FoM02 Trammel

by Anah Crow

  That phrasing prompted a little laugh from Zoey, and she nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay. Even with the whole ‘living in a tree’ thing.” She tilted her head, dark hair spilling over her shoulder and gathering in the bunched-up hood of her faded varsity sweatshirt, yet another thing Kristan had dug up from a thrift shop somewhere. “More to do?”

  Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

  Lindsay squeezed Noah’s fingers and drew them up to his mouth to kiss them, then let them go so Noah could turn his attention back to his runes. This time, Zoey seemed unfazed by the display. “We lost Dane the night we took you away from Moore—the doctor. She has him, and we have to get him back.”

  “Who is—?” Zoey’s eyes widened and she looked around the room. “The big guy. I remember him now. I guess I thought he’d show up. Is he the one— Ylli said somebody didn’t come back and that’s why we had to leave with Cyrus and then...”

  And then the Hounds had found them anyway, Lindsay knew. “Yes. He’s my... My mentor, I suppose.” And much, much more. But he didn’t need to share that with a stranger, even one he’d risked everything to help.

  “Dane comes first.” There was a little flare, that of two dozen matches striking at once, and the light was gone. Noah looked over his shoulder at Lindsay. “Yes?”

  “Yes.” Lindsay couldn’t imagine doing anything else. “Now that you and Ylli are safe, we need to focus on finding Dane.” They didn’t have a damn clue where to start, and Lindsay had been trying not to think on that too hard.

  “Can I—” Zoey picked at her nails again, seemingly unconcerned by the line of red forming between the chipped pink paint and her brown skin. “Can I help? I mean. I’ve got this magic stuff, right? Is there anything I can do with it that would help you guys find him?”

  “Moore and her creatures seem fixed in the new ways.” Noah scooped up the runes and jingled them in his hands. “I see few alternatives, especially since our magic has been matched by her followers. Your magic might prove useful, if we can see where to direct it.”

  Lourdes and Jonas had certainly kicked their asses, but Lindsay knew there were ways for him to deal with them. They could use stealth and strategy, as well as the sheer force of Noah’s magic, to deal with being overpowered. It was how Cyrus had managed, with the help of his precognition. There was nothing Lindsay could do about their lack of information now—that was the real problem. Moore had so many resources at her disposal, and they had so little.

  “Oh, Cyrus gave Ylli some stuff before— Before we left.” Zoey looked down at her hands and seemed to notice the damage she had done, and tucked her hands into her lap. “A bracelet, stuff like that. I think he still has all of it. If that will help anything?”

  A bracelet. Lindsay gave a moment of thanks for Cyrus’s foresight. He hadn’t let the barre fall into Moore’s hands. And in the process he’d given Lindsay a way to track down Moore.

  When Moore held Lindsay prisoner, back in New York, she’d been using artifacts. The kuni studs in her ears to identify mages, the runes she’d copied from the Shackles of Tehut etched into the walls. She’d need more than copied runes to control Dane, especially after Lindsay had shown her those runes weren’t

  worth more than the cement they’d been drawn into.

  “She’s going to need artifacts to control Dane, something strong.” Dane and Jonas both, from what Lourdes had said. “She must be using something magical to help her make those Hounds too.”

  “She’s probably getting what she needs from humans.” Noah sounded sour about that. “It’s one thing for a mage to work for her, it’s another to sell her things she could use against mages. She couldn’t just acquire things like the Shackles of Tehut without bringing a lot of attention to herself from more than just Cyrus.”

  Lindsay watched Zoey for a long moment, trying to figure out how they could use that to their advantage. Zoey squirmed and Lindsay realized he was making her nervous. He started to apologize, but one of the newspapers caught his eye.

  Exhibition Brings Stolen Art Back to Detroit

  “There are a lot of museums around here. They must try to track black-market deals. An artifact is an artifact.” Lindsay looked at Zoey. She seemed like a mind mage who could influence computers instead of the human brain. “Would you be able to use a museum’s computers to track who’s buying a lot of artifacts?”

