by Lori Devoti
Without warning, he began to throw . . . so quickly it seemed as if they were all thrown at once with no more than seconds between each.
I rolled. Three dug into the dirt where I’d been. I leapt to my feet, jumping in the same motion so my knees reached my chest. Two more zinged beneath me. I landed hard, but on my feet, and threw myself to the side as two more flew toward me. Five remained, and I was winded. I lunged for my staff; two more grazed my skin, one cutting a hole in my shorts.
Staff in hand, I bounded back to my feet and batted the last three, which were zipping toward my heart out of the air.
“You cheated,” he said.
“And you didn’t give full disclosure,” I replied. Sweat dripped down my neck, soaking my workout top. I shifted the staff in front of me, unwilling to put it down. “What exactly is your talent?”
He walked to where three of the knives lay buried in the dirt and jerked them out. With his eyes on me he began to juggle—faster and faster until the flashing blades were nothing but one solid silver blur.
“Maybe you should ask what I did as a child. What my father did.”
I moved the staff again, into a position where I could easily deflect another knife if needed . . . or try. “Clown?” I offered.
“Close. Carny. Worked the sideshows. My mother, my adoptive mother, was the living target.”
“How sweet.” I twirled the staff. “Why haven’t I seen you use knives before?”
“Because . . . ” The spinning blur slowed. He jerked his hands to the side and all three blades sank into the ground. “I didn’t need to.”
Bern stood to the side throughout the exchange, her expression unreadable. With his comment, she grunted and began gathering up the rest of the knives.
I tapped my staff against the side of my foot, unsure how or if to respond.
Mel stepping around the side of the house saved me from my dilemma.
“I’m ready.” Two words and she was gone, back in the direction she’d come.
Still holding my staff, I walked past Jack. His voice followed me. “And I did offer to show you my talents. You just haven’t taken me up on it.” His voice sizzled with promise. My libido sizzled in return but, eyes focused on the corner Mel had disappeared behind, I kept walking.
Mel was sitting in the dirt between the detached garage and the house. In front of her was a small fire, surrounded by a ring of rocks. Beside her was a stack of papers.
As I got closer, I could see a telios was drawn on each sheet. She handed them to me. “Do you know Padia’s?”
I stiffened. I didn’t, of course. I looked at Mel.
With a patient sigh, she said, “We can do it by process of elimination, but it will take longer.”
We were able to cross off the four high council telioses I knew were represented by warriors, but that still left eight.
Mel handed me the stack of papers.
“Put one under each rock, except the first that we’re hoping is Padia’s. Hand that one back to me.”
I did as she asked, glancing at the fire as I did.
She stared at me. “Just because you think I should be able to do something or want me to be able to do something doesn’t mean I can. Bubbe doesn’t need the fire. I do . . . ” She shook her head. “Even with the fire, I don’t know if I can do what she did . . . there might be a delay, or I might get nothing at all.”
I had faith in her. I pulled out the sheet with the hawk on it and handed it to her, then sat down, out of her way.
Like her grandmother, she chanted. Unlike her grandmother, it was in English, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t follow her words. She fed the sheet I’d given her into the fire, and I concentrated on the smoke that streamed from its blaze.
It took six tries before we got a hit. Even then I wasn’t sure at first if the spell was working. The smoke looked like what you’d expect from any fire, drifting with the slight breeze that blew along the alley formed by the house and garage. But the sixth time it began to snake, forming shapes I could almost, but not quite, identify.
I wanted to reach out and grab the dancing shapes, hold them so I could study them at leisure, but as quickly as one solidified, it would mist away.
Then the smoke thickened, so solid I swore I could pluck the shape from the fire. I went so far as to hold out my hand and felt the heat on my fingertips before my brain registered what I was seeing—an obelisk, a house, trees . . . The shapes continued to morph, but I’d seen enough. . . .
I looked at Mel.
She was staring back at me.
“She’s here.”
While Mel went about extinguishing the fire, I rocked back onto my heels.
