffy proposition.
He would wait until they stopped before mentioning his delicate white skin. Zoe was going to her office to look up a few last-minute details and then they were, in her words, going door-to-door at the Faerie casinos.
Travers didn’t know if “Faerie casinos” was the name of a chain, or if it was actually a series of casinos owned by Faeries, or both. He was going to ask about that, too, when they stopped. Traveling in a convertible, even in the stop-and-go Vegas midday traffic, made conversation nearly impossible.
This morning, Vegas looked as dingy and grimy as its history. Even though a lot of the buildings weren’t very old, they had a
worn look that he recognized, one that buildings got after only a few years in the desert.
The city also had an unusual kind of sprawl. Los Angeles was divided into clear neighborhoods with different types of architecture throughout. Yes, it was strip mall heaven, and parts of L.A. looked no different from other parts. But Vegas, off the freeways and on the side roads, was a series of housing tracts. However, neighborhood to neighborhood changed only by landscaping or by the year of the housing development. Most were upscale, but the closer he got to downtown, the older the housing developments got, and the more dilapidated.
Gang tags started to appear on the side of abandoned warehouses and on fences near gated neighborhoods. Broken-down cars littered a few blocks, and most had glass covering the streets.
Zoe didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t seem to care. She zoomed by with a confidence that Travers would never feel in such a neighborhood.
The streets made him nervous, so he studied her instead. The wind blew her hair back, revealing her strong jaw and high cheekbones. Her neck was elegant and flawless, and her lips were perfectly formed.
For the first time in his life, Travers wished he had the freedom other men his age had. He wished he could just pick up and go, just change his life, stay in Vegas a while and get to know this woman without any cares in the world.
But the moment he had that thought, he got a shivery sense of worry about one of those cares. Travers leaned his head back against the car seat and hoped that shivery sense wasn’t Kyle attempting to send a message, just a father’s worry about leaving his son with three slightly insane women.
“He’ll be fine,” Zoe shouted over the roar of the car as if she were the one who could read minds, not Kyle.
She hadn’t even looked at him. Her gaze was still on the road, her left arm braced above the wheel, her right hand resting on the stick shift.
Travers felt his unease grow. “How’d you know that’s what I was thinking?”
Zoe gave him a quick glance and a matching grin. “I would’ve been surprised if you weren’t.”
He smiled in return, then leaned back in his seat. The wind from the passing cars smelled of exhaust, and felt like hot air, instead of cooler the way that driving in a convertible should be.
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