  “I—” Zoey’s eyes widened. “I think so. They’d have the information in a database, right? We used things like that at work. I remember how it felt to talk to the computer when it lost my hours—before I knew I was actually talking to it. I think I can do it again. I’d like to try.”

  “I should be able tell what things are more likely to be magical artifacts instead of mundane things.”

  Noah was polishing the new runes on the hem of his T-shirt. “I know what sources and eras produced most of what we would own or use now. It’s a start.”

  “What’s a start?” Kristan came in with a handful of fresh newspapers and tossed them by Lindsay’s chair.

  “Tracking down the artifacts Moore’s got to be using.” Noah answered before Lindsay could open his mouth. “The black market has moved online.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Kristan snapped her fingers at Noah and he threw her the coin he was inspecting. “I haven’t heard from Vivian but I’ll drop another message. She’ll get it when she can.”

  “Where is she?” Lindsay couldn’t imagine that Vivian didn’t know what had happened to Cyrus by now. She had been the one to tell them about Dane. Vivian always knew more than any of them.

  “Busy. If she surfaces, she’ll blow her cover.” Kristan passed the coin back to Noah. “Make me some.”

  “In time.” Noah leaned back against Lindsay’s chair and Lindsay found himself petting the back of Noah’s neck, to settle himself more than Noah.

  “Who’s Vivian?” Zoey looked lost. “Did she—I mean, is it my fault she’s not here?”

  “None of it is your fault.” Lindsay surprised himself with how forcefully the words came out.

  “Kristan and Ylli belong to Vivian. She and Dane and Cyrus were...”

  “Family.” Kristan finished the sentence for him. “So, where do we start looking for Moore?”

  “I thought the computers at one of the museums would be the right place.” Lindsay should have thought of asking Kristan for help sooner than this. “Do you know which one would be best?”

  “I can find out. Come on, kid.” Kristan nodded at Zoey. “We’ll take a field trip.”

  “Okay.” Zoey scrambled to her feet. “I can, right?”

  Lindsay realized that she was looking to him for answers. “Kristan knows Detroit better than the rest of us. Go on.”

  “Awesome. Thanks for letting me help.” Zoey was almost bouncing with excitement.

  Kristan rolled her eyes and nudged Zoey toward the stairs. “Save your energy, girl genius. We’ve got a lot of walking to do.”

  “I’ll collect the barre from Ylli.” Noah stood and dropped the runes into his pocket. “That’ll be one less worry.”

  “Noah.” Lindsay waited for Noah to face him. “Is there any way to get rid of it? Send it back to your family, maybe. I don’t want it here.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Noah ran a hand over his growing hair, and spoke carefully. “It goes if that’s your preference, but it will also work on people who would do us wrong.”

  “There are other ways.” Lindsay knew he’d never be able to use it. The idea made him want to claw at his scars. “We’ll find other ways, if it comes to that.”

  “As you wish.” Noah seemed satisfied with the answer, and he left the room, his soft footfalls sounding on the stairs a moment later.

  Lindsay picked up his tea again and sighed. How had he ended up being the one everyone looked to for answers and decisions? He didn’t know anything more than the rest of them did.

  He’d just have to try not to screw it up.

  Night in the city was nei
ther dark nor quiet, but it brought a little peace with it. Noah came back from meeting with the courier Patches had arranged for him and found the house dark. He used the scrap wood hand-and-foot holds nailed into the side of the house to get up to the balcony and swung over the rail.

  Lindsay would have felt him come into the illusion. No need to announce his arrival.

  Noah wasn’t happy about getting rid of the barre. He trusted Patches’s man to get it back to Rose, that wasn’t a problem. It was knowing they’d given up some small advantage that sat wrong with him. But that wasn’t his concern. He was Lindsay’s now, and his concern was Lindsay. He padded past the bedroom with the glow of candlelight creeping out from under the door, and headed downstairs to do some chores.