Padia was at the safe camp. How long had she been there? Kale had been at the camp; at least I assumed she had been at the house before going to the obelisk. She should have recognized the other high-council member, but her memory of everything after leaving the Northwest was missing.
My mind flashed to the flask Kale had been holding when we found her. Maybe she had been drugged. Maybe it had blocked that bit of time from her brain.
But it hadn’t eliminated Padia from Kale’s memory completely. Kale still remembered the council member, still knew she was behind all of this. Which meant Kale should still recognize Padia when she saw her.
I went to look for the other warrior.
I got as far as the backyard, where Jack seemed to be showing Bern how to juggle the knives, when a body burst through the trees.
It was Tess, her shirt sticking to her with sweat and her shorts stained with mud and grass. It looked as if she’d fought her way through the forest.
She came to a halt a few feet away, her body jerking as she searched for breath.
“Mels . . . they’re planning an attack.”
I didn’t react to her statement, couldn’t afford to. “Where’s Cleo?” I asked, holding up my hand to keep the questions I could see burning in Jack’s and Bern’s eyes at bay.
Tess’s eyes grew huge. “A new priestess arrived. She held some kind of ceremony, said there was a spy at camp. Then when she saw Cleo, she recognized her, knew she was related to Mel. They took her . . . Cleo, I mean . . . and dragged her off. I’m not sure where.”
Padia. Mel was right. She was here. But it didn’t sound like she had been here long. I’d been wondering if Thea might be Padia, but Tess’s announcement laid that suspicion to rest, at least.
I glanced at the hearth-keeper. “Cleo’s not at camp?”
Tess hesitated, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure.”
“Who? What has happened?” Mel appeared, her knees covered in dust and ash in her hair.
“They caught your mother. They know she’s been spying on them.”
“We have to get her,” she replied, her voice matter-of-fact.
“There’s more.” I gestured to Tess.
The girl swallowed and repeated what she’d already said. “I think they may be taking Cleo with them, as some kind of trade or bait.”
I frowned. “So you don’t think she’s at the camp?”
She shook her head, hard. “No, sorry . . . with the excitement . . . I’m getting confused.”
I was too, but there wasn’t time for that. Trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible so as not to rattle her more, I asked, “This new priestess . . . does she have a name?”
“Uh . . . ” She looked around . . . looked afraid.
“Padia?” Kale asked. She’d come around the other corner of the house, having apparently been for a walk. I was glad to see it, glad she was recovering.
Lao appeared in the open doorway of the house.
“Yes, Padia. That’s her name.” Tess nodded and glanced toward Lao. When the older hearth-keeper’s gaze fell on her, she looked away.
Kale hopped from the porch onto the ground. “We need to stop her.”
Her color was stronger and there was a glint in her eyes. She outranked me too, but I didn’t let that
factor into what I had to do.
I faced Kale. “We are going to Mel’s.”
“Are you sure we shouldn’t go after Padia? If we get to her, we can undo everything she’s done. I could go alone.”
“No. There are some things that can’t be undone.” Death being the biggest one. If we went after Padia, and someone, anyone at Mel’s paid the price . . . I bit down on my cheek. It wasn’t an option. For once I was going to think about individuals before the tribe. “We need everyone.”
Kale’s jaw tightened. She glanced at Tess as if the hearth-keeper might offer something to strengthen her case, but Tess only stared back. Finally Kale nodded.
Glad I wasn’t going to have to fight a battle here before going to fight whoever awaited us at Mel’s, I started yelling orders. We had our weapons packed and were ready to go in ten minutes. We left the dogs behind with food and water. Everyone else piled into the truck. With Cleo missing, the car was missing. The truck was all we had, and we had no time to steal another vehicle. Kale, Lao, and Tess got the cab. Jack, Bern, Mel, and I lay flat in the bed. Only truckers and RVs would be able to see us there. We covered ourselves with an old tarp and hoped no one would notice us, or if they did, wouldn’t bother to call in and report us.
