Firebug (21 page)

“Better you than me,” I said, giving Ezra the side eye.

Shortly after that, we hitched a ride in a pickup truck. We didn't have a car and couldn't rent one without ID, and let's be honest here—if there was any sort of hinky business, I could set the truck on fire. If that didn't work, well, then I could light the driver up brighter than the Vegas strip.

We gave the driver gas money and rode in the covered bed of his truck. The front seat was full of the biggest dog I'd ever seen, and he didn't like Ezra one bit. The ride was cold, but uneventful, for which I was grateful.

The driver let us off on the side of the road about two miles from where Duncan lived. We hitched up our backpacks and started walking through the woods. There was a bumpy country road about a quarter of a mile up that would have saved us a lot of time in the long run, but we didn't want to broadcast our presence.

Duncan kept his land on the natural side, which meant carving our way through bushes and passing between the trunks of overgrown pines and oaks. The sun was starting to edge farther down on the horizon, and the temperature was dropping. Little green buds peeked at me from branches, letting me know that it wouldn't be cold for much longer.

Lock was muttering softly to himself—I couldn't catch much of it beyond getting the general idea that he didn't like being there.

“I thought you would enjoy being out in the trees,” I said with a smirk. “Back among your tribe, so to speak.”

He glared at me. “They're not my tribe. I like the city. It's quiet.”

“You know, most people go to the country for the quiet.”

He shook his head as he helped me over a fallen log. “I can block out city noise, but not the sounds here. The trees haven't seen someone like me in a while, and they all want to chat.”

“So? They're just being friendly.”

Lock made a scoffing noise. “Yeah, you try talking to a tree sometime and see how scintillating you find the conversation.”

“I start F-I-R-E-S, remember? Trees aren't exactly lining up to be my pen pals.”

Lock slowed and cast his eyes up at the branches. “About that—I'd keep your powers to yourself here. There's an old feel to these trees, and I get the idea that there's a lot out here we can't see. If the Coterie wasn't looking for us, I'd head for the road, but things being the way they are…”

I nodded, unhitching myself from a branch that had snagged my jacket. “Best take our chances with the unknown danger. I get it.”

What with the terrain and all, we weren't making very good time. Though it was better than being stuck on a bus, I could still feel the frustration building in my chest. I was afraid this whole trip might come to nothing. What if Duncan couldn't help us and we'd just wasted valuable time? Worse, what if Cade wasn't there? What if Venus had gotten to him? My chest tightened.

I wondered, as we walked, if it was possible that Ryan had really sold me out. Had he been in league with Venus all along? I couldn't quite see it, but then again, when I put all the puzzle pieces together, the only picture I could make out was that he was a traitor. No matter what the truth was, I wouldn't be happy with it.

Lock's arm shot out, interrupting my vision of Ryan feeding Venus strawberries while I sat on the sidelines dressed as a nun. Lock kept his arm against me as he held a finger to his lips and then tapped his ear. Obviously, he'd heard something. I think Lock was really enjoying the cloak-and-dagger part of our adventure. Not that he wasn't taking things seriously, but still.

Ez sniffed the air but couldn't seem to make anything out. “It just smells like food,” he whispered.

“Food? Like what, fried chicken?” I whispered back. He shrugged.

I didn't hear anything beyond an owl and a few other evening noises. But Lock was a nature spirit, even if he was only half, and if he gave me advice in the woods, I was damn well going to take it.

He frowned, and I could tell he didn't hear anything anymore either. Whatever had stopped him wasn't repeating itself. Finally he shrugged and we started to move again, but more quietly this time. We didn't have to caution Ez. He moved through the woods like a ghost.

That's when we saw them.

They melted out of the trees, slow and fluid like shadow. And they were everywhere. We'd been surrounded and we hadn't even known it. Men and women, all dressed in biker-chic leather and denim. Despite their obvious affinity with the forest, they looked out of place.