  He had a little time to clean house. Lindsay had been convinced to get in bed early once Noah had lit a dozen candles to give him some light by which to read. Kristan and Ylli were out with Zoey again, for the

  fourth night in a row. They hadn’t found anything yet, but Kristan had heard from Vivian just that morning.

  Vivian had managed to come through for them—somehow, in the midst of her own work—with some kind of breadcrumb trail for Zoey to follow through cyberspace.

  Noah took their tightly bundled trash out to the end of the narrow yard and stashed it under a piece of a fallen shed. Every day, Ylli took it somewhere else to get rid of it. There was no trash collection in an area with no service, and garbage was a sure way to pinpoint an occupied house. While he was out there, Noah made sure they had enough water in the shower cistern for the next day.

  When the others came home, they’d make their way in by the window over the porch. Noah checked the downstairs doors and windows one more time. Being lost in a sea of humanity was their real protection.

  Noah grabbed a couple water bottles and headed upstairs.

  “Hey.” Noah closed the door behind him. Lindsay looked terribly young and serious in the candlelight. “Anything interesting today?” The newspapers that Lindsay had already sucked the life out of were folded tightly and stacked at the foot of the bed.

  “A few missing-persons reports.” Patches had mentioned a woman who’d disappeared from a hair salon near Apollo 11; a tiny article in the paper said she hadn’t yet been found. “The homeless and the mentally ill have been going missing for months, but this is a new development.”

  “If she’s taking people who will be noticed, that’s a bad sign. Means she has people to help her get away with it.”

  “Not for long, if we can help it. She lost a lot of support after what happened in New York.” Lindsay folded the paper he was reading and turned to Noah. “All locked up?”

  “Everything’s settled. Pretty quiet out there tonight.” No sirens for the last few hours. The moon was fading away, finishing its monthly cycle, and superstition suggested that had something to do with the lull.

  Noah peeled off his T-shirt and slipped out of his jeans. “Did you need anything else?”

  “I don’t think so.” Lindsay gathered the newspapers and stacked them next to the door to be taken out in the morning. “Quiet in here tonight too. It feels strange to wait around while the others are out working.”

  “It’s good for them to go out and do their own thing. Zoey is more comfortable around them, anyway.” Noah leaned back against the wall at the head of the bed and soaked up a little of the cool from the drywall. It had gotten quite warm today, not that he minded. It was good for Lindsay. “I feel like an old man, though,” he admitted, looking over at Lindsay with a grin.

  Lindsay raised his eyebrows as he shed his clothes and came back to crawl into bed next to Noah. He lay on his belly, propped up on his elbows to look Noah over. “Oh? You certainly don’t look like an old man.”

  Noah laughed at him. “You should have seen Zoey’s face when she found out I had another life before this. Like, ‘wow, you’re really old!’ Maybe I just feel it, though.”

  He reached out and petted Lindsay’s silky hair. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that Lindsay was a sucker for it. He liked Lindsay. Not only because Lindsay had saved his life or because Cyrus had given him to Lindsay, but for the most basic reasons—Lindsay was smart and funny and had a lot to like about him. Liking Lindsay didn’t cover attraction, but that was there too.

  “I don’t think it’s a bad thing that you had time to have a real life before all of this.” Lindsay leaned into Noah’s hand. “Two of them, from the way you talk about where you grew up. The rest of us... It’s strange for me to think that, except for Zoey, I probably had the closest thing to a normal life before...

  Before.”

  Any mention of life before Cyrus was a rare thing. Noah petted a little longer because he could see it was working. And it kept him from leaning over to kiss Lindsay. He had no real understanding of where Lindsay wanted the lines. “What do you want normal to be now?”

  Lindsay looked startled by the question, and he was silent for a while before he answered. “I don’t know. With Cyrus, I knew where I belonged. I belonged to Dane. You and the others, you’re depending on me right now, but what happens when we get Dane back and all this is over?” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to expect. Cyrus is gone.”

  Cyrus’s death was an immense loss. Noah couldn’t imagine how Dane was going to react. As for Lindsay, Noah could see how hard this was for him.