The worry didn’t keep me awake. I took advantage of the trip and the dark that had fallen to grab a couple hours of sleep. It would be early when we arrived at Mel’s . . . barely dawn.
It seemed a good time for an attack.
I would be ready.
Chapter 21
I saw the birder as soon as we pulled into Mel’s lot. Jack saw her too; I felt him stiffen beside me, but I beat him out of the truck. I threw myself over the side and was running toward the building where the older woman stood, a canvas bag over her arm, before Lao had even brought the truck to a stop. The woman saw me coming; her skin paled. I’d grabbed Bern’s nunchakus as I’d leapt. They’d been loose on the floor and easy to reach.
I spun them over my head now but resisted the urge to yell. Just because I could only see the one birder didn’t mean there weren’t more. I expected there to be more, and I didn’t want to alert them.
Kill this one, then move on to the next. That was my plan.
The nunchakus were spinning, the whirring noise they made reassuring and restful. Focused and ready, I prepared to strike.
Something hit me from the back, someone . . . big and strong, bigger and possibly stronger than me.
I tried to twist, to lash at my attacker with the weapon, but a second assailant joined the fight. A staff jabbed me in the trachea, cutting off my breath.
“Stand down! She’s not a birder. Stand down!” Jack’s voice, yelling in my ear. Adrenaline rushing through me, I gripped one end of the nunchaku in my closed fist and pummeled it into his skull.
Then suddenly a weight like a lead blanket dropped on top of me, on top of Jack too. He cursed softly. Only my face was free of the suffocating heaviness. I twisted my neck, searching for whoever had brought this new weapon into the mix.
Bubbe stood over me, her face upside-down in my view.
Her lips pursed, she made tching noise. “You kill my clients, it make it very hard for me to keep my business, dorogaya.
Client. Stand down. The words mixed in my head. Jack’s attack and the staff jabbing against my throat. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. With my emotions under control, I opened them. “Let me up.”
The weight disappeared and so did Jack.
I moved to my feet. The birder or, rather, the old woman who I had thought was a birder, stood hidden behind Bern, only the tip of her canvas bag and the corner of her purple shorts visible. Both were shaking.
With a sigh, Bubbe left me and went to comfort her customer. I made out a few murmured words, a spell, I guessed, and the woman seemed fine . . . or at least she didn’t scream when Bern stepped away, leaving me a clear view of her.
She still looked like a birder to me. Her shorts came to her knees and she wore practical white-laced shoes. Her shirt was pink with a robin on the front, and her bag bulged with what could easily have been a stash of handguns or bombs.
I took a step, thinking to question her if no one else would. Mel dropped the staff in front of me, rapped me in the gut.
“I know her. Bubbe knows her. This entire neighborhood knows her. She was Harmony’s principal for four years. She is not a birder—”
The woman reached into the bag.
My muscles coiled, ready.
She pulled out a pair of binoculars and slipped the cord attached to them around her neck.
Mel sighed. “Okay, She isn’t one of your birders. She watches birds. The Arboretum is across the street. Lots of people watch birds there.”
I kept vigilant, focused on the octogenarian. Older, perhaps, than some, but aside from that she looked exactly like the birders who had killed my mother.
Mel tapped me in the stomach again. “We’re here because of Amazons, remember? Besides, you can’t jump on every old lady with a pair of binoculars and leather walkers.”
Amazons. Right, we were here because Tess had heard the Amazons were planning an attack on Mel’s.
Still, I glanced again at the old woman in the robin shirt. “Check her bag,” I ordered.
Mel rolled her eyes but marched off. After a few gentle words to the woman, she returned with her canvas bag. “Organic trail mix, an aluminum bottle of water, and a field guide. Satisfied?”
I wasn’t. “Open the bottle.” If I was going to do this right, I wasn’t trusting anything.
Turning her back so the woman couldn’t see what she was doing, Mel twisted the lid off the bottle and took a sniff. Her nose twitched.