We bolted. Even though we knew we were surrounded, we hoped to catch them off guard long enough to get away. But everywhere we ran, there were more of them—popping out from behind trees and bushes and out of shadows. Lock threw a punch, but he missed. That's when the rangy biker he'd swung at tackled him and took him to the ground. No one else piled on, apparently thinking that the lanky guy could handle things on his own.

Four of them surrounded Ezra, who was yipping and bouncing on his toes. If he'd had a tail in human form, it would have been twitching in anticipation. Whatever these people were, Ez found them very entertaining, but they were keeping their distance and not engaging him. That didn't stop him from hopping about and enjoying the game.

I guess they expected me to stand on the sidelines as well, patiently waiting for the outcome. And, I don't know, biting my nails or crying into my skirts or wringing my hands or something. Boy, were they wrong. I kicked Lock's attacker in the ribs, knocking him off of my friend. I pulled Lock up. Even in the low light, I could see bruises forming on his cheek and a smear of blood around his mouth. I felt the anger boiling up from my gut. I put myself in front of Lock, glared at our attackers, and lit a fireball about the size of a grapefruit between my hands. The trees weren't going to like it, but since they weren't the immediate threat, they'd have to suck it up.

The rangy one jumped back with a hiss, but one of the other bikers pushed forward and inspected the flame, a look of careful consideration on his bearded face. He was shorter than his lean friend, built wide more than anything. As he leaned close to the fireball, I could see a fine tracery of scars on his neck, curling up into his stubble and behind his ears. Ouch.

The rest of the group came closer, either keeping their eyes on us or watching the man in front of me intently. Obviously, he was in charge. He leaned back from the ball and turned his gaze on me.

“I think it's time to state your business,” he said. His tone was conversational, light, but I knew better than to relax. Just because he sounded friendly didn't mean he was.

“I don't see how my business is any of yours,” I said. Lock put a hand on my hip and squeezed gently, telling me to be careful.

But the big man wasn't offended. He simply nodded and said, “Well, you're cutting across Duncan's lands, so that makes it our business.” He raised one of his meaty hands and scratched his beard. “So let me rephrase—you have thirty seconds to convince me that you're the people we're out here to meet so I don't break your necks and dig a shallow hole.”

The rangy one leaned in to add, “Or we can always string you and your boyfriends up from the trees. We'll make it bloody. A nice warning to any other trespassers.”

“No need to be melodramatic, Sid. I think they understand things fine, don't cha, girly?”

“Yeah,” I said, looking closely at the group, “I think I do.” I let the ball dim down to the size of a tennis ball. “We're here to see Duncan. It's a friendly visit, I promise. He knows me—take a photo with your phone and send it to him. Tell him Ava's here to have a chat about Venus.” I grinned at him, and my fireball flared briefly. “And if you call me ‘girly' again, I'll melt your boots to your feet.”

The leader nodded, and one of the group peeled off to make a call after taking several photos of us with his phone. He talked to someone—I assumed Duncan—for several minutes before I was handed the phone and made to answer several questions Duncan thought only I would know. It was the only way to make sure. Someone could put on a ward to look like me, but they wouldn't be able to tell Duncan about the time when I was nine and he took me to a carnival and I ate so much junk food that I threw up. Once I'd got to the part about how my vomit was fluorescent pink because of the cotton candy, Duncan told me I could hand the phone back. The guy I gave it to listened and did some nodding before he finally hung up.

After he signaled to his boss, the group's demeanor changed and the big man offered his hand. I hesitated, then realized that if he wanted to beat me up, he could do it whether I shook his hand or not, so I took it after I extinguished my fireball.

“Just doing my job, you understand.”

“Of course,” Lock said smoothly. “But do you think you could take us to the house now? I'd hate to keep bleeding all over Duncan's nice forest.”

The big guy chuckled. “C'mon.” He turned and gave orders for the majority of the group to stay behind. They were gone in an instant, seeping back into the trees like they'd never been there. Sid and a few others remained, our guards until we got into the house. Probably after that, too.

Lock grabbed my arm, and our eyes met. I could tell we were both thinking the same thing. If Duncan wasn't building an army, then what were all these secretive and violent people doing running through his woods?