  “Don’t think of me as depending on you. I’m trying to follow your lead while giving you the support you need.” Noah slid down and propped himself up on one elbow to face Lindsay. “If you need more, I’ll do more. About the future, the past is the best fortune teller...short of a good fortune teller.”

  “I’m trying not to get used to any of this. I don’t want...” Lindsay stopped and swallowed hard. “I want Dane back. I want to know where I belong.”

  “Oh, Lin.” Being adrift was terrible and frightening—like being lost at sea. Noah couldn’t know exactly how Lindsay felt right now, but he’d been there in his own way. “I’m not leaving. I don’t want to leave. I don’t have to ask ‘why me?’ when I’m with you.”

  It hurt to say that, to take another step away from the human, mundane, joyful, hedonistic life he’d shared with Elle. The life that had held its own magic would never return. He would never hear her laugh again, never follow her on red-eye flights halfway around the world, never throw another dinner party, never dance with her until they were giddy with exhaustion. This was his reality now, his purpose, and his home.

  Lindsay seemed surprised at that, and he searched Noah’s expression for a long moment. Slowly, he nodded and leaned forward to rub his cheek against Noah’s. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “I want Dane back too. We’ll make it happen.” If Dane was gone, dead, they couldn’t fix that, but knowing that would be better than the empty space where Dane belonged.

  Lindsay’s answer came in the form of a slim, chilly body tucked up against Noah, and Lindsay’s face pressing into the curve of Noah’s neck. He sighed softly, with a tiny hitch in his breath, and stayed there.

  “I like that,” Noah murmured in Lindsay’s ear, in case Lindsay wouldn’t take it for granted. Noah loved that feeling of being someone’s safe place, a wall against the world.

  “Me too.” Lindsay raised his head and Noah felt soft, cool lips brush his jaw before he settled down again.

  Tonight felt like the eye of the storm. Any time now, Zoey and the others would uncover something or Patches would bring some news, and they would be on the move again.

  Noah shifted enough to be able to see Lindsay cuddled up to him, head on his shoulder. He ducked his head and pressed a kiss to Lindsay’s lips, and Lindsay made a pleased sound. It was good to be reassured that there was more than chemistry under pressure between them, but Noah could feel Lindsay falling asleep and he stifled a quiet laugh. They were both exhausted, and the uneasy city nights were full of sounds that woke Lindsay far too often. The candles were bur
bling quietly in the back of Noah’s mind, and he turned out their flames one at a time, then gave Lindsay one last kiss goodnight.

  Feeling Lindsay’s cool form limp and heavy with sleep sent a spike of fear through Noah at the realization that he was on a path leading to the kind of devotion that would destroy him again if things went terribly wrong. But Noah wouldn’t try to stop it. He knew Lindsay in a way he couldn’t explain, like he’d felt Lindsay’s inner self meet his when Lindsay was trying to keep him alive. He remembered feeling the echo of his own loneliness and uncertainty there.

  That was something he’d had with Elle—she had known him in a way that meant he never had to be ashamed of who and what he was, even if she hadn’t known the details. He’d never expected to find that level of intimacy again. Lindsay’s dedication reminded him of her, the way she’d loved him until he loved himself. She’d always had faith in his ability to do the right thing. The right thing now was to give up the cowardice of isolation.

  Noah listened to Lindsay breathing until the rhythm of it pulled him down into sleep as well.

  Peace came to a sharp and sudden end as Lindsay jerked out of his arms to sit up, facing the door.

  Lindsay didn’t speak and, when he listened carefully, Noah could hear the others banging around on the way down from the room over the porch, arguing about whether or not to wake him and Lindsay.

  Too late.

  “I’ll go see what they have to say.” Noah got up, lighting a couple candles as he did so he could find his jeans. “It might be nothing.” The last thing he wanted was to get Lindsay’s hopes up over something that didn’t hold water.

  Lindsay nodded, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I’ll get my clothes and be down in a minute.”