I leaned forward, ready.
“You’re right. It’s not water. It’s lemonade, with a kick . . . vodka, I’d guess.” She screwed the lid back on and stared at me. “Okay?”
Still not completely satisfied, I waved her away.
In a few minutes the could-be birder was gone.
Leaving me to face an annoyed Bubbe and an amused Mel.
I passed both of them. At the corner of the building I took a right and kept walking. I walked the entire perimeter of the property before coming back to where the rest of them waited.
I gestured for Bern to join me and headed toward the gym/cafeteria. The building should be vacant; I wanted to make sure it was.
Mel and her grandmother stopped me. Standing shoulder to shoulder, the family resemblance was striking, or maybe it was just the grim set of their faces.
“You think perhaps we could discuss what is happening, what our plan is? And how we can accomplish it without assaulting any more customers?” Mel twisted the staff she still held in the dirt.
I stared her down. “Easy. Close down. Send everyone home.”
With Bern right behind me, I continued on into the cafeteria.
We moved as quickly as we could through the building, hitting the main floor . . . cafeteria, kitchen, and gym first, then moving to the basement where the showers and a few offices were. The place was empty. It didn’t appear anyone had been inside since my last visit.
Reassured, we exited out the front. Mel was waiting for me. “Let’s get Bubbe to put some kind of ward on the doors and windows,” I told her.
She twisted the staff parallel, then perpendicular to her body. “You think we hadn’t done that before?”
“We got in,” I reminded her.
“We know you, and for reasons I’m beginning to doubt, trust you.” She stalked toward the main building.
I followed her into the basement where the rest of our group, along with Mateo, Dana, and both babies had gathered. Bern stayed outside and once I appeared, Lao joined her. They would watch for anything suspicious while the rest of us talked.
Tess started, repeating what she had told me about the safe camp’s plans. When Padia’s name came up, Kale jumped in to explain who she was.
As Tess got to the part of her story where she sai
d Cleo had been captured, all eyes turned to Bubbe.
She held out her hands. “My daughter, she will prevail.” And that was it. The old priestess seemed more worried with watching how Mateo held his son than with whether Cleo would survive being captured by the tribe.
I took this as a good sign.
“Zery wants us to close the shop—all of our businesses.” Mel had stood against the wall most of the conversation, only now stepping closer. Dana, sitting cross-legged on the floor and holding Pisto, looked up, her interest clear.
“For how long? We have a class tomorrow.” She glanced at Mel. “Mateo has been filling in for Cleo.”
I stared at a dot on the wall for the count of three. Artemis forbid the mommy half of her “mommy and me” class missed a few situps.
“I think that is wise.” Bubbe, agreeing with me again.
I looked at the old priestess, wondering why exactly she and Mel didn’t get along better.
Dana started to object, but Bubbe stood her ground. “This is not human business, not what has happened here recently. We do not have the right to pull them into it, to risk they be hurt.” She looked at me then, her gaze old, heavy, and judging.
I glanced at Mel. She raised an unsympathetic brow.
“What about the babies?” Tess, her voice meek, glanced around the group. “Shouldn’t we get them somewhere else? Take them somewhere safe?”
It was a good point, one I hadn’t thought of before. I looked at Mateo. “She’s right. You and Dana need to leave with the babies while things are still calm.”
“Except . . . ” Tess held up her hand like she was in some human schoolroom.
I acknowledged her with a stare.
“Padia . . . she mentioned him . . . ” Tess shifted her attention to Mateo, then back at me. “ . . . had a description. The camp will be looking for him, know he has the baby.”
Mateo stood. He looked strange, so tall and long limbed, holding a tiny infant pressed to his shoulder. “I am also the most qualified to protect my son.”
“Avoiding the enemy is the best protection. Would you risk him being attacked because your pride said to stay with him?” If the tribe knew of Mateo and were looking for him, separating him and Andres made the most sense.