Sid handed Lock a handkerchief. “No hard feelings, yeah?”

“I think being noble would be easier if the pummeling had been more in my favor.”

Sid grinned. “Ain't that always the way?” He bowed and swept his arm out. “Ladies first.” We walked toward the house, the big guy leading the way. I guess it was only ladies first up to a point.

It turned out that Sid was quite talkative and cheerful now that he was done threatening us. I learned that I should call the big guy Les, which Sid informed us was short for Lesley—a family name—but that if we used the full name, someone would probably punch our teeth out, and that someone was probably Les. I was smart enough not to snicker, and Lock was too busy trying to stop bleeding to do so. Ezra was still bouncing around, our captors giving him a wide berth. He was grinning like a mad thing.

“What is up with you?” I asked.

“Can't say,” he said. “You have to guess. This is too good.” His grin got even wider, if that was possible.

As we walked, I noticed that our guards all had the same patch on the backs of their jackets or vests—a cartoon jackrabbit that looked like he'd seen a few bar brawls. By the look of the grin and the cigar butt jutting out of his mouth, he seemed to have enjoyed them.

“Interesting mascot. Don't bikers usually favor things like eagles or stallions or something? You know, tough stuff?”

Les snorted. “You ever try to catch a wild hare?”

I shook my head.

“They're fast, they're wily, and if you manage to get a hold of one, it will scratch you to bits.”

Sid leaned in with a smile. “I would think you'd appreciate small, fierce creatures.”

“I'm not small,” I said with a glare.

“You're smaller than me,” he said.

I kept my mouth shut after that.

 

 

DUNCAN
lived in a cabin on Maine's rocky coast. I saw a few motorcycles huddled under the carport next to Duncan's ancient 4
×
4 and an old black van. I counted only a handful of bikes, so I guessed that most of his entourage had set up camp elsewhere on the grounds.

Duncan greeted me at the door with a big hug and the offer of a hot meal. I accepted both. Though Duncan looked like a woodland Santa, there was a presence about him—not a feeling of power exactly, just, well, when he walked into a room you felt it. Almost a sense of command. I don't know how to explain it. Whatever it was, it made me want to tiptoe around him more than anyone else I knew that wasn't Coterie. I didn't actually succumb to the feeling and tiptoe, but it was there. I usually managed to ignore it. I went to change out of my muddy jeans before I sat down to eat. I would like to say that I was ruining clothes faster than I usually did, but that would be pants-on-fire-level fibbing.

When I emerged, Lock and Ezra were sitting at a large table with Les, Duncan, and a tall dark-haired woman. Sid stood loosely behind my friends, but I could see past the nonchalance. One quick move, and he'd spring, I was sure of it.

The woman was sewing, but she had the look of someone who should be sharpening knives and spitting nails. Despite her hard look, she was smiling at us.

“Hope Sid didn't talk you to death,” she said, continuing to sew. She paused to push a basket of what turned out to be fresh bread toward us. “He doesn't know when to shut up.”

“You're a cruel woman, Ikka, cutting a man to the quick like that.”

“I see no man, only my brother.” She nudged a tomato-shaped pincushion at him so he could take up another darning project. It looked like a kid's shirt. Though Sid thought he needed to guard us, she clearly thought our threat level was low.

“Ikka?” I asked.

“Short for Veronica,” she said, tying off her stitch. “Sid couldn't say my name when he was a kit, only Ikka. It stuck.” She shrugged. “Better than Ronnie.”

Les grabbed a bowl and dished himself some chili from the stove before joining us. “I would say I think you both talk too much, but I'm afraid of what Ikka would do with that needle.”

She started a new stitch, smiling. “I would be more likely to poison your food. Speaking of which, help yourself, guys.”

Nothing like the mention of poison to sharpen one's appetite. I got up and took a bowl. I stirred the chili with the metal ladle, noting absently that Ikka's chili was different from Cades. And that's when I realized something had been bugging me since we walked in the door.

“Duncan, where's Cade